A Preemptive Strike
The Emperor's bedroom.
"I made it abundantly clear that I had no wish to see you, and yet, as ever, you refuse to listen to a single word I say."
Despite having refused in advance, Emperor Valerius could not help letting out a deep sigh—because a woman had insisted on coming all the way to his bedchamber and demanding an audience.
"Tell me honestly, Angelina. Do you truly believe releasing Narcissus from the Detached Annex Palace would be a wise choice?"
"Of course it would! It is you, Your Majesty, who insists on keeping that poor child exiled in that wretched place—until when, exactly!?"
Empress Angelina bellowed at Valerius, her voice thick with fury. Three years—the boy had been locked away in the annex palace long enough. He had never even committed a crime grave enough to warrant house arrest in that godforsaken place in the first place. But unlike her, the Emperor still maintained that the prince must remain confined.
"...The boy was placed under house arrest for forcing himself upon a princess of an allied nation. We very nearly had a war on our hands."
"Ha... forcing himself upon her? Should she not count it an honor to have been held in Narcissus's arms? And where, pray tell, is this 'great war' you speak of? We are the Empire. A trifling little country like that—why not simply sweep it off the map?"
At Angelina's insolent, dismissive reply—punctuated by a contemptuous scoff—Valerius could not suppress a bitter laugh of his own.
"Ha... Empress, do you hear yourself? The very next year, the Demon King was resurrected—and you stand here saying we should have simply gone to war? How can you utter such reckless nonsense?"
The Empress faltered for a moment at the Emperor's heated question, but she only raised her voice all the more defiantly.
"Which is exactly why I regret that we failed to subjugate that little nation sooner. Had we occupied it then, wouldn't the war against the Demon King's armies have gone that much more smoothly? And the command should never have gone to some lowborn wretch like Anastasia—if our Narcissus had led it..."
BANG!!!
Unable to endure Angelina's endless stream of delusions, Valerius slammed his fist down hard on the desk.
"Can you not keep that mouth of yours shut!? Anastasia is my child as well—the rightful Crown Princess who now administers the affairs of state in my stead. Do not dare insult her!"
"Ha...! This is truly too much. It seems Your Majesty's children can only ever be born of that lowborn woman's belly. You leave our Narcissus to rot and have not granted him a single audience!!!"
Angelina did not yield a single inch before the Emperor's fury. She only raised her voice higher, pressing him harder.
"Have I ever asked for anything unreasonable? My heart simply breaks for Narcissus, confined to that annex palace—as his mother, all I am asking is that you release him now. How can you, his own father, be so heartless!"
Once, long ago, Angelina had genuinely loved him. Back when she had been betrothed to Valerius, then Crown Prince, and become Crown Princess herself.
But his heart had already turned elsewhere—toward another woman.
She had been dying to know what kind of extraordinary woman it could be—even with the late Emperor himself acting as matchmaker, what woman could turn his eyes away from her?
So she had investigated. And the woman's identity turned out to be this: the daughter of an imperial maidservant, a lowborn girl who was herself a mere maid.
The discovery only made Angelina's rage burn hotter. Not only was the woman of utterly humble birth—her looks were nothing remarkable either.
The sheer humiliation of being eclipsed by such a wretched creature, when she herself lacked for nothing—the wounded pride made her want to destroy Valerius and the woman at once.
And yet she had, in the boundlessness of her magnanimity, permitted the woman to be taken in as an imperial concubine. Even so, this man had never once given her his heart, nor granted her the smallest request.
"Even considering all the concessions I have made, can you not honor a single request of mine! I looked the other way when you brought Celia—that woman—in as your concubine, did I not!"
"Ha... 'Looked the other way'... Angelina, you truly are remarkable."
"Whatever do you mean by that?"
"Enough... I have no desire to speak of her with you. Not a single word..."
Valerius shook his head. How could this woman utter her name with such shameless audacity...
And looked the other way, indeed. The imperial authority had been crumbling pitifully since the previous reign, but this woman had never once respected him—always, always looked down on him.
And that was why she stood here now, so brazenly making one absurd demand after another.
Celia... I am so sorry...
She had most likely lost her life to one of Angelina's schemes. And he had failed even to protect her daughter, Anastasia—he had given up on her.
But Anastasia had overcome adversity all on her own, and accomplished the great feat of the Demon King Subjugation Expedition as well.
And so Valerius no longer intended to give Angelina an inch.
No doubt she means to threaten Anastasia together with the Lindemark Ducal House and the Church.
There was no need to dig into her true intentions—it was obvious. Angelina claimed the campaign would have gone better if Narcissus had commanded the subjugation of the Demon King's armies, but she knew better than anyone that her son's vessel was far too small for such a role.
Which was why, for the past three years, she had never once made so much as a peep about sending her son on a campaign to atone for his crimes.
Now that the Demon King has been slain, she intends to crawl out and help herself to the Empire at her leisure. The scheme is written all over her face. How utterly revolting...
Valerius found the sight of Angelina glaring and railing at him endlessly nothing short of contemptible.
"Are you even listening to me, Your Majesty!? Release Narcissus at once!!!"
"Enough. I have told you plainly—no. Someone! Is no one there? Her Majesty the Empress is returning to the Empress's Palace. Escort her, now."
"Your Majesty! I have no intention of withdrawing until I hear a firm answer—unhand me this instant!!"
Even as she was dragged away by the attendants, Angelina did not stop struggling, screaming all the while. At this, a throbbing headache surged over Valerius, and he clutched his brow with a groan.
"Ugh..."
Both body and spirit had already been worn down and weakened by long years of anguish. Still—
Anastasia...
He resolved to endure, however he could, to repay the sins he had committed against his daughter.
She had finished her usual workload by late morning, and lunchtime had arrived—the short reprieve she took to rest.
"—and that's what happened, Your Highness!"
"So yesterday the Empress's Palace was in a complete uproar while Her Majesty was there."
"That's right, that's right. The maids working there must be dying of misery~"
Lulu and Rala were reporting to Anastasia the stories they had heard from the maidservants who served in the Empress's Palace.
"...I see. Thank you for the valuable information, you two."
"Not at all! For Your Highness, this much is only natural!"
"Exactly! If you like, we could just—poof!—sneak into the Empress's Palace!"
"Heh heh... There is no need to go to such extremes."
Anastasia, who had just finished a pleasant meal with Logan and was now enjoying a short tea time, set down her teacup with a bitter expression.
"Father is going through quite a great deal of trouble on my account..."
Overcoming the Empress's stubbornness would be no easy feat. Anastasia felt conflicted, complicated emotions at the fact that Valerius was holding out for her sake.
But she soon had to lower her head. Because at this late hour, a little regret and a squabble with the Empress were not nearly enough to earn her forgiveness—or her pity—for the Emperor.
It was because of his spineless passivity that she had lost her mother. And had she never met Logan, she would not be sitting here today.
But Logan, sipping tea across from her, seemed to be thinking along different lines.
"Um, Anya... I think it would be best for you to see His Majesty after all."
"Hmm... Logan? I don't think that's a good idea. I'm grateful that he's working so hard for my sake, but..."
Anastasia tried to object. She wanted to grant whatever he asked of her, but as she had said, she still resented the Emperor.
Still, Logan was not a man who failed to read the poor look on her face, even if he did not know the full details of her history.
"Yes, Anya. I don't know everything, but I do know you're uncomfortable with His Majesty. Even so, you must meet him."
"Hmm... do you? Could you perhaps tell me why I must?"
"Of course. It's because..."
"Because...?"
Anastasia tried to guess what he might say. He was such a kind, considerate person—would he try to persuade her that she should try to get along with her own parent?
But the words that left his lips were nothing she had anticipated.
"To beg him to release the Prince."
"I'm sorry—what?"
The unexpected proposal startled more than just Anastasia. Lulu and Rala beside her, and Renate as well, were equally stunned.
"What on earth are you saying, Logan!? Did you not hear what Lulu and Rala just reported? Do you not understand the Empress's scheme in demanding her son's release!?"
Renate cut into the conversation, objecting in a heated voice. Logan began his explanation in a calm, even tone.
"Which is precisely why I am saying Anya must hurry to see His Majesty."
"No, what is that supposed to—!"
"Renate, let's hear Logan out first."
"Ahem... My apologies for the interruption."
At Anastasia's word, Renate coughed once and fell silent. Seeing that everyone was ready to listen, Logan continued calmly.
"Right, then—allow me to explain. I had already been thinking that we cannot afford to focus solely on our work in the office as we have been. Because..."
It was flagrantly, undeniably certain that Cardo and Sera had joined hands. Logan had been convinced they could not be left alone to do as they pleased.
He knew well just how greedy and cowardly a man like Cardo was. And though Sera appeared gentle and saintly to a degree no one could match on the surface, she harbored ambitions greater than anyone's—and was a dangerous woman.
The aim of the two of them was unmistakable: Anastasia's downfall. They wanted her removed from the seat of Crown Princess as quickly as possible and a puppet installed in her place.
Which meant they would be scrambling to extract the prince and place him on that seat.
So why, then, would he propose releasing the prince instead?
"As long as His Majesty keeps holding out for Anya's sake, that's all well and good—but there is a very high chance it will end up acting as a poison instead."
If it were only the Lindemark Ducal House, the Empress's backing, things would have been manageable. The problem was the Church that had allied itself with them.
"They will no doubt whip up public opinion. They'll claim that Anya, blinded by her hunger for the throne, has been deceiving and manipulating His Majesty all this time in order to keep her own kin imprisoned in the annex palace."
"What an absurd—!"
Renate tried to retort at Logan's words, but then fell silent mid-sentence. She, too, thought that a church led by that Sera was more than capable of it.
"Which is why we must move first and seize the initiative."
"...I do think Logan has a point, but if we mishandle this, aren't we liable to simply hand them the wings they need?"
Anastasia voiced her unease. The moment Narcissus walked free, the Ducal House and the Church would obviously move straight into their next phase.
Logan answered in a voice full of conviction.
"His Majesty will release the Prince eventually. That much is certain."
"Ah..."
Anastasia found herself nodding before she even realized it. Just as she had been able to roughly fathom how he had lived all this time, he too had pieced together how she had lived, what kind of life she had endured.
Emperor Valerius was raising his voice and devoting himself to aiding Anastasia—but his body and mind were already exhausted to the breaking point, considerably aged and worn.
Even though Logan had never directly laid eyes on Valerius more than a handful of times, he had grasped the Emperor's condition with certainty, by instinct alone.
He would not hold out much longer.
Anastasia could not disagree. If the man had ever been capable of holding out, the imperial authority would never have crumbled so pitifully in the first place.
"Which is why we mustn't give the Church so much as a sliver of room to manufacture some twisted narrative—we need to move immediately and strike first."
"Strike first...?"
"Yes. Here is the plan..."
Logan laid out the specifics.
Back in his childhood days at ten years old—back when he was spending peaceful days with Irene—he had tried hard not to dwell on his past life.
But after the monster attack on the village, ever since he resolved to change, he had labored day after day over the memories of his previous life—or, more precisely, over extracting useful information from them.
The fruit of that effort had been saving Anastasia when she contracted the blood plague in the past. And afterward, it was what had allowed him to distinguish himself in the Demon King Subjugation, and now in the Post-War Imperial Reconstruction Project he was pushing forward.
I still can't recall, even now, what sort of person I was in that previous life...
But thanks to that past life, Logan could say with confidence that he knew exactly what needed to be done now.
"You must show yourself to the people of the Empire before the Ducal House and the Church can—and work hard at giving speeches and offering relief."
Judging from the outrageous claims they had made in the council chamber, they were certain to agitate the good, simple citizens with false rumors—that Anastasia intended to raise their taxes and squeeze them dry.
And then they would release a trickle of their embezzled fortunes and play the benefactor. The ignorant would be swept up in the agitation without fail.
"...I see."
Hearing Logan's explanation, Anastasia could only nod. All this time she had been buried in paperwork, striving to establish the plans for the Empire's reconstruction—thoroughly, efficiently, and swiftly—so the Empire could be rebuilt as soon as possible.
But if she did nothing but that, she could end up isolated. And the clerical work, too, was vitally important—and vast.
And so—
"I suppose I'll simply have to work even harder."
Anastasia resolved to make more effort, even if it meant cutting into her sleeping and resting hours.
Renate, who knew her temperament all too well, wore a worried expression.
"Your Highness, devoting yourself to the Empire is most admirable, but you are already pushing yourself far too hard."
"But Renate, the Noble Faction and the Church have already delayed our plans far more than they should have been."
"And yet, Your Highness—!"
"It's all right. I'm not the only one suffering for it. And no matter how grueling the work gets, I can bear it. Because I..."
Anastasia didn't care how grueling the work became, or how little rest she got. Because—
"—I, too, will do everything in my power to make sure Anya never has to struggle."
Because beside her stood Logan, speaking with such tenderness just as he was now—more dependable, more strengthening than anyone else in the world.
"Thank you, Logan. With you helping me, I can push myself as hard as I need to."
"Anya..."
"Logan..."
The two of them gazed into each other's eyes, tender and unguarded. At the sight, Renate could not help letting out a sigh.
"Haa..."
Because it always ended like this.
Lulu and Rala chimed in as well.
"Sir Renate, that just means we all have to work hard to keep Her Highness from overdoing it, right?"
"That's right! Let's do our best!"
"Yes, yes. Understood."
Renate had no choice but to raise both hands in a gesture of surrender. If she kept objecting here, she would only end up looking like the odd one out—and for no good reason at all.