Chapter 98
It was a common thing for Rosaria to sit beside Cesare and suck the nobles dry under that pretext.
The method was simple: choose only the houses that wouldn’t cause any repercussions, take what she wanted, and discard them.
Had it not been for Nanael, they were a family she would never have had reason to encounter.
Count Miranda had lately been flitting from salon to salon, boasting that his daughter was the princess’s close attendant, and he had secured quite a lot of investment.
Perhaps that was why he carried himself with far more swagger than when they had first met.
Once the count withdrew, Nanael entered from the adjoining room where she had been waiting.
“How long do I have to keep playing along with your little games?”
“It’s all for your brother’s sake. In any case, Mother won’t lose anything, will she?”
Nanael smiled with bold confidence and gently took a pink rose from the vase.
A pink rose stripped of its thorns might look pretty, but it was as good as wilting.
“Do you know that Cesare calls for courtesans every single night?”
“He must be lonely after living so long abroad. Leave him be. Soon enough, a suitable match will be arranged.”
“I wonder. It doesn’t seem to be only loneliness.”
Nanael rolled the pink rose between her palms and put on a bewitching expression.
“He only ever chooses courtesans with green eyes, and he has them wear pink wigs.”
“What are you saying?”
“Really, Mother, you’re too soft—that’s why Cesare does whatever he pleases. You don’t even know the things that truly matter.”
By then the rose had been crushed in her hand; she quietly scattered the mangled petals across the table.
Rosaria’s gaze fell upon the ruined petals.
“You heard, didn’t you, about how Cesare tried to claim the first dance with Lady Peris at the crown prince’s birthday banquet and ended up facing off with Duke Ainluk?”
“Yes. I thought he was making an unnecessary fuss over a mere first dance.”
“And you know that Duke Ainluk declared his support for the crown prince because of that incident?”
“…Surely not over something so trivial.”
“Trivial is exactly right. I was cast aside and had my engagement broken for something just as trivial.”
At the calm tone, Rosaria’s lips trembled.
Nanael glanced at her shuddering mother and continued.
“From what I can see, Cesare still has no intention of giving up. He’s acting as though he wants to become enemies with Duke Ainluk outright. Is it acceptable for a blemish to appear over one mere woman?”
“Nanael!”
“Then you should keep Cesare in check instead of me. Before the pretty packaging you’ve worked so hard to create is completely torn away.”
Having said her piece, Nanael offered an elegant curtsy and withdrew.
As the weather turned cooler, preparations for the harvest festival grew hectic.
It was the season when agenda items concerning it began appearing one by one in the noble council.
The harvest festival was one of the grandest annual events in the Barnard Empire.
It coincided with the founding celebration, making it all the more significant.
During the daytime, regional specialties were sold at special prices, and each house unveiled new products—an official arena for business.
At night, lavish banquets followed one after another, the time most beloved by young nobles.
Alferen, who had been placed in overall charge of this year’s festival, carefully reviewed the proposals delivered by his aide.
“What is this?”
One proposal in particular caught his eye, looking as though it had been thrown together in haste.
It was so carelessly drafted that it showed no intention of persuading the reviewers; Alferen snorted in disdain.
Thinking it had been included by mistake, he was about to set it aside when he noticed the name of the planner: Count Miranda.
Alferen shook the document in his hand.
“Why was this accepted?”
The official in charge checked the proposal with a blank expression and looked troubled.
“Ah… this was a proposal recommended by Her Imperial Highness Consort Rosaria.”
“And?”
“Pardon?”
“What does that have to do with it being accepted?”
“Her Highness’s recommendation…”
Cold sweat beaded on the official’s forehead.
It was customary for any proposal bearing the consort’s recommendation to pass without question.
The harvest festival was, after all, an event built on connections.
To suddenly object left him bewildered.
Alferen tossed the document as if he had no wish to repeat himself.
“Throw it away.”
At that moment, the papers fluttered toward the shredder as though they had sprouted wings.
The official, seeing telekinetic magic, paled and hurriedly blocked the shredder’s mouth.
If the proposal were destroyed, dreadful consequences were certain.
“I—I’ll contact them to revise it at once!”
Thanks to the official’s tearful effort, the document was saved from shredding.
Afterward, Alferen picked apart every proposal recommended by Consort Rosaria and demanded revisions point by point.
“To dare submit something this sloppy. Review it properly and resubmit.”
At the icy voice, the official’s spirit wilted.
He only wanted to draw his salary from the state and coast through life; this superior was far too exacting.
‘The marquis who oversaw it last year let things slide.’
In truth, few nobles could openly put brakes on imperial matters.
Especially when it concerned a recommendation from Consort Rosaria, who enjoyed the emperor’s favor.
‘After breaking the engagement with Princess Nanael, has he decided to become enemies outright?’
It was clearly a power struggle. To the official, Alferen was simply a superior who created extra work, and thus appeared all the more prickly.
‘Mixing personal romantic squabbles into public affairs.’
Lately, stimulating rumors had been circulating in the palace.
They said Prince Cesare was secretly meeting someone—and that someone was Lady Peris.
Quite a few people claimed to have seen a woman with pink hair.
She had hidden her face with a hood, but that distinctive hair color could not be concealed.
Given the incident at the crown prince’s birthday banquet, everyone privately imagined a love triangle.
That Lady Peris was meeting Prince Cesare behind Duke Alferen Ainluk’s back.
‘He should keep his lover in line instead! I’m the one who ends up suffering!’
Scowling in every direction, the official took the envelope containing the revision order and headed for the postal office.
As soon as the man left, Alferen set down his pen.
“This is exactly why I hate working with the imperial family.”
The official had looked at him as though he were a scoundrel abusing public authority for private grudges.
Most of the bureaucrats who drew imperial salaries—especially those working in the palace—had gotten their positions through connections.
They took on tasks far beyond their abilities yet had not the slightest intention of performing them properly.
Normally, Alferen would have avoided such bothersome duties precisely to avoid seeing that sort.
Yet the reason he had accepted oversight of the harvest festival was singular.
‘Jessica Miranda. I knew you’d be curious about that woman.’
After hearing from Adrian about the incident eight years ago, he and Adrian had been quietly digging a trap to bring down the Miranda family.
One part of that trap was the harvest festival business.
It was an event that provincial nobles desperate to enter capital society would claw their way into.
Once Jessica Miranda learned that Rodellia had lost her memories and even the written oath had vanished, she grew bolder and bolder.
She had even summoned her father to the capital and openly played the role of the consort’s confidante.
She had gone so far as to subtly spread slanderous rumors about Rodellia.
Seeing no reaction from the other side, she behaved as though she had no tomorrow.
Unaware that they were simply biding their time in silence.
Alferen intended to ensure she could never again come near Rodellia.
Since the woman showed not the slightest remorse for what had happened eight years ago, he felt no hesitation in striking.
Rejecting the proposals was part of that strategy. If he let these shoddy plans pass unchecked, responsibility would fall on him when problems inevitably arose later.
Having a record of rejection was enough.
When the consort learned that every project she had recommended had been sent back, she would surely step forward to take responsibility herself.
Feeling refreshed, Alferen left the palace.
By chance, he overheard palace officials whispering as they walked the corridor.
“She visited again yesterday, didn’t she?”
“Yes. It seems she comes almost every night.”
“Goodness, Duke Ainluk hasn’t the slightest idea, does he?”
“If he knew, there would already be duels and chaos. Didn’t you see how he made a fuss when his first dance was taken?”
“Lady Peris is truly something. What kind of demonic charm does she possess to hold both a prince and a duke at once… Hck!”
The official who finally noticed Alferen bit his tongue and let out a groan.
Alferen’s face had turned frigid as he opened his mouth.
“Repeat what you were just saying—from the beginning.”
