A Bitter Disappointment
“If this sword demands one’s very lifespan in exchange for its power, then I believe... it is far better that Your Imperial Majesty cannot wield it.”
“Mm, no. Not at all. Have you not only just awakened yourself? Your health was frail enough as it was; pushing yourself like this will do you no good.”
“It is quite all right. I only just learned I could wield such power myself. Seeing Brother Brian in mortal danger, I simply acted before I knew it...”
“Hrmmm.”
The Emperor let out a deep, displeased rumble as his eyes drifted between the unconscious Brian and the trembling Consort Cleo. Sensing his gaze, the consort spoke in a quiet voice, though her eyes burned with barely suppressed venom.
“...Your Majesty, that the princess has safely awakened from her stupor and acquired divine power capable of slaying demonic beasts is truly a blessing for the Empire. However, the princess has never once wielded a sword. If the blade failed to respond to Your Imperial Majesty, and if even the knights who previously held it spoke of something abnormal, should we not investigate it further, just in case...?”
“Consort!”
“I speak only out of concern for Your Majesty! The princess claims the sword spoke to her in a dream, but what proof is there beyond her own word?”
“Then tell me, Consort. Are you claiming this blade is a demonic sword?”
“It is not that, only that further investigation—”
“The princess used this sword to save Brian’s life.”
“...”
“Yet rather than offer your gratitude as a mother, you immediately look for fault?”
“T-that is not my intent, Your Majesty!”
The Emperor’s gaze was freezing cold. He did not believe for a second that she was innocent.
Had things gone smoothly—had her scheming catered properly to his desires—he would have willingly turned a blind eye even while knowing she orchestrated it all. Just as he had lent her his weight yesterday, he might have supported her again. Instead, matters had devolved into this humiliating mess. And above all else, the consort’s blunder had nearly placed the Emperor himself in grave danger.
“Right. Did you not say the consort summoned the High Priest?”
“Y-Yes, Your Majesty!”
Standing behind the consort, High Priest Marjid scrambled onto his knees in a panic at the Emperor’s sudden address.
“Come now, speak. Is Princess Titania tainted by a curse that requires your purification?”
“N-No, not at all! Rather, she overflows with divine grace!”
Marjid babbled frantically, desperate to absolve himself. Consort Cleo glared at the priest with bloodshot eyes. Narrowing his gaze, the Emperor pressed further.
“Is that so? Then what of what you insisted yesterday?”
“I never once officially confirmed that Her Highness was cursed! I merely said that, if everything Her Highness the Consort claimed was true, there might be a need to check whether the princess had fallen under a curse!”
Averting his eyes from the consort, Marjid continued hastily. “However, as the Young Duke pointed out... not everything Her Highness the Consort claimed aligns with the facts...”
“So Titania is free of suspicion?”
“Y-Yes, indeed! Absolutely!”
“And there is no issue with the sword either?”
“I bore witness alongside Your Imperial Majesty as that blade eradicated the demonic beast! There are countless varieties of swords under heaven, and only a scarce few can channel the grace of the gods. Merely because a weapon chooses its wielder does not make it wicked!”
“High Priest Marjid makes sense.”
High Priest Marjid exhaled in palpable relief. When fortune favored her, he had been firmly in the consort’s corner; now that the Emperor’s temper soured, he threw her aside without hesitation to save his own skin. How predictably shrewd.
The Emperor turned his eyes back to Cleo.
“Let me hear your explanation once more, Consort.”
“...”
“Is the object you unearthed beneath the Rose Palace truly evidence of Princess Titania’s curse?”
Consort Cleo bit down until her lip split, thin crimson seeping from the wound. She glanced at Brian, who still lay unresponsive, then closed and opened her eyes as if schooling her frantic mind.
“...That,” she began, forcing her voice into a practiced, composed calm. “A maid who had dared trespass into the Rose Palace to steal attempted to take the sword, only to be overtaken by madness and cause an uproar about a strange blade... but...”
A quiet, vicious gnashing of teeth slipped through her poised facade.
“...Someone caught wind of the incident, sowed insidious doubts throughout the palace, and took advantage of innocent Princess Titania’s failure to wake... weaving a wicked plot. And a fool such as myself fell blindly into their snare...”
“Is that so?”
“Yes... My foolishness, compounded by an excess of concern for the princess, brought about this disaster. In my haste... I failed to be thorough...”
Another subtle grind of teeth. Yes, if you had known it would turn out like this, you would have plotted far more meticulously.
“...To think that my humble efforts to protect the safety of the palace would instead bring danger upon it. I am so overcome with remorse that I have no excuses to offer, Your Majesty.”
Tears brimmed in her eyes, painting a picture of helpless sorrow.
“Yet, I beg you to look upon Brian, Your Majesty. That boy’s devotion to you has always been true. Though the outcome was poor, he merely pushed himself too hard in his desire to bring down a proud quarry for your sake—”
“Tsk! Then he should have produced results!”
The color drained entirely from Cleo’s face, extinguishing her strained gentleness. She had clearly caught what lay behind the Emperor’s disgusted scowl.
Of course she did. The Emperor favored Brian because he took pride in having a son who was skilled with the sword and adept at the hunt—someone who wouldn’t pale before the Castrein Duchy.
Yet here Brian lay, having fainted in terror and wet himself in front of me—a girl who had stood her ground without flinching, even if by borrowing the blade’s power. To make matters worse, he still hadn’t regained consciousness.
Brian may not have been an adult yet, but compared to me, small and frail for my age, he was practically a giant. Had I not intervened, things might have unfolded very differently.
On his way here with the consort, the Emperor had undoubtedly received word that a demonic beast was hunting Brian. Bringing the Imperial Guard along had been intended to slay the monster and rescue his son. I had staged this performance specifically for the Emperor.
Even if the Emperor discovered this entire curse commotion was a scheme fabricated by the consort, he would simply turn a blind eye and sweep it under the rug. Proper evidence and reliable witnesses were useless against his whims. What I needed was a reason for the Emperor to be bitterly disappointed in Consort Cleo and Prince Brian—a pretext that would force him to discipline them regardless of the truth.
If Brian had stood tall right now, squared his shoulders, and boldly claimed he had sought to capture a quarry worthy of His Imperial Majesty’s glory, the look in the Emperor’s eyes might have been salvageable. Out of regard for his son, he might even have insisted on hushing things up quietly. After all, it was Brian who had been hunted by the beast, not the Emperor.
Had Brian bluffed that he could have felled the monster if given just a little more time, or even glared at Raymon with defiance, the Emperor would have been quite pleased. Instead, right in front of the Young Duke of Castrein, Brian had soiled himself in terror and passed out cold, still unable to open his eyes.
The Emperor was profoundly disgusted.
Nothing short of Brian personally slaying a comparable demonic beast and presenting it as tribute could ever wash away this humiliation. Particularly when contrasted with me—a frail girl who had just clawed her way back from the brink of death, burning through her own lifespan with a sacred sword to face the monster head-on. Even in flattery, there was no excusing Brian’s cowardice.
The Emperor bellowed in fury.
“Consort, you are confined to your quarters until further notice! Relinquish all of your duties immediately.”
“...Understood, Your Majesty.”
“And Brian—for all his boasting of a love for the hunt, he cannot even remain conscious before a beast! He had best abandon hunting altogether.”
“Your Majesty! It was merely a mishap! His youthful ambition got the better of him—”
“His vitality seems entirely depleted by this ordeal. Forbid him from stepping a single foot out of his chambers! Tsk!”
“Your Majeeesty!”
The consort’s shriek echoed through the hall. More excruciating than walking into her own trap was the fact that the Emperor now looked upon Brian with sheer contempt.
Ignoring the weeping consort, the Emperor turned his attention to Raymon.
“Young Duke Castrein. Did you not say you would clean up the remaining beasts that breached the palace?”
“Yes. While I trust the palace garrison implicitly, an unexpected invasion of demonic beasts risks collateral casualties. With your permission...”
“Very well. You have my leave.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty. Furthermore, the object Her Highness the Consort claimed as evidence poses great peril; I request authorization to dispose of it as swiftly as possible.”
“Ah, yes, that foul thing. See to it at once. And launch a thorough investigation into whatever wicked forces dared target the Imperial Palace.”
As if suddenly remembering, the Emperor strode over and patted my head.
“You did well. Had you not awakened in time, I shudder to think how today might have ended! That you gained such rare power at so critical a moment can only be proof that the gods smile upon the imperial bloodline.”
Since when did you ever play the role of a benevolent, loving father?
Despite my inward sneer, I beamed brightly up at the Emperor as his clumsy hand patted my hair.
“Of course, Your Majesty!”
“Indeed. You look pale. Take good care of your health.”
I bent deeply at the waist in a deferential bow, watching the Emperor swagger away in self-importance.
It was at that very moment.