Chapter 12
“Your Majesty, you’ve arrived?”
“Duke, how have you been?”
Grandpapa and Duke Croizen began their conversation with customary pleasantries. The atmosphere was warm.
The atmosphere was… maddeningly pleasant.
But that wasn’t the point right now. How was I supposed to stop Grandpapa from going hunting himself? How could I prevent it?
I racked my brain for a plausible excuse, but no matter how hard I tried, nothing came to mind. Time slipped by, and soon Empress Kiyen and Uncle Volter arrived as well. There was about an hour left before the hunt began.
Those participating directly in the hunt checked their weapons and armor.
Grandpapa, being of advanced age and not skilled in martial arts like the knights, would only take a few guards and lightly survey the mountain’s entrance.
The nobles who came to observe rather than participate gathered in groups, chatting. Some wished the hunters good fortune.
Sitting near Grandpapa, sipping warm cocoa, I mulled over how to dissuade him. I had one hour to stop him.
At that moment, Empress Kiyen approached and offered Grandpapa a small, pink-tinted handkerchief.
“You’ll sweat if you ride in armor for long. Use this to wipe your brow.”
What’s this, Grandma?
I shot the Empress a suspicious glance, but she didn’t even look at me, beaming instead at Grandpapa.
The surrounding nobles, watching the Emperor and Empress, exchanged smiles and murmurs.
Oh, I see. She’s putting on a show—playing the part of the devoted imperial couple.
Her blatant posturing twisted my stomach. What would Grandpapa do if he knew this woman and Volter were behind the death of my father, the former Crown Prince?
It pained me that Grandpapa was unaware, and I resented that he couldn’t see the enemy who killed his son standing right before him.
I stared down at my cocoa. Suddenly, an idea struck me to vent my frustration, even if just a little. Filling my mouth with cocoa, I deliberately let out a loud cough.
“Cough!”
Dark chocolatey droplets splattered across the hem of the Empress’s dress.
“Eek!”
She stepped back with a shriek, drawing everyone’s attention to me.
“Hack, hack, hack!”
Feigning innocence, I coughed and spilled more cocoa from my cup. It dribbled down my dress, but I didn’t care.
“Oh no!”
Grandpapa patted my back. The Empress, holding her soaked dress, was at a loss. Her maids rushed over, wiping at the fabric with cloths, but the brown chocolate stains wouldn’t budge.
Her face flushed scarlet, veins bulging at her neck. But she couldn’t lash out.
Why? Because I’m just a kid! Heh heh heh!
It’s not like I did it on purpose—I choked by accident. If she got mad at a child over this, it’d only prove how small her character was.
So I didn’t even apologize, just clutched my throat and chest, pretending to be in pain.
Lloyd, watching from a distance, caught the moment perfectly and hurried over, pulling out his handkerchief to wipe the cocoa from my dress.
“Are you alright?”
Caught off guard by his unexpected appearance, I nodded instinctively. His signature charming smile followed.
“Really? You’ve looked pale since this morning.”
“…What?”
I had been feeling out of sorts since morning, my head pounding from staying up all night worrying about how to keep Grandpapa safe. Of course I didn’t look well.
Impressed by Lloyd’s keen observation, I realized this was my chance. I’ll fake an illness!
“Thank you, Lord Lloyd.”
For giving me a great idea. I thanked him with heartfelt sincerity.
Maybe I could pretend to be sick and beg Grandpapa not to go. Given how he’s doted on me so far, he’d likely give in.
If an imperial had to go, why not Uncle Volter? Why should the elderly Emperor go when he has a grown son?
Yes, the fake illness plan it is!
To pull it off, I needed to look truly unwell and pitiful. I kept my eyes open without blinking, making them red, and tried to conjure sad thoughts.
My late parents? No, I barely remember their faces, so it’s not that sad.
Empress Kiyen? Looking at her now, I feel more smug than tearful.
Uncle Volter? He makes me so angry I want to flip everything over. Same with Lloyd in front of me.
Sad thoughts, sad thoughts!
I focused, recalling moments from my past life one by one.
Then, faintly, a voice echoed in my ears.
“Please… do not forgive this humble servant.”
Tears streamed down my face.
In the end, I succeeded in stopping Grandpapa.
I rattled off every plausible cold symptom—“I’m dizzy,” “I feel nauseous,” “I’m shivering, it’s cold”—and Grandpapa’s face turned ashen, then darkened with worry.
When I whined, “Grandpapa, don’t go, please,” he stripped off his armor right there.
Then he declared:
“Volter’s twenty-five this year, isn’t he? As a proud prince of this empire, it’s time he took part in the event. I’m curious to see how much his swordsmanship has improved.”
In short: Volter, you go.
Volter’s face was a sight to behold. Had he really planned to just “observe” the event forever, a habit from childhood? It seemed he’d come unprepared, dressed only in flashy clothes.
The nobles nearby stirred at Grandpapa’s words.
“It looks like His Highness will finally join the hunt this year.”
“He’s long past twenty—high time he led an event like this.”
The Empress’s faction, who supported Volter, cast hopeful glances his way. As Volter faltered, the Empress calmly ordered his attendant to fetch his armor.
Exactly. A healthy young man, especially an imperial, shouldn’t just sit idly at an event hosted by the royal family. It looks bad. Perfect.
I settled beside Grandpapa, nodding approvingly. With a bright smile, I offered Volter some not-so-sincere encouragement.
“Uncle, fighting! Cough!”
I didn’t forget to fake a cough for good measure.
Leaning against Grandpapa, I dozed like a sick chick. Now that the tension was easing, sleep washed over me.
Then Grandpapa, as if remembering something, called to Volter and handed him the handkerchief the Empress had given him earlier.
“The Empress gave this to me to wipe my sweat, but since I’m not going, you take it to use.”
“T-Thank you, Father!”
Volter, touched, bowed deeply to receive it, but the Empress swooped in and snatched it back.
“Oh?”
“N-No, no, Your Majesty. I meant this for you… I’ll give Volter a different one. Yes.”
She insisted on returning the pink handkerchief to the Emperor and handed Volter a plain white one.
“Ah… I see, Empress. I didn’t consider your feelings. It was a gift for me, after all—I shouldn’t have thought to lend it to another.”
Grandpapa tucked the handkerchief back into his robes, chuckling awkwardly.
The Empress smiled lightly, her face serene as if nothing had happened, and turned to Volter.
“Be careful, my son. Your mother is terribly worried.”
With that, preparations for the hunting festival proceeded smoothly.
Soon, word came that all participants were ready, and shortly after, the nobles and knights headed into the deep mountains.
Those who came to spectate remained in the tents. A few noblewomen, their young children, Grandpapa, me, and other imperials stayed, along with a minimal escort. The ladies began chattering, exchanging news about promising business ventures, trade, and ideal winter vacation spots.
I continued pretending to be ill, dozing off, while Grandpapa cradled me on his lap, patting me gently.
The Empress, perhaps irked by Grandpapa’s change of plans, claimed to feel unwell and went for a walk with a few guards.
Great-Aunt Eonel was in another tent, eagerly bonding with the noblewomen.
Some time passed when a monster’s cry echoed from the sky.
Kreeee!
A high-pitched screech, like metal scraping, reverberated through the mountains.
It was the sound I’d been dreading but hoping wouldn’t come. The wyverns from that day had finally appeared.
Wait, is Uncle Volter safe?
Originally, it was supposed to be Grandpapa attacked by the wyverns. But now, Volter’s following the same route Grandpapa would have taken. Does that mean Volter will be attacked instead? Could my revenge be this easy?
I closed my eyes, pretending to sleep, and focused on the distant wyvern cries.
My heart pounded fiercely.
Will Volter… die?
A selfish, human part of me wished he’d just die, but another part felt oddly cheated by the thought of such an empty victory.
Yet an even stronger, ominous premonition gripped me.
Just then, a knight burst into the tent.
“Your Majesty! Take cover! A pack of wyverns has appeared!”
“What?! Wyverns? Near the base camp?”
As always, my bad feelings were never wrong.
“Yes, Your Majesty! You must evacuate now!”
The screeching cries grew closer in an instant.
Why?
Then it happened.
“Kyaaa!”
Screams from the noblewomen erupted from the opposite tent.
“Evacuate!”
Startled, I was pulled out of the tent by Grandpapa’s hand. Without looking back, we ran toward the palace.
But running in stiff, decorative shoes was no easy task.
At that moment, Great-Aunt Eonel came running toward us from the other tent.
“Father! Melly!”
Her high heels were gone, her feet bare, and her dress was torn short at the knees for easier movement.
Unlike the other noblewomen, clumsily running in their flowing dresses and high heels, clutching their skirts, she was a stark contrast.
Grandpapa, shocked, asked, “Eonel! What’s happened to you? Are you hurt?”
“Not at all. Dresses and shoes don’t matter when survival’s at stake. Does dignity save lives? Father, let an attendant carry Melly and run separately—it’s less hindrance for us all.”
Great-Aunt snatched me from Grandpapa’s grasp and handed me to Nanny nearby, then shouted.
“Sound the emergency horn!”
Her voice roared like a lion’s.
