Chapter 268: Blood Afire

I’m hungry.

Ravenously so.

As if my starvation, my psychological trauma, had receded into the distance, my body demands food.

My blood is burning.

Every last drop screams for me to consume nourishment.

My attendant, seeing I’ve finished my meal, inquires about after-dinner wine.

“…Your Majesty Maxine, um, what color wine would you prefer today?”

“A sweet red would be lovely.”

Two slices of white bread.

Two boiled eggs resting in an egg stand.

Fresh chicken with mushroom stew.

I’ve likely never eaten this much in my fifteen years of life.

According to Lord Polydoro, this would be a worryingly small amount.

But for now, this is my absolute limit.

Years of eating disorders have shrunk my stomach.

“One glass of wine will suffice. I truly cannot fit anything more.”

My attendant makes no effort to hide her tears of joy, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief.

She’s always worried about my lack of appetite.

In that sense alone, eating was worthwhile—to bring her happiness.

“Now then, Valiere, how about you? Will you have more?”

I encourage Valiere, who shares my table, to have seconds.

Well, Valiere has a small frame like mine.

There’s a limit to how much she can eat.

“No, no, I’m quite full.”

“It was a delicious meal. If I could just have one glass of wine as well.”

“Of course.”

My attendant bows gracefully, directing her gaze toward the servants standing by the door.

That alone conveys her intent—they’ll prepare cups and wine for Valiere and me.

Now then, this is where it begins.

I wonder what sort of conversation I should have with Valiere.

There are many things I want to discuss.

Even trivial complaints about the common people would do.

Ah yes, showing that Her Majesty is human too would deepen my bond with Valiere.

I could offer advice about Valiere’s future conduct.

That would be repayment for the revenge she achieved on my behalf.

The topic I truly wish to discuss—

It’s already clear: I want a child with Lord Polydoro.

The seed of ambition sprouting within me.

After the Mongols trample everything, after that Toktoa Khan drops dead, a legitimate successor to devour the entire empire.

As his official fiancée, the proper thing to do would be to broach this subject with Valiere first.

But now is not the time to bare my true intentions.

For the moment, I’ll prioritize deepening my friendship with Valiere.

“Now then, Valiere. Shall we chat while sipping wine?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“I’m pondering what topic would be best. Valiere, you’re, um, planning to become the lord of Polydoro territory in the future?”

All the soldiers she’s gathered, everyone from merchants to traveling entertainers—excluding those who became knights and soldiers directly under the Anhalt royal family—

She’ll take them all to her territory if they volunteer.

She’ll bring them to Polydoro territory.

“Yes, well. If they have nowhere else to go, I thought they could come with me. As merely a fiancée, it was improper for me to say such things, but Faust ultimately approved. We’ll have to start with clearing land, but—”

Where does Valiere’s natural talent lie?

The only conclusion I can reach is “an abnormally good-natured aberration.”

In a sense, she’s not befitting of nobility.

She considers her own life equal in value to those of her knights and soldiers.

She cannot help but extend her hand to those she believes she can save by doing so.

It’s almost like a curse given by God.

In exchange, those who receive her extended hand pledge their loyalty with desperate fervor.

If they don’t, everything about their existence—being born into this world and picked up by her—becomes a lie.

If they cannot protect Valiere, they lose everything in the world.

Yes, it really is like some kind of curse.

I wonder why God created such a being.

I don’t feel envious.

Nor do I feel longing.

But I do feel something like respect.

“—”

I try to read her heart.

Valiere holds respect for me as emperor, and there’s not a single lie in that.

There’s a slight murkiness.

Not in Valiere, but in my own heart.

This girl one year my junior is surely unsuited for the ruling class.

When critical decisions requiring the sacrifice of people must be made, she cannot make them.

That’s a clear defect.

God gave her the blessing of charisma while robbing her of that choice.

When would this girl truly shine?

In what circumstances would she flourish?

Surely in places requiring the most primitive form of loyalty.

Probably on the front lines of battle.

Where dying oneself is preferable to letting one’s lord die.

In desperate places, like a mother protecting her infant.

Valiere’s subordinates would likely transform into history’s most formidable military force in such circumstances.

“—Valiere.”

I call her name.

Come to think of it, have I ever allowed someone this close without suspicion?

I’ve shared meals with the children of electors, but trusting those people would be absurd.

Never once has anyone other than my father and mother sat beside me.

“Yes, Your Majesty?”

She’ll die, surely.

I cannot persuade Valiere.

She would refuse if I abducted her and fled to some distant country.

Because she cannot abandon her soldiers, those who’ve newly become her subjects.

And surely—

Lord Polydoro is the same, unable to abandon his territory and subjects.

“Your fiancé, Lord Polydoro, swore a geis. He pledged to fight the Mongols with his life on the line. I know this.”

If he breaks it, he’ll die within seven years.

Not that he fears death.

Even so, he wants to protect his territory that badly.

Then surely I cannot hope for him to flee with me either.

That much is obvious.

“Yes, Your Majesty. You seem to know everything.”

“Naturally, when the entire nation of Anhalt begins moving toward war, even matters of geis reach my ears. I know.”

Not a single person I’ve grown fond of can be persuaded.

I know Martina’s origins too.

Having had her life saved, she could never leave Lord Polydoro’s side.

She would naturally choose to die with him.

That much is already clear.

Yet somehow, I cannot easily accept that obvious future.

“—”

I’m at a loss for words.

I’m beginning to feel attachment to these three.

If possible, I wanted to flee with all of them.

But it’s impossible.

Valiere cannot abandon the subjects who worship her.

Lord Polydoro has sworn a geis that prevents him from abandoning his territory.

Martina will martyr herself alongside them.

“—Valiere, I want to ask you something. Do you think there’s a possibility of defeating the Mongols?”

I pose this pure question.

Though I already know the answer.

“I don’t know. I’m in a situation where I’m only permitted to obey.”

Well, yes.

This must be Valiere’s true feelings.

She hasn’t been given a choice.

While appearing free, her options are constrained.

“…”

I try to read Valiere’s psychology.

Her heart is straightforward.

She has no intention of lying about anything—she’s simply charisma incarnate.

Rather, it’s my own heart that’s wavering.

I’m troubled over whether it’s acceptable to let them die like this.

Is it right to let Lord Polydoro, who showed sincere respect for my father, die in vain?

Should I allow Valiere and those pitiful souls clinging to her to die meaninglessly?

At the very least—

I ask myself whether I should repay Martina for the information she shared with me.

And what form would that compensation take?

The person who would fully understand the value of such payment is that disagreeable woman.

“…Valiere, where is Duchess Astarte? She didn’t appear today.”

“She’s returned to my sister—to Anastasia—for a time. She should be back here tomorrow.”

“Tell her I wish to speak with her.”

Continuing conversation with Valiere will unfortunately only make me like her more.

The one I should pay concrete compensation to, the one for whom speaking with me holds meaning, is annoyingly that woman.

She’s orchestrated everything systematically to make me feel fondness for Lord Polydoro, Valiere, and Martina.

She holds not an ounce of respect for me as emperor.

Everything has been arranged so that conversing with Duchess Astarte would maximize benefits for the three I’ve grown fond of.

My emotions are being manipulated by Duchess Astarte.

That insufferable woman has probably anticipated my actions up to this point.

But I don’t know what comes after.

Now then.

That woman—having returned to the man-eater—what is she scheming at this very moment?

I hide such thoughts from Valiere for now, savoring my wine in small sips.