An Unmatched Authority
Imperial Consort Cleo’s face was an absolute spectacle upon seeing her husband’s aunt appear out of thin air. She looked precisely like someone who had bitten into an astringent persimmon and could neither chew nor spit it back out. Watching her squirm, I giggled silently to myself.
Ah, this is wonderful. Look at that face. It feels like a rotten tooth was finally yanked out.
—You're truly incredible, Contractor! (๑╹╹) How did you ever think of this?
Objectively speaking, it's a fact that I have very little say in the imperial palace. And with a frail, bedridden mother, opposing whatever she insists on is no simple task either.
I recalled a classic soap opera my family used to watch back in my past life. It was during a formal pre-wedding meeting between both sets of in-laws, if I remembered correctly. At first, the prospective in-laws had exchanged polite laughter, boasting about how wonderful their respective children were. But by the end, they were clawing at each other’s hair, yanking earlobes, and screaming at the top of their lungs. When people reach the absolute limits of their emotions, their words become remarkably blunt.
“Hey! How old do you think you are?! I’ll have you know I’ve eaten thousands more bowls of rice than you!”
“Don’t make me laugh! You think wasting all that rice into old age is something to brag about?! Is it?!”
“Why, you little—! Just watch, I’ll make sure you can never lift a soup spoon again for the rest of your life!”
“Mother, please calm down!”
“Who are you calling mother?! I will never be your mother-in-law! Call this whole wedding off!”
Watching those scenes had taught me one crucial lesson: if you hold no authority or standing, almost nothing you do will work, no matter where you try it.
In that drama, the chaos had only come to an end when the prospective maternal and paternal grandmothers personally marched in and declared, “If the sheer number of rice bowls consumed matters so much, then everyone beneath me shut your mouths.” That was what finally settled everything.
To freely use the Emoticon Sword, I had combed through imperial maps, genealogies, and historical archives. Through that research, I had discovered the existence of a great-aunt—someone who had barely even been mentioned in the original novel.
Calling off an engagement was one thing, but divorce after marriage was exceedingly rare among high nobility. Even if someone found true love elsewhere, they were usually content keeping them as a mistress or a lover rather than tearing apart the reciprocal contract of marriage. For imperial royalty, that went without saying.
Since she was an imperial princess by blood, no one dared lay a finger on her. With ample personal wealth, she seemed to have spent her days living happily in a grand, sprawling villa. When the great war erupted, the entire empire had turned upside down, and given her advanced age, she likely passed away during the chaos back in the original story...
Regardless.
No matter what scheming Cleo cooked up, if she joined hands with Imperial Consort Elaine to back me into a corner, ordinary means wouldn't suffice to fight back. And there was no mother-in-law above Cleo to rein her in.
So, I decided to bring in an elder of even higher standing who could play that very role. And the results were gloriously effective.
Valentina pressed a hand to her temple with consummate elegance and let out a soft sigh.
“Just what on earth is happening on such an auspicious day of celebration?”
“…I am so ashamed before you, Aunt, that I have no words to offer.”
The Emperor subtly averted his gaze from Valentina. Having lived his entire life with arrogance and impunity, there was no way he would willingly humble himself before an elder, whether an aunt or a great-aunt.
Under normal circumstances, if today’s banquet had progressed smoothly without a hitch, he would have openly displayed his displeasure at Valentina's sudden appearance. But today’s banquet had devolved into an absolute disaster. In a situation like this, the Emperor couldn't salvage his pride even if he tried.
“And why should Your Imperial Majesty bear the shame? I heard this banquet was held to celebrate joyful news in the imperial palace, yet rather than anything joyful, all I have witnessed is a near-calamity…”
Valentina’s sharp gaze swept across every corner of the banquet hall. The handful of aristocrats in attendance held their breath, not daring to utter a peep.
“I was told this was a gathering for an invalid who has only recently recovered her health. Yet there is not even a proper place prepared for her to rest. Knowing how to properly receive the guest of honor has long been one of the essential teachings a lady of the house must pass down to her daughters, and yet…”
Tsk!
The sharp click of her tongue echoed through the banquet hall. The corners of Imperial Consort Cleo’s mouth twitched uncontrollably. Having delivered an exquisitely polished slight against Cleo’s upbringing, Valentina deliberately did not spare Cleo even a glance, keeping her eyes fixed solely on the Empress.
“Her Majesty, Empress Biblia. Addressing you so directly might be deemed impolite, but given my years, and seeing as you are privately my niece-in-law, I shall speak plainly without reservation. The mistress of a household ought to know how to govern domestic affairs peacefully above all else. To be duped by an enemy's scheme and nearly lose your life at a banquet hosted under your own roof… can one truly say you are fulfilling your duties as the mistress of the imperial palace?”
A subtle shift stirred through the gathered crowd. On the surface, it sounded merely like a reprimand directed at the Empress. In fact, it sounded almost unreasonable. How could anyone blame someone for being foolish simply because a villainous plotter had tried to harm them? And to blame the very person who had just narrowly escaped death, no less?
Yet Cleo’s eyes turned venomous the moment she grasped the underlying implication. The Empress calmly bowed her head to Valentina.
“When an esteemed elder of the imperial family points out my shortcomings, I have no excuses to make. Regrettably, this banquet was not arranged by me, but rather by First Imperial Consort Cleo, who organized it to celebrate Second Imperial Consort Elaine’s recovery as though she were her own sister. Nevertheless, as it took place within the imperial palace, the ultimate responsibility rests with me.”
“Naturally. Every event that transpires within the palace is the responsibility of the Empress.”
Cleo’s lips trembled with repressed fury. Valentina was making her stance crystal clear by blatantly treating Imperial Consort Cleo as nonexistent. No one was ignorant of how Cleo had long disdained the Empress, usurping numerous duties that rightfully belonged to her. With the Emperor constantly favoring Cleo and undermining the Empress, no courtier had dared counsel, “You must not do this; it defies propriety.” But Valentina could.
Of course, the Emperor was the primary culprit who had ruined imperial discipline by excessively indulging a mere concubine and casting aside his lawful Empress. Yet he showed no intention of admitting to his stern aunt, “The Empress was far too insolent, and I favor Consort Cleo, so I permitted her to oversee palace affairs.” In other words, he was actively pretending none of this concerned him.
“Still, I am familiar with the traditions of the Integria household. Had this banquet been overseen by the Empress’s own hands, it would hardly have been so clumsy. Attempting to cut fine cloth with a dull pair of shears only ruins the fabric. Tsk, tsk… You must learn how to properly handle foolish underlings in the future, Empress.”
“I shall keep your words deep in my heart.”
Cleo admirably refrained from interjecting into the conversation between Valentina and the Empress. It was a shrewd, calculating silence.
Cleo was far from stupid.
She understood that despite Valentina’s unexpected arrival, the elder woman could not linger in the imperial palace for long without a clear, legitimate pretext. Even if she was an elder whom even the Emperor could not treat lightly, she remained an uninvited guest who would eventually depart, seeing as the Emperor had not summoned her himself.
Though the Emperor might temporarily hand palace administration back to the Empress due to Valentina's presence, in the long run, he was certain to return that power to Cleo’s hands. Defying an elder of the imperial bloodline right before the Emperor’s eyes would only paint her as insolent and disrespectful, causing far more harm than good.
Yes, Cleo knew this all too well.
“Are you referring to my mother as a foolish underling?!”
Unfortunately, Cleo’s witless son—the Emperor’s eldest child, coddled and pampered in the belief that he would soon be Crown Prince—did not possess a shred of that awareness.
“No matter that you are an imperial elder, Grand Aunt, aren’t you nothing more than a mere member of the Lessen family now?! My mother is an Imperial Consort who bore His Majesty’s eldest son! How dare you insult my mother in such a vulgar manner?! It was unknown enemies who ruined this banquet, not my mother!”
“Brian!”
Cleo cried out in sheer panic. But Brian, his face flushed beet red in righteous indignation, roared at the top of his voice.
“Apologize to my mother at once!”
A chilling wind seemed to howl through the banquet hall. Total silence fell, thick with horror. Even the formidable Cleo turned pale as a corpse.
It was true that Valentina had retreated into seclusion following an unsavory scandal.
Though she was the Emperor’s aunt and sister to the late Emperor, she was referred to simply as ‘Lady Armerin’ after the territory she possessed, rather than by a grand title or as a member of the Lessen household. Being addressed as ‘Lady’ instead of ‘Madame’ or ‘Duchess’ was practically an open secret that she had divorced her husband.
Yet such a humiliating past… was something only her peers or those above her station could dare speak of. A green youth who was practically of her grandchildren's generation had no right to belittle her, brazenly dismissing her as a mere member of the Lessen family. Then again, having grown up watching Cleo treat even the Empress like dirt, his insolence was hardly surprising…
Adrian, standing quietly beside me, leaned in and murmured under his breath.
“Sometimes, I genuinely question what His Majesty is thinking when he pits an utter fool like that against me as a rival.”
“…Thinking he can march forward when even His Majesty is keeping his mouth shut… that staggering lack of intelligence has to be inherited from His Majesty, don’t you think?”
Adrian gave an almost imperceptible nod. I couldn't agree more.