Boar Blood and Hollow Praise
The Emperor was so steeped in an inferiority complex from being constantly compared to House Castrein at every turn, yet he had never once dared to lodge a proper, open complaint.
Take this incident, for instance.
He was undoubtedly hoping a flattering rumor would spread through high society: The second son of House Castrein had the audacity to insult an imperial princess and set fire to the Rose Palace, yet His Benevolent Majesty, rather than demanding retribution, chose to comfort the princess and rebuild her palace from scratch.
No matter how isolated the Rose Palace was, it was still an imperial palace in name. Even if fires had been kindled in every corner, the damage was hardly on a scale that required tearing the whole structure down and building it anew. Grand words like "Go ahead and build it anew" were just for show. At best, they would repair what had burned, and while restoring it, add a few superficial touches to make the rest look decently grand from the outside.
Stingy wretch.
If I were Emperor and wanted to boast of my boundless generosity, I would have handed over a lavish, fully furnished palace that was already sitting empty. Of course, right now, I had deliberately prodded his sore spot—the Rose Palace itself, the very symbol of his wounded pride—so that he would feel compelled to renovate it.
The Empress, who had been watching the exchange in silence, finally spoke.
"If that is to be the case, where will Princess Titania reside while the palace undergoes extensive renovations?"
Imperial Consort Cleo chimed in with a clear, melodic voice.
"Isn't the Summer Consecration Festival drawing near? Once our Brian leaves to attend the festival, his palace will be empty, and I shall be quite lonely. Princess Titania, why not come stay at my Daisy Palace?"
Catching the peculiar gleam in Consort Cleo's eyes, I realized her intention in an instant.
Ah, damn it. She's backing me into a corner so I have no choice but to step forward.
Well, it wasn't a bad outcome. If someone had to go anyway, it was far better for me to rack up points with the Emperor.
"Father. The grace I have received from Your Majesty is so profound, yet unlike my two brothers... I have never been of any real service to the imperial family..."
Dabbing at the tear welling in the corner of my eye with my sleeve, I spoke with trembling earnestness.
"Please, allow me to attend this Summer Consecration Festival in place of my two brothers."
"I thought our princess was still just a child, but you have grown enough to show such admirable filial devotion! Fully grown, indeed!"
The Emperor bellowed with laughter. He must have felt as though an aching tooth had just been pulled. For months, he had been sick of the subtle tug-of-war over which of the two princes to send to the festival. While he had quietly favored Brian all along, without any concrete intention of formally appointing a Crown Prince just yet, openly brushing aside the legitimate heir born of the Empress had become an uncomfortable burden.
"Splendid, simply splendid! Urgent repairs must begin immediately, but the major reconstruction of the Rose Palace can be finished while the princess is away attending the festival. Even after experiencing such distress, to think of your father first! Our Titania is truly a dutiful daughter!"
I merely offered a smile in response.
Still, what kind of father considers sending a young girl—one who nearly died in a palace fire just the other day—all the way to the distant edge of the empire all by herself? Whatever affection I might have lacked for him plummeted straight into the negatives.
Right then, an announcement rang out.
"His Highness First Prince Brian enters."
"Brian!"
Casting decorum aside, Imperial Consort Cleo rose from her seat with a beaming smile. I glanced at the clock. Everyone had simply lost track of time while discussing my affairs, but it was already thirty minutes past six.
Even if the Emperor's palace had only notified me late in the afternoon, the other palaces would have been alerted the moment this dinner was arranged. At the very latest, they would have heard about it by dawn, if not yesterday. Just where did he get the nerve to keep even the Emperor waiting?
"I have brought down a wild boar to pray for Your Majesty's long and prosperous life! Let us have it served at the table!"
Brian swaggered in, practically dripping with arrogance. Behind him trailed two or three servants, visibly anxious as they struggled to haul in a boar slick with fresh blood.
The expressions of both the Empress and the Second Prince shifted. What on earth can one even do with such a fool? That was roughly what their eyes conveyed.
Naturally, the Emperor was the sole person genuinely marveling at the idiot.
"Oh, Brian! You are valiant as ever! Even demonic beasts would flee in terror before you!"
Your Majesty... the rose-tinted glasses you wear are entirely opaque...
As Prince Brian strode past me to embrace the Emperor, I caught a faint whiff of alcohol lingering on him. And then there was his outer coat, stained with vivid crimson blood that looked as if it had been splattered on only moments ago. No matter how you sliced it, he had been out drinking right up until six, only to quickly bag a pig as an excuse and race over.
Given the time it took to transport game from the nearest hunting grounds to the imperial palace, the blood should have congealed long ago. If he genuinely intended to serve the kill at dinner, he would have arrived at least an hour earlier and handed it over to the kitchens.
Why else would that catastrophic mess have broken out only in the latter half of the novel? Up until then, he barely even drew the famed sword Berris-Facio. Brian's swordsmanship was purely for show, a hollow facade to win favor in his father's eyes.
Yet, completely blind to the transparent scheme, the Emperor gazed at Brian with eyes dripping with adoration. The sheer idiocy of their conversation said it all.
"I personally pierced the hind leg of this beast, Father!"
"Ooh, valiant indeed! My proud son!"
Well, unlike the Second Prince, who lived with bated breath, or me, the princess who had suffered from chronic illness until past the age of ten, Brian was the only imperial offspring who hunted as a hobby and mingled with knights—a robust royal, at least in the Emperor's eyes.
A family where even a child could sever a demonic beast's neck.
A house that could drop someone unarmed before a beast without a shred of worry.
Because of his deep-seated inferiority complex toward that Castrein family—along the lines of You think only the Castrein Duchy's brats know how to wield a sword? We have someone who can swing a blade under our roof too—it was nothing more than childish self-satisfaction.
No matter how you looked at it, comparing a hunt—where beaters and huntsmen do all the grueling work and herd the game directly to your feet—to fighting for your life against demonic beasts that breathe fire, burrow through the earth, freeze everything around them, and spit venom was utter nonsense. Still, in the Emperor's mind, a royal who commanded others was close enough to being on par with House Castrein.
Besides, what did it matter if everyone else saw right through the clumsy trick? The Emperor was pleased and laughing, and that was all that counted.
Sure enough, the Emperor lavished praise upon Prince Brian's "martial valor" and bestowed a generous reward. He didn't scold him for showing up to a formal dinner reeking of blood, nor did he make an issue of his tardiness. Imperial Consort Cleo, the Emperor, and Prince Brian formed a sweet, harmonious trio, carrying on as if they were the only three souls in the room.
The Empress pretended not to care, but the fleeting glance she cast was terribly dark.
Whether his little sister lived or died, whether her palace burned down or not, Prince Brian assumed his mother would take care of such trifles. Drunk on his own perceived greatness, he babbled back and forth with the Emperor. Letting their chatter drift in one ear and out the other, I waited for the dinner to conclude.
Consort Cleo showered Brian with coquettish praise. Then, with a honeyed whisper suggesting that the three of them enjoy a private drink alongside dishes made from the freshly caught boar, the Emperor was completely swayed. Thanks to that, I was able to rise from the table to return to my palace without needing to walk on eggshells around anyone.
Just as I stood up...
"Titania?"
"..."
Second Prince Adrian, bearing a strikingly handsome countenance that mirrored the Empress, called out to me. Unlike the First Prince, whose features were ruined by a contemptuous sneer, Adrian was an impeccably refined youth who embodied royal nobility. He was the half-brother who had offered nothing more than faint pity, sympathy, and distant disdain from afar while Titania grew up alone, a child with no one to lean on.
"It's been a while, hasn't it? Would you care to share a cup of tea with your brother? The Rose Palace must still be in disarray, so let us go to the Lilac Palace."
I glanced back at the empty seat left by the Empress, who had departed long ago without looking back, and then at Prince Adrian, who was smiling brightly as if he had been waiting for us to be left alone. I nodded.
"I would like that."
"I seriously have no idea what that crazy bitch is thinking."
Lisianthus's voice was completely devoid of energy. Raymon quietly set down the quill that had been scratching rhythmically across the parchment. He seemed to have concluded that he couldn't win against his younger brother, who had barged into his office, commandeered the sofa, and was throwing a listless tantrum. Or perhaps he simply couldn't concentrate on his paperwork because the boy's feeble muttering weighed strangely on his mind.
Raymon watched Lisianthus in silence. His hot-tempered brother had a habit of running his fingers through his hair whenever he was stressed. Sure enough, the boy lying limply on the cushions already had hair resembling a vibrant red bird's nest. Ruffling his tangled locks once more, the boy continued to spill his frustrations.