Translator: Nox

Chapter 48

The document contained a margrave's report of sightings of Arthur Notingen near the border. Arthur Notingen. He was the eldest son of Notingen Duke, one of the Twelve Dukes, and had once been mentioned as a potential son-in-law to the previous emperor. Surprisingly, the Notingen Duke family had remained quiet during Bolshtark II's seizure of the throne. One might say they had been suppressed by the momentum of the Baichen family, who had worked behind the scenes in advance. They had eventually raised the flag of rebellion, but three years ago, the entire family had been wiped out by Duke Rihardt. It was known that he alone had barely escaped, but with no news since, it was assumed he must have died in some mountain hideout.

"Since no one claimed to have killed him, of course he's still alive."

Chamberlain read a note of reproach toward Duke Rihardt, who had been in charge of suppressing Notingen at the time, in the Dowager Empress's calm voice.

'Ruthless as ever.'

To avoid being caught clicking his tongue, the count gulped down his lukewarm tea. It was true that Daniel Rihardt had let Arthur Notingen escape, leaving a lingering threat, but he himself had been gravely injured in the process and had only recently regained consciousness. Moreover, was it not Daniel Rihardt who had made the greatest contribution to seating the current emperor on the throne? One could not deny Duke Rihardt's merit in rooting out opposition entirely, leaving no aftermath, which kept the empire free of major disturbances during the three years without the emperor's hunting dog. Though Daniel's very existence was uncomfortable, Chamberlain, who acknowledged his abilities, suddenly felt sympathy for him. At that moment, the Dowager Empress's cold, deep blue eyes met Chamberlain's.

"Ulrich, is there no possibility that Daniel deliberately let Arthur Notingen go?"

When autumn ends in Chellino, rains signaling winter's start fall. Once the winter rain stops and the dark clouds part, a clear sky filled with biting cold unfolds. But deceived by the clear blue, venturing out without thick clothes leaves one shivering all day. Seeing the Dowager Empress's calm, icy blue eyes always evoked that seasonal chill for Chamberlain.

"Is there any reason for such suspicion, Your Majesty?"

"It's strange. For Daniel of all people to be defeated by Arthur Notingen."

As if it were not a question laden with deep meaning, the Dowager Empress said no more on the matter.

"Ulrich, I want you to take this letter to Vutain's territory. Now that it's officially confirmed Arthur Notingen is alive, it's dangerous for the emperor to remain there. He won't listen to me at all, so persuade him and bring him back."

Even for the Dowager Empress, it was hard to hide her bitterness today.

"If I stay here any longer, I'll go mad or suffocate! Just leave me be for once! Can't you just have the child you so desire with anyone?"

Leopold had finally raised his voice and left the castle. Though her son, who took after her in rarely showing emotion, resembled Rihardt unmistakably in such moments. Weak humans lost in worthless sentiments. Not one stops struggling pointlessly to escape her grasp. Until their dying breath.

"Now... you can no longer... do anything to me, Margret."

Her husband, Duke Bruno Rihardt, had smiled at life's final moment. Even as digitalis poison stiffened his body day by day, he seemed truly happy, as if gaining real freedom.

'Foolish and naive to the end.'

Had he quietly followed her will, the throne might have been his son's—no, her husband's. She would have made it so. Bruno Rihardt had dreamed of becoming emperor, she empress. She had imagined days sharing all glory together. In hindsight, perhaps she too had a pure youth as the naive girl Margret Baichen. Strength entered the hand gripping the teacup handle; Margret bit the soft flesh inside her cheek to steady her emotions. She was no longer the green girl Margret Baichen. Indulging in shallow sentiments was folly enough from her immature youth. Dowager Empress Margret bore the duty to ponder the next hundred years of the Svergen Empire, for Emperor Leopold, the next, and the one after. That was her name now.

"But if the emperor insists on going to Utrecht rather than Chellino, don't stop him—follow after."

"Do you mean the emperor plans to go to Duke Rihardt?"

"Vutain is just an excuse; that was his destination from the start."

It was anticipated the moment news spread that Daniel had awakened. She knew Leopold, who had always shown particular fondness for Daniel since childhood, would head to the duchy under any pretext. Leopold often gazed at Daniel with envy and admiration. A height overwhelmingly greater despite only a two-year age gap. Innate swordsmanship that shone from childhood, resembling his mercenary grandfather. Black hair unseen in Svergen nobility and deep reddish-brown eyes. Daniel drew all eyes simply by standing. Stealing attention that should go to Leopold. Like Laura intercepting her husband's heart, even her son shadowed Leopold. Back then, Leopold was young, and resembling his maternal Baichen family more, she thought it would pass and left it be. She had also let down her guard because young Daniel played into her hands more easily than expected. Surprisingly, though, the problem arose not from Leopold but Daniel. A bastard who, despite his lowborn mother, overreached without knowing his place. Even after crushing his head and clipping his wings with all her might, unease lingered. Now he hid his sharp teeth and feigned docility, but who knew when he might bite Leopold's throat. Whether the boy who survived near death and awoke remained the same was questionable. Daniel was a man harboring a volcano that might erupt unpredictably beneath a calm exterior. In desire's magnitude and tenacity to achieve it, the name Baichen suited him better. Leaving Leopold near Daniel chafed deeply, but this time she couldn't curb her son's stubbornness. If she couldn't stop it, better to keep a sharp-eyed man like Ulrich nearby. The Boild Baron needed more time to prove himself. Though many concerns weighed on her, she ended thoughts on Daniel there. More urgent matters piled before her.

"Ulrich. One more thing I need from you."

"Speak, Your Majesty."

"It's been quite some time since a female emperor ascended in Altas's west, hasn't it?"

Altas's west—the Lergen Empire? Chamberlain had attended the coronation of 'Skadia Lergen,' who became empress despite being a woman, as Svergen's representative.

"Yes. Six years this year."

"Find out why they don't follow Salic Law. Whether it's mere antipathy toward Svergen, or other reasons. If so, whether there's basis for it."

Salic Law, where only males inherit ancestral titles and property rights. Investigate why they abandoned the law foundational to imperial order for centuries?

"Your Majesty, may I ask the reason?"

Even imperial interest alone could spark wild rumors—why risk it?

"Just a small curiosity."

"Your Majesty, sharper than anyone, must know how dangerous a curiosity this is."

"That's why I'm asking you, Ulrich. Investigate discreetly, without anyone knowing."

The warm spring breeze brushing rose leaves froze icy cold in an instant.

"If word leaks, the traitor is either you or me."

A chill enveloped Chamberlain's surroundings.

"Fortunately, less effort to root out the betrayer."

*** An elaborately silver-inlaid oak comb pressed deeply through Frida's hair, combing it out. With each pass, the silver waves grew neater, shimmering prettily. Pleased, she reached for another stroke when her head suddenly turned. After dozens of combings over the past week, her neatly arranged hair swayed smoothly. Anxious violet eyes, filling the space left by retreating white waves, looked up at Baroness Boild.

"Isn't it combed enough? The baron must be waiting in the office."

"Tell him to wait more. It needs twenty more strokes for proper luster, madam."

After days of rest, Baroness Boild visited Frida's room every morning unbidden to tend her. Shocked by the nearly empty jewelry box and wardrobe, the intact reception room, and lack of a dining room for the ducal couple alone in Munheim Castle, she insisted the ducal residence needed fixing to suit its station.

"Without establishing the lord's authority, order crumbles in an instant."

Baron Boild shared his wife's view.

"Ruling without authority is knowing one thing and ignoring two. They must admire and envy you, while fearing you simultaneously. That is loyalty's start."

The baron was more direct than his appearance suggested.

"You wish to send territory children to university? Excellent idea. But madam, will those educated children want to return to the duchy? To this poor land where the lord and lady live no differently from common servants?"

He had reasonable points.

"If finances are tight, at least refurbish Marian Hall where you reside. I'll draft a budget within three days."

Unlike his mild looks, he was bold. Even to Frida's "I'll decide when the duke returns," he firmly shook his head.

"His Grace said to consult the lady of the house on castle matters. We can't delay indefinitely waiting for His Grace's uncertain return."

The budget he prepared was impeccably clean, without excess. Frida eventually nodded. Hosting guests had made her keenly feel how neglected the castle had been; it needed attention somehow. Thus, the castle's annual budget went into orders sent to Baimar's merchants. Better to hire more bulb field workers with that money. How much she hesitated handing over the two densely filled order sheets. But they had gone to the merchant yesterday, with deliveries starting soon. No use fretting now. Combing continued on Frida's downcast hair.

"His Grace's hunt is dragging on. Isn't it nearly ten days now?"

'Already ten days have passed.'

Frida nodded silently.

"Wonder when he'll return. He'll be startled seeing the changed madam."

Finishing combing, the baroness neatly braided Frida's hair, coiled it up, and pinned it. With little prior change to Frida's appearance, the new style drew gasps of admiration. Stuck in this rural place at prime age for primping, without proper care.

"Just wait. He'll regret leaving such a pretty wife to go hunting."

The baroness's meticulous hands finished the hair perfectly. When the tailors for knight uniforms arrived, she should have a few dresses made for the duchess too.

"There, done. Let me see. So pretty today too... Ma, madam. What's wrong?"

Tears brimmed in Frida's eyes.

"He must be... regretting marrying me."