The Madwoman's Invitation (12)
Holding a banquet after the king's funeral went against all custom. It wasn't done in the royal palace, nor even in rural farmhouses. It was tantamount to throwing a feast the moment the rites ended.
But Elua didn't care a whit. Among those attending the funeral, no one truly mourned the king's death anyway. So she skipped all the usual post-funeral commemorative prayers and such. No one would perform them sincerely, she figured.
Instead, Elua hosted a banquet for the kingdom's high nobles and power players. With the recent deaths of Duke Alvis and the king coming one after another, and a young princess wholly unprepared for the throne, any new ruler would face backlash from the start. The princess used this funeral and banquet to etch a powerful impression on them. She showed she wasn't some frail little girl, but a heir to the throne armed with iron charisma and cold resolve.
"Or so the princess thought," Elua murmured to herself with a smile.
It didn't matter how they saw her. She could be the cursed freak from the royal bloodline, or the attention-seeking mad bitch. The real reason for the banquet was something else entirely.
Elua gazed at the glass in her hand, twisting her lips into a vicious, fishy grin. This was the glass Bertrand had used at the banquet. She'd specially ordered the chamberlain to retrieve it.
A knock echoed at the door again.
"Come in."
A balding middle-aged man, the head of intelligence, entered the bedroom with a stony face. Gone was the sniveling wretch who'd trembled before Bertrand.
The intelligence chief sat on the sofa opposite the princess and asked, "Have you spoken with Balder?"
"Yes. When I mentioned the inn waitress who came with him, he flew into a rage like he wanted to tear me limb from limb."
Elua whispered dreamily, her eyes hazy. "Imagining Balder tearing me apart, his hands roaming every inch of my body... It's strangely thrilling..."
"Any signs he'll return to the palace?" The chief ignored her eerie words, his voice cool and level.
"No. I don't think he will."
"If I may ask, what exactly did you propose?"
"I offered him a fortune."
"That's somewhat at odds with our prior discussions."
Elua narrowed her eyes in a smile. "But spilling everything to Balder would wound my pride too much. It's far more fun making him come to me of his own accord."
"I see... Then we should prepare for other possibilities."
Elua snapped back to reality, fixing her serpentine eyes on the chief. "Princess, the banquet's purpose was to win Balder over."
"That's your purpose."
The chief's jaw tightened as he fell silent for a moment.
"In any case... If that fails, it could spark serious trouble. If Balder sides with the Noble Council or Duke Gobert..."
"Everyone who knows the true power of Bertrand Balder is already under my thumb. Who would dare reach out to him?"
Elua laughed leisurely, utterly unconcerned. "His display at the banquet must have left a mark on the other nobles. But they won't see him as someone with the force or political savvy to upend the board. At best, a rude, reckless young royal unfamiliar with high society."
She drifted off again, staring into space with dreamy eyes. "Who could've guessed he'd spout such an outrageous toast in front of all the high nobles assembled? Balder... He's a man without fear. There's no one else like him in this world..."
The chief politely averted his gaze from Elua, who mumbled like she was drunk. "Of course, that's the likely view. Most guests saw him as little more than a freeloading royal rascal, distant kin to you, Princess. We're proceeding with cleanup on that assumption."
"That 'freeloading rascal' is how you see Bertrand, right?"
"Yes."
Elua let out a low, throaty chuckle. Then, as if it had just occurred to her, she asked abruptly, "How's my brother doing?"
"He refused to attend the funeral, so he must have ulterior motives."
"Gobert was always such a sweet brother when we were kids, always yielding to me."
"You're both adults now."
Elua's lip curled lazily. "How large is the force under my brother's command?"
"Six legions."
Her curled lip twitched slightly.
"Interesting."
"The other nations will watch with amusement."
"I hope my dear brother finds satisfaction there."
Noting the dismissive tone, the chief added, "His personal guard has been significantly bolstered."
"So my brother isn't just some naive pushover after all." Elua smirked. "The palace is a den of vipers, biting and killing until only one remains."
The chief showed no reaction.
"What of the Guard Captain?"
"Reassigned as Duke Gobert's security chief."
"Hahahahahahahahahaha!!"
The explosive, reasonless laughter made even the ever-stoic chief flinch.
"Haa... This is fun. No wonder no one ever leaves the political game. It's too entertaining."
Elua held up her glass, laughing as she eyed it. "Keep any filthy hands off Balder's circle, Chief. I need to ponder how to lure him into my arms on his own two feet. And ways to make use of him."
"He personally crushed those six Vurn Mountain baronies. Leverage that right, and it could control the Noble Council."
"I know. Now go."
Recognizing the dismissal, the chief bowed and left the bedroom.
Alone now, Elua smiled at the glass. Sending him away wasn't really to mull over Bertrand's fate.
Recalling Bertrand's bold swagger at the banquet, she couldn't hold back anymore. She just needed to be alone.
"Balder hates me. He wouldn't have come if not for the funeral pretext. Woo him? That's just for show."
Elua brought the lipstick-marked rim slowly to her lips. Pressing them to the glass, she extended her serpentine tongue and licked the mark.
Bertrand. You can't escape. Never.
Not since you first entered the palace ten years ago with that boyish face.
Not since our eyes met as you naively looked around.
Even if you rejected my confession and retired, leaving the palace behind.
You have to be mine. Because I've decided it.
Back at the inn, it was deserted. The only sound was the cuckoo clock bird popping out to crow three times before retreating.
Glancing at the time, everyone must be at the temple's commemorative prayer. Poor things—they'd be exhausted. Those rituals dragged on for nearly six hours with all the procedures and the dry bread rite midway.
Celereja would have a hell of a time alone. There were lay believers to help with temple duties, but she was the only true cleric...
"Francois. The others won't be back for a while, so let's rest. I'll handle dinner."
"Ah... Y-yeah..."
Francois bobbed her head and hurried up to the third floor.
The rain clouds from morning still blanketed the sky. The room was pitch black, forcing me to light candles.
I kicked off my shoes and outer clothes, flopping onto the bed to mull over the palace events.
Had I drawn too much attention from the nobles? But with Francois enduring that bullshit, I couldn't just stand by. Watching her insulted wasn't fair to her, and I was pissed to my core anyway.
Well, the minister and intelligence chief would smooth it over. They knew the backlash of my exposure would be too much to handle.
Truth be told, I'd gone a bit overboard banking on that.
Anyway, time to sort out the palace situation.
The king and Duke Alvis were dead, Elua the prime suspect. Gobert volunteering for frontier command meant he'd heard something from the king, no doubt. But that was just groundwork to march loyalist troops in if Elua or Alvis stirred chaos in the capital.
With Elua seizing control and forcibly stabilizing things, bringing an army to the capital now would be outright treason. He might even get reined in by his own men before trying.
In short, Elua moved first, stripping Gobert of any pretext.
He'd gone to the frontier to secure forces against opposition, only for Elua to block his return path...
Who knows. Gobert might rally troops under the guise of reinvestigating the king's death and shake things up.
But if civil war actually broke out... Logistics would grind to a halt. A draft could pull workers into service, halting production. Either would spike prices; both together would devastate the inn. Costs up, guests down... Pensions could cover wages for now, but in the worst case, even those might dry up.
I had zero need, reason, or pretext to meddle in their crown squabbles.
But I sure as hell needed to prepare so the inn didn't shutter over some bullshit.
As I mulled it over, kicking my feet idly, footsteps stopped at my door. Turning, I saw Francois peering in from the threshold.
"Francois? What's up?"
"Well..."
She hesitated, then stepped inside. I sat up on the bed.
Probably about to talk Audrion territory stuff.
Francois stared at me—then suddenly dropped to her knees.
"Whoa? What're you doing? Get up."
As I flailed in confusion, she planted her hands on the floor and pressed her forehead to it.
"Francois...?"
"I'm sorry. I've been rude and ignorant of your nobility all this time."