Chapter 37
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Translator: Wjin
Chapter: 37
Chapter Title: Refusing the Registry
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Nanny's eyes sparkled.
"Oh ho, that's a very reasonable point."
"Wait a moment. Wouldn't that be hard for you, Nanny...? It seems like you should rest quietly in a peaceful place if your back is to heal quickly."
Ellensia hurriedly interjected, but Nanny steadfastly professed her loyalty.
"I'm fine! Even if my back takes its time to heal, I want to serve Her Highness the Princess right by her side."
The day her back fully recovered, she would have to leave the palace immediately. And that would spell the end of Nanny's influence.
So she would want to cling to Ellensia by any means necessary and put down roots in the palace. Holing up in some back room for treatment would never give her a chance to exert any influence over the princess.
Philomel took Nanny's side.
"Your Highness, Nanny feels so strongly about it—please allow her to stay."
"But..."
Ellensia hesitated, glancing sideways at Count Polan.
"Lady Philomel, are you truly all right with this?"
Count Polan seemed convinced that Philomel was playing the fool out of excessive kindness.
"Of course. Nanny will just be lying here—how could she possibly run into me? And it'll make it easier for Your Highness to adjust to life in the palace with Nanny by your side."
"...If you insist, then I shall comply. But with her stay dragging on like this, I'll have no choice but to report it to His Majesty the Emperor."
Count Polan looked down at Nanny and spoke sternly.
"Be grateful to Lady Philomel and serve Her Highness the Princess with the utmost sincerity."
"Of course, of course."
Count Polan turned to Ellensia for her consent.
"Her Highness the Princess has no objections, I take it?"
"...Well."
When no immediate reply came from Ellensia, Nanny burst into loud sobs. She wailed about being cast out onto the streets with no family to look after her.
"...Yes, very well."
The kindhearted Ellensia ultimately accepted Philomel's proposal.
"Lady Ellensia, have no fears. I'll stay right by your side and ensure you conduct yourself with proper dignity. Noble blood doesn't vanish just because you were raised among lowly rabble. I'll wring every last drop of that vulgarity right out of you."
Having gotten exactly what she wanted, Nanny grinned from ear to ear.
It wasn't even directed at Philomel, but the thought of Nanny's "proper guidance" was enough to send shivers down her spine.
Leaving Nanny to deliver a lengthy lecture to Ellensia on proper princessly deportment, Philomel departed the room with the count.
'Ellensia, you haven't dealt with Nanny enough yet, so you still can't bring yourself to abandon your naive faith in people...'
It wouldn't be long before Ellensia wanted to send Nanny packing herself.
Philomel knew Nanny all too well. She might have been a fine caregiver in her youth, but those days were long gone.
Philomel was certain that even an angel come down to earth would beg to escape after just a few days with her.
'It's a shame Ellensia will have to endure Nanny's torment, but there's no helping it.
This is all for Ellensia's own good.'
Count Polan spoke up as he walked alongside her.
"I am once again in awe of Lady Philomel the Princess's boundless mercy."
"I'm no princess anymore."
"Pardon?"
She had merely stated the obvious, yet he startled as if jolted.
"Now that the true princess—His Majesty's own flesh and blood—has returned, I'm no longer a princess."
"B-but if you enter the imperial family registry... Surely His Majesty hasn't broached the subject of the registry with you yet?"
"He did, but I turned it down."
"Why? Why on earth would you do that?!"
Count Polan's mouth fell open even wider than before, his shock redoubled.
Philomel found his reaction more astonishing still.
'Is refusing the registry really that earth-shattering?'
But understanding soon dawned.
It was as if someone were welcoming back a cuckoo chick that had usurped a nest and ousted the rightful fledglings. A saint would weep at such grace.
And if you stopped random passersby and asked whether they'd choose to live as a criminal's daughter or as an imperial princess, how many would pick the former? Not just Count Polan—from any ordinary viewpoint, Philomel's choice was tantamount to kicking away an undeserved windfall.
But she had no intention of rattling off her reasons for refusing the registry. Instead, she approached it from another angle to help him understand.
"Enter the registry? That makes no sense. Has there ever been a precedent for someone like me in the history of the Belleroph Empire?"
"Well..."
Polan fell silent.
Just as Philomel said, it was an unprecedented matter in the empire's long history. To formally adopt someone without a single drop of shared blood as an imperial child.
Imperial family registry entries were made not based on the individual's wishes, but strictly for political ends.
First, when an emperor lacked a suitable heir for the throne. There had been a few cases of adopting collateral kin not far removed from the direct line to carry on the succession.
Second, when a marriage alliance with another nation was needed but no suitable child was available. In such instances, a royal or high noble's offspring would be formally entered into the registry and promptly married off.
Neither scenario applied here.
In truth, even if one of those reasons necessitated an adoption, Philomel—who was neither royal nor noble—could never set foot in the imperial family. The nobles would oppose it tooth and nail if she accepted the offer.
Unless Emperor Justis, wielding his formidable imperial authority, forced it through with a massive purge.
'Which, naturally, he wouldn't.'
Yet Polan refused to give up his persuasion. He spoke again.
"Even so, it's not entirely without precedent. The Seventh Emperor took pity on the daughter of a retainer who died shielding him and adopted her as his own daughter. Even though she was a commoner. Which means Lady Philomel is hardly unqualified..."
Good heavens.
'The Seventh? How ancient is that tale? Eight hundred years ago or so?'
Philomel's brow furrowed at the thought of such distant antiquity. By then, it was less history and more legend.
As she rummaged through what she'd learned in history class, one detail caught her attention.
"Hold on. The Seventh—the one who was posthumously honored as emperor?"
"Yes. That's right."
Posthumous honor.
The elevation of a royal who had never been emperor to imperial status after death, by decree of their descendants.
This typically occurred when a non-direct heir ascended the throne; they would confer the title of emperor on their deceased parent.
Nominal though it was, it served to shore up the new emperor's shaky legitimacy by retroactively making them the child of a predecessor.
"Since he wasn't emperor in life, adopting a commoner daughter wouldn't have stirred up much opposition."
It was a world apart from a living, reigning emperor doing the same.
"Well. It's not entirely unprecedented, and if it's good, it's good..."
"That doesn't seem like solid grounds."
"It can't be... I pulled an all-nighter for three straight days and nights to dig this up..."
Count Polan rubbed at his hollowed eyes and let out a pitiful whine.
'He actually unearthed an anecdote from an era with barely any records left.'
She could easily picture him toiling away in the underground archival vaults of the imperial library, wrestling with moldy tomes.
"Why go to such lengths?"
Philomel asked, feeling a pang of sympathy for him.
"When I reported there was no precedent, His Majesty commanded me to find one by hook or by crook. If none existed, to fabricate one if need be..."
"..."
"I searched through the night, but there's nothing. Haven't been home in over five days—haven't even seen my little girl's face."
Philomel offered a silent condolence to the father of a three-year-old.
Count Polan scrambling at the emperor's whims wasn't a new occurrence, but this was going too far.
'I have to do something about this.'
It looked like she'd need to confront the emperor in person. Before the poor count actually fabricated some history.
But first, there was something else she had to do.
"Count Polan. No—Lord Count."
"Yes, Your Highness."
She had gone out of her way to use an honorific, yet he still addressed her as princess, clinging to hope for the registry.
'I'll just let him have his way for the time being.'
Instead, Philomel voiced what she wanted.
"I want to meet my birth mother. Take me to the prison cell where she's being held."
There was someone she had to see before leaving this place.
Philomel's own birth mother, Katrin Hounds.
She had heard Katrin's story that very morning from Lady Deless.
They had been sharing a meal and conversation when the lady brought up a scene she'd witnessed not long before.
"Well, I happened to pass by and saw a woman being dragged out of His Majesty's office. Blood dripping from her hands—it was downright chilling."
"...A woman? Do you remember what she looked like?"
"Hmm, her head was bowed, so all I caught was that she had brown hair. The maids in that area said His Majesty was furious. Whatever crime did she commit? Terrifying."
A brown-haired woman.
Someone who would commit a crime grave enough to be hauled straight before the emperor at this juncture.
What had been a hazy suspicion took concrete form right after, with Nanny's arrival.
"Oh dear. To think my mother in prison would end up in that state..."
Nanny had grumbled that while laid up in bed, unable to rise due to her sprained back.
It was little more than a mutter to herself, but Philomel heard it crystal clear.
Katrin—the woman who had borne Philomel—was in the palace.