A Chilling Breakfast Gathering (1)
“Announcing the entrance of His Imperial Highness, the Third Prince, Edwin Anaxinian Ventrum.”
At the herald’s declaration, the massive double doors of the hall swung wide. Edwin swallowed nervously, his heart fluttering against his ribs as he stepped across the threshold.
“Welcome, Edwin.”
Carvelius III, Emperor of the Ventrum Empire, greeted him with a genial smile. The extravagant crown resting upon his brow left no doubt as to who commanded this realm.
“Come, take your seat.”
Edwin offered a shallow, respectful bow before quietly slipping into his designated chair.
“Your Majesty, I took the liberty of having venison prepared just the way you like it today. Please, do try some while it is hot.”
The woman seated at the Emperor’s left spoke in a melodic, silken purr. With flowing platinum-blond hair and crimson eyes burning like embers, she was a breathtaking, flame-like beauty—none other than the Second Imperial Consort, Helena Radcliffe.
The Second Consort.
At the mere sound of her voice, Edwin’s shoulders tensed on instinct. An agonizing flood of memories he wished he could forget surged unbidden into his mind.
“I hunted this deer with my own hands just to offer it to Father!” a booming, insolent voice crowed from across the long table. It was the Second Prince, Lloyd.
“Did you now, Lloyd? By your own hands?”
“Yes! Brought it down with a single arrow!” Lloyd puffed his chest out with unbridled arrogance, gazing eagerly toward his father like a hound begging for praise.
“It seems the Second Prince’s marksmanship has improved considerably while I wasn’t looking.”
“Of course! Everyone insisted I could shoot a bird right out of the sky! My bowmanship wouldn’t lose to Brother’s, either!” Lloyd declared boldly, fixing his gaze on the youth seated opposite him.
The Emperor chuckled. “Haha, and do you agree with that assessment, Adrian?”
The youth glanced at Lloyd for half a second before impassively returning his gaze to his plate. “I wonder. I’ve rarely seen Lloyd draw a bow himself. Since he always leaves the shooting to his knights, it’s impossible to tell.”
Fiery red hair, enigmatic grey eyes, and an aura of stoic detachment that seemed far beyond his fifteen years—this was the empire’s First Prince, Adrian Sapiens Ventrum.
“Brother! How could you say such a thing? When have I ever done that!” Stung to the quick, Lloyd flushed bright crimson and raised his voice in indignation.
Adrian, however, did not grant him so much as another glance, quietly continuing his meal in undisturbed silence.
It was then that the woman seated beside Adrian spoke for the first time.
“‘I wonder’ is hardly an answer. Have I not cautioned you against using such informal ambiguities before His Majesty, Adrian?”
Empress of the Ventrum Empire and sole sister to Duke Crowner, Melanie Crowner was an aristocratic beauty of an entirely different caliber from Helena. Where the Second Consort blazed with vibrant vanity, the Empress carried herself with an austere, classic elegance and unflinching composure.
“My apologies, Imperial Mother.” Adrian offered his apology without hesitation.
Watching the exchange, the Emperor shrugged and let out a light laugh. “Come now, Empress. You are far too severe with the First Prince as always. There is no need to be so harsh.”
“How could I be otherwise, Your Majesty? The heir who is destined to succeed the throne one day must be thoroughly and rigorously educated.”
At those words, Consort Helena’s expression twisted into an ugly grimace. And understandably so—they were speaking as if the Second Prince did not exist at all.
“Indeed. Her Imperial Majesty’s words are entirely correct.”
Yet Helena was not one to be outmaneuvered so easily. Almost instantly, her venomous scowl vanished, replaced by a radiant, practiced smile.
“How could the education of the imperial successor ever be taken lightly?” Her tone was honeyed, almost tender. “That is precisely why I dedicate so much care to Lloyd’s upbringing as well. Thanks to that, his archery has grown remarkably.”
“If you ask me, the Second Prince ought to cultivate patience long before he picks up a bow, Consort,” the Empress countered evenly, carving a slice of roast on her plate. “Refraining from raising one’s voice in His Majesty’s presence is, after all, the most elementary of courtesies.”
“My goodness. Did Lloyd’s voice truly strike you as so loud? I had no idea Your Majesty’s hearing was so exceedingly sharp. Tell me, what is your secret?”
“I possess no particular secret. But seeing as the Consort’s ears seem rather hard of hearing, perhaps I ought to invent one and instruct you on it.”
Caught in the crossfire of their venomous banter, Edwin kept his head down and mechanically shoveled food into his mouth.
So this is what Rachel meant.
Just as she had predicted, none of them paid the slightest attention to him. Lloyd was busy fuming, and the Second Consort was entirely consumed by her silent duel with the Empress. Neither had spared him a second glance since he entered.
It’s actually a relief.
Keeping his eyes fixed firmly on his plate, Edwin moved his fork by rote, wishing only for this suffocating meal to end as quickly as possible.
Clink, clink—
The sharp sound of the Emperor tapping his goblet with a fork cut through the air.
“My ladies certainly possess abundant vigor this morning. Let that be enough bickering.” Shaking his head as if weary of their squabbling, the Emperor casually steered the conversation. “We shall host an imperial hunting competition in the near future. The princes can demonstrate their skill with the bow then. Are you satisfied now?”
A single decree from the Emperor struck both women silent.
“Participation shall be mandatory for all princes. Take note of it.”
“Your Majesty,” Consort Helena murmured, a faint, calculating smile playing at the corners of her lips. “To declare it mandatory for all… Would that not prove rather embarrassing for someone who knows nothing of hunting?”
“Hmm?” The Emperor arched an eyebrow. “Is there truly an imperial prince among us who does not know how to hunt?”
“Is that not so, Prince Edwin?”
Helena pivoted sharply toward Edwin, leaving him with no time to avert his gaze. Her crimson eyes locked directly onto his.
Wait…
A strange sensation washed over him.
Her glare, which once terrified him to his very core, and that beautiful, cruel face that had haunted his nightmares—neither frightened him in the least.
Why?
Edwin felt a surge of bewilderment. He was staring directly into the eyes of the Second Consort, the living embodiment of his childhood dread, yet he felt entirely hollow of fear. If anything, the demonic beasts he had faced in Luxen Village were incomparably more terrifying.
Forgetting even to answer, Edwin merely continued to chew his meat with a blank expression.
“Your Highness? Have you lost your tongue?”
At his silence, a subtle twitch disturbed the elegance around Helena’s eyes.
In that moment, Edwin’s gaze drifted past her and met the Emperor’s. Unlike earlier, Carvelius III was watching him intently with cold, piercing blue eyes. It was a look that made it clear: the expected answer had already been decided.
Instinctively, Edwin deciphered what his imperial father wanted to hear.
“…Though it will be my first time hunting, I… I will ensure I am ready to participate in the competition.”
“What…?”
Before Helena could interject, the Emperor let out a hearty laugh and tapped his goblet against the table.
“Well said! A prince must learn to relish the sport of the hunt.”
A brief, heavy silence descended upon the grand hall. While the others remained outwardly indifferent, the Second Consort’s face had visibly frozen into stone.
His Majesty called that wretched brat a prince.
She gritted her teeth in secret, her gaze boring into the Third Prince. Is this why he suddenly appeared at the breakfast gathering? Was this the scheme all along?
Helena stole a glance toward the sovereign. Carvelius III appeared composed as ever, but upon closer scrutiny, he seemed unusually amused—almost genuinely entertained.
So this is your design.
The sudden elevation of the forgotten Third Prince was clearly no accident. Beneath the velvet tablecloth, blue veins bulged across Helena’s delicate, manicured hands.
Whether oblivious to her smoldering fury or simply choosing to disregard it, the Emperor tipped his goblet back with a faint smirk.
“My, I find myself looking forward to the competition already.”
At that table, the Emperor was the only one smiling with genuine pleasure.
The servants’ dining hall on the ground floor, to which we were escorted by an attendant, was lavishly adorned with intricate tile mosaics. True to the grandeur of the Emperor’s Palace, even the quarters designated for domestic staff were spared no expense. A handful of attendants and servants were already scattered across several tables in the center of the hall, dining quietly. As Catherine and I took our seats at an empty table, a maid promptly served our meals.
“Good heavens! What on earth is this flavor?” Catherine gasped between bites, unable to contain her marveling whispers. “What kind of ingredient produces a soup that tastes like this?”
“I believe it’s cloves.”
“What are cloves?”
“A spice imported from the Eastern Continent. I’m told it’s also used as medicinal herbs.”
“It suits my palate completely! Oh, if only we could stock some in the Prince’s Palace!”
“In the empire and throughout the west, merchants demand whatever price they please for it. Keeping it in our pantry is out of the question.”
“What a pity. Then I suppose I’ll simply have to eat until my stomach bursts while I’m here!”
Treating this as an once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Catherine began shoveling food into her mouth with feverish enthusiasm.
Hmph. The imperial palace does not disappoint. Even during my years running the syndicate, ingredients of this grade were rare treats.
In stark contrast to the feast before us, meals at the 3rd Prince’s Palace were humble affairs fit for commoners, aside from basic rations of meat and table wine. Our daily spread consisted mostly of rustic stews made from root vegetables, barley, and beans, punctuated only occasionally by a modest cut of roasted meat or freshwater fish.
“Ah, we really should have brought Her Highness Emilia along,” Catherine muttered, her face drooping into a dramatic pout even as she enthusiastically wielded her knife. “Do you think the gardener will be able to look after Her Highness’s breakfast properly?”
“Worry not. He isn’t so utterly incompetent that he cannot feed a child when the meal has already been prepared.”
Whatever his foul exterior, Sage Lill was the very man who had raised Leo from a squalling infant in the plague quarantine settlement to the strapping youth he was today. Foul-tempered and vulgar-mouthed as he was, the old eccentric was frankly far more adept at childcare than I had ever been.
“Do you suppose they’d mind if I asked them to pack a little of this up?” Catherine lowered her voice, scanning the room conspiratorially. “To tell you the truth, I brought along a ceramic bowl and a wrapping cloth. Should I slip some inside?”
“…Catherine, stealing is a crime.”
“It’s not stealing, it’s mutual aid! Imperial mutual aid!”
Truly, this woman was extraordinary in her own right. I deliberately looked away as Catherine offered shameless justifications while discreetly bundling pastries and cured meats into her cloth.
“Hey. Are you two the maids serving the Third Prince?”