The Declair Imperial Palace.
Karla shot to her feet the moment she heard the words, her expression one of pure disbelief.
“Say that again.”
“Y-Your Majesty the Emperor… is currently on his way to the Capital Courthouse, Your Highness.”
“…For what reason?”
“Th-that is… according to what people are saying outside… a, a boy has appeared c-claiming to be… a prince.”
Even as she spoke, the handmaiden squeezed her eyes shut, dizzy with the weight of it all.
How could something like this possibly happen in the history of the Declair Empire?
She had devoted her entire life to serving within the imperial palace, and never once had she heard of anything like this. She doubted she would ever hear of anything like it again.
“A-and the Temple and the Mage Tower have also received word of this, Your Highness the Empress.”
“What in the world was Duke Kineart doing while things deteriorated this far!!”
“That is… it seems the Duke himself agreed to let things proceed this way…”
What?
Karla stared at the handmaiden, her expression drained of all comprehension.
Her thoughts ground to a halt. She could do nothing.
The handmaiden looked as though she might burst into tears at any moment.
Just then, a commotion erupted outside the chamber doors, and Adrian burst through.
“You cannot simply force your way in, Your Imperial Highness the Crown Prince…!”
The knight who had rushed after him trying to block his path caught sight of Karla and immediately bowed his head low.
Adrian stormed in, breathless, and cried out as though the words were being torn from him.
“Mother, what is the meaning of this! You promised me— you told me nothing would happen to me! So why is that boy—”
“Compose yourself, Your Highness!”
“How can you tell me to be calm when something like this has exploded in our faces!! I am told that His Majesty went in person to see that boy. That everyone present witnessed a divine blessing with their own eyes!”
Dread swept over him from head to toe. He had felt hunted every day for as long as he could remember, but it had never been fear quite like this.
Yet today, when the news reached him that the Emperor himself had gone to verify the existence of a prince, the terror was enough to drive him mad.
“Do something about this, won’t you? Do something! What about Duke Kineart? What about Duke Willias! Don’t tell me they’ve betrayed us?!”
Adrian clutched the sleeve of her gown with both fists as he spoke. Karla gazed at him in silence for a long moment before slowly closing her eyes.
She had to stay calm. Especially now.
Father would never betray me.
Which meant something had gone wrong somewhere along the way.
If her instincts were correct, Macton Willias must have abruptly changed his position. There was no other explanation for why everything had unraveled so catastrophically.
Karla drew in a slow, heavy breath.
“Hm… what is that?”
The handmaiden’s voice cut through the quiet, laced with bewilderment.
Karla, her thoughts interrupted, frowned and glanced toward the handmaiden.
The woman was staring at Adrian with a blank, stunned expression.
“What on earth are you—”
Karla turned her gaze toward Adrian as naturally as breathing—and flinched, her eyes going wide.
Adrian’s hair was changing, slowly, from the crown of his head downward, the gold fading to white.
Then it shifted back to gold. Then white again. The transformation repeated itself in a slow, cycling rhythm.
The dark magic concealing him was breaking apart.
“Wh— what is that?! Dear heavens, what is that!”
The handmaiden cried out in a trembling voice and stumbled backward.
Her sudden outburst made Adrian scowl.
“Mother, why is that woman acting like that? Why is everyone looking at me as if—”
He glanced around in confusion. Then he caught sight of his own reflection in the mirror, and his eyes went wide.
A dream.
The face he had always seen in his dreams was staring back at him from the mirror.
“Ah— aah, Ahh!! What is this. What is happening— Mother, my face, right now I look—!”
“Is anyone outside?!”
“Yes, Your Highness the Empress. You called?”
“From this moment forward, all entry into the Empress’s Palace is forbidden. No one is to come or go.”
Karla moved quickly to contain the situation, directing the knight with a pointed look.
The knight was one of Duke Kineart’s men, so there was no immediate danger of him spreading word. The handmaiden, however, was another matter entirely.
The handmaiden recognized that look in Karla’s eyes. All color drained from her face. She dropped to her knees in desperate haste.
“P-please spare me, Your Highness the Empress. I saw nothing! I swear I will never breathe a word of this to anyone!”
But from behind her came the soft, deliberate sound of a sword being drawn from its scabbard.
The room fell quiet.
Karla turned to her son and called his name gently.
“Adrian.”
“…M-Mother. Did you see what just happened to me? …Th-that wasn’t me. That face is not who I am!”
“No. That face is exactly who you are.”
“…!”
“It always was. But what does it matter to dwell on that now?”
Karla let out a short, cold laugh.
In her drive to seat Adrian on the throne—born of her own transgression—she had committed no small number of crimes. Yet all this time, nothing had come undone. Her world had continued to turn exactly as she had shaped it.
“Do you have any idea how many people in this empire exist to protect you and me?”
“…B-but if my true appearance comes back… Father will cast me aside.”
“No. That will not happen. And even if that child returns this very day, your position will remain intact.”
The imperial palace was precisely that sort of place—a web of entangled interests so complex that the false could be made true, so long as enough people stood to gain from believing it.
Karla bent at the knees and cradled Adrian’s face in her hands, stroking his cheek with practiced tenderness.
“Besides—has that child not been ignored and rejected by His Majesty all this time? Even if he is granted the status of a prince, His Majesty will hardly welcome him with open arms.”
“…”
Gradually, the rigidity began to leave Adrian’s face.
Karla was right.
The two of them were in entirely different positions. There was simply no comparison between himself—who had been celebrated and cherished from the moment of his birth—and that boy who had clawed his way up from the gutter.
When Adrian appeared sufficiently settled, Karla smiled, soft and composed.
“I must go see the Pope.”
In a situation like this, the Pope was the most powerful ally she could call upon.
Karla stepped out of the Empress’s Palace, her expression hardening the moment she crossed the threshold.
After the Pope—she would need to find that man without delay.
⁂
Meanwhile, Pope Christia blinked slowly at the startling news, his expression one of quiet bewilderment.
“…I beg your pardon? A new prince has appeared?”
“Yes, Your Holiness. The capital is in an uproar over it. His Majesty is said to be making his way to the Capital Courthouse as we speak… and according to the testimonies of those who witnessed the trial from the beginning, the divine blessing upon the child appears to be genuine. They say that despite bearing burn scars, the marks glow rather than mar him.”
“Ha!”
Christia set down his tea mid-sip, a short laugh escaping him despite himself.
To think that something this extraordinary could unfold in the world.
And yet, now that it had, certain things were becoming clear.
He understood at last why the Empress had gone out of her way—and swallowed her pride—to personally request that the Crown Prince be invited to the Temple’s annual ceremony.
The Empress already knew, long before now, that it would come to this.
Things were growing fascinatingly complicated.
Christia called after the high priest, who had begun to take his leave.
“One more thing—how old does the prince appear to be?”
The high priest paused, tilting his head with an expression that quietly asked why such a thing would matter.
“He appears to be around the same age as Crown Prince Adrian, Your Holiness.”
“Around the same age?”
A flicker of something lit in Christia’s eyes.
“I see. Very well. You may go.”
“Yes, Your Holiness. I shall take my leave.”
The high priest departed, and Christia let out a small, quiet laugh to himself.
Curled in his lap, the divine fox spirit lay sleeping in a neat little ball. He stroked its back in slow, gentle passes as he murmured aloud.
“Could it be… that this spirit’s master is that very prince?”
The mention of their similar ages nagged at him far too insistently to dismiss.
If that were truly the case, it would be rather inconvenient.
Christia’s brow furrowed.
At that very instant, the spirit, which he had believed to be soundly asleep, cracked one eye open—just barely—and then closed it again.
And at that same moment.
The Capital Courthouse of Declair.
“His Majesty has arrived! The trial is set to resume—everyone, please return to your places!”
At the news that the Emperor had come, Riersha rose from her seat, tension written plainly across her face.
She turned to Isierd and extended her hand.
“Let’s go, Isierd.”
