CHAPTER 47…………………………………………………………………
While the imperial banquet was in full swing, calm conversation flowed to the accompaniment of gentle music in the dining hall.
Everyone would have agreed that it was a peaceful evening without any particular trouble.
Perhaps preoccupied with Lizaina’s matter, Edwin, too, was unusually quiet.
“Haha, well now. My tongue is truly being spoiled today.”
Thanks to that, only Count Bourbon—Hestia’s fiancé—chattered on enthusiastically.
“To grant me the chance to taste such diverse and richly flavored dishes—thank you, Your Majesty.”
“I am pleased to hear that from a count known for his discerning palate.”
The Emperor accepted Count Bourbon’s words with measured grace.
Though he was distant with his fiancée Hestia, he was a man who had caught the Emperor’s eye and thus became the princess’s betrothed.
Trisha cast him a brief glance before quickly looking away.
“The next course is dessert.”
At that moment, a servant entered, pushing a trolley.
From the trolley, maids and attendants busily carried over covered desserts on silver trays.
“My goodness…!”
Count Bourbon exclaimed sincerely. The moment the lid was lifted, a sweet aroma rushed to their noses.
“It is a tart made with peaches from the Bellasi region.”
No sooner had the attendant finished explaining than Hestia’s expression stiffened.
Unlike Trisha, who noticed this, Count Bourbon—largely indifferent to his fiancée—remained cheerful.
“Peaches from Bellasi? Just by the look of it, they must be of the finest quality.”
“Take it away.”
“…Pardon?”
But the Emperor’s response was cold.
He gave the order as though the dessert were his sworn enemy.
Flustered, Count Bourbon merely darted his eyes about before finally speaking.
“Isn’t peach tart a dessert Your Majesty often enjoys?”
“I feel like something else today.”
If the Emperor said so much, there was nothing more to be said.
And so the peach tart—no doubt painstakingly prepared by the head chef—was cleared away without anyone taking a bite.
The silence while waiting for a new dessert to be prepared was filled by Hestia.
“Your Majesty, it is said that Milanet Bank has surpassed Berkshire Bank in capital.”
“Yes, I heard as much.”
“I, too, invested funds in advance and have earned more than triple the returns.”
Hestia added that she would show the detailed documents after the banquet.
“I am considering withdrawing the funds left in Berkshire Bank and investing more in Milanet Bank. I wondered what Your Majesty thinks.”
“I have always respected your judgment. You are a wise child.”
The Emperor smiled at Hestia with satisfaction.
Those who saw the affection in his gaze—almost as if to say she is truly my daughter—each continued their own calculations in silence.
Just then, a commotion arose outside.
“What is the matter?”
Frowning in irritation, the Emperor sent a bowed attendant to investigate.
Moments later, a man was dragged in by knights.
The man, who appeared to be a cook, lowered his head, his face pale as death.
“I-I have committed a crime worthy of death!”
The man’s appearance was a mess.
As if he had resisted arrest, his lip was split and bruises marked his body.
It was not a sight fit for a banquet, and the guests frowned.
“It is said that this man put poison in Princess Hestia’s tart.”
“…What?”
The Emperor’s face showed a flash of shock.
The others gasped in horror, and silence fell over the hall.
If the Emperor had not ordered the dessert removed earlier, Hestia might have been poisoned.
The Emperor, the first to assess the situation, soon fixed the cook with a furious glare.
“To dare target a princess—you must not value your life.”
In a cold voice, he ordered the captain of the knights beside him,
“Take him away and interrogate him until he confesses who is behind this.”
“Yes, Your Majesty!”
“W-wait! I will confess! Please, just spare my family!”
As the cook pleaded desperately, the Emperor gestured for the knight to stop.
“Who instigated you to commit such a heinous act?”
“Th-that is…”
After hesitating briefly, the cook, crushed by the Emperor’s sharp presence, confessed in a trembling voice.
“It… it was that person.”
The hand he pointed to was—
“Hah. How ridiculous.”
Millard Winchester.
The air in the banquet hall turned icy in an instant.
Hestia was the first to react.
Rising from her seat, she rebuked in a cold voice,
“That is nonsense! Why would my brother poison me?”
“Th-that I do not know. I merely did as I was ordered.”
Still bowing his head, the cook continued,
“B-but it is common knowledge that the late Empress loved Princess Hestia more than Archduke Winchester…”
“Silence!”
“Hestia.”
It was the Emperor who calmed her as she tried to shout the cook down in fury.
“Since testimony has been given, an investigation must be conducted.”
“Your Majesty, you know Millard would never do such a thing to me!”
Hestia’s voice trembled. Though he could read the anxiety in her expression and tone, the Emperor remained indifferent.
“One never knows.”
He cast a fleeting glance at Millard before looking away. His eyes then lingered on Hestia.
“I once nearly died after drinking poison given by a sibling born of the same mother. Do you think you would be any different?”
“…”
Hestia could not bring herself to say she would be.
Not because she did not trust Millard, but because to say so would be to openly defy the Emperor.
It was true that the Emperor showed her particular affection, but it was by no means limitless.
In the end, it meant she, like the other two, had to conduct herself carefully.
As Hestia bit her lip, the head chef and others were dragged into the hall.
The Emperor invited everyone to sit again, and the interrogation began.
Unexpectedly, it proceeded too smoothly.
“I have often heard that the cook once worked in the Winchester Archducal household kitchen.”
“On the day His Grace the Archduke Winchester returned to the capital, the cook took a full day’s leave.”
“I have seen His Grace the Archduke and the cook together…”
Listening to the almost unnaturally well-aligned testimonies, Hestia’s face gradually hardened.
“How monstrous!”
Count Bourbon slammed the table and leapt to his feet.
He strode toward the cook as if ready to cut him down on the spot, only to be restrained by knights.
“Your Majesty, this villain who attempted poisoning must be punished at once!”
Though Count Bourbon seemed to speak of the cook’s punishment, in truth he was also referring to Millard, who had been named as the instigator.
Realizing this, Hestia could bear it no longer.
“Something is strange, Your Majesty.”
“Hestia.”
“Their testimonies are as if they rehearsed them beforehand—”
“You are being childish.”
The Emperor cut her off with a click of his tongue.
“Your life was at stake.”
“…Your Majesty.”
“Do not make me question your judgment any further.”
The warning in his words—telling her not to interfere—left Hestia in despair.
Meanwhile, the Emperor seemed to reach a decision regarding Millard’s fate.
“The interrogation of the accused shall be entrusted to Count Bourbon.”
At this, Hestia squeezed her eyes shut.
Though Count Bourbon was her fiancé, they shared little bond.
Moreover, he is a man of the Marchioness of Devon.
Hestia had learned that fact through Trisha.
Count Bourbon had once been indebted to the Marchioness of Devon in his youth.
Perhaps even catching the Emperor’s favor and becoming her fiancé had all been carefully orchestrated.
I realized it too late.
Before the engagement, perhaps—but now, an imperial betrothal could not simply be broken without reason.
Especially one arranged directly by the Emperor.
Even if evidence favorable to Millard emerges, he will bury it.
Such a man could not be allowed to interrogate Millard.
In the end, just as Hestia resolved to defy the Emperor’s command not to interfere—
“Your Majesty, may I dare to speak?”
Suddenly, Trisha stepped forward, bowing her head to the floor.
“It is something Your Majesty must absolutely know.”
“T-Trisha?”
Ignoring Edwin’s startled voice, Trisha remained kneeling as the Emperor fixed her with a chilling gaze.
