Chapter 2
The royal family, for all intents and purposes, had always been a source of mixed reactions to the people of Obelia. Oh, they were revered and loved, rightly so. Their lineage, beauty, and power cannot be denied, rumored to be blessed by the gods.
The people were proud of their nation, and the family that headed their country. Under the royal family’s banner, Obelia had thrived. Never had there been a crisis so dire that had not been solved by their past Emperors. With their borders safe, their stomachs full, their children thriving and content...the people of Obelia loved their monarchs for what they continued to provide.
However, nobody can deny that the royal family could be… eccentric at best. Loose lips would mutter that they were batshit insane, that all that looks, power, and talent came with hubris.
Decades of fratricide, betrayals, and bloody battles for the throne was as common as breathing. The only good thing is that it never spilled into the common folk even though they took sides. The current Emperor had been relatively unknown when he took the throne from his brother, the crown prince. The people had been wary but subdued, willing to give him a chance, and the Emperor Claude, as unfeeling and ruthless he might appear to be, seemed to be delivering prosperity to Obelia as his ancestors had.
Of course, the lack of royal heirs was an issue to both the people and nobles alike. The Emperor was the only remaining member of the royal family. What would happen to the Empire if, God forbid, something happened to the Emperor?
There was the Princess Athanasia of course, but the people were wary of calling her so. She was legitimized yes, but barely. Born to a royal consort whose name had been forbidden to utter the moment she died. The baby had not been baptized in the Holy Cathedral nor proclaimed to the people. She was never seen, and if not for the gossip from the royal maids confirming that she was alive yet banished to the Ruby Palace in an almost destitute state, the people would have assumed she didn’t really exist, as if the Consort Diana hadn’t been seen walking in the royal gardens with a growing belly.
The princess was unseen, unmentioned. Half of the public believed that if it weren’t for the fact that there were only two royal members left, the Emperor would have been done with her.
This made the nobles eager to press their daughters and other eligible females towards the Emperor. It was done subtly of course, because the Emperor had a temper that ran deathly cold, to displease him meant a silent condemnation that would inevitably lead to banishment from court.
(They were terrified of the Emperor, yes, but fear could only keep greed and delusions of grandeur at bay but for a moment.)
But the Emperor was disinterested at any female introduced to him. It seems the death of Consort Diana also spelled the death of the Emperor’s libido, once gossiped to be ravenous and never-ending by giggling courtesans and pink-cheeked noble ladies. Now, he barely gave them a glance, his expression constantly bored and stiff. Not even ladies who tried to dye their hair blonde and mimic the Consort Diana’s manner of clothing and elegance was given a scrap of attention.
It was like the Emperor forgot the Consort Diana.
Which was… quite unbelievable really, given the way he had quietly adored her.
Was the Emperor’s affection that fleeting?
Still, love and affection was not their primary goal. None if it mattered if a woman could bear the Emperor an heir that would elevate their family. The Consort Diana was a commoner, a foreigner, and had no known family to capitalize or back her up… which made the Princess Athanasia vulnerable and her position less secure even now. She was unloved by the Emperor and with her mother’s muddled background, she was considered a half-blood, a precarious position. Surely any woman who bore the Emperor a more legitimate heir would have its mother’s noble family as support, would be a pureblood Obelian citizen which the people would be more receptive to.
So it had been a monthly cycle for the nobles a few months after the infant princess’s birth. Dress up their female relatives, present them to the Emperor, and hope one of them catches his eye.
The last thing they expected… was a proclamation of a prince’s birth.
A loud crash echoed through the Alpheus mansion, a woman’s hysterical voice following the clatter, her voice sounding even shriller as it was the dead of the night.
“What now, cousin?! The Emperor legitimized a prince, and it was from that plain, bookish Lumley chit of all people, the one who was married to a random knight—”
“Calm yourself, Rosalia.” Roger said, massaging his temple tiredly. He knew the woman wasn’t just speaking from rage but also from jealousy.
Rosalia had never liked Earl Lumley’s eldest daughter, the Earl’s only child from his first wife. The two women were within the same age group and mingled in the same parties when they were young. Roger knew that Rosalia’s hatred stemmed from the fact that while Rosalia managed to grab some influence within the noble ladies of Obelia, Elsbeth Lumley never partook in the same activities, preferring to stick to her books and study instead of trying to curry favor from the ladies hailing from families more powerful than her own. Rosalia and her peers had been offended. As such, Elsbeth had been the subject of cruel gossip and pointed comments. Roger himself had heard Rosalia speak of her derisively, commenting on how plain and dull she looked, about how her own father must not favor her with how she wore outdated clothing and boring jewelry.
Rosalia was no doubt infuriated that the girl she mocked was now the mother of an Obelian prince.
She had no idea just how valuable and significant Elsbeth was even before bearing a royal heir.
Roger sighed, looking ahead and trying to focus his thoughts.
Elsbeth Lumley Monroe.
A woman who, while a widow and informally banished from her house, was more cunning than Roger thought her to be. His spies bought to light just how the woman managed to build her influence away from prying eyes and ears. Her status as a childless woman who was not favored by her family should have brought her to ruin, but she thrived outside their control.
Roger had last seen her during a summer soiree, just a few months after her husband had died. She had been wearing mourning clothes, as a woman her circumstance should, but none could deny the way she caught the eye of several people, as if drawn to her despite her muted air. She was fair-looking, quite beautiful in her modest gown despite having the barest amount of cosmetics, far from the drab woman Rosalia constantly described her as. Her tawny eyes were fierce, her back straight, and her mouth set in a perfectly neutral smile that impressed Roger. She might not be as done up as the other ladies were, but that alone made her stand out, made her look more intimidating.
Roger remembered the malicious smile on Rosalia's face, hidden underneath an overly decorated fan, clearly anticipating Elsbeth's return to society the way a predator wanted to toy with a helpless beast. Roger chided her, telling her to leave a grieving woman alone, but he knew his cousin would not be able to resist mocking a rival.
As it was, Rosalia's night did not go the way she planned.
None of the ladies she gathered were able to approach the Lady Elsbeth. No, she was surrounded by scholars and friends, professors and foreign visitors. There was a fortified number of people surrounding her, people Rosalia and her ilk could not bully. The conversations that flowed within the group was not something the other women could just interrupt.
Roger observed the on-goings with slight fascination. It was amusing to see Rosalia's face turn redder and redder as she continuously failed in even getting the Lady Elsbeth to look at them.
The information Roger gathered on her was enlightening. She was currently the only female senior mage of the Black Tower and was connected to some of the most learned and intellectually-inclined individuals of Obelia, and even beyond the continent. She had kept her head down as a child, studied in Arlanta Academy, graduated early, and continued her research by traveling to the South for a year before returning to Obelia to get married. Most of her acquaintances, people she had met during her time at the Academy and then during her travels, were magically and academically powerful and notoriously hard to sway, being absorbed in their own research, work, or were generally uninterested in politics.
Still, those people, some of which Roger knew, considered Elsbeth as one of their own judging by the way they spoke fondly of her in passing. To scheme against her was incurring their attention as well.
As such, Elsbeth was not someone easy to cross.
And even the random knight she married, the one his cousin was scoffing at, had been a captain and a Viscount before he died, the last of his house. He might not have been as wealthy or influential as the people in court, but Viscount Conrad Monroe had been respected by the people working in his lands, and that respect was transferred to his widow. As such, Elsbeth Monroe was a countess in her own right, one of the rare noble ladies in charge of her own finances and time without the authority of a husband holding her back.
The woman in front of him fumed, clearly still not over the shocking news they have received. In his desk was a cream white envelope with the royal crest embossed in its center, an invitation from the palace to witness the prince’s baptism that was to be held at the Royal Cathedral.
The last baptism that was held there was Emperor Claude’s when he had been an infant, although it was a small affair and only attended to by Consort Rosena’s family. The late Emperor had been absent, trying to appease his angry Empress.
But according to Roger’s spies, Emperor Claude was sparing no expense for the child’s baptism, a son he had personally named Ambrose.
Ambrose de Alger Obelia.
The Emperor could not show his favor clearer than he already had.
He could feel dread creeping in his shoulders. What he had planned for his ward was already risky. He knew the penalties of hiding a possible royal heir. But Jeanette was not just any child. She was Penelope’s daughter.
Penelope, who had been willful and ambitious and charming and outspoken.
Penelope, who had been Emperor Claude’s fiancée, had been his sole female companion aside from his mother for years.
Penelope, who had ran from her betrothed and hid her pregnancy for some reason, whose child was illegitimate and temporarily hidden, as per Penelope’s own dying request.
Roger knew just how ruthless the Emperor could be. He knew firsthand how he treated enemies and traitors. The way he methodically got rid of the entire royal family was a warning to all.
And yet, when it was reported to him how the Princess Athanasia went ignored and unwanted, a budding thought in his heart took place. Surely this meant the princess wasn’t favored, that the Consort Diana wasn’t that beloved if her daughter wasn’t even properly acknowledged.
Perhaps… if the Emperor’s heart thawed in the future, would he be more welcoming when presented with another royal heir? One older than Athanasia, one who had the backing of a Ducal House, who had the features of his former fiancée, a woman he had loved… a woman who still sits in a portrait in the Emperor’s study, as his spies had told him.
For the Emperor to keep a portrait of Penelope while destroying every trace of the Consort Diana’s belongings…
From this information, Roger believed… no, he knew Penelope was still in the Emperor’s mind. The Consort Diana must have been a distraction to him. True, the Emperor Claude didn’t even attend Penelope’s funeral, even when a missive have been sent, but nobody had witnessed his reaction.
Surely… surely he had been devastated. Surely, when he catches sight of Jeanette, with her bejeweled blue eyes, her sweet demeanor and features reminiscent of Penelope… surely the Emperor would be a welcoming father.
(Roger ignored the whisper of rationality in his ear, the whisper that reminded him of how contemptuous Penelope had talked about Claude in her final moments, how she had asked for the dead Anastacius in her delirious ramblings.)
…it did not matter.
And so a plan had been formed. He would nurture and guide Jeanette, would turn her into the perfect heir to the throne. She will be taught to be kind, gracious, and refined. He would raise her with his own son, and Ijekiel would be a wonderful companion and fiancé to her, a loyal Prince Consort once Jeanette is legitimized and crowned by her father. And of course, since the royal family had been decimated, reduced to such meager numbers, Jeanette would turn and ask counsel from her uncle Roger, her benefactor, one who provided her with every necessity and luxury she could every ask while growing up.
If such a future came into fruition, the House of Alpheus would rise higher than any house had in Obelian history. His own influence would only be second to the Emperor.
And yet, just like everyone vying for power…
Roger never accounted for the birth of a prince.
How could he ever discount the possibility of more heirs? That there would be more contenders to the throne?
And now a prince, a male heir of all things…
He had been too certain about the Emperor’s disinterest towards females, towards his growing apathy over everything except running the Empire. He forgot that the Emperor was just a man in the end, that his urges could result into a child. A child with the most troublesome woman Roger had come across, one he couldn’t even control or influence.
He didn’t even know the woman was pregnant, and he was the Emperor’s advisor for heaven’s sake.
“Cousin!” Rosalia snapped, and Roger returned his full attention to the woman who had been attempting to rupture his ears in the past few minutes. “What are we going to do?!”
Right. What were they going to do?
A legitimate prince took precedence over any princess. Ambrose de Alger Obelia may be an infant for now, but his rise as Crown Prince was inevitable, unless the Emperor was hiding even more sons somewhere, which Roger doubted. And even if he was, the Emperor was already showing his preference towards Prince Ambrose, with how he had personally given the boy his immortal name and was having him baptized in the Royal Cathedral.
Roger sighed. There was nothing they could do. Unless the Emperor had another son in the future, a son that could contest the throne like Claude did against his legitimate brother, the new prince was here to stay.
Anyway, having more male heirs was the last thing Jeanette and House Alpheus needed.
“We do nothing.” Roger finally said. Rosalia furrowed her brows and opened her mouth to protest but he shot her a look. “We are not going to reveal Jeanette. With how much the Emperor approves of Prince Ambrose, any sort of revelation that can spoil his legitimacy can put us in trouble.”
“But if he’s this affectionate towards his son, what more—”
“—a daughter?” Roger said with humor in his voice, making his cousin falter. “You mean a daughter like the Princess Athanasia, who is rotting away at the Ruby Palace? The same place where the Consort Diana died and the Emperor slaughtered everyone afterwards?” Roger scoffed. “We are even more at risk now. Who knows what the Emperor is thinking? He might prefer sons over daughters, which could be why he acknowledges Prince Ambrose over Princess Athanasia. No, the best thing to do is to tighten our security. Hide Jeanette’s existence better than before. Unless something happens to Prince Ambrose—”
Because while it might be treason to think of the death of a royal, for the prince to meet his demise would be the best course of fate for Jeanette.
“—then we can do nothing for now.” Roger said grimly.
Rosalia scoffed. “The brat might not be the Emperor’s—”
Roger never felt a stronger urge to roll his eyes. “If the boy wasn’t the Emperor’s then we would have heard of an execution instead of a baptism. Seriously, cousin? Do use your brain. There are no other living male members of the royal family left. The Emperor visited the Black Tower several times a year ago, coinciding with the age of the Prince. And there are ways to get the truth out of people, ways that the Emperor no doubt employed. No, the boy is his.”
Rosalia’s face flushed an ugly color. No doubt thinking uncharitable things about the boy’s mother again.
“There is no going against the Emperor’s decree. The prince is here to stay.” Roger closed his eyes, contemplating. “Maybe… maybe we can still even salvage this. If the Emperor truly abhors the Princess Athanasia, perhaps the prince will share the same sentiment as he grows. He might learn to dislike the princess as the Emperor does. And if we could gently introduce Ijekiel to him when they’re grown, as a companion perhaps, and then have Jeanette follow them afterwards—”
“Then the prince might see her positively.” Rosalia’s eyes glinted. “He might regard her in a fond way if they all spend time together. And if he sees her as a good friend, a gentle girl, then he might be receptive to her as a sister.”
“That is what I think, yes.” Roger said, hiding a grimace. He might have preferred to see Jeanette herself on the throne, but as long as the prince was healthy and sound of mind, it was an impossible dream. Even using assassins was hopeless, the royal palace was fortified with spells. And considering who his parents were, Roger didn’t even contemplate the prince being less than brilliant and powerful in magic.
“And she’s a girl, which means she’s no threat to him.” Rosalia muttered, a smile growing on her face. “Yes. We can still fix this. Replace that girl with Jeanette in not only the Emperor’s heart, but the prince’s.” Then she grimaced, an ugly look on her face. “This means I have to be polite to that girl. Ugh.”
Roger flashed her an insincere smile. At least he could garner some amusement at his cousin’s misery. “That girl is the mother of the future Emperor. Do remember to watch your tongue from now on. Quite a pity really, that you’ve antagonized her so. It seems we all have to live with our mistakes, doesn’t it?”