In response to Medeia’s words, the 4th Imperial Princess stifled a gasp of surprise.
Sardegna Island. This small island off the southern coast of Kazen, bordering Baldina, was a gift she had received from her maternal grandfather, the Eastern Count, on her 15th birthday.
Though small in scale, Sardegna was a lucrative region, as it possessed iron mines capable of independent iron production.
After a brief moment of deliberation, the 4th Imperial Princess shook her head. She had weighed the value of the island against the severity of the current situation in her mind.
“...I cannot do that.”
“....”
“Ask for something else. I will do my best to grant it... as long as it is within my power...”
Under the steady gaze watching her, the 4th Imperial Princess’s voice grew increasingly small.
“4th Imperial Princess, it seems my words sounded like a request to you?”
“....”
“I forgave you for trying to kill me, turned a blind eye to the evidence, and even told you how to escape suspicion. I even informed you who was targeting you—let's just call that a bonus.”
The 4th Imperial Princess flinched.
“I don’t believe I am asking for anything excessive.”
Medeia’s green eyes glared at her chillingly.
Silence fell.
A heavy pressure seemed to weigh her down. It felt as if she were trapped in the coils of a snake wrapping around her body, sending a sudden shiver down her spine.
“....”
The 4th Imperial Princess instinctively avoided her gaze.
A short while later.
“Then, please see yourself out, 4th Imperial Princess.”
At Medeia’s polite dismissal, the 4th Imperial Princess bit her lip and walked out. Only when she reached a place where the Princess Palace was no longer visible did she tear off the accessories on her body and hurl them away.
“Aaaaagh! Damn Baldina! I should never have come here!”
* * *
“I didn't expect the Princess to hand it over so submissively.”
Neril said, looking down at the deed of transfer for Sardegna Island, stamped with the 4th Imperial Princess’s seal.
“She must have felt it was a waste, but better than being stabbed in the back by the Western Empress.”
However, there was one fact the 4th Imperial Princess did not know.
‘Sardegna is a golden island with massive deposits of Mithril.’
That fact wouldn't be revealed to the world until after the 4th Imperial Princess lost the struggle for the throne and the Eastern Count passed away from illness.
But by then, Iason had already become Emperor, so the immense wealth gained from the Mithril produced in Sardegna went straight into his pockets.
Medeia had no intention of handing over anything that would fatten Iason’s belly.
“But it’s infuriating to let her off like this. The 4th Imperial Princess clearly targeted Your Highness, yet instead of being punished... she only gained a way to survive.”
“Don’t worry. Angelique won't be safe.”
Mithril was a natural resource that couldn't be bought even with money.
Perdicas II, no matter how much he doted on his daughter, would not forgive the culprit who gave wings to a soaring Baldina.
By then, the 4th Imperial Princess, realizing she had been deceived by Medeia, would want to tear her to pieces.
“I wouldn't settle for just an island from someone who targeted my life.”
She planned to inflict even greater despair upon the 4th Imperial Princess.
No hint of sympathy for her could be felt in Medeia’s monotonous voice.
“By the way, the Castulo Grand Duke is quite a devious man, contrary to his appearance.”
Neril was incensed. As a knight, she despised those who harbored ulterior motives and sacrificed others for their own gain.
“Doesn't it mean he intentionally feigned ignorance to serve his own interests, even though he knew Your Highness was in danger?”
She recalled the loathsome Grand Duke who had worried for the Princess with a face more sincere than anyone else's in the hall.
‘He’s exactly the kind of man to do that.’
Medeia leaned back in her chair with a weary face.
Along with the argument with the 4th Imperial Princess, the memories of her past life rising deep within her today increased her fatigue.
‘At any rate, since I returned through the Magic Tower, neither the Princess nor Iason can find much leverage.’
For a moment, one thought led to another.
The Magic Tower. Iason. And Facade...
Medeia, who had been closing her eyes for a moment, soon opened them again.
“Zeta, tell your master I wish to see him.”
“....”
However, no answer came. Looking at Zeta, she saw a look of fluster unusual for her.
“Is something wrong?”
“That is...”
Medeia suddenly realized that she hadn't seen the mercenaries of Facade since her return.
Even Gallo, who consistently appeared at palace events, had been hard to see lately.
“The leader... is not in Baldina right now.”
The hesitating Zeta replied.
She couldn't say that after returning to the Royal Capital, Cezare’s condition had rapidly worsened.
“This won't do any longer. Your condition is too poor. We must go to the Master.”
“Don’t make a fuss, Terence.”
When even Terence reached a state where he could do nothing, they hurriedly left for the Magic Tower.
“Zeta, say nothing to the Princess of Baldina. Just keep doing as you are. Like a shadow.”
Zeta agonized.
She couldn't disobey her lord’s command, but she wasn't sure if it was right to keep remaining silent like this.
“Lord Akares... left Baldina a few days ago.”
Zeta added an explanation, staying within the limits of not disobeying orders as much as possible.
He left? Medeia paused.
The image of the mercenary who used to offer a languid smile came to mind.
She knew he was a whimsical person and that as an arms dealer, it was natural for him to wander through various countries, but she didn't expect him to leave so suddenly without even a goodbye.
“...Is he even coming back?”
At Medeia’s question, Zeta recalled her lord’s condition.
For him to return to Baldina, there would have to be at least a sign of recovery, but for the current lord...
Her heart swirled with heavy thoughts.
“...I am sorry, Your Highness. I can say no more.”
At Zeta’s troubled expression, Medeia nodded as if she understood and ordered her to withdraw.
“....”
Medeia set down what she had been fiddling with in her hand onto the table.
Two small urns, each carved with a goddess statue and a water droplet.
‘When I found this, I made a replica just in case. I felt like someone would try to get their hands on this relic someday.’
One was the Dawn’s Dewdrop she had obtained from the Philosopher’s Stone, and the other was an imitation so sophisticated that one couldn't tell the difference at a glance.
‘I was thinking of using Facade rather than the Magic Tower to make a connection with the 1st Prince.’
Since he had left like this, it had now become a remote possibility.
Medeia opened a small drawer and placed one urn inside.
‘...He is a man who goes as silently as the wind until the moment he leaves.’
For some reason, a subtle sense of emptiness shook Medeia. Had she grown fond of that lawless mercenary in the meantime?
The quiet peace she had tasted for a moment that day came to mind—the deepening night, the forest full of the scent of grass, the sound of crackling firewood, and the warmth of the campfire.
Medeia soon shook her head.
‘You’ve grown soft. To have the leisure for such useless thoughts.’
In her second life, where most things were already known through experience, Medeia learned something new for the first time.
That comfort made her weak.
‘I don’t need this kind of thing. I don’t expect anything.’
The sword she would plunge into her enemies always had to be forged sharp.
Awakening from her reverie, Medeia looked up.
“Neril, what happened with what I asked?”
Neril approached and reported secretly to Medeia.
“Did you not ask me to watch the movements of those who were on the signed pledge previously? They are returning to the capital.”
“Is that so?”
Medeia raised her head. She gazed at the Castle Walls outside the window.
Her green eyes were shining coldly once more, as if they had never been otherwise.
“Neril, I’ll need you to go outside the Royal Capital for a moment.”