I've Never Had a Dessert This Refreshing
I've Never Had a Dessert This Refreshing
Zenon.
First Prince.
Firstborn of the imperial star, he once held the most brilliant talent of his generation.
A prince fit to succeed the emperor, with all the qualities to become the sun of the empire. A man who could have ruled the continent and written his name across history.
Key word: once.
Yeah. Until recently, all of that had been true.
He was the only one of the emperor's current children to master the sword—a skilled swordsman by thirty, with a high likelihood of reaching Master.
Master.
The title reserved for those who have touched the pinnacle of the blade.
Out of tens of thousands of swordsmen, only a few hundred ever become skilled enough to naturally emanate Aura. And out of those few hundred, vanishingly few ever reach Master.
A Master isn't one in a hundred. It's one in thousands, if even that.
Not just someone who can wield Aura, but someone whose Aura is purer than any other.
First Prince Zenon indisputably had the talent to become one.
And so the nobles flocked to him. If anyone was to become emperor, they insisted, it could only be the First Prince.
Who else could protect the empire, they argued, if not one who had reached the sword's ultimate peak?
His legitimacy was absolute.
He was the firstborn son of the reigning emperor.
And yet, despite nearly all of the nobility backing him, the title of Crown Princess did not go to him. It went to the Second Princess Diana.
Not the First Princess. Not the Second Prince. Diana.
The most legitimate heir, the strongest sword in the imperial family — he had lost. To a younger sister whose only weapon was political instinct.
"Gods damn it!"
Kwaang!
Zenon brought his fist down on his office desk.
"Why? Why would His Majesty name Diana crown princess instead of me?!"
Infused with Aura, the blow obliterated the lavishly ornamented desk.
"......."
No one in the room dared open their mouth.
If you defended Zenon by blaming the emperor, you'd be insulting the imperial house itself. If you took the emperor's side, Zenon's fury would find a new target.
"The nobles are already lining up behind that newly minted crown princess. Even Duke Perdes, who supported me more vocally than anyone, has started avoiding me."
Zenon ground his teeth, his eyes blazing with fury at the throne stolen from him.
What should rightfully have been his, snatched away on the pretext that someone else had been chosen by the gods.
"That damned Order is behind this. They're scheming to expand their influence."
The Order had always remained strictly neutral, never once meddling in imperial politics.
And now, suddenly, they had thrown themselves into a succession war.
Why?
Because that scheming witch Diana had used them as her backers to beguile His Majesty. She'd promised them concessions in exchange for their help in taking the throne.
"I will not stand by and watch the imperial house become the Order's puppet."
Still grinding his teeth, Zenon slowly swept his gaze over the knights assembled in his office.
Just as the princess had her own knight order, so did he.
The First Prince's Knight Order.
His sworn men, loyal to him alone.
"What do you think?"
"We follow only Your Highness's command."
"Good."
He smiled with satisfaction.
Imperial justice had to be restored. The threat to the crown's authority — from the Order, of all people — had to be crushed.
And at the same time, this was about reclaiming his rightful place.
"There is only one way."
From Zenon's mouth came words that should never have been spoken.
"We kill Crown Princess Diana."
As long as no one found out.
Diana would die, the seat would sit empty, and he would fill it.
Every man in the room bowed his head in silence.
They knew, at the very least, that this was the one posture that might keep Zenon's fury aimed elsewhere.
***
"You've returned. Has the investigation concluded?"
"It has, Your Highness."
Diana stirred the lemon syrup Andy had brought her into a glass of sparkling water.
The chilled carbonated water, combined with the lemon syrup and a touch of simple syrup, turned a brilliant yellow. She watched the bubbles fizz and foam in a dense, crackling chorus as she admired the finished lemonade.
So this was the lemonade Lucas had served Andy.
She couldn't even begin to measure how angry she'd been when she first heard about it.
-A tribute Sir Lucas sent for Your Highness.
When Andy had presented her with the bottle of lemon syrup, Diana had opened the gift with genuine pleasure. Lucas couldn't come to her, yet still sent a tribute — the thoughtfulness touched her. She'd even been planning what to send him in return.
And then.
-It tastes even better mixed like this.
As if she already knew exactly how it was meant to be consumed, Andy had expertly combined the sparkling water, ice, and lemon syrup and served it to her.
That was the moment it hit her.
Andy, who had been ordered to bring Lucas back, had instead eaten his food all by herself.
Vein-throb.
Diana felt a headache pulse behind her eyes as the anger rose.
She hadn't even been this furious when she learned Lucas had refused to follow Andy and stayed behind.
How dare she sneak a taste of Lucas's cooking without her.
I haven't even had any! I'm still aching for his cooking, and she just — alone!
She'd seriously considered confining Andy to quarters for a few days out of sheer wounded fury.
That whole grudge, however, quietly dissolved with one sip of the lemonade Andy had learned to make from Lucas.
"I had no idea anything could taste this good. I've had every dessert the imperial household can offer, but I've never encountered a drink so cool and so utterly pleasant."
"Your Highness has consumed practically nothing else for dessert these past few days."
"It's true. It suits my palate perfectly."
A hum slipped out before she knew it.
The only disappointment was that the bottle of lemon syrup Andy had brought was nearly empty.
Was it because Lucas had made it himself?
Every time she drank it, the throbbing pain that usually plagued her mind simply vanished.
As expected of Lucas.
His cooking was calming the voices that churned inside her head.
"On another matter: what is Zenon doing?"
"His movements are suspicious. He's recently been dispatching his knights to the Capital Guard."
"To the Capital Guard?"
"Yes."
"Is His Majesty aware of this?"
Andy nodded.
"He has remained silent on the matter."
"That would be like him."
He'd been the same during the succession struggle — resolutely neutral to the bitter end. And not out of any commitment to impartiality.
Merely.
'Neglect.'
He wanted to see which of his children, pushed off the cliff, would claw their way back up last.
The survivor is the strong one.
It was practically her father's catchphrase.
He had survived. That, he believed, was why he had become emperor.
No one was ignorant of how much blood that road had been paved with.
The result, in his view, was that the most capable child — himself — had taken the throne, and the empire had flourished for it.
And an emperor like that had named her crown princess for one simple reason.
'Because I was the strongest.'
She had brought home the most achievements. She commanded the widest reach of power.
'Whatever Zenon does, he'll simply watch.'
And wait to see.
How she would deal with Zenon once it came to that.
"No conclusive evidence yet?"
"No, Your Highness. Prince Zenon goes about his daily routines as usual. If you observed him alone, you'd detect nothing out of the ordinary."
"My dear brother is undoubtedly working beneath the surface."
He was not a man who would sit idle.
"What will you do?"
"I'll strike first."
She had no intention of sitting back and letting someone attack her when she already knew it was coming.
She would move first. Rattle him, force an error.
The moment Zenon made a single mistake, she'd sink her teeth into his throat.
Like a lioness.
"I'll request an audience with His Majesty."
"Understood. I'll dispatch a message at once."
Schlooorp!
Her piece said, Diana sucked on the straw in her lemonade.
The sweet-tart, electric fizz of the drink sparked across her tongue.
"Delicious. Truly delicious."
The words came out unbidden.
The clarity spreading through her head drew a natural smile.
"I want to go down there as soon as possible."
Not one day later than she had to.
***
"You want me to send Zenon away to the provinces?"
"Yes, Your Majesty."
The emperor's brow furrowed at Diana's words.
"Which province, exactly?"
"Recently, there have been reports of monster incursions in the northeastern territories. A knight of my brother's caliber could subdue the beasts handily and return. It would elevate the imperial house's prestige while simultaneously demonstrating Your Majesty's grace to the nobles of the northeast."
"...You aren't wrong."
The emperor nodded, then fixed his gaze on her.
"But that's not your only reason."
"What other reason could I possibly have?"
"You may be honest with me. I have no intention of interfering in whatever fight for the throne unfolds between you."
Hearing him frame it as a fight for the crown prince's seat, Diana understood: he still did not fully recognize her as the heir.
'Your Majesty, how long do you plan to simply stand by and watch us fight? Do you intend to stop only when I've killed my own brother?'
She posed the silent, unanswerable question as she met the emperor's eyes.
"It is to gauge my brother's intentions."
There was nothing to gain by hiding it now.
"Zenon's intentions, you say. Do you believe he's after your neck?"
"Yes. He is exactly the sort of man who would do that."
"Hmm. If I send Zenon to the northeast, it will look as though I am siding with the crown princess..."
The emperor let out a theatrical sigh as he faced her.
Shameless.
To think he'd use his own children as pieces to get what he wanted.
"If I assist the crown princess, surely the crown princess will assist me in return?"
"What is it you desire from me?"
The emperor fell silent for a moment. As if weighing his words, he slowly closed his eyes, then opened them again and spoke.
"Once Zenon is entirely removed from the succession contest, you will ascend to the throne in my stead."
"You intend to become former Emperor?"
"No. I intend to retire."
"Retire?"
"Yes."
That caught her off guard.
Retire.
What in the world was he thinking?
"Don't bother trying to analyze my motives or sniff out a hidden agenda. My wish to retire is sincere. I plan to disappear into the countryside and live quietly. I've spent thirty years on this throne tending to the affairs of state. Surely my twilight years are allowed a little leisure?"
"...Then what did you mean, exactly, by my brother being 'entirely removed'?"
"That is for you to interpret."
The emperor smiled.
"To take the seat of absolute power, a moment will come when you must make a choice. A moment when you must be ruthless, even toward your own sibling."
As if he had said all he wished to, he dismissed her.
"Go now. I wish to rest a while."
"Rest well, Your Majesty."
Diana bowed her head and withdrew.
Whatever the process, the emperor had granted his consent.
Now all she had to do was watch for Zenon's reaction.
"His Majesty's words... I'll need to consider them more carefully."
Why exactly he had chosen to say them.
***
The Knight Restaurant of Britten.
"Ughhh."
Andrea stared downward, face a knot of dread.
The contraption humans used to measure weight. A needle pointed to a number; whatever stood on it was measured accordingly.
She'd stepped onto the scale for the first time in a long while.
For one reason.
-Lady Andrea, have you gained a little weight?
Heimer's offhand remark.
And then Hamilton, and Briar, and even Rockington —
-You have put on a bit, haven't you?
— had all chimed in to confirm it.
"......."
She bit her lip as she looked at the number the needle pointed to.
"Five......."
This was bad.
Seriously bad.
"I really have to lose it now."