Chapter 47
Chapter 47
Translation: godsn
Standing beside the dazzlingly adorned Virna, Medeia's black satin dress appeared rather modest in comparison.
If anything, it made her translucent skin, crimson lips, and the white pearls adorning her ears stand out all the more.
Her unwavering gait, upright posture, composed gaze, and measured tone—every detail exuded an undercurrent of noble grace.
Rather than detracting from her dignity, the lack of excessive adornment seemed to elevate her status as a princess by another degree.
"Virna wanted this dress so desperately. It should go to someone who wears it better."
She flicked open her fan and slightly lowered her eyes.
"The Duke of Claudio's household always showers me with gifts far beyond my worth. Shouldn't I occasionally return the favor?"
Her calm voice carried a tinge of troubled reluctance.
Me? When did I—!
To the listeners, it sounded as though Virna had forgotten her station and stubbornly insisted on wearing the princess's dress.
Catherine quickly stepped forward.
"My foolish child has dared to trouble Your Highness, and as her mother, I must apologize once more. However, I did send other garments for Your Highness as well—why did you choose to wear this black dress?"
The implication was clear: Medeia had deliberately dressed her cousin in lavish attire while donning a plain dress herself to garner admiration.
"I deeply appreciate your kindness, Aunt. However, we are at war."
Medeia continued smoothly, without a trace of fluster.
"His Majesty has yet to return from the battlefield, and the people are starving—how could I possibly indulge in such extravagant attire?"
At that moment, Marchioness Aspasia, who had been observing the scene with amusement from a slight distance, chimed in.
As a leading figure in Valdina's social circles, she was Catherine's fierce rival.
"But Your Highness is the King's only sibling. No one would dare criticize whatever you wear or wherever you go."
"Indeed. I am Valdina's one and only princess."
Medeia lifted her chin, her expression exuding not just dignity but outright arrogance.
"Whether I drape myself in silk or cheap cloth, that truth remains unchanged. Why should I hesitate?"
Marchioness Aspasia nodded in agreement.
"Your Highness is correct. A princess need not prove herself with adornments."
Her words carried a pointed undertone, clearly aimed at someone.
Then, as if shielding a troublesome troublemaker, Medeia gently added,
"Still, it's hardly Virna's fault. A girl her age naturally wishes to dress more vibrantly—how could that be a flaw?"
Yet the age difference between the princess and Virna was barely a year.
Medeia's words only reinforced the impression that Virna was immature.
Even with the same blood, how can their sense of responsibility differ so much?
No matter how young and wayward the princess might be, the royal bloodline could not be hidden, people thought.
Some even shook their heads disapprovingly at Virna.
How dare they—!
Virna bit her lip.
She felt like a monkey in a zoo. The humiliation was unbearable.
Foolish girl. Can't even do one thing right.
The Regent frowned as he watched his daughter's flushed face.
It's fine. This banquet itself will become the snare that traps Medeia.
To erase his daughter's disgrace and steer the conversation back, he stepped forward before the princess.
"How admirable you are, Medeia."
The moment her name was called, a fleeting glint of hostility flashed in her jade-green eyes—but only for an instant.
Medeia raised her head and met his gaze.
"It's been a while, Uncle Claudio."
This was their first encounter since her regression.
"I'm truly relieved you've recovered. Otherwise, Valdina would have lost such a thoughtful princess."
His cheerful demeanor and affectionate greeting made him appear the picture of benevolence.
But Medeia knew his true nature.
How could I have failed to recognize those wolf-like eyes before?
"Medeia. Don't get too close to our uncle. They—"
"Why? Do you hate me that much, Brother? Why must you take away the only people left by my side?"
In her past life, Pelleus had sensed his ambition early on. That was why he had tried to warn her.
But he, fearing his younger sister would be hurt, ultimately couldn't bring himself to speak the truth.
'After I died, you would have become the King of Valdina, wouldn't you, Duke Claudio?'
While Pelleus was torn apart by Magic Beasts defending the nation, you fled to the Empire and didn't lift a finger—was that it?
Medeia clenched her fan tightly. It was unbearable that she couldn't drive its sturdy frame straight through his heart right this moment.
But if she killed him now, he would be remembered as nothing more than a pitiable, benevolent man—slaughtered without reason by the niece he had cherished more than his own daughter.
'I can't possibly leave you with such a favorable reputation.'
"I deeply appreciate your concern," Medeia said with a faint smile, suppressing her murderous intent.
"Now then."
As if signaling the time had come, the Regent ascended the podium.
Clang— clang— clang—
The clear, resonant sound of a silver spoon striking a crystal glass echoed through the hall.
"As you all know, tonight's banquet is solely to celebrate Medeia—the one and only Princess of our Valdina Royal Family."
His gaze swept over the audience like a lord presiding over his domain, his demeanor nothing short of majestic.
"Her Highness has devoted herself wholeheartedly to governing the kingdom in His Majesty's stead. With nothing but Valdina in her heart, she toiled over state affairs until her very health was compromised."
The eyes of the noble guests flickered with bewilderment.
Hadn't her injury been from a mere riding accident during a leisurely outing?
"Though these humble preparations pale in comparison to Her Highness's noble dignity, we hope she will graciously accept them as a token of our devotion."
As if oblivious to how his words made it sound as though the Princess had begged the Duke of Claudio's household to throw this unnecessary banquet, the Regent enthusiastically sang her praises.
"Thus, let none of you ever forget—Her Highness's very existence elevates the glory of our kingdom."
That a mere Princess—not even the King—should be bowed to this deeply.
The Regent's excessive hyperbole only pricked at the nobles' pride.
Even the Queen Dowager's eyes hardened slightly.
It was good for Medeia to assert her dignity, but if she overstepped, wouldn't it cause trouble when the King returned?
After all, two suns could not rise in one sky.
"Let us all pray for Her Highness's continued safety and peace tonight! To Princess Medeia!"
The Regent's earnest praise for his niece was, in truth, nothing more than a slab of meat thrown to incite the wolves to tear her apart.
The banquet's atmosphere grew icy.
Every attendee had grown resentful of mindlessly lauding the Princess.
The Royalist nobles who supported Pelleus were so furious their faces flushed red.
What help had the Princess—who had recklessly abused the Royal Seal as the Regent's puppet—ever been to the kingdom? If anything, she had been nothing but a nuisance!
Duke Claudio was immensely satisfied to see even his mother, the Queen Dowager, visibly uncomfortable.
His gaze devoured the empty throne of the King.
'Just a little longer, and everything will fall into my hands. That seat, the King's Crown—all of it.'
Tonight seemed destined to end just as they had planned.
Then—the hem of a black dress rippled gracefully.
"Since the House of Duke Claudio holds me in such high esteem, I am deeply moved. I, too, understand my uncle's heart well."
Medeia raised her arm, pointing toward the window.
She had no intention of letting the banquet proceed as the Regent intended.
"In truth, tonight is the eve of Saint Esther—when the Star of Eternal Victory rises."
Following her fingertips, the crowd's eyes turned toward the deep night sky visible beyond the window.
Dong, dong— The distant tolling of a great bell marking the hour echoed through the air.
"Was it not to wish for even a fraction of Saint Esther's fortune to reach His Majesty on the battlefield and Valdina's soldiers that this grand banquet was held?"
Saint Esther.
The most powerful and valiant offensive priest in the Holy Kingdom's mythos, recorded in the annals of the temple.
Coincidentally, at that very moment—a streak of white light flashed in the distance.
"Just now—over the ridgeline—!"
Murmurs erupted as some caught the fleeting sight while others missed it.
"Ah—there, look!"
Multiple beams of white light shot upward in unison.
The streaks, seemingly racing endlessly toward the heavens, suddenly burst apart like an explosion.
The rising points of light transformed into lines, connecting with one another—until a single shape took form.
"But the shape looks just like—"
"—Saint Esther! It's Saint Esther's spear!"
Someone who recognized it cried out.