“Your Majesty. You’ve arrived.”
“Duke, have you been well?”
Grandfather and the duke exchanged the usual pleasantries, their conversation beginning with polite formalities. The atmosphere was warm.
Far too warm.
No, that wasn’t the important thing right now. How was I supposed to stop Grandfather from going on the hunt himself? How could I keep him from leaving?
I racked my brain, desperately trying to come up with a convincing excuse. No matter how hard I thought, nothing suitable came to mind.
Time continued to slip away.
Before long, Empress Kiyen and Uncle Voltaire arrived as well. There was about an hour left before the hunt was scheduled to begin.
Those participating in the hunt checked over their weapons and armor.
Grandfather was advanced in years and nowhere near as skilled in martial arts as the imperial knights. His plan was simply to take a few escort knights with him, ride to the entrance of the mountain, look around briefly, and return.
The nobles who had come only to watch gathered in small groups, chatting amongst themselves. Some wished the hunters good fortune before they departed.
I sat beside Grandfather, sipping warm cocoa while desperately trying to figure out how to talk him out of going.
I had one hour.
Just then, Empress Kiyen approached and held out a small handkerchief to him.
It was delicately dyed a soft pink.
“If you ride for long while wearing armor, you'll surely work up a sweat. Please use this to wipe it away.”
Grandmother... what's gotten into you?
I shot the Empress a suspicious glance.
She didn't even spare me a look. Smiling radiantly, she focused entirely on Grandfather.
Nearby, the nobles exchanged knowing smiles and whispered amongst themselves as they watched the emperor and empress.
Ah...
So this was image management.
The picture of a loving imperial couple.
The cheap display made my stomach churn.
What would Grandfather do if he ever learned that this woman and Voltaire had murdered my father—the former Crown Prince?
It pained me that he knew nothing.
More than that, it broke my heart to watch him smiling at the very people responsible for his son's death without recognizing them.
I quietly lowered my gaze to my cup of cocoa.
Then, suddenly, inspiration struck.
I took a large mouthful of cocoa...
...and deliberately sprayed it everywhere.
“Cough!”
Dark brown droplets splattered across the hem of the Empress's dress.
“Ah!”
She shrieked and stumbled backward.
Every eye turned toward me.
“Cough! Cough! Hack—!”
Pretending nothing had happened, I broke into another coughing fit and "accidentally" spilled the rest of my cocoa all over myself.
Warm chocolate ran down my own dress.
I couldn't have cared less.
“Oh dear!”
Grandfather hurried over, patting my back.
Meanwhile, the Empress stood frozen, clutching her stained dress in horror. Her maids rushed over, frantically dabbing at the fabric with towels.
The brown chocolate stains refused to come out.
The Empress's face turned bright red.
Even the veins in her neck bulged.
But she couldn't lose her temper.
Why?
Because I was still just a child.
Hehehe.
It wasn't as though I'd done it on purpose. I'd simply choked while drinking and had an unfortunate accident.
If she got angry at a little girl over something like this, people would only say that the Empress had an embarrassingly small heart.
So I deliberately didn't apologize.
Instead, I pretended my throat and chest hurt terribly.
Lloyd, who had been standing some distance away, somehow caught wind of the commotion and hurried over. Taking out his own handkerchief, he carefully wiped the cocoa from my clothes.
“Are you all right?”
His appearance caught me completely off guard.
I nodded instinctively.
As expected, that gentle smile of his followed.
“Really? You haven't looked well since this morning.”
“...Pardon?”
He was right.
I'd had a terrible headache since morning.
I'd been gloomy all day.
I'd spent the entire night worrying about how to stop Grandfather from getting hurt today.
Of course I looked exhausted.
I was genuinely impressed by Lloyd's keen powers of observation.
At the same time...
An idea clicked into place.
That's it.
I'll fake being sick.
“Thank you, Young Lord Lloyd.”
For giving me such a wonderful idea.
I thanked him with complete sincerity.
Maybe if I acted ill and begged Grandfather not to leave, he'd stay behind.
Judging by how he'd treated me so far, one word from me would probably be enough.
Besides, if someone from the imperial family absolutely had to participate...
Why couldn't Uncle Voltaire go?
Why should the elderly emperor personally attend while his fully grown son remained behind?
Yes.
The fake illness plan it was.
First, though, I needed to look genuinely pitiful.
I forced myself to keep my eyes open without blinking until they became bloodshot.
Then I tried to think of something unbearably sad.
Father... Mother...
No.
I couldn't even remember their faces.
That didn't make me cry.
Empress Kiyen?
Looking at her now only made me want to laugh.
Voltaire?
The sight of him filled me with such fury that I wanted to flip the entire place upside down.
...Lloyd wasn't much different.
Something sad.
Think of something sad.
I strained my mind, replaying memories from my previous life one by one.
Then—
A faint voice echoed in my ears.
"...Please... never forgive... this humble servant..."
Tears streamed down my face.
In the end...
I succeeded in stopping Grandfather.
The moment I started listing every symptom of a cold I could think of—
"I'm dizzy."
"My stomach feels sick."
"I'm shivering."
"I'm so cold."
—his face turned deathly pale.
Then I added, in my most pitiful voice,
“Grandfather... don't go...”
The instant I started whining, he stripped off the armor he'd been putting on without a second thought.
Then he turned to Voltaire.
“Voltaire, aren't you twenty-five this year? As a prince of the Imperial Family, it's about time you participated in this event. I've been wondering just how much your swordsmanship has improved.”
In other words...
Voltaire, you go instead.
Voltaire's expression became priceless.
Had he really intended to spend yet another year merely "observing" the hunt like he had as a child?
Judging by his extravagant clothes and complete lack of equipment, he'd apparently shown up expecting to do exactly that.
The nearby nobles stirred excitedly.
“So His Highness is finally joining the hunt this year.”
“He's long since come of age. It's only fitting that he begin leading events like this.”
The nobles aligned with the Empress looked at Voltaire with barely concealed anticipation.
As he stood there flustered, the Empress calmly instructed one of his attendants to fetch a suit of armor for him.
Good.
A healthy young prince attending an imperial hunting event only to sit quietly in the corner would have looked ridiculous anyway.
I settled comfortably beside Grandfather and nodded in satisfaction.
Smiling sweetly, I cheered Voltaire on.
“Good luck, Uncle... cough.”
Naturally, I didn't forget to fake another cough.
Leaning against Grandfather, I dozed like a sick little chick.
Only now, with the tension finally gone, did sleep begin to overtake me.
Then Grandfather seemed to remember something.
Calling Voltaire over, he placed the pink handkerchief the Empress had given him into his son's hand.
“The Empress gave this to me for wiping away sweat. Since I'm no longer going, you should take it instead.”
“Th-thank you, Father!”
Voltaire bowed deeply, visibly moved, reaching out to accept it—
But before he could...
The Empress suddenly appeared and snatched the handkerchief away.
“Huh?”
“N-No, Your Majesty... I mean... I gave this to you. I'll... I'll prepare another one for Voltaire.”
She stubbornly returned the pink handkerchief to the Emperor before handing Voltaire an ordinary white one instead.
“Oh... very well, Empress.”
Grandfather chuckled awkwardly.
“I failed to consider your feelings. It was a gift from you, after all. I suppose it was rude of me to lend it to someone else.”
He tucked the pink handkerchief back into his robes.
The Empress smiled lightly as though nothing had happened and turned to Voltaire.
“Please be careful, my son. Your mother is terribly worried.”
And so, preparations for the hunt continued without further incident.
Eventually, word spread that everyone was ready.
Soon afterward, the nobles and knights departed into the depths of the mountains.
Those who had come only to watch remained behind in the tented encampment.
A handful of noblewomen and their young children stayed, along with Grandfather, me, the rest of the imperial family, and only the minimum number of guards needed for protection.
The ladies soon began chatting about profitable new businesses, trade opportunities, and the finest winter resorts for travel.
Meanwhile, I continued pretending to be ill.
Grandfather laid me across his lap, gently patting my back as I pretended to sleep.
The Empress, apparently still upset over Grandfather's sudden change of plans, claimed she wasn't feeling well and went for a walk with a few guards.
My aunt wandered off to another tent, enthusiastically socializing with the noblewomen gathered there.
Time passed.
Then—
A shrill cry echoed across the sky.
Screeeech—!
The piercing sound, like metal scraping against metal, rang throughout the mountains.
I'd been expecting it.
Praying I wouldn't hear it.
The wyverns.
They had finally appeared.
Come to think of it...
Would Uncle Voltaire be all right?
Originally, it should have been Grandfather who encountered the wyverns.
But now Voltaire was following the exact route Grandfather had intended to inspect.
Did that mean Voltaire would be attacked instead?
Could my revenge really end this easily?
Keeping my eyes closed, I listened intently to the distant cries.
My heart pounded violently.
Would...
Would Voltaire die?
A terribly human part of me wished he would.
Yet another part thought that if he died like this...
It would be far too easy.
Far too empty.
Far too unsatisfying.
The two emotions twisted together, squeezing painfully around my heart.
And somehow...
An even darker premonition settled over me.
Then—
A knight burst into the tent.
“Your Majesty! You must flee! A flock of wyverns has appeared!”
“What?! Wyverns? Near the base camp?”
As always...
A bad feeling never proved wrong.
“Yes, Your Majesty! Please, hurry!”
The screeching cries rapidly drew closer.
Wait...
Why?
At that very moment—
“AAAAAH!”
The screams of noblewomen erupted from the neighboring tent.
“Run!”
Grandfather jerked to his feet, dragging me along by the hand as we rushed outside.
Without even looking back, we sprinted toward the direction of the Imperial Palace.
But elegant dress shoes, made only for appearances, were hardly suitable for running.
Then, from the opposite tent—
My aunt came racing toward us.
“Father! Meli!”
At some point she'd kicked off her high heels and was running barefoot.
She had ripped the skirt of her dress clean up to her knees, making it short enough to move freely.
She looked nothing like the other noblewomen, who struggled awkwardly in towering heels while clutching armfuls of cumbersome skirts.
Grandfather stared in shock.
“Eonel! What happened to you? Are you hurt?”
“Not at all.”
She snorted.
“To hell with dresses and shoes. Staying alive comes first. Does dignity protect your life?”
She glanced at me.
“Have one of the attendants carry the child. You'll only slow each other down if you stay together.”
Without hesitation, she plucked me from Grandfather's grasp and thrust me into the arms of a nearby nursemaid.
Then she shouted—
“Sound the emergency horn!”
Her voice thundered across the camp...
Like the roar of a lion.
