YED Chapter 145

Peon gave a bitter smile. His wife was too excellent a Grand Duchess. Instead of saying war was impossible or showing fear, she asked specific questions like “Will you be at the vanguard?”

If this small head wore Duke Ostein’s crown, she would do well, and of course with the Empress’s crown, or even the Emperor’s crown, she would perform her duties with nobility and dignity.

“That’s obviously already decided.”

Kaela gripped his collar more tightly.

“What are you going to do? You won’t follow, right?”

“It doesn’t matter to me.”

His tone was strangely detached.

“How can it not matter? Lusenford will be trampled and sacrificed immediately.”

She couldn’t let Peon watch Lusenford, which had just barely started functioning as a proper territory, end up like that.

“That doesn’t matter to me.”

Kaela’s expression changed. Even the territory she had desperately protected and cared for meant nothing? If he didn’t care what happened to it, what exactly mattered to this man? Just her fragile body?

“Yes. I know you care. So don’t worry, Kaela. There won’t be a war. Only the Emperor is crazy, and the ministers who form this country’s core still have somewhat functioning brains.”

But the ministers aren’t the country’s rulers. If the Emperor wants to start a war, it will happen.

“Why does he want to fight the dragon? There’s no way we can win.”

If they could have won, they would have done so long ago. Peon had only been engaging in a war of attrition at Lusenford. Even that was only because Gusalante showed great leniency since he was his son. Yet it was still just attrition.

Peon smiled faintly and gently loosened Kaela’s grip.

“He’s gone mad from sitting around anxiously. Feels like he needs to do something, has always hated and felt inferior to the dragon, thinks somehow defeating it will unblock his frustrations. If he wins, he thinks he can become the dragon.”

“Become the dragon?”

Kaela’s face contorted.

“That’s the Emperor’s wish. Though he’d never admit it himself, he wants to become like the dragon. A being that doesn’t age, is powerful, and could possess my mother.”

In short, the Empress was the Emperor’s trophy. A symbol that he was strong enough to have subdued the dragon.

Whether it stemmed from his inferiority complex toward the dragon, or his feelings for the Empress twisted into obsession, the end result was ugly.

But Kaela understood why the Emperor had gone mad. He should have let go of the Empress. Just as she needed to let go of Peon.

Unable to let go, the Emperor compared himself to the dragon, and ultimately went mad. Kaela too was constantly conscious of Beatrice, never able to break free from her shadow. A rival in love was that terrifying.

“On purpose…, you’re doing this on purpose.”

Kaela breathed heavily. Her chest, bound with a yellow ribbon, heaved.

“On purpose, knowing that you’re the dragon’s son…, knowing that!”

Her voice was filled with some deep emotion as she cried out softly, afraid others might hear. Peon looked at her quizzically, unsure what exactly this emotion was or why it was mixed in.

“How can you do this?”

“It’s always been…”

“I know! I know it’s always been like this!”

Peon quickly put up a soundproof barrier as her sharp voice became uncontrollable. No one would hear what Kaela was saying.

“But still, with Her Majesty the Empress lying collapsed like this, shouldn’t a person feel at least a little sorry?”

“He’s not the type to…”

“I know he’s not!”

She knew everything. People don’t change.

“I know because I died and came back. I know His Majesty the Emperor will just stay the same and keep doing this…”

And she partly understood that twisted, destructive obsession.

Even now, Kaela was desperate to test and verify Peon’s feelings over and over – how much worse must it be for the Emperor? No, she hated herself for even thinking “how much worse.” She hated that she could partly understand such a cruel person.

It’s because she too was ugly. The bare face revealed by jealousy is always ugly and filthy.

“If you know, why are you angry?”

“Aren’t you resentful?”

“If I’m resentful, I can get revenge. The war won’t happen.”

He spoke gently.

“I don’t have expectations for people.”

“…No expectations?”

“Without expectations, there’s no disappointment. That’s just how he is. People don’t change easily.”

Kaela swallowed dryly. Then, did Peon know she was just like this too and expect nothing more? His decisive words were terribly cold.

Though she knew it wasn’t directed at her, she felt more than just hurt – she was scared. She had known what kind of person he was, but what expectations had she herself been holding?

“It’s alright. There won’t be a war, Kaela. Don’t worry.”

Peon grabbed her narrow shoulders and spoke clearly, as if that was what mattered.

“I’ll stop the war before it progresses further, just know that. I’ll end it before it gets that far.”

He was always calm. Beyond calm, he was composed. While Kaela stumbled about lost, a fool caught between the imprisoned criminal in the North Tower crying not to betray and an unrequited love.

“Don’t worry about it.”

In truth, Peon wanted to add that she should only think about herself. He wanted to tell her to take care of her weak body and get healthy. But the moment those words caught on the tip of his tongue, he realized he couldn’t say such things to Kaela.

Kaela wasn’t in a position to care for herself. Her will to live was like a single, very thin spider thread.

Though meaningful and precious just for existing, it was simultaneously so fragile that it wouldn’t be strange if it broke at any moment.

He needed to help that will become two threads, three threads, gradually stronger and thicker. Telling her to take care of herself now that this thin will had just emerged was nonsense, when that will could snap at any moment.

‘I’ll be the careful one.’

Peon looked down at Kaela and suppressed what he wanted to say. For someone who had decided to let everything go after harsh years, looking forward was an extremely difficult thing.

Given the right circumstances, she would easily give up again, more likely to rush toward death once more just like before.

Just as she had emptied a plate of ferenco, willingly prepared and drank poison to collapse, and dangerously swayed on the palace balcony again.

“I’ll tell you absolutely everything if anything happens.”

Blue eyes full of distrust looked at him. He knew. Those eyes were full of the wounds he had created.

I didn’t want to hurt you either. I didn’t do it on purpose.

He wanted to say it, but in the end it was just an excuse. He had treated her as less than human, severely wary of a being too special that could shake the taboo.

Was that also because of the taboo? Peon had nothing to say about that part. Because he hadn’t treated her as human, even the butler dared to starve Kaela. Locked her up to die.

Even if she hadn’t starved, how long could this fragile woman have endured in that cold place?

She would catch colds easily and cough, falling terribly ill. When she collapsed, not knowing when or if she would wake up, they had to forcefully obtain precious medicine and pour it in without restraint just to get her to open her eyes after several days.

I didn’t want this either. I didn’t want this with Beatrice. I hate it so much. It’s disgusting.

He knew Kaela, who because of Peon had heard words she should never have heard – that she was plain-looking, that she was wooden – silently swallowing her tears in corners.

Being honest in front of her was too cowardly. So he couldn’t say it. Because he didn’t know the sorrow she felt.

“I know.”

“You know?”

“I know that if anything happens, you’ll stop it.”

Kaela twisted her captured wrist, trying to pull it free.

“It’s always like that, isn’t it?”

He even stopped her from dying, so what wouldn’t he stop in the future? Hadn’t Darinka said so? That even if she became severely disabled, Peon would save her somehow.

The man who had taken away Kaela’s freedom to die stood still, blankly watching the wrist slip from his grasp.

“Yes. It’s always like that.”

Finally, strength entered the helpless hand that he had been unilaterally pulling. He hoped this strength would grow stronger. He didn’t even hope that when faced with the opportunity to die, Kaela would choose to live.

Because he would stop that, he just hoped that someday Kaela would think she had done well to live. Then he could endure until then.

Even now, Kaela was changing ever so slightly. She who had not responded was now suggesting they go out first, putting up walls. What would come next?

‘Will she punish me?’

Now it was time to be angry at him for keeping her from dying. Has she developed even a little desire to do so? Even that made him expectant. What punishment would she give?

****

The palace was in an uproar. The hastily summoned high ministers shook their heads saying it absolutely must not happen.

The Chief Chamberlain’s face turned pale, and General Luxsburg’s face turned red as he kept repeating “It cannot be done” to the Emperor. Of course, the Emperor didn’t listen at all.

If words don’t work with one party, you must discuss with someone who will listen. Upon learning what insane thoughts the Emperor was having, the key ministers immediately turned their steps toward Duke Ostein and the Grand Duke of Lusenford.

“What exactly is going on?”

The Crown Prince knew that high-ranking figures were coming and going from Soleil Palace with grave expressions. But he didn’t know the contents.

No one told him. Even mobilizing his connections and the nobles who sided with the Crown Prince faction, he couldn’t find out what was happening.

It was proof that even the nobles in the Crown Prince faction couldn’t handle this matter, and that his power fell far short.

‘Could they be abandoning me?’

It wasn’t strange to make such an assumption that made his heart sink. If something had happened, they should naturally tell him, the Crown Prince, so why weren’t they telling him? And why was only the Grand Duke of Lusenford among those old ministers?

The ministers who had long served through various important positions to now assist the current Emperor were difficult for even the Crown Prince to approach.

To them, the Crown Prince was a green youngster, and problematically unremarkable trainee. Their fierce gazes from wrinkled eyes under white eyebrows made the Crown Prince uncomfortable.

But the Grand Duke of Lusenford, though also in his twenties, already had those ministers yielding to him. He knew. The Grand Duke of Lusenford was an outstanding knight.

However, wasn’t he the Crown Prince! In this situation where whispers about the Emperor’s health were emerging, he had the right to know! Because none other than he would inherit the throne next!

“Don’t worry too much, my son. Mother will handle everything well.”

Today was the day for having tea separately under the pretext of praising the Grand Duchess of Lusenford. The Marchioness of Schroz spoke resolutely.

She could do anything for her son, and she knew they, mother and son, had few options available to them.

She especially trusted her son’s judgment unconditionally. Our well-educated son, our clever son, you make such good judgments. Following her son’s assertion, the Marchioness of Schroz would use the poison received from Beatrice today.

Nobles most often used poison to eliminate political opponents. It was a common method. Clean, quiet, and if done well, could leave no traces.

There was no means as simple as poison for disguised murder while lessening the guilt of bloodying one’s hands. Knives required much strength, guns were tricky to handle, and were noisy too.

That’s why noble ladies especially loved poison. Therefore, a noble lady being poisoned by another noble lady was something that could happen any time in such a brutal political climate.

“If this just goes well…”

The Crown Prince couldn’t finish his words.

“It’s alright. It’s fine. I’ll handle it well. Don’t worry about anything and go inside to eat the snacks mother prepared, Your Highness.”

The Marchioness of Schroz kept stroking her son’s back while taking him to where she had prepared all sorts of healthy foods.

“Gregory, don’t worry about anything. Okay? There’s no need to worry. Mother will take care of everything. Understand? It will end quietly and well.”

The Crown Prince finally felt relieved at his mother’s soothing words and nodded. It would go well.

“We must change the game.”

“Yes. We must change the game. I’m counting on you, Mother.”

After saying those words meaning to end it decisively, Gregory escaped into the safety of the interior, fleeing from guilt and fear. It was a tumultuous day.

Excluding the Crown Prince, high-ranking ministers were being serious around Duke Ostein and the Grand Duke of Lusenford, and the most noticeable article raised doubts about whether Duke Monde was really dead or alive.

To the Marchioness of Schroz, everything felt like an attack on her and her son. She felt this even more strongly since Beatrice too was now in the same boat with her due to what would happen today.

The new phase will focus on Your Majesty, the new Empress.

The Marchioness had only one place to cling to. A new phase! The new power of a new phase and Empress! Power! With just that, she could completely deal with those bastards who dared to exclude and whisper about the precious Crown Prince over there.

Yes. Her son had said so. That the palace was a place where you had to do dirty things to gain power.

“The Grand Duchess has arrived.”

The Marchioness of Schroz, dressed especially splendidly today, didn’t want to yield even slightly to the Grand Duchess of Lusenford. This was even more so because thinking of the Grand Duke of Lusenford filled her with too much fear.

Every time she closed her eyes, she vividly saw the scene of her precious son horribly bleeding. The Marchioness of Schroz endured the terror because she was a mother.

Because she was a mother, she could do anything to protect her precious son. If this was the only way to protect her son, she could do it.

She walked with determination. Surely this appearance wouldn’t lose to the Grand Duchess of Lusenford who had arrived for today’s tea gathering, she thought while checking herself multiple times in the polished walls and glass windows.