The Serpent's Toast
In a rare turn of events, a grand banquet was convened within the imperial palace.
It was not the sort of lavish gathering where virtually any aristocrat of modest standing could secure an invitation, such as the New Year's Gala. Only an exclusive, carefully chosen handful of high nobility had been summoned. Yet when rumors circulated that the entire imperial family would attend, the initial bewilderment quickly gave way to eager comprehension.
Word had spread that Second Imperial Consort Elaine was on the mend. If this was a celebratory banquet marking the long-awaited emergence of the notoriously frail consort, restricting the guest list to a select few made complete sense.
Unlike grand state celebrations that spanned three full days, this gathering was slated for a single evening, further corroborating their speculation. Naturally, not a single invited guest dared to decline.
Their curiosity was palpable. How would the political landscape of the imperial court shift with Consort Elaine's return? Had that imperial princess, who had reportedly pulled off yet another astonishing feat at the Offering Festival, truly transformed? And was it true that her strained ties with the Castrein family had genuinely improved?
The vast hall was adorned with vibrant blossoms, glittering crystals, delicate lace, and ornate candelabras. Noble ladies concealed their whispering lips behind painted silk fans, gossiping quietly as they tried to guess whether tonight's spectacle had been orchestrated by Imperial Consort Cleo or the Empress herself.
Suddenly, one of the noblewomen scowled. A passing maid, rushing in reckless haste, had brushed lightly against her waist.
Fortunately, the fabric was neither creased nor stripped of its ornaments, but the noblewoman still clicked her tongue in distaste, glaring down at the trembling servant.
“Good heavens, to think there could be a maid so utterly clumsy in the imperial palace...”
“P-Pardon me, my lady! Please forgive me!”
“Watch where you are going next time.”
Sarah bobbed her head repeatedly in panicked apology before forcing her stiff, trembling limbs toward the back of the banquet hall. Just recalling the mission entrusted to her made her stomach churn violently, threatening to make her heave right then and there.
“What you need to do today is a bit tricky.”
Titania's serene, smiling face drifted into Sarah's mind.
“You must slip away at the right moment, and you can't arouse Imperial Consort Cleo's suspicions, either... Yes, it is perilous. But didn't you promise me you would do anything?”
Within the Rose Palace, Titania had maintained the consummate facade of a thoughtless, vapid princess. At the same time, she subtly favored Mary, granting her just enough preferential treatment for others to notice.
Whenever Mary saw Sarah receiving lesser treatment, she would flash a smug, triumphant smirk. Sarah felt her chest tighten with frustration every time, yet she kept her silence. Flaunting her supposed ascendancy, Mary made a display of snubbing Sarah, bossing around Bonita—a newly assigned maid in the Rose Palace—as if the girl were her personal lackey. Bonita was a remarkably docile and capable girl, obeying Mary's every whim with unnerving submissiveness.
Sarah had tried her hardest to blend in with the staff of the Rose Palace, but Mary's subtle ostracism, reigning as the ringleader, thwarted her efforts at every turn. And whenever Sarah caught sight of Titania quietly observing it all, chills crept down her spine.
“The choice is yours.”
Her heart pounded erratically against her ribs. The impassive face of Head Maid Natalie, who rarely ever let her guard down, also crossed her mind. Right at that moment—
“...The ruler of the great Empire, His Imperial Majesty the Emperor enters!”
A palpable ripple ran through the banquet hall. There was no turning back now. Sarah gulped down a dry breath.
“...Uh, Titania? Is it really fine for you to enter with me when you have a perfectly good fiancé waiting in there?”
Adrian seemed somewhat flustered, his usual slick grin nowhere to be found. I let out a derisive snort.
Adrian and I had spent the entire day undergoing an exhaustive, painstaking makeover. While Adrian was already an impressive prince with his dazzling golden hair, having a swarm of attendants scrub, polish, and drape him in jewels made him look like a portrait stepped down from a canvas.
Naturally, standing beside him, I cut a similar figure. I blinked, my eyelids weighed down by the clusters of miniature gemstones glued along their corners.
“Since when have I ever made an entrance with that 'perfectly good fiancé' in front of the aristocracy?”
“Well... you haven't exactly entered with me before, either, have you...?”
I double-checked the orange cufflinks pinned neatly to Adrian's sleeves. Observing the subtle, muted vermilion luster, I casually tossed a remark his way.
“What, are you disappointed that you couldn't stay by Her Majesty the Empress's side?”
Adrian replied in a disgruntled grumble.
“No. If it weren't family, escorting any young lady would complicate matters to no end, so I simply didn't want to give anyone a pretext. I'm not that clueless.”
“His Majesty will be escorting Consort Elaine. Consort Cleo will make her entrance clutching Prince Brian's arm. And Her Majesty the Empress will, for a brief while, have to endure the aristocrats' subtle mockery.”
Well, by the time this banquet draws to a close, everyone will completely forget who walked in alone...
Tonight's banquet had been organized by Imperial Consort Cleo. In other words, the Emperor—who had flown into a rage over the demonic beast attack on the palace—had now fully pardoned her. Cleo undoubtedly had several objectives in mind for this gala: flaunting the recovered Consort Elaine, showing off her unassailable influence by demonstrating how she had even drawn Elaine under her wing, and riding high on her triumphant standing. And...
“As always, the consort will aim her claws at me.”
She would try to bring me crashing down in real time, right before the watchful eyes of the noble court. It was plain as day. When the imperial family dined intimately behind closed doors, no matter what transpired, the Emperor could brush it aside as a minor family squabble. But tonight, whatever took place would be near impossible to bury or cover up.
“And I have no hobby of quietly taking incoming strikes and weeping in sorrow.”
— That’s right, that’s right! ୧(๑•̀ᗝ•́)૭ If someone hits one cheek, you're supposed to knock out all their teeth!
‘Where on earth did you pick that up? That is definitely not how the saying goes.’
— Oh, it’s not? ( ｰ̀εｰ́ ) Th-Then if someone hits one cheek, you bake the other cheek for them?
‘A human isn't bread; you can't bake them...’
After bantering such nonsense with the holy sword, I turned my head to see Princess Titania's lavishly adorned reflection in the full-length mirror. I smiled brightly at the sight. A princess as exquisite as a doll. The very princess who once despaired that without beauty, she would never be worthy of standing beside her fiancé...
Today was different. I smiled as I admired the jewels, fresh blossoms, and ribbons woven into my cascading golden waves. Beauty could be a weapon.
Very few men could bring themselves to reject a delicate, sickly beauty. If that beauty happened to be one's biological mother, a child would have virtually no voice in public, regardless of what words were exchanged.
Which meant a bit of foul play was necessary.
“If you are ready, shall we proceed, Imperial Princess Titania?”
“Thank you for the escort, Imperial Prince Adrian.”
My hand rested atop his white-gloved palm. It was the moment the curtain rose on yet another theatrical stage.
The Emperor entered while personally supporting Imperial Consort Elaine.
Their pace was dreadfully slow. Yet the nobles who had gathered early in the hall remained utterly hushed, unable to utter a single sound.
Even prior to giving birth to Princess Titania, Elaine had seldom engaged in public affairs as consort; consequently, fewer people remembered 'that' Consort Elaine, once hailed as the greatest beauty in the Empire, than one might expect.
Yet the beauty leaning halfway against the Emperor today surpassed all their expectations. Her breathtaking appearance was like a lily crafted of silver and silk arranged inside a cracked glass vase. Beaming from ear to ear, the Emperor seated Consort Elaine right beside his own throne.
The nobles began whispering amongst themselves. Traditionally, the matched thrones of the Emperor and Empress ought to have stood side by side. Yet the Empress's chair had been relegated far to the side, while a modest yet plush-looking seat was conspicuously placed directly adjacent to the Emperor.
It was a blatant, calculated slight against the Empress. But because the Emperor himself seated Elaine there without paying the Empress the slightest heed, nobody dared speak out. It was practically an announcement to all present that Imperial Consort Cleo had orchestrated the seating.
No sooner had the Emperor and Consort Elaine entered than Cleo made her appearance, a radiant smile gracing her face as she linked arms with a somewhat sullen Prince Brian.
Cleo wore a gown colored like the nocturnal sky, shimmering with an enigmatic, deep midnight blue. While Cleo fussed affectionately over Elaine—making a noisy show of relief that her health had improved—the Empress entered the banquet hall. She was without an escort.
Unlike Elaine, draped in a pure white gown luminous as a newlywed bride's, or Cleo in her alluring, mystical gown, the Empress wore a rather subdued, plain taupe dress. Yet before the onlookers could whisper about her unbending, solitary poise, the final imperial figures entered.
It was Adrian and Titania, hand in hand like close, affectionate siblings. Only then did the assembly notice that members of the Castrein family, who had already arrived, were watching the scene in dead silence.
Hadn't people been saying the relationship between Titania and her fiancé had taken a turn for the better?
Of course, Titania was far more composed and dazzling than anticipated. Clad in attire and ornaments of matching palette with Adrian, the pair complemented each other surprisingly well. Whether the nobles appraised the royals with speculative gazes or not, the Emperor cared nothing for how his family members had paired up for their entrance; seeing only that everyone was assembled, he opened his mouth as though he had been waiting for this very instant.
The speech held little substance.
Consort Elaine had finally regained her health, which was a blessing to the Empire... Though larded with every conceivable flowery rhetoric and self-aggrandizing flourish, stripped bare, it amounted to nothing more than that single sentiment. Only after the Emperor's tedious speech drew to a close did the nobles politely applaud. The moment the signal was given for the festivities to officially commence, Cleo cut in with a cheery lilt in her voice.
“My goodness, Your Majesty. Since this banquet is held in celebration of such rare, joyful news, shouldn't we all share a toast together?”
“Shall we?”
“Princess Titania, do come here. Oh dear, she is your biological mother after all, there's no reason to be bashful! Why don't you come over and accept a cup from Elaine?”
Sitting beside the Emperor, Elaine had merely been blinking like a doll that did nothing but breathe; yet, taking the goblet proffered by an attendant, she made a feeble gesture of offering it toward Titania.
Wearing a slightly stiffened smile, Titania approached Elaine and accepted the cup.