The Emperor was consumed with inferiority complexes at being compared to Duke Castraine at every turn, and yet he would never issue a single proper complaint.
Just look at this.
He wanted news to spread through the capital that the second son of Duke Castraine dared to insult the Princess and set fire to the Rose Palace, but instead of punishing him, the merciful Emperor comforted her and rebuilt the palace.
Titania may be living in a shabby palace, but a palace was a palace. Even if Titania lived in a crumbling palace, it would still be a prestigious palace. Even if he said, ‘I’m going to rebuild it,’ he didn’t mean it. At best, they would repair and rebuild where it burned down and add a few other places to make it look good.
Which sucks.
If I were the Emperor, I would have given the Princess a whole new palace, a fancy, empty one, just so she could brag about how great I was. But no, now that the object of her inferiority complex, the Rose Palace itself, had to be repaired, so he was deliberately provoking her.
The Empress, who had been quietly observing the situation, spoke up.
“In that case, where will Princess Titania be housed while the palace is being completely renovated?”
Queen Cleo interjected, her voice full of glee.
“The Consecration this summer is just around the corner, and if my Brian is away at the Consecration, the palace will be empty, and I’ll feel lonely. Princess Titania, why don’t you come to my Daisy Palace?”
I looked at Queen Cleo, who was watching me with a strange look in her eyes. Ah, XX, she wanted me to get out of the way. Well, it’s not so bad. If I’m going to go anyway, I might as well score points with the Emperor.
“Father. I’ve never been more gracious to you, nor have my two brothers been more useful to the Imperial Family… I have never been of any help…”
I croaked, wiping the tears that had formed in the corners of my eyes with my cuff.
“Please allow me to take my brothers’ place at this summer’s consecration festival.”
“Just when I thought our little princess was just a child, she’s grown up and can think of such extraordinary things!”
The emperor chuckled merrily. He must have felt so relieved. He must have gotten tired of the subtle battle over which of the two princes to send to the consecration. The Emperor had been cautiously siding with Brian so far, but he had no intention of appointing him Crown Prince.
It would be too much, even for him, to ignore the fact that he wasn’t born to an Empress.
“Very well, very well. It’s an urgent repair, and I’ll have to get it started right away, but I think the full-scale renovation of the Rose Palace can be finished while the Princess is away at the consecration. I’m sure she’s upset, but she’s thinking about her father. My Titania is such a dutiful girl!”
I laughed instead of answering.
How could you think of sending a girl who was just a child to the far reaches of the empire all by herself when her palace was just burned to the ground…? My already low spirits plummeted into the negative range.
It was then.
“The First Prince, His Highness Brian, is here.”
“Brian!”
Queen Cleo jumped to her feet, her dignity forgotten. I glanced at my watch.
Everyone had lost track of time while we were talking about my story. Six o’clock… Half an hour late. I mean, even if the imperial palace didn’t call me until this late in the day, the rest of the household would have been informed as soon as this ‘dinner’ was organized. At the very least, they would have gotten the word early this morning or yesterday.
What kind of nerve do you need to have to keep the Emperor waiting?
“This is the boar I killed for Father’s long and prosperous life, and I’ll put it on the table!”
Brian entered the room, his face red and puffy. He was followed by a couple of servants who were anxiously hauling a bloody boar. The Empress and Second Prince’s eyes changed, a look that said something along the lines of, ‘What use is there for such a fool?‘
Of course, the Emperor was genuinely impressed with that fool.
“Oh, Brian, you are always so brave, even the fiends will flee in fear before you!”
You’ve got too many sparkles in your eyes, Your Imperial Majesty…
I smelled the faint odor of alcohol around Prince Brian as he walked briskly past me and embraced the Emperor.
And the bright red stain of blood on Prince Brian’s robe, as if it had just been applied…
This looked like he had been out drinking until just before 6pm, and then hastily excused himself to kill a pig. In the time it took to bring the game from the nearest hunting grounds to the palace, the blood had hardly dried.
If he was really going to have game on the table, he would have asked for it to be cooked at least an hour beforehand.
I couldn’t see why he had been such a big deal in the novel to begin with. He hadn’t even gotten his ‘master sword’, Beris-Paccio, out much prior to his death. And Brian’s swordsmanship was only for show, to impress the Emperor.
But the Emperor’s eyes were dripping with honey when he saw him, regardless of such obvious tricks. Right now, this stupid conversation alone was enough to prove it.
“This boar’s hind leg, I stabbed it myself!”
“Oooh, how brave, my pride and joy!”
Unlike me, the second princess who was living in seclusion and had been plagued with illness until she turned ten. The only thing that saved me was that Brian was a sturdy (in the Emperor’s eyes) imperial who loved to hunt and socialize with knights.
A family where even a child could claim a beast’s head.
Because of the deep-rooted inferiority complex against ‘those’ Castraines, who had no problem throwing their bare bodies in front of a beast by themselves. In other words, ‘Don’t think that only the children of House Castraine are good with swords. We have a child who is good with swords in our family too‘…
It was a childish sense of satisfaction.
No matter how you think about it, hunting was something where a herder or hunter did all the work for you and even drove you around. It was ridiculous to compare fighting for your life against a fire-breathing, earth-digging, freezing, poisonous beast.
The Emperor seemed to want to think he’d be just like ‘that’ Duke Castraine, when he’d had plenty of children to spoil. But what was the use of such obvious tricks that others could see through.
The Emperor was smiling.
Sure enough, the Emperor praised Prince Brian’s performance and rewarded him with a prize. He didn’t criticize him for coming to dinner in his bloody clothes. Nor was his tardiness a problem. Only Queen Cleo, the Emperor, and Prince Brian were in good spirits in the dining room.
Whether or not his sister lived or died, whether or not the palace burned down, he trusted his mother to take care of such ‘trivial’ matters.
The Empress pretended not to notice, but the glint in her eyes was unbearably dark.
The dinner ended with me listening in one ear and out the other as Prince Brian, drunk with his own hubris, chattered on and on with the Emperor about what he should and shouldn’t do.
Queen Cleo was full of praise for the prince, cooing over him. Then she whispered, ‘Let the three of us kill a wild boar together, and see if we can find a liquor store,‘ and the Emperor was convinced.
Thankfully, I stood up from the dinner table to make my way back to my palace in peace and unnoticed.
“Titania?”
“…….”
As if on cue, the Second Prince, Adrian, a handsome man with a face that resembled the Empress’, called out to me.
Unlike the first prince, who had a decent appearance, but whose eyes seemed to look down on others, this was the kind of boy who showed me what it meant to be of Imperial blood.
The half-brother who, from afar, had offered only faint pity, sympathy, and disdain while Titania grew up as a child with no one to turn to.
“Long time no see, huh? Would you like to have a cup of tea with your brother? Let’s go to the Lilac Palace, the Rose Palace will still be in disarray.”
I glanced between the Empress’s empty seat, who had long since departed without a backward glance, and Prince Adrian, who was smiling as if he’d been waiting for the chance to be alone with me, and nodded.
“Very well.”
* * *
“I don’t know what that crazy X was thinking.”
Lysianthus’s voice was devoid of energy. Raymon wordlessly put down the quill he’d been using.
It was as if he’d decided that he couldn’t do anything about his brother, who had barged into his office, taking over one of the sofas, and sprawled out on it. Or maybe it was just that he couldn’t concentrate on his papers because his mumbling was strangely distracting.
Raymon looked at Lysianthus wordlessly. He knew his temperamental brother had a habit of running his hands through his hair when he was stressed. The boy’s head was already a bright red bird’s nest as he laid on his back. He mumbled and spat out a string of words as he ruffled through the disheveled mess again.
