Chapter – 22
After entering the chapel, the Emperor shut the door and surveyed his surroundings.
There were only a few people inside, and the one he sought stood guard at the entrance.
Avoiding prying eyes, he quickly slipped a letter to a holy knight he had planted there in advance and whispered,
“Deliver this to Viscount Art Oakley at the Academy.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
The holy knight answered in an equally hushed voice and, with a resolute expression, tucked the letter into his robes.
The letter contained several instructions for his youngest son, Oakley.
First, even after graduating from the Academy, he was not to return to the Imperial Palace.
Second, Count Hansrudi Dirk was preparing to formally register him into the imperial family, so until then he was to gather influence outside.
In short, he was to prepare thoroughly to bring down the Crown Prince.
What a wretched position the Emperor was in.
The Imperial Palace had long since fallen under Alesto’s control, and his spies were everywhere. It was difficult even to send a single letter to his own flesh and blood.
There was another son, Jerold…
But that boy had sided with his mother and older half-brother, offering not the slightest help to his own father, so he was hardly worth mentioning.
The Emperor openly feared and guarded himself against Alesto.
Though widely known as “the Emperor’s illegitimate son,” Alesto was in fact not illegitimate at all—nor did he share a single drop of blood with the Emperor. He was merely a stepson.
Twenty years ago—
The Emperor, then married to the former Empress Camilla, had failed to produce even one child with her.
As the years dragged on, rumors began to circulate.
It was said that he had secretly fathered a son with Onisia, a woman with whom he had been conducting a clandestine affair.
Not long after the rumors spread, the Emperor divorced Camilla, who had borne him no heirs even at her late age, and took Onisia as his new Empress.
As if to prove that the boy born from her was truly his own, he formally entered Alesto into the imperial registry and immediately appointed him Crown Prince.
But though the story seemed plausible on the surface, it was in fact nothing more than a fabrication spread by the Emperor in order to make Onisia his Empress.
At the time, Onisia already had a husband she loved dearly.
To Alesto, that man had been both a sturdy roof over his head and his only friend.
They had been a perfectly happy family—
Until the Emperor discovered Onisia and committed a heinous act to possess her beauty.
Before her husband’s corpse, she managed to save only her son, offering her own life in exchange, and was forced into a remarriage she never wanted.
And that remarriage was to the very man who had killed her husband.
Her life as Empress afterward was, needless to say, horrific.
Not only did she have to survive alone in the palace without allies while protecting Alesto…
She was also forced to bear a child by the Emperor.
That child was Jerold.
A child she could never bring herself to love.
Yet the Emperor—the root of all her misery—lost interest in her the moment she bore his child.
And in time, he fathered yet another illegitimate child outside the palace.
This new illegitimate son was the very man the Emperor was now preparing to formally acknowledge as an imperial prince—
Viscount Art Oakley.
After the Emperor had fully entered the chapel,
the Empress turned to the lady-in-waiting who followed her like a shadow.
“Inform me when His Majesty finishes his prayers.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Leaving her attendants behind, the Empress made her way alone to the depths of the Sol Temple—the Crystal Garden.
Within the Crystal Garden stood an enormous glass conservatory.
Inside bloomed rare flowers and trees said to grow only in the southern regions, and butterflies fluttered year-round.
Outside, countless shrubs were trimmed into perfectly rounded shapes, as though tended without fail every single day.
Waiting for the Empress in this fairy-tale-like sanctuary was the High Priest, Calabis—who had earlier claimed to have a meeting.
Empress Onisia slowly took her seat, glancing around the meticulously arranged garden.
“It is beautiful.”
The Crystal Garden was a space Calabis took special pride in.
Praise for something he had devoted himself to made his shoulders lift with satisfaction.
“The gardener sent by His Highness the Crown Prince is truly excellent. Diligent as well.”
Yet even as he spoke of the garden, Calabis’s gaze remained fixed on Onisia.
He did not look away even once—
as though his eyes were bound to her.
Of course, the Empress noticed.
She had never in her life been anything less than beautiful.
Her extraordinary beauty drew attention wherever she went; indeed, it was that overwhelmingly enchanting appearance that had allowed a common-born woman like her to become Empress.
She possessed the bearing of a goddess from legend.
Her eyes, a mystical shade of gold, were so captivating they could shake a nation.
Wherever her gaze fell, it seemed as though golden dust shimmered into the air.
At least, that was how it appeared to Calabis.
With an indifferent expression, the Empress lifted her teacup and murmured,
“The Sol Temple has not received the nation’s care for a long time. From the temple’s perspective, it must have felt neglected.”
It was spoken so softly it might have been mistaken for a soliloquy.
Even so, Calabis pricked up his ears and leaned forward to catch every word of her melodious voice.
Before she could continue, he hurriedly protested.
“Neglected? Certainly not! Such a thing is unthinkable!”
“……”
The Empress stared at him in silence.
Sensing he had erred, Calabis quickly amended himself.
“Well… perhaps a little neglected?”
That seemed to be the correct answer.
Her lips moved again.
“It is understandable. Sol was once the state religion of the Empire, and the priests held offices appointed by the state. Yet it has not been treated accordingly. The previous emperors were indifferent. The Sol Temple must once again rise in stature under the Empire’s protection.”
A shiver ran down Calabis’s spine.
That intoxicating sensation—like sinking into a mire—made his hair stand on end.
For the first time, the Empress’s eyes curved gently upward.
“You agree, do you not, High Priest? The period of estrangement has been far too long. It is time we became one family again.”
She placed an envelope upon the table.
“This is an unofficial maintenance allowance sent by His Highness the Crown Prince. In due course, the official budget allocated to the Sol Temple by the Imperial Palace will arrive as well.”
Calabis cautiously opened the envelope.
It contained the deed to the Bill Margety Hotel—
a luxurious establishment boasting over four hundred rooms.
It was an astronomical sum, incomparable to the usual donations or bribes received from nobles.
Calabis was certain.
“The Empress is setting the stage to swallow the Sol Temple whole.”
He set the envelope down stiffly.
“Ahem… I never asked for such a thing.”
“I know.”
Lowering her teacup with a soft clink, the Empress spoke gently.
“I know. And yet, if you refuse it, I will feel uneasy. Please do not make me uneasy.”
“……”
Though he felt a twinge of disappointment at the line she drew, Calabis ultimately had no choice but to take the envelope.
How could he dare make such a beautiful woman feel anxious?
In truth, High Priest Calabis held a somewhat distorted belief.
He believed that the more divine grace a person received at birth, the more beautiful they would appear.
Perhaps that was why he was particularly weak toward beautiful women. (Or perhaps he simply liked pretty faces and rationalized it.)
By his standard, Empress Onisia was the most divinely favored woman in the world.
Naturally, she deserved treatment befitting such grace.
And that treatment included ensuring she felt no discomfort.
Of course, the deed to the Bill Margety Hotel had delivered the final blow to his wavering resolve.
After confirming that Calabis had taken the envelope, Onisia rose from her seat.
As though she had not a single concern about what would follow, she left the Crystal Garden without any further instructions or parting words.
