Into the Temple's Maw
"It's really nothing. All you have to do is make Princess Titania a little ill. Then, as her birth mother, claim that your heart aches over having neglected her for so long, and insist on taking her far away to recuperate. I'll secure His Majesty's permission myself. Once you're out of the Imperial Palace, I'll see to it that you escape to a safe place. I'll let you spend your golden years in a fine villa under pleasant weather, complete with a physician and maids."
It would be ideal if Titania, having departed for the Offering Festival, simply failed to return to the Imperial Palace alive, but...
Even though she had armed Gregory with Cronen's vulnerabilities and repeated her strict orders, Cleo was haunted by a strange, ominous premonition.
Lately, Titania had been thriving with uncanny luck. There was every chance the girl would crawl back as tenaciously as a cockroach.
Therefore, Cleo had to prepare in advance for the moment Titania set foot back in the palace.
In truth, she would have loved to sneer and offer Elaine the chance to poison her own flesh and blood, but no matter how much Elaine seemed to harbor resentment toward her child, the relationship between Cleo and Elaine was hardly friendly by any stretch of the imagination. They were potential political rivals. Even if Elaine had no desire to compete for the Emperor's favor, Cleo could never look upon her favorably.
Besides, if Titania—now formally betrothed to House Castrein—were to die inside the Imperial Palace at the hands of her own mother, the Emperor's wrath would know no bounds. House Castrein would react the same. There was no telling if even Consort Elaine's corpse would remain intact. Given such immense risks, Elaine would never comply with an outright order to kill.
So, merely nudging her into a reckless move would suffice.
Imperial Consort Elaine and Titania would vanish outside the palace walls. Even if the truth were somehow exposed, the revelation that Consort Elaine had abandoned her daughter of her own accord and fled would send the princess's reputation plummeting to the depths. No matter that Titania was a benefactor to House Castrein, countless nobles would argue that a princess with such a birth mother could never become the future duchess.
Just as Titania's very birth had shackled her mother, this time Consort Elaine would become Titania's ball and chain.
Was that not a delightfully fitting revenge?
With eyes as damp and shadowed as moss, Elaine stared at Cleo for a long beat before slowly nodding her head.
Cleo smirked, a surge of vicious euphoria swelling within her.
Time flew like an arrow.
We poured everything into preparing for the Offering Festival. In the meantime, instead of Bibi—who had dejectedly told me, "Papa said I should wait a bit longer before leaving, just in case..."—Gloriana's Insignia arrived first.
We mobilized the full intelligence network of Phlux and Navira from Hecate's Tavern. Cronen had sealed the temple under repair tight as an iron fortress for reasons unknown, but he couldn't cover everyone's eyes and ears. Especially not when he strutted about every day like some cult leader spouting divine revelations, proclaiming to the crowds, "Trust only in me! Once the Offering Festival is concluded without a hitch, all of this will be over!" That alone created plenty of cracks for us to peek at what was happening inside.
In terms of sheer numbers, our forces were slim. Barely thirty men in total? They were an elite contingent Raymon had handpicked—men under his immediate command whom he could pull away without compromising the front line.
Yet thanks to the cooperation of Phlux, the city's future master, we were able to position the local guards wherever we pleased. With the citizens' anxiety at an all-time high following the recent demonic beast raid, it was fortunate that people readily accepted our traffic restrictions under the pretext of "public safety."
With House Castrein's assistance, I memorized every step of the standard Offering Festival procedure down to the letter. It wasn't particularly long.
The main problem, as always, was that I had to walk into the belly of the beast with my own two feet.
"Should we just set another fire?" Lisianthus asked in dead earnest.
Adjusting the ceremonial robes the priest had delivered earlier, I answered him offhandedly, "Weren't you the one who told me to stop setting fires every five minutes?"
The blaze at the Imperial Palace, the inferno at the temple... Ever since, Lisianthus had clicked his tongue at me every chance he got, grumbling things like, Are you sure you weren't the one supposed to inherit the power of fire instead of me?
I mean, look... It wasn't as if I went around trying to burn things down on purpose. It just kind of turned out that way...
As I reflected with bittersweet irony on having been told to "go easy on the fires" by the very arsonist who had reduced the Imperial Palace to cinders in the original story, the Emoticon Sword tucked into the heavily pleated folds at my waist spoke up in a sullen voice.
—Honestly, Contractor, I think you've used fire way more than light lately...(￣◇￣;)...
'No, that's not true. Didn't I slay plenty of demonic beasts with light?'
—Well, yes(￣◇￣;)... But you used fire to catch people, didn't you...?
'He was the one who lit the spark at the Rose Palace. Are you jealous that I keep setting fires?'
—Me?! (」)」?!?!!!?! J-J-Jealous because my Contractor uses f-fire...?! No! Absolutely not!! ｡｡(ﾉ´д)ﾉ The idea that mere fire—which only burns physical forms in the material realm—could even be compared to the noble, omnipotent power of light is utter nonsense!
'You're definitely jealous.'
—Kyyyaaaaghh!!
While listening to the Emoticon Sword bawling in theatrical sorrow, Lisianthus, nervously shaking his leg, continued.
"If the temple catches fire again, wouldn't they finally agree to hold this damn Offering Festival somewhere else?"
"Wait. Isn't that an awfully dangerous thing to say for the second young master of House Castrein, whose duty is to see the festival succeed at all costs?"
"Who knows what kind of dirty tricks those bastards have rigged up in there?"
A strange tinge of regret laced Lisianthus's voice. I let out a light laugh.
"It's fine, really! We've worked our tails off preparing for this. Even if demonic beasts ambush us like last time, we're ready to hold the line."
Money was the only thing truly reliable.
The vestments for the Offering Festival were fashioned like an ancient Roman toga—wide, whisper-thin cloth wrapped around the body and fastened with knots. Even this had been hastily shoved into our hands by a novice priest at the crack of dawn, but we had managed to stitch an array of Magic Crystals tightly into the inner lining. Well, saying "we" was generous; Barbara had done all the heavy lifting. From the outside, nothing looked amiss. Even if someone noticed, I could simply insist they were decorative jewels.
Gloriana's Insignia, being made of white fabric that looked virtually identical to the ceremonial robe, was draped over my shoulder and secured to look like an ornamental sash. I had already received confirmation from the Emoticon Sword as well: in my current state, I could wield the blade and carve through armies single-handedly, just like I did at the Imperial Palace.
"Your Highness."
I turned toward Raymon as he approached my side.
Having seen him practically every single day since coming here, I had grown somewhat capable of reading his emotions, unlike before. On the surface, his face wore its usual stoic mask, but his posture was faintly rigid. Was he nervous?
The great Young Duke Raymon had gripped a sword since he was a mere five years old, and had survived being thrust into unwinnable battles countless times.
Today, even if we couldn't predict the exact scale of the enemy's scheme, we had done everything within our power to prepare. And wasn't I—the glaring liability of that previous encounter—now armed to the teeth?
"If things become dangerous at any point, you may flee whenever you wish."
"Ahahaha, really?"
"No one will blame you, Your Highness."
Yet you would never run away, would you?
Instead of saying that aloud, I simply offered a grin. Reflected in my glassy gaze were the man's golden eyes, shimmering with an unspoken tumult.
"It'll be fine. Come on, let's go. Nothing satisfies me more than taking the bastards who tried to drown me and shoving their own heads underwater."
If they wanted to drag an innocent soul down to drown, they ought to learn that they could choke on that very same water.
The ritual of the Offering Festival was relatively simple.
First, a sacred flame was ignited in the center of the temple.
In the old days, that sacred flame meant a truly holy fire—the highest tier of the element, the Blue Flame, summoned by someone gifted with the power of fire.
Nowadays, it was just... tossing in some metal that burned with a blue glow, like indium, and setting it alight. Originally, a wielder of wind magic would fan the flames to spread a peculiar scent that repelled demonic beasts, but of course, no such thing existed in this era... They simply burned regular incense alongside it.
At any rate, the entire ceremony had to take place while the sacred flame blazed, and it was forbidden for the fire to go out.
Next, the priests gathered together to recite an ancient, time-honored prayer of benediction.
Listening to their chanting, the imperial royal—having soaked in the Water of Purification and clad in garments woven from blessed white cloth—walked barefoot around a circle inscribed with the barrier formulas, circling it several times. Curiously, this circle was carved into the floor of a chamber paved entirely in white stone. I had heard that while the rest of the burned temple was ruined and even the counterfeit holy relic was scorched and shattered, this particular chamber had miraculously remained intact.
After completing the prescribed circuits, the royal dropped their blood onto the holy relic resting at the center of the circle.
Conventionally, one carried a small dagger or needle to prick a fingertip and draw blood.
With that, the holy relic would blaze with radiant light, the barrier formula etched across the floor would awaken in response, and the Offering Festival would draw to a successful close.
As far as I knew, the original Offering Festival required those endowed with divine power to prove every ounce of their strength. But in modern times, the stage where anyone could demonstrate such power had long since faded away. I wondered if the winter Offering Festival held at House Castrein's main estate was any different, but...
"Welcome, Princess Titania."
Dressed in white priestly vestments much like my own, Cronen greeted me with feigned piety. I surveyed my surroundings. It smelled distinctly of a fresh, newly renovated building. While the ritual took place, outside entry into the temple was strictly barred. Spectators were only permitted to linger outside the temple perimeter, praying while watching the sacred flame burning at the center from afar.
In other words, while the Offering Festival was underway, only direct participants of the ritual were allowed inside. The perfect timing, and the perfect conditions, for those snakes to pull a scheme.
"This is your first Offering Festival, is it not? You need only follow my instructions."
Wearing an amiable, good-natured smile, Cronen offered me a goblet. Inside sloshed a liquid as dark and crimson as blood.
"First, drink this."
I weighed my options. Should I play along with this clown's foolish little game, or not?