“The Ivory Palace. It’s the place my birth mother longed to see while she was alive.”
Recalling Karl’s words, she tugged her lips upward into a smile.
“His Majesty can’t bring himself to abandon me. There’s no need to get excited.”
Diane had worked hard to resemble Lady Beatrice, the emperor’s birth mother. Her appearance, manner of speech, behavior, even her favorite foods. Only when she began to confuse whether she herself was Diane de Poitiers or Lady Beatrice did she finally feel at ease.
As if she had never cried at all, Diane sat calmly at her desk.
How much preparation had she done for this day?
“Lorraine!”
At Diane’s call, Lorraine—who had been waiting outside—hurried in and bowed her head.
“Bring me the imperial budget proposal. We’re going to make a supplementary budget.”
“Yes, my lady.”
A malicious glint flashed in Diane’s beautiful eyes.
＊＊＊
Inside a massive carriage made of ebony sat two tall men.
“How can two brothers both look like a painting? If only there were a guarantee I’d give birth to sons like that, I’d have children one after another!” elderly ladies whispered among themselves. The admiration of the young noblewomen went without saying. The Baldur brothers were, quite literally, the flowers of Ehremont high society. Well, neither of them paid any attention to such talk.
After being lost in thought for a while, Theseus suddenly spoke, a faint sneer hanging at the corner of his mouth.
“The one who recommended the princess of Gottorp from across the sea as empress—just to create a puppet empress—was Duke Despone. Looks like that plan failed, doesn’t it?”
Lionel, who had been gazing out the window, nodded at his brother’s words and thought of the empress. No—ever since the first moment he had welcomed her upon her arrival in Ehremont, she had lingered in his mind in a strange way.
The image of her on the day they first met—smiling brightly, those golden eyes almost feral, as she drove the horses—remained vivid.
But how shocked he had been when he heard the rumor that the emperor had gone straight to the Ivory Palace the moment the wedding ended. The empress’s actions, after suffering an insult no mere noblewoman could even imagine, drew the attention of the aristocracy—but she shattered everyone’s expectations as if to spite them.
The empress he saw in the banquet hall, and in the antechamber of the council of ministers, was relaxed and confident, without the slightest trace of intimidation. Her refined smile and oppressive presence—traits unique to those in power—felt artificial, yet flawless. It was hard to believe she was the same woman who had laughed like a girl while riding a horse.
And yet, every time Lionel beheld that perfectly composed image of the empress, his chest inexplicably tightened. Was this what it felt like to watch a tree standing proudly in place, enduring a violent storm head-on?
At that moment, Theseus lightly rubbed his chin and muttered,
“She knew how to take control of the atmosphere with a single hand. Watching her, I could vaguely understand why the Dowager Queen of Gottorp had been so desperate to send her daughter across the sea. The newly crowned emperor is only fourteen, after all. A strong-willed older sister wouldn’t have helped consolidate imperial authority.”
Lionel nodded, then continued,
“In any case, it seems His Majesty intends to leave the tower in the Calvain territory as it is.”
“If a flying-type magical beast appears, the surrounding area will be devastated in no time. That’s what worries me.”
Theseus rubbed his chin again and sank briefly into thought. Silence settled over the carriage.
Lionel opened the window. The rushing wind scattered his dark blue-black hair, tangling it messily across his forehead. As it brushed past his face, he was reminded of black hair that had once swept across it.
Theseus quietly studied his younger brother, who stood with his arms crossed, gazing out the window. His slightly furrowed brow, eyes shadowed and dark, lips tightly pressed together.
“Lionel.”
At his brother’s call, Lionel turned his head.
“Is something troubling you?”
“……”
Choosing not to answer, Lionel turned back to look outside. The scenery beyond the window was beautiful enough, but to Lionel it meant nothing at all. Something else completely dominated his thoughts.
The carriage sped across the wide-open plains, and before long entered a region of tall, mature trees. As the golden sunlight was blocked by their height, the wind turned cool in an instant.
“It’s Her Majesty the Empress.”
“……”
“Don’t you think she might be able to break this stagnant situation?”
At his words, Theseus’s gaze grew deeper.
A stagnant board.
Lionel’s description was precise.
By funneling privileges to the mage factions, the emperor had seized the aristocracy by the throat. The nobles lived in constant anxiety, fearful that a tower might descend upon their territory, and were busy currying favor with the emperor. Once a tower was erected, survival without the aid of mages was impossible. There was even an absurd law stating that if two or more mages moved without the emperor’s command, it constituted treason.
“Of course, from Her Majesty’s perspective, the current situation won’t be to her liking, but…”
Theseus let his words trail off.
Whenever the blood-red sky—like death itself—appeared, the Black Calamity inevitably followed. Paradoxically, that very calamity was the cornerstone of the Ehremont emperor’s power. Standing upon the blood and fear of the people, the emperor reigned as an absolute monarch.
＊＊＊
Adele ordered Mrs. Giggs to summon Count Calvain, who should still be in the capital. After Mrs. Giggs bowed respectfully and left the room, Adele sank into thought alone.
No matter that she was the empress of Ehremont, she had no powerful family to back her—and she had yet to fully grasp the structure of political power within Ehremont itself.
At least she was fluent in the Ehremont language; that was something to be grateful for. Back when she was learning it, she had complained about why she had to study the language of some country she didn’t even know—but now that it was helping her, she realized how unpredictable life could be.
“This is difficult…”
It felt like groping her way through the dark with nothing but her fingertips.
Suddenly, she recalled Elisabetta’s words about appointing an aide.
“An empress’s aide is usually a man. My mother increased the number of her aides conspicuously every time my father—the late emperor—replaced his mistress.”
“Aide… an aide, huh…”
In Gottorp, every time her father took a new mistress, her mother would ostentatiously take one as well. Sometimes, at banquets, they would each bring their respective lovers as partners. Adele had hated it since she was young. On both sides, she couldn’t help thinking, What on earth are they doing?
But at the same time, Elisabetta’s words—that in Ehremont, projecting strength mattered above all else—came back to her.
“It’s unlikely, but if House Baldur were to send a candidate, I would recommend choosing him without hesitation.”
Thinking of House Baldur inevitably brought one person to mind.
Lionel Baldur.
He reminded her of the calm night sea just before a storm rolls in. They had only met a handful of times, but the sharp yet composed gaze unique to a warrior made him seem somehow trustworthy.
As she recalled the time she had ridden warhorses with him, racing across the land, Adele let out a small, involuntary laugh. That moment—running freely across the vast, open plains—had been the only truly enjoyable time since she came to Ehremont.
After lingering on the thought for a moment, Adele shook her head lightly and pushed it aside.
“For now, I should learn more about the culture here. I can’t just jump in because someone tells me to.”
Closing her eyes, Adele rubbed her brow with her hand.
One way or another, the emperor and the empress were now in the same boat, whether they liked it or not. Of course, history was full of cases where emperors and empresses opposed one another—but that only happened when their relationship had reached an extreme, and above all, when their powers were evenly matched. In her current situation, where she had virtually no power at all, recklessly turning against the emperor might truly leave her no better off than a feather stuck to a quill.
＊＊＊
Inside a battered old carriage.
Count Calvain, also a capable scholar, was a gentleman who always maintained an air of dignity. He himself would never have imagined looking so wretched. But now, he had no room to care about his appearance.
For a lord to come rushing personally, leaving his territory behind, meant the situation there was urgent. Surely they would at least send one or two Strikers, he had thought—surely he could take at least one Keeper back with him.
But when he finally, desperately made his way into the council chamber, what awaited him was not sympathy, but humiliation. Words flew like arrows, shattering his heart; gazes flew like blades, as if they were slicing his entire body to pieces.
Above all, the moment he saw the emperor’s cold expression, he realized it. To the emperor, the County of Calvain was a place whose loss would hardly matter. The people of Calvain, being torn apart and killed by magical beasts, stirred not the slightest compassion in him.
“Keep your sword from rusting, so that you can answer immediately whenever His Majesty calls.”
His tightly clenched hand trembled violently. He wanted to go back to that moment in the past—when he had seated his children before him and spoken those words—and slap his own face mercilessly.
