Chapter 116
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 116
Lucas watched the Empress with a keen, wary eye.
Senevia Taren Guirta sat at the head of the long banquet table, the picture of composure and serenity as she conversed with the Eastern nobles. The very men who should have been arming themselves against her were instead hanging on her every word, looking utterly spellbound.
Lucas let out a dry, hollow scoff at the absurdity of it all, then shifted his gaze to the woman seated to the Empress’s left.
While the Empress commanded the room with her dazzling charm, Thalia Roem Sieorkan sat with a face like ice, silently nursing her wine. The stark contrast between the two made his stomach churn.
Why does that woman always look like she’s at a funeral?
At a glance, the two looked similar enough to be twins. If Thalia had chosen to smile and enchant people the way the Empress did, perhaps no one in this castle could have resisted her. Instead, the woman was always bristling like a hedgehog, busy pushing away anyone who dared approach.
For a while, she seemed to be making an effort to play the part of the Grand Duchess, but over the last few days, she hadn’t even bothered to pretend. Even the nobles who had previously shown her favor were now turning away in exasperation.
Was her health failing her again?
The thought flickered through Lucas’s mind, and he narrowed his eyes. Thalia Roem Sieorkan’s complexion was paler than usual, and her sunken eyes were fixed on the flickering candlelight on the table. She certainly looked ill.
Just as a restless agitation began to stir within him, Barkas abruptly entered the banquet hall.
Lucas instinctively tensed. The room’s lively atmosphere seemed to flash-freeze the moment he appeared. He wasn’t the only one who felt it; everyone around the table watched the confrontation between the Empress and Barkas with strained faces.
“It is so difficult to see your face these days. I was beginning to feel quite slighted.”
Senevia was the first to break the heavy silence. She lifted her wine glass to moisten her lips, her expression one of feigned disappointment.
“It’s all well and good to catch up with old comrades, but you should spare some attention for me and my daughter as well.”
“I offer my humblest apologies if I have caused you any displeasure,” Barkas replied tonelessly as he reached the head of the table and took his seat. “Quite a lot has happened at the Imperial Palace in the meantime. I was delayed while discussing various matters. I ask for your forgiveness.”
At his pointed words, a smile—so smooth it was chilling—spread across the Empress’s lips.
Lucas marveled inwardly at her composure. The Empress was effectively standing in the heart of enemy territory. Furthermore, half of the envoys who had escorted her here were knights of the Roem Knights. In short, she was surrounded by her political enemies. How could she remain so calm?
The Empress’s eyes curved into crescents as she spoke softly.
“I truly hope those discussions were meaningful.”
An uncomfortable silence weighed down the banquet hall once more. The Empress seemed well aware that Barkas was moving busily to thwart her. Barkas, for his part, made no effort to hide it.
Lucas glanced at Thalia. Her face was set, and she was gripping her glass tightly, gnawing on her lower lip. She had clearly heard that her husband was exerting all his effort to rescue his former fiancée.
Lucas brought his glass to his lips, glaring at his brother’s inscrutable face.
Since their father’s stone sarcophagus had been laid to rest in the mausoleum, Lucas had been officially appointed as the aide to the Grand Duke of Sieorkan. Thanks to this, he had gained a thorough understanding of the political currents in both the East and the Imperial Palace over the past few weeks.
Currently, a rift had begun to form between the Eastern lords and the Conservative nobles. Meanwhile, the Northerners were trying to wedge themselves into that gap. The problem was that their ambition didn’t stop at merely expanding political influence. The Balto people had recently been increasing their military strength, growing their power at an alarming rate.
That wasn’t all. Evidence had been captured suggesting they were secretly amassing war funds through various merchant guilds. If their goal was Balto’s independence, then in the worst-case scenario, Aila Roem Guirta risked being reduced to a mere hostage used to pressure the Imperial Household. The First Imperial Princess’s new marriage proposal had every potential to become the spark that would ignite the division of the Empire.
Because of this, Barkas was pouring all his energy into persuading the Crown Prince and the Conservative nobles, even setting aside the affairs of the Grand Duchy.
If only Brother had married Aila Roem Guirta in the first place, none of this would be an issue, Lucas grumbled to himself.
If Barkas had kept his loyalty to the Crown Prince instead of yielding to the Emperor’s pressure, he wouldn’t be running himself ragged like this. Raedgo Castle would have been a much more harmonious place, too. Perhaps Laina would have endured their father’s death better as well. Aila Roem Guirta was a lady renowned for her gentle nature; she would have looked after the girl with care. And Thalia wouldn’t have had to suffer in a strange land for no reason.
No, it doesn’t matter to me whether that woman suffers or not.
Lucas quickly checked his thoughts. The only things he needed to care about were House Sieorkan and Laina. The Empress and her daughter were nothing but a headache threatening the East.
Steeling his wavering heart, Lucas quietly slipped out of the banquet hall. He felt as if his head would explode if he kept watching his ice-cold brother, the fox-like Empress, and his ghost-pale sister-in-law.
He tugged at the stiff collar of his doublet as he crossed the hall. He already missed the days when he could ride across the fields without a single worry. He even felt a flicker of sympathy for his brother, who had been plagued by such agonizing matters his entire life.
Rubbing the back of his stiff neck, he looked down at the rear garden through a hallway window.
Maybe I should go see Turgan?
He was massaging his tight muscles, thinking of his prized horse that had been neglected for nearly two weeks, when he spotted two shadows standing in a corner of the garden. Though it was common to see servants loitering in the backyard, Lucas stopped in his tracks and watched them closely.
A woman with a vaguely familiar face was engaged in a serious conversation with a young man who appeared to be one of the envoys. It took a moment for Lucas to remember that the woman was Thalia Roem Sieorkan’s personal healer.
Do they already know each other?
He tilted his head. Judging by his attire, the man seemed to be a member of the Empress’s retinue. Since the healer was also from House Taren, it wasn’t particularly strange for her to meet someone she knew among the Empress’s inner circle. Yet, a strange sense of unease nagged at the back of his mind.
“What are you doing in a place like this?”
He was staring intently at the movement of their lips when a deep voice sounded from behind him. Lucas turned his head. Tyron, wearing a loosely draped tunka made of black satin, was strolling down the long corridor. It seemed he had followed Lucas out of the banquet hall.
Lucas opened his mouth to explain what he had just seen. Then, realizing it wasn’t a particularly suspicious sight, he closed it again. When he looked back toward the window, the two had already vanished. Lucas scanned the garden with a lingering sense of discomfort before shaking his head as if it were nothing.
“It’s nothing.”
*
The Imperial delegation remained for exactly one week before taking their leave.
Thalia, who had been sitting on the windowsill watching the procession fade into the distance, soon pulled the curtains shut. Until the very moment she left, Senevia had repeatedly urged Thalia to follow her will. Thalia never gave an answer, but the Empress seemed certain that she wouldn’t be able to defy her commands.
Or perhaps she wasn’t entirely certain. She had left after thoroughly filling her loyal follower’s head with ideas.
“You must share his bed tonight,” the Nanny said in a firm tone, pulling a piece of translucent cloth—the Empress’s supposed 'gift'—out of a chest. “Now that the funeral rites are over, there is no reason to delay any longer.”