Chapter 18
The Emperor was riddled with an inferiority complex from being compared to the Duchy of Castline at every turn, yet he never once dared to lodge a formal protest.
Look at him now.
He likely expected rumors to spread like a hymn of praise: ’The second son of the Duchy of Castline dared to insult the Imperial Princess and set the Rose Palace ablaze, but His merciful Majesty the Emperor, rather than seeking punishment, consoled the Princess and rebuilt her palace.’
Even if Titania lived in a secluded corner, it was still an imperial palace.
While she had set fires here and there this time, it wasn’t on a scale that required tearing the whole thing down and rebuilding.
His words, “Try rebuilding it,” sounded grand and magnanimous, but that was all.
At most, he would repair and reconstruct the areas damaged by the fire while adding just enough to make the rest of the palace look ‘presentable’ on the surface.
How petty.
If I were the Emperor, and I wanted to brag about how generous I was, I would have given the Princess an entirely new, vacant, and magnificent palace.
For now, since the Rose Palace itself—the very object that triggered his inferiority complex—had to be repaired, I had deliberately provoked him in that manner.
The Empress, who had been quietly observing the situation, finally spoke.
“In that case, where will Princess Titania reside while the palace undergoes major construction?”
Imperial Consort Cleo cut in with a clear, melodic voice.
“The summer Dedication Festival is not far off, is it? Since my Brian will be away for the festival, his palace will be empty, and I shall be lonely. Princess Titania, why don’t you stay with me at the Daisy Palace?”
I looked at Imperial Consort Cleo, who was watching me with a strange glint in her eyes, and I had an intuition.
Ah, damn it. She’s forcing me to step up here so I can’t back out.
Well, it wasn’t bad. If I had to go anyway, it was better for me to earn points with the Emperor.
“Father. The grace I have received from you is so deep, and yet… unlike my two brothers, I have never been… of any help to the Imperial Family…”
I spoke at length, dabbing away the tears welling in my eyes with my sleeve.
“Please, allow me to go to this summer’s Dedication Festival in place of my two brothers.”
“I thought our Princess was just a child, but to think you could have such a commendable thought. You’ve truly grown up!”
The Emperor burst into a hearty laugh. He must feel like a nagging tooth had finally been pulled.
He must have been exhausted by the subtle power struggle over which of the two princes to send to the Dedication Festival.
While the Emperor had been subtly favoring Brian until now, he had no intention of officially appointing a Crown Prince yet.
At the same time, it would have been a burden for him to completely ignore the legitimate son born to the Empress.
“Splendid, splendid! The urgent repairs must begin immediately, but the major reconstruction of the Rose Palace can be finished while the Princess is away for the Dedication Festival. You must have been so upset, yet you still think of your father like this! Our Titania is a truly filial daughter!”
I simply offered a smile in return.
Even so, to think this man would send a girl—one who, until just moments ago, was caught up in a life-or-death incident with a palace fire—all the way to the edge of the Empire by herself… As her father, he was something else. My affection for him, which was nonexistent to begin with, dropped further into the negatives.
It was right then.
“His Highness, the 1st Imperial Prince Brian, is entering.”
“Brian!”
Forgetting her dignity, Imperial Consort Cleo rose from her seat with a wide beam. I glanced at the clock.
It was just that everyone had lost track of time talking about me… he was thirty minutes late for the six o’clock dinner.
Even if I had been notified late by the Emperor’s palace today, the others would have been informed the moment this ‘dinner’ was planned.
They would have received word yesterday or early this morning at the latest.
Just how much nerve did he have to keep even the Emperor waiting?
“I have brought a wild boar I caught while praying for your longevity, Father! Let us have it served at the table!”
Brian swaggered in. He was followed by two or three servants who were barely dragging a blood-dripping boar, looking utterly anxious.
The expressions of the Empress and the Second Prince shifted. Their eyes seemed to say, ’What on earth is such a fool good for?’
Of course, the Emperor was the only one genuinely impressed by that fool.
“Oh, Brian, you are as valiant as ever! Even the demonic beasts would flee in terror before you!”
Your Majesty, you are looking through some very thick rose-tinted glasses…
As Prince Brian strode past me to embrace the Emperor, I caught the faint scent of alcohol.
And looking at the prince’s outer coat, stained with vivid red blood that looked like it had been smeared on just now…
No matter how I thought about it, it seemed he had been out drinking until right before six and then hurriedly caught a pig as an excuse to rush here.
If he had transported the catch from the nearest hunting ground to the Imperial Palace, the blood would have long since clotted.
If he had truly intended to serve the catch at the table, he would have arrived at least an hour ago and handed it over to be cooked.
In the first place, there was a reason why things only went to hell at the end of the novel. It was because he hadn’t really drawn the ‘masterpiece sword’ Verispacio before then.
Brian’s swordsmanship was nothing more than an image used to stay in the Emperor’s good graces.
Nevertheless, regardless of the obvious trickery, the Emperor’s eyes practically dripped with honey as he looked at Brian. This foolish conversation alone was proof enough.
“The hind leg of this boar is where I personally stabbed it!”
“Oho, truly brave. My proud son!”
That was because, unlike the Second Prince who lived in the shadows and me, the Princess who suffered from frequent illnesses until I was ten, Brian was the only healthy (in the Emperor’s eyes) member of the imperial family who took hunting as a hobby and mingled with knights.
A family where even a child could take the head of a demonic beast.
Because of his deep-rooted inferiority complex toward ‘that’ Castline family—the ones who could be thrown naked before a demonic beast without issue—he felt a childish satisfaction. It was as if to say, ’You think only the Castline kids are good with a sword? There’s someone in my house who’s good with a sword, too.’
No matter how you looked at it, comparing a hunt where beaters and hunters did all the work and drove the prey toward him to a life-or-death battle against demonic beasts that breathed fire, dug through the earth, froze things, and spat poison was absurd.
But in the Emperor’s mind, as long as he had a royal who could command others and perform at that level, it was enough to feel comparable to ‘that’ Duchy of Castline.
And what did it matter if the ruse was transparent to everyone else?
The Emperor was smiling happily, after all.
Sure enough, the Emperor praised Prince Brian’s valor and bestowed a reward upon him.
He didn’t scold him for entering the dinner table in blood-stained clothes. He didn’t even make an issue of his lateness.
It was as if only Imperial Consort Cleo, the Emperor, and Prince Brian existed in this room, a picture of a happy family.
Though she tried to appear indifferent, the Empress’s eyes flickered with a profound darkness.
Whether his younger sister lived or died, whether her palace burned down or not, Prince Brian—believing his mother would handle such ‘trivial’ matters and intoxicated by his own greatness—chattered away with the Emperor. I let their voices go in one ear and out the other as the dinner drew to a close.
Imperial Consort Cleo flattered Brian excessively. When she whispered, “Let us have a table set with drinks and the boar the three of us caught together,” the Emperor was easily swayed.
Thanks to that, I was about to leave the dinner table to return to my palace in peace without having to worry about anyone else, when—
“Titania?”
“……”
Whatever he was thinking, the Second Prince, Adrian—whose handsome face was a striking resemblance to the Empress—called out to me.
Unlike the First Prince, whose appearance was decent but whose gaze always seemed to look down on others, this boy possessed a nobility that seemed to embody the very definition of royal blood.
The half-brother who had merely looked on from afar with faint pity, sympathy, and contempt while Titania grew up as a lonely child with no one to rely on.
“It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Shall we have a cup of tea, just the two of us? The Rose Palace must still be in disarray, so let us go to the Lilac Palace.”
I looked at the empty seat of the Empress, who had long since departed without a backward glance, and then turned to Prince Adrian, who was smiling brightly as if he had been waiting for me to be left alone. I nodded.
“I would like that.”
“I really don’t know what that crazy woman is thinking.”
Lisianthus’s voice was devoid of all strength. Raymon wordlessly set down the quill that had been moving across the paper with a rhythmic scratching sound.
It seemed he had decided he couldn’t win against his younger brother, who had barged into his office, occupied one side of the sofa, and was now lying there throwing a tantrum.
Or perhaps, more accurately, he simply couldn’t focus on his paperwork because the content of those weak murmurs was strangely bothering him.
Raymon stared at Lisianthus in silence. His hot-tempered younger brother had a habit of ruffling his hair whenever he was stressed.
True to form, the boy’s hair was already a mess, resembling a bright red bird’s nest. As he ruffled his ruined hair once more, the boy continued to pour out his thoughts in a low mumble.
