Chapter 145

“If it is the last day of the Ash Week, does he mean the Grand Feaute?”

After reading the piece of paper that the Emperor had placed between his fingers, Victor, who was familiar with the information, carefully asked a question.

The Emperor answered with a cold smile, with a slight smirk on his red lips.

“He said the cargo is in the wine barrel. Where do you think the largest amount of wine is stored in the capital at a time like this?”

“Wine associated with the Grand Feaute… That would be the Notre Magnat Cathedral, which must be preparing a grand sacramental feast for the festival.”

“That is the most likely.”

Now that he thought it through, the plan did indeed make sense. They possessed an unbelievable amount of gunpowder, too much to believe it had been made in secret, but its range of effective use was limited.

The Imbert Palace was vast and magnificent enough to be considered a city unto itself, and even within it, Ebroin V’s private chambers were its innermost core. If the enemy had a way to slip in all the way there unnoticed, they would have had no need for such a complex, grand scheme.

The “cargo” was a single, decisive trump card, one that could be used only once. Ebroin V knew that, even had he been in their position and held such a card, he would have made the same choice.

“If we had erred, the Lacte Road might have seen blood spilled instead of milk.”

“No. Blood was bound to flow regardless. All that differs is whose blood it would have been.”

Finally all the pieces were put together. Only now did Ebroin V see the complete picture he had longed for. Seeing the whole at last, he could not help but feel a pang of admiration.

Their plan had been so cunning and meticulous that even he could only grasp its entirety at the very end. A masterstroke: layered traps upon traps, sweeping aside all psychological defenses. But once every snare has its shape and place revealed, it loses all power.Tap, tap. As if lost in thought, the emperor drummed lightly upon the desk before suddenly speaking.

“The one in charge of Notre Magnat Cathedral is Cardinal Giorante, is he not?”

“Yes. That is correct.”

“And I heard he is a regular patron of Madame Schuabel?”

“Among her regulars, he is counted the finest. The matter is well known even in high society. Upon verifying it myself, the rumor that some unnamed count had slipped seven manors beneath Madame Schuabel’s skirts turned out to mention the wrong man. It was the Cardinal himself.”

Cardinal Giorante was a man of the order, worldly to a convenient degree and politically seasoned. As the head of the Saint Eustace clergy, he resembled a statesman far more than a priest, and his cooperation with the regime of Ebroin V made him useful in many respects.

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“V Tngrr YwgC PngP fO JfOt.”

rfhmOt gOEJz CfI CJNz qtNFJLe Nyz ImJRRJz gNhX. ufImJyfyq mO mCJft JPhCNyqJ, cNtOy cODfLCJm EfmCztJE N IoNLL yOmJgOOX AtOo CfI gtJNIm Nyz ztJE N LfyJ mCtODqC kNtzfyNL SfOtNymJ’I yNoJ. dfI oODmC CNz qOyJ zte AtOo IRJNXfyq IO oDhC, Nyz mCJ aoRJtOt EJm CfI LfRI NqNfy EfmC mCJ ztfyX CJ CNz IJm NIfzJ gJAOtJ mDtyfyq mO cNtOy cODfLCJm.

“How far has the kill list been organized?”

“Grand Duchess Alienor’s close associates, Prince Merrick’s adherents, their retainers, the Eastern nobles aligned with Houe d’Estuaire, the clergy who concealed the Trenolin Monastery’s affairs, and just now, Cardinal Giorante has been added.”

“Oh, right. And the Marquis of Calvert?”

“He seems unlikely to have any connection, but as he is related by marriage to House Fernand, I included him.”

“No, if there is no concrete evidence, exclude him. The Marquis Calvert is, among the high nobility, one of the few who possess genuine prestige. He is even well-regarded among the citizens. There is no need to drag an innocent man into this and incur resentment. Do not add people merely for being relatives. Distinguish the offenses clearly and compile the list accordingly. But do not be overly lenient either.”

“I shall obey.”

The Emperor, who had been trying to compose himself and continuing his work, suddenly sighed and lowered his cup. Then, as though seized by a migrane, he pressed one temple with his fingers, brows knitting. His aides, alarmed, hurried close, but the Emperor waved them off as one might chase away a gnat.

“There is no need for fuss. It is a trivial headache.”

“Your Majesty, shall I prepare medicine?”

“There is no need. What is the point whenWeknow perfectly well what the cause is?”

Ebroin V answered curtly and began to walk. It was mere fatigue. He had scarcely slept…. He approached the long chair placed before the hearth and let himself sink deep into it. Baron Bouilhet and Victor Adelphe, observing him, exchanged silent glances.

They understood the Emperor’s state of mind all too well. Even when Baron Amieux’s whereabouts were unknown, His Majesty had not been able to set aside his worry regarding his safety for even a moment. But now, in contrast, he knew perfectly well where the man was, and still he was forced to remain idle.

Normally, they would have foolishly trusted the Emperor, believing he would handle things on his own. But having witnessed the inner turmoil of these past days plainly with their own eyes, they could not do so this time. Victor, who had served Ebroin V for nearly his entire life yet had never once seen him shaken to this degree by personal emotions, offered a careful suggestion.

“If Your Majesty is so troubled, would it not be best to bring him back? I shall send someone immediately.”

Ebroin V, who had been pressing his forehead with one hand in an effort to bear the pain, let out a faint, bitter smile upon hearing that.

“Do you imagine he would return simply because someone is sent? Especially with that stubbornness of his.”

“However—”

“It is enough. When you consider it closely, his argument is not even wrong. After all the hardship he endured in pursuing this far, there is no need to rustle the grass and startle the snake for nothing.”

The Grand Feaute was only a week away. at most, a single week. Ebroin V had no intention whatsoever of meddling recklessly and creating future trouble over a matter that could be tied off neatly with just a little more patience. He was a man who clearly distinguished between public and personal affairs.

This matter concerned not only himself but the safety of countless others. On the small scale, the lives of the imperial family were at stake; on the grand scale, the fate of the entire empire was directly tied to it. If he were to marshal troops to resolve a personal problem, even with such a colossal issue before him, he would forfeit any right to rule the empire. Ebroin V did not consider himself a sovereign so deranged as that.

I must not be….

Ebroin V clenched and unclenched a fist that was slowly losing its color, struggling to rein in the surge of emotions. Reason warned him clearly that such a thing was absolutely forbidden, yet his feelings moved in the opposite direction.

Are you not the Emperor?

Within him, an irrational desire he had never realised existed pressed close to his ear and whispered. Like a temptress, like melted chocolate thick with clinging seduction, that inner voice coiled around him. So alluring that, if he listened too long, he feared he would nod as though bewitched, yet when he listened closely, he realised the voice was his own.

You are the most powerful person in the empire.

Ebroin V learned for the first time that his own voice could sound so sinister. Smooth and sly as a serpent, it goaded him to make real the wish he wanted most in this moment.

You can move tens of thousands of soldiers with a mere flick of your finger right here. Mobilise the army at once. Use every resource available and seize all those involved in this affair.

But if he did that, blood would flow. Not only the blood of the guilty, but the blood of innocents who would be swept together with them, unable to be distinguished. Swords and guns could not discern good from evil.

And what if, by some terrible mischance, you were to lose that person? What would you do then? If you were to regret this decision for the rest of your life?

Ebroin V clenched his teeth as he imagined rivulets of blood running through every alleyway of the capital.

Eugène was not the only one who was his. They were his people as well. The citizens of the empire who entrusted their lives, their property, and their safety to his protection. Even in the name of justice, a sword was still a sword. He could never stand by and watch the deaths of innocents.

Once he steadied himself and resolved his wavering heart, the voice in his head quieted without resistance. However, in the very next moment, mocking his brief lapse in vigilance, horrid images flashed across his mind in swift succession.

The first thing that surfaced was, of all things, a mangled corpse bearing Eugène’s face. Deathly pale, he lay slain as though someone had vented their rage upon him, his entire body brutally torn apart.

He had no time to turn away before the scene shifted. Now it was a body flung out a window with a noose around its neck; then it changed again into the swollen corpse of a man drowned in a well.

Nonsense!

Ebroin V cursed inwardly, struggling to wipe away the grotesque visions that rose so vividly they made his stomach turn. He did not know how Eugène had made his way in there, but according to Hunter, his condition was not dire. There had been no torture, only confinement. In misfortune, that was at least something to be grateful for. With skills like his, enduring a single remaining week should not have been beyond him.

“On second thought,Wedo not believeWehave the leisure to rest like this. State the next matter. We shall resume the meeting.”

Ebroin V, having spent no small amount of mental strength steadying his agitated mind, shook off the tenacious weight of his distress and returned to the issue before him. The matters requiring direct inspection here at the safehouse were sensitive and urgent indeed. His aides watched the weary Emperor with concern, but there was nothing they could do.

Reluctantly, Baron Bouilhet sought out the next issue that required resolution and reported it. Ebroin V kept a hand pressed to his temple as he listened to his voice. His eyes were gritty with exhaustion from so many sleepless nights, yet he did not dare close them. He feared that if he did, the images from moments before would reappear.

***

At the gateway leading into the capital, Prince Merrick quietly lifted his head and looked up at the sky.

It was a dazzlingly clear day. A cloudless sky, bathed in only the tranquil sunlight, shimmered translucently. The sky, azure as a child’s eyes, stretched without end until it met the horizon. Though the hour was already late in the afternoon, the air was as cold and crisp as water freshly drawn from a morning well. Prince Merrick drew a deep breath, as if to take that clarity into himself.

Are you watching me?

Prince Merrick put forth the question as he conjured the image of his beloved.

As soon as he called to her in his heart, the woman who now existed only behind his closed eyes slowly revealed herself. Just as she had looked on the mornings when they spent the night together and woke in the same bed, she appeared with her long brown hair gathered over one shoulder, and when her eyes met his, she smiled shyly with a tint of rose upon her cheeks.

Her gentle, innocent smile brushed sweetly against her mild, puppy-like gaze. The faintly curved coral lips, the long lashes lowered upon her cheeks. He realized, with vivid certainty, that he still remembered the sensation of those lashes brushing against his skin.

If you are there, watch closely, Louise. Everything I shall do today is for you.

He reached to his chest and drew out a small locket hanging from a thin silver chain. Then, with a reverence akin to prayer, he pressed his lips to it.

Inside the locket was a miniature portrait of Louise. It had not been painted from life and was somewhat inaccurate, yet he had brought nothing else to remember her by. To him, this portrait was little different from her one remaining keepsake.

It was the last week of October, the final day of Ash Week. The blessings that had bloomed with each step of Saint Eustace had drawn to a close, and it was the hour when the order of the earth settled itself in the wake of the god who had returned to the heavens. The long, lingering Grand Feaute would end this day. Prince Merrick had waited for this day for a very long time. It had been a time of immense suffering.