Chapter 23
“Lord Hesser, do you have something to say?”
It was a question clearly prompted by Marquis Morigen’s refusal, and Countess Swanhild was visibly displeased.
However, Miseria stood up with a calm face, as if she had done nothing wrong.
“Not particularly. I stayed behind, wondering if there were any lingering regrets from the meeting.”
“Would there be regrets? I just wonder if this was really an issue that should have dragged on for ten years. If it was going to end this quickly, it would have been better not to leave any room for dispute in the first place.”
The count agreed with her.
Most of the electors who had already left also believed that the Emperor’s handling of the matter had been highly irregular.
In the absence of any serious disqualifying factor, the title should have passed to the eldest daughter, Petra Simone, ten years ago.
As someone who valued tradition and proper procedure, the Count was displeased with the current Emperor. In fact, Countess Swanhild had opposed his ascension in the first place.
Was the Grand Duke, who had supported the Emperor, now feeling a sense of responsibility? The Count wondered, but Miseria ended the conversation and headed toward the door.
“I’ll take my leave now. What about you, Lord Hesser?”
The Count had no reason to stay longer either.
The two left the room side by side.
Neither choosing a different path nor taking the lead would have felt natural, so their conversation continued with a change of subject.
Miseria spoke first.
“You don’t look well. Has something happened in your family?”
“…As one gets older, their health naturally declines.”
“Oh dear, your granddaughter must have affected your health as well.”
The Count glared at Miseria.
He couldn’t suppress his anger at the fact that she brought up the matter knowing full well what had happened.
‘Has the rumor spread this far?’
In his panic, the Count had failed to properly cover up the fact that his granddaughters had run away.
Following the shocking incident where it was revealed that one of the children had been switched, the additional matter of them running away had left Marquis Morigen furious to the point that he refused to even speak with the Count.
Though he had managed to keep it out of the newspapers, he couldn’t stop the story from spreading through the mouths of relatives.
While he was pondering how to respond, Miseria unexpectedly shifted the direction of the conversation.
“Your granddaughters are sixteen, right? It’s the age where you never know what kind of trouble they might cause. Or maybe running away is just a trend among kids these days.”
The Count frowned, not understanding where she was going with this.
“I heard Lenart left for a trip last winter and still hasn’t returned. He didn’t show up at the New Year’s gathering either. After all that effort to get him into school, he’s off doing something ridiculous…”
“You’re saying His Highness is missing?”
“Who would’ve thought? He seemed so well-behaved, but to act out like that—it’s surprising, isn’t it?”
Despite her words, her tone was warm, as if she genuinely worried for him. The Count couldn’t hide his bewilderment.
But what came next was even stranger.
“That kind of freedom must come from having grown up outside the Imperial Palace. If he had stayed here, at least he wouldn’t have caused others to worry.”
She had been one of the main reasons Lenart had been exiled from the palace—one of the most significant reasons.
“To think you’re worried about your younger brother… that’s quite surprising.”
The Count couldn’t help but say it in a criticizing tone.
“If you had shown such kindness ten years ago, perhaps His Highness wouldn’t have gone missing.”
Of course, even the Count himself wasn’t all that concerned about Lenart’s personal well-being.
“I was cold-hearted back then. But after raising a child myself, I find myself caring for my younger brother too.”
Had she not been an elector, the Count would have bluntly asked if she had lost her mind. While Countess Swanhild clicked her tongue quietly, Miseria continued in a somber voice.
“Yes, it’s been ten years already. Since I didn’t choose Lenart, and since the death of Count Simone. I suppose I’m reflecting more because so much time has passed.”
“That sounds more believable than saying you’ve mellowed because of motherhood.”
“Oh my.”
Miseria rested her finger on her chin.
“Aren’t you afraid?”
“…Of what?”
“Of how His Majesty dragged out the Simone succession issue for this long. It’s not unheard of in history, but…”
It wasn’t uncommon for an emperor to interfere in the succession of a title in order to keep the electors in check and maintain control. There were even cases of actively pushing for alternate branches of a family.
But those cases usually lasted a few months, or at most, several years. Letting the chaos drag on for a decade, as it had in this case, was unprecedented. That was why the atmosphere among the electors had turned so hostile.
Though Miseria spoke softly, like a whisper, the Count deliberately did not respond. It was a matter everyone had considered, but not one to be spoken of near the palace.
Just as walking together was beginning to feel unbearable, they exited into the garden.
There, the Count encountered unexpected figures.
Prince Marcel, with his striking blond hair, and Princess Helga, whose dark brown hair was braided down her back.
“It’s been a while.”
They greeted them naturally, as if they had been waiting.
“We haven’t seen you since the New Year’s gathering. Have you been well?”
“Yes, Your Highness. But what brings you here…?”
The building housing the meeting room was part of the outer palace, a place royals rarely visited unless on official business.
Princess Helga spoke first.
“Since today’s meeting was being held, I thought I might be able to meet someone here. Lady Miseria, have you heard anything about Lenart?”
“Only that he hasn’t returned to school.”
Miseria fiddled with her fan indifferently.
“Other than that, I don’t know. It’s not like we keep in touch.”
Her reaction was different from what she had said earlier, but to the Count, this felt more natural.
Helga frowned slightly with concern.
“The last confirmed sighting was at Simone’s train station. No one has seen him since.”
“That is certainly a worrying development.”
Despite the seriousness of the news, Miseria acted indifferent. The Count turned his gaze to hide his expression, only to meet Marcel’s eyes. The Prince was smiling wryly at Miseria.
Seeing that no one needed him, the Count excused himself.
“I’ll head back first. I have many matters awaiting me in the capital.”
“May your journey be safe. I will also take my leave…”
Perhaps she had really come to find out about her cousin, as Helga also stepped away in the opposite direction.
Miseria and Marcel remained in the garden, perhaps because they still had business with each other.
“It’s been nearly a year. Let’s catch up.”
“I believe I greeted you at the New Year’s gathering.”
“No one considers that a real conversation… Come, have some tea.”
As their voices faded into the distance, Countess Swanhild focused on one word she’d heard earlier.
Simone.
She had been mulling over that name all day, and often in recent days.
Even before the Simone succession issue had become a public matter earlier this year, the Count had taken an interest in the western region.
Because he suspected his runaway granddaughters might be there.
While seeking information far and wide to find them, he came across a curious but hard-to-ignore report.
Two girls matching the descriptions of the missing Ranze and Erna had been spotted in Simone.
If it had been any other place, the Count would’ve sent someone immediately. But it had to be Simone.
One had been a maid, the other an invalid—it was hard to believe they could have made it all the way to the western region on their own. As he hesitated, unrest grew in Simone. Even now that the conflict had settled, the atmosphere remained unstable, and it wasn’t a good time to send anyone in.
Now that the successor had been confirmed, the new Count would head to the capital and disperse the local militia, but until then, the Count had no way of acting.
‘No. There’s no way they’re in the West…’
With a sigh, the Count forcibly set aside his worries.
There wasn’t much to say about Ranze, whom he barely knew, but he had known Erna as his granddaughter and thus was more familiar with her.
‘Even if she’s the daughter of a disgraceful woman, she wasn’t stupid. She wouldn’t have chosen somewhere as dangerous as the West to run away to.’
* * *
Unaware that her cold-hearted grandfather now pinned his hopes on her, Erna sat absentmindedly, staring into a mirror.
The girl in the reflection was both familiar and unfamiliar.
Her dull blue eyes and brownish hair were features she recognized, but now they shone with a luster they hadn’t had before. Her skin, once pale from lack of sunlight, had gained some color and her cheeks were fuller. All thanks to the medicine and exercise prescribed by Calisa.
—“Magical imbalance isn’t the cause of everything. The seizures or your naturally weak constitution can’t be helped, but you must have spent most of your time indoors.”
—“The doctors said fresh air wasn’t good for me…”
One doctor had insisted that cold air helped neutralize the toxins in her body, but after catching a bad cold from forced outdoor walks, she had been restricted from going out again.
Calisa had dismissed that as foolish advice.
—“Extreme cold or heat, or overexertion, are definitely bad. But Lady Erna needs activity. She needs strength. Medicine can stabilize your magic, but it won’t strengthen your body.”
Following her instructions, Erna had gone from daily walks to being able to run, and her frail, sickly self seemed like a lie now. She was healthy enough to plan things she never would’ve dreamed of before.
Yay for Erna! Also, how long was this jump?