Moonlight and Delusion
"Wow..."
Irene couldn't help but be awestruck — even more so than the first time she'd laid eyes on Rian.
Silver hair shimmering with the cold light of a pale moon, and a prince who carried an air at once decadent and utterly captivating. Narcisse looked as though the very phrase royal blood had been given form.
And those crimson eyes above all.
They were the same color as that loathsome Anastasia's, yet somehow they radiated an intense charm she found impossible to resist.
If Rian was a brilliantly blazing sun, then Narcisse was moonlight — not as bright, perhaps, but softly, quietly luminous.
It wasn't only his looks that ensnared her.
"Ah, there you are. You must be the mage of the Hero's Party. I am Narcisse von Starngardt, First Prince of the Empire."
Rising slowly from the sofa to receive her, his courteous — and subtly bewitching — gestures and voice left her even more dizzy and undone.
"Hm...?"
"Ah, hello! I'm Irene."
Only then, having been thoroughly lost in Narcisse's beauty, did Irene catch herself and hurriedly offer her greeting, her cheeks burning at the thought of how foolish she must have seemed. First impressions mattered so much with people, and she had bungled hers completely.
At the sight of her flustered face, Narcisse smiled faintly and spoke with gentle warmth.
"There now, there's no need to be so nervous. I may be the First Prince, but as you can see, I'm currently exiled to a detached palace like this... so please, feel free to be at ease with me."
"N-no, of course not! How could I ever presume to be casual with someone as noble as Your Highness?"
Irene waved her hands frantically in denial. She had no choice but to take back the thought she'd harbored mere moments ago — that this was the foolish prince who'd been outmaneuvered by Anastasia. A man this beautiful and refined, confined to a detached palace? It was obvious the scheming Imperial Princess must have resorted to cowardly tricks to slander him.
"Thank you for saying so. You are truly kind, Mage... no — may I call you Irene?"
"Pardon? Ah, yes!"
"Heh heh... thank you. Irene, you are more beautiful, kind, and gracious than I'd heard."
"Beautiful... kind, and gracious...?"
For a moment, Irene went slack at his praise.
Beautiful. Kind. Gracious.
How long had it been since she'd heard compliments like those?
- Logan... am I really falling behind Sera?
- What are you talking about, Irene? Where else would you find someone as kind and caring as you?
- But Rian, still...
- No, have some confidence. Irene, you have nothing to envy in Sera. You're a beautiful woman in your own right, so don't let it get you down.
- Really? Heheh... thank you, Logan.
For an instant, an old conversation with Logan surfaced in her memory — but she quickly shook her head and swept the thought away.
"Th-thank you, Your Highness..."
"Ah, don't be so stiff about it. Would you simply call me Narcisse?"
"Wh-what? No, I couldn't possibly..."
"It's quite all right. I've long admired the stories of Irene's exploits in the Demon King Subjugation. Which is why I'd like to ask you... ah, forgive me! Have I made you uncomfortable?"
At his words, Irene couldn't help but be astonished inwardly. Most of the Hero's Party's tales centered on Rian and Sera's feats — and yet he had paid close attention to the stories about her. She couldn't help but be deeply moved.
And so Irene hastily accepted his offer and spoke his name.
"N-no, not at all! Um... Narcisse... Your Highness?"
"You may drop the 'Highness' as well."
"A-all right... Narcisse..."
Blushing and shy under Narcisse's gentle, tender manner, Irene spent a long while afterward in sweet, intimate conversation with the prince.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
After Irene left the prince's private chamber—
"Tch!"
Narcisse clicked his tongue irritably, like a child throwing a tantrum, then shot a sharp glare at the fidgeting Cardo.
"Uncle!"
"Yes, Your Highness..."
Cardo bowed his head to Narcisse with a sigh, thinking that the inevitable had finally arrived.
"I told you plainly, didn't I? The one I wanted to meet was the Saintess — not some backwater bumpkin of a woman!!!"
CRASH!!!
The noble prince who had been so courteous and charming to Irene mere minutes ago had vanished without a trace. This was his true face — a degenerate prince, arrogant and debauched, drowning in luxury and pleasure.
"When I heard you were finally coming to visit, I threw out every woman I'd been entertaining and prepared everything — and then you show up hauling that along? The least you could have done was ask me first!"
Whoosh!
SHATTER!!!
"Ugh!!!"
Cardo barely ducked the teacup Narcisse had snatched up and hurled at random, cold sweat running down his back.
"P-please, calm yourself, Your Highness..."
Cursing his degenerate nephew inwardly, he continued in the most deferential voice he could muster.
"As, as you know, the Saintess — that woman is terribly stiff-necked and cunning, is she not?"
"Then isn't it your job, Uncle, to tame that Saintess into something docile and obedient and present her before me!"
Narcisse raged even harder, his hand darting out in search of something else to throw. At the sight, Cardo hastily moved on to the real business.
"I have ten mouths and still couldn't apologize enough for disappointing you, Your Highness — truly, I am sorry! However, if you make good use of the mage you met today, she will greatly aid your restoration as Crown Prince."
"What? Restoration? I've already been rotting in this detached palace for nearly three years! While Anastasia — that lowborn wench — was off slaying the Demon King, I was locked up in here the whole time! How am I supposed to be restored?!"
The year she turned eighteen, Anastasia had seized his position and become Imperial Princess, then immediately taken command of the subjugation army and racked up three years' worth of glorious achievements. Meanwhile, he had been rotting away in this miserable annex.
Restoration? Even if he got out of this palace, anyone could see that reclaiming the Crown Prince's seat would be impossible.
It wounded his pride to admit it, but Narcisse knew with painful clarity that he was inferior to Anastasia in every way save birth.
And to Narcisse, despairing thus, Cardo whispered slyly.
"That is precisely why we have the Church, is it not? Her Majesty the Empress has already told His Majesty that the Demon King has been slain and that state affairs will be entrusted to that lowborn girl — so we are petitioning for Your Highness to be released from the palace first. Before long, you will walk free of this place."
"Ha...! Fine, say I get out. But as you just said, that woman will have full control of the government by then — what restoration?! Restoration!!!"
BANG!!!
Watching Narcisse slam his fist down on the table again, foaming with fury, Cardo swallowed his disgust.
'Ah... why must this degenerate be the prince I have to back — and my nephew, no less...'
But even if he wanted a replacement, there was none to be found, and so he had no choice. Cardo calmly laid out the plan, doing his best to soothe Narcisse.
"Which is precisely why I'm telling you we must make good use of that mage — Irene — whom you met today."
"Hmph. Fine. Let's hear it."
Cardo's persuasion had barely begun to take hold; Narcisse lounged back against the sofa in a haughty posture and gestured for him to continue. At the sight, Cardo did his utmost to hide his trembling fist.
'Tch... just you wait until I put you on the throne. I'll make you a puppet who can't do a single thing without me...'
For now, though, he needed this fool.
"That lowborn princess is now in complete conflict with the Hero's Party. Exploit that properly, and Your Highness's restoration is by no means a difficult task."
The gullible subjects of the Empire had no way of knowing how the Demon King Subjugation had actually been carried out, nor what dealings transpired within the court. And so those ignorant commoners would lend blind, unquestioning support to the Hero's Party — for they were the ones who had led the subjugation.
'That damned adventurer brat has latched himself onto the Imperial Princess, yes...'
But he was, in the end, nothing more than an adventurer. The public was enraptured by the Hero, the Saintess, and the mage. That was why Cardo proposed making use of Irene. Compared to the fame of the Hero and Saintess she lacked the Church's backing, and so was a somewhat weaker asset —
"...but she is a woman the Magic Tower is promoting quite heavily, which makes her useful in any number of ways, Your Highness."
"Hmm..."
Having heard Cardo's plan, Narcisse sank briefly into thought.
'Not bad, actually.'
Once he left the detached palace, he would travel the Empire far and wide with Irene, carrying out charity work and winning the people's hearts. The Church would surely assist as well, and together they would turn public opinion against Anastasia — paint her as a woman blinded by imperial power, driving the Empire to ruin, grinding down the lives of subjects already suffering under the demon armies' incursions.
None of it would be true, of course — but feed the stupid swine a little food and a few comforting words, and they would believe anything.
And so Narcisse nodded, a sinister smile spreading across his face.
"Yes, not bad at all, Uncle. Kheheh..."
"Indeed, Your Highness. Though the mage is a somewhat inadequate substitute for the Saintess, she would be perfectly suited to fill a concubine's seat once you ascend the throne. She is, after all, a member of the party that slew the Demon King — the very woman they call the hope of the Magic Tower."
"Yes, yes! Uncle's right! And once I'm Emperor, the moment I promise the Saintess the Empress's seat, that woman will come crawling straight to me!"
Narcisse nodded, a satisfied expression settling over his face.
Compared to Saintess Sera, Irene's looks were a touch ordinary and her chest a bit small, which was a shame — but set against ordinary women, she wasn't bad at all.
'If anything, she's on the better side.'
It amused him, too, how she'd fallen for him at first sight and fumbled all over herself.
And then there was this: for a man of his temperament, a woman like Irene — one he could bend and wield however he pleased — was far easier to handle than a cunning, calculating creature like Sera.
"Good, understood. Proceed as you've planned, Uncle."
"Yes — thank you for your approval, Your Highness."
"Right, right. I'm going to have a drink now, so you may go."
"...Yes, as you command, Your Highness."
Watching Cardo withdraw, Narcisse curled his lips into a crooked smile.
"Heh heh... just you wait, Anastasia, you lowborn wretch. I will take back everything that is mine."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Meanwhile, having slipped out of the detached palace and riding home in the carriage Narcisse had provided for her, Irene was steeped in bliss.
'Ah... Narcisse is so wonderfully attentive...'
Recalling the sweet conversation they'd shared in the prince's private chamber, she wore an expression of pure rapture.
How long had it been?
Logan, who had betrayed her and latched onto the Imperial Princess. Rian, who'd injured himself in an accident while drawing the Holy Sword.
It felt as though the wounds those two men had left in her heart were finally being healed.
'No matter how I look at it, he must have feelings for me, right?'
Narcisse's tender manner was unmistakably a sign of affection.
'Ah...'
Irene thought: Narcisse was the man who truly deserved her.
Once Sera and Cardo pushed Anastasia aside, Narcisse would naturally become Crown Prince — and then Emperor.
'And then I would...'
wouldn't she become Empress?
For Irene, who had always dreamed of claiming the most glittering, most exalted seat in the world, it was truly the stuff of dreams.
'I'm sorry, Rian, but...'
She didn't think she could bring herself to refuse Narcisse's suit.
'Don't be too hurt about it... I'll take good care of you later...'
In fact, once she was Empress, she could easily crush even a scheming witch like Sera under the weight of imperial authority and bring Rian to her side.
'Yes, that would be better for Rian too...'
Rather than remaining bound in the shackles of the Church, pushed around by Sera, he would be far better off under the protection of an Empress — under her protection.
And then—
'...Logan, you too.'
She would make him regret ever abandoning her.
'But unlike you, I'm gracious — just as Narcisse says. So I'll forgive you, and I'll take you back...'
Though she wouldn't treat him as well as she once had.
And so, gazing out at the Imperial Palace beyond the carriage window, Irene smiled a cold, twisting smile — her eyes glittering with warped ambition.