The Arrival of Lady Armerine
Whatever had just transpired—whether poison or a curse—had to be a manufactured farce staged by Titania and the Empress. Consort Cleo was certain of it. If they pushed the matter too far in an attempt to pin the blame on her, they risked having their own tails caught. For that reason, she was confident they would make a modest fuss and let it quietly blow over.
And yet?
An attendant bellowed at the absolute top of his lungs. The front doors of the banquet hall, which had been sealed shut the moment the Empress and Imperial Consort collapsed, swung wide open. Someone strode boldly into the chaotic hall with confident, ringing steps.
"L-Lady Armerine entering!"
"It has been a long time, Your Imperial Majesty."
"……Aunt."
The Emperor gaped at her, his face practically shouting, Why on earth is that woman here? The nobles around him wore much the same expression of bewildered shock.
Bathed in the undivided, breathless attention of the entire room, the newcomer gave a serene smile.
Before the late Emperor passed away, the current monarch had been raised as a treasured, precious only son. The trouble was that he had been spoiled far too dearly.
Because the late Emperor and late Empress passed away in rapid succession, there was virtually no elder left in the imperial family to stand above him. This meant that whenever the Emperor openly slighted the Empress or lavished unchecked favor upon his concubine, there was not a single soul alive who could offer even an empty word of dissuasion.
Yet that did not mean the Emperor had no close relatives whatsoever. The late Emperor had a younger sister born with a notable age gap.
Back when she was unmarried—the one and only Imperial Princess of the realm—her name had been Valentina cel Latva Hamastion.
That younger sister, paternal aunt to the current Emperor, had made a grand match, marrying into the storied Lecen family in the southwest of the Empire. She appeared to be living in high clover until a woman carrying her husband's illegitimate child arrived at the estate's doorstep—whereupon Valentina promptly raised hell. To add insult to injury, that bastard was a son.
The late Emperor had still been alive at the time. Valentina rushed straight to the capital, held a blade to her own throat, and delivered an ultimatum: "If Brother does not grant me a divorce from that half-witted bastard, you will watch my head roll across this imperial palace floor!"
The late Emperor had nursed an agonizing headache over the matter. Had his sister borne a child of her own, he could have counseled her to ignore a petty bastard, or pressured the head of the Lecen family to quietly dispose of the brat far from prying eyes. But the couple had no legitimate heir between them.
Furthermore, the head of the Lecen family trembled in indignation, protesting that even an imperial princess became a member of her husband's household once wed. What kind of outrageous insolence was it to come weeping to the Emperor, wailing that she could not live like this over a single bastard?
The late Emperor had doted on his only sister. Even so, there was no denying her temper was entirely too fiery. Had she only handled things quietly, he could have smoothed it over for her behind closed doors, but she had blown it wide open for all the world to gawk at!
It had been a union between imperial royalty and an illustrious noble bloodline. A formal divorce would be tantamount to an admission that the Lecen family and the imperial throne had severed ties forever. Thus, the late Emperor did everything in his power to bury the affair as quietly as possible.
In the end, an "official" divorce was never granted. Yet the scandal had drawn far too many eyes, bringing disgrace upon everyone involved.
Even if a divorce were finalized, the Lecen family could hardly cast off an imperial princess only to install the bastard's birth mother as the lady of the household. Nor would any other respectable house, having witnessed such a spectacle, ever send their daughter to play the doting stepmother to another woman's bastard. Out of mutual necessity to save face, the two remained legally wed on paper.
In truth, the marriage was as good as dead. The head of the Lecen house and Valentina parted ways in a permanent separation.
Valentina was fabulously wealthy. Ever since her maiden days as an imperial princess, the entire Armerine territory—a region renowned as a scenic retreat—had been her personal holding.
Reclaiming every last coin and treasure she had carried from the palace as her dowry, she built an ultraluxurious country retreat in the Armerine region. Ostensibly, it was for her health. Complete with natural hot springs, verdant forests, a sprawling lake, and even its own private hunting grounds, calling it a mere villa was an understatement—it was practically paradise on earth. And there she remained, year after year.
She never set foot in high society again. Whether her legal husband treated his bastard as the formal heir or paraded his mistress about as the lady of the house, she did not spare a single thought for it, spending her fortune like water. The late Emperor never lifted a finger to stop her.
Though the formal legal divorce had never gone through, high society was hardly blind to what had happened. Consequently, people looked upon her with thinly veiled disdain.
Raised on a silver pedestal in the palace, she couldn't swallow her pride, threw a fit over a single bastard, and now plays the widow. With a woman so fierce and unyielding, is it any wonder she couldn't bear a child? Must we still treat such a disgraced imperial as royalty...?
Amidst such malicious whispers, attending the state funerals of the late Emperor and late Empress had marked her final official appearance. Once her nephew—with whom she shared no love lost—ascended the throne, she lived in complete obscurity, quiet as a mouse. It was only natural that the court had forgotten she even existed.
"How generous of you not to have forgotten this old woman, Your Imperial Majesty."
She was one of the few living souls who could command the Emperor to address her as 'Aunt.' On the surface, Valentina looked like an extraordinarily wealthy grandmother. Yet her posture was impeccably straight for her years, and she possessed a commanding height. Her hair, faded nearly to pure silver, was woven with plump pearls and branches of deep red coral. Her thick eyebrows and the bold, sculpted bridge of her nose made it obvious at a single glance that she was a woman of formidable character.
In short, she gave off the exact impression of a matriarch that no ordinary prospective daughter-in-law would ever wish to encounter. Clucking her tongue, Valentina spoke in a crisp, sharp voice.
"Did you think an old crone like me would come scurrying to the palace imagining there would be many eager to welcome me? No matter how dearly the late Emperor cherished me, or how often he insisted that the palace would always be my home to enter without asking anyone's permission, Your Imperial Majesty is the law of the land now, after all."
"Not at all, Aunt. It is I who should have invited you..."
The Emperor replied in an awkward, lukewarm tone, struggling to maintain proper decorum before his elder kinswoman.
Your late father cherished me, so if you treat me with disrespect, you are no better than an unfilial scoundrel defying your father's memory—she was flogging him mercilessly between the lines, leaving him entirely without a retort.
"However, what brings you all this way? I was under the impression you never stepped foot outside Armerine Villa."
"Yes, quite so. With an old, frail body that finds traveling a chore, I was quietly biding my time, minding my own breath. But lo and behold, a grandniece of mine who frets terribly over her mother's health went and wrote me a letter."
What? A letter?
A grandniece?
The Emperor's head snapped around. Every pair of eyes in the hall followed his lead. Finding herself the cynosure of the entire room, Titania hesitated bashfully, fidgeting as if overcome with embarrassment. Cleo ground her teeth with an audible crunch.
"...At first, I wondered if someone from the Count Bradley household—that is, my maternal grandmother—might look after Mother so her illness could improve even a little. But to my sorrow, I learned she passed away long ago."
In an innocent, plaintive voice that made it sound as though her mother's well-being was her sole concern in life, Titania confessed her handiwork.
For a fleeting second, Titania's gaze crossed Elaine's. Elaine's eyes were utterly dry and hollow. Yet without the slightest waver, Titania pressed smoothly on.
"I was fortunate enough to regain my health, but I have always worried for Her Highness Imperial Consort Elaine, whose constitution was ruined after giving birth to me. Being so young, I am barely able to manage myself, let alone assist her, so I wondered if there might be someone, anyone, who could lend a hand. Yet I felt far too unworthy to trouble Her Imperial Majesty the Empress over my mother's private health... His Imperial Majesty is endlessly occupied with state affairs... and Her Highness Consort Cleo appeared utterly consumed by the palace's internal matters."
At the mention of "the palace's internal matters handled by Consort Cleo," Valentina's brow twitched.
Valentina was an imperial princess born of the Emperor and Empress, and her brother had worn the crown.
Even if she lived secluded in a country estate amidst endless gossip, had her pedigree been mediocre to begin with, she never could have openly defied her husband, stormed out of his household, and lived in unbridled freedom.
To a woman of her royal pride, a mere concubine of lowly birth lording over the inner court simply because she had birthed a single prince could never appear as anything other than an intolerable vulgarity. No matter how deeply the Emperor favored Cleo, the matriarch standing before them was the Emperor's own aunt.
Cleo's face drained of color. That lunatic girl went and dragged in an old fox no one even thought of! I thought she would stay cooped up in that villa, quietly breathing until she dropped dead!
"And yet... while searching through the imperial genealogy, I happened to discover that I had a great-aunt. I knew she was resting in a famous retreat, so I thought it improper to trouble her over personal matters. But seeing how frail Mother was, I wondered if she might offer some guidance. It was purely out of my own selfish wish that I sent the letter... I never dreamed she would actually come today..."
"Isn't that a remarkably commendable heart? And judging by the state of things today..."
Valentina's eyes narrowed into sharp, discerning slits.
"It is indeed a situation worthy of grave concern."
Cleo felt her stomach churn in sheer fury. To come along and toss ashes over a meal that was already cooked to perfection—there had to be a limit to such insolence!