Beguiling the Enemy’s Patriarch - Chapter 100

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 100
“So, who is this prospective Empress, then?”
“How should I know? I’ve only picked up bits and pieces of gossip.”
“I thought I heard somewhere that he has a long-standing betrothed….”
“That’s just baseless rumor, they say.”
“Is that so? Well, this is confusing. Who knows what’s true anymore? Though I suppose that’s always the way in the Capital.”
No particularly noteworthy names had surfaced. The sound of cargo being dragged from a cart echoed through the air. Followed by the usual trivial gossip.
“Did you hear? The girl with the blue roof, Lari, is getting married in autumn.”
“Oh, that….”
My steps resumed. The hem of my black robe brushed against the ground—frozen solid all winter, now beginning to thaw. The merchants’ voices carried on the wind grew steadily distant.
* * *
The spring breeze reached the Capital Barishard, the very source of rumors circulating throughout the Empire.
“Spring has arrived.”
“Indeed it has.”
Clarisse Aiven had just entered the Banquet Hall alongside her husband. Having arrived somewhat late, the ball was already in full swing. The dazzling light of crystal chandeliers, the oppressive warmth of the crowded space, the Imperial orchestra’s performance, the dance floor packed with guests. The magnificent Grand Hall, which had been utterly destroyed and burned in late spring two years prior, had been restored so completely that it seemed impossible to believe it had ever been damaged.
However, as the Imperial Palace was rebuilt, the current Emperor’s tastes had clearly influenced the design. The ornate ceiling frescoes and gilded columns—those eye-watering displays of extravagance—had been noticeably reduced. The once ostentatiously lavish Imperial Palace had been transformed into an elegant and refined space in less than a year.
Clarisse murmured to herself as she surveyed the Grand Hall.
“Well, he was never one for excessive ornamentation.”
“Was he? I don’t recall him having any particular opinion on the matter.”
“Not His Majesty. I meant someone else.”
Clarisse smiled meaningfully and raised her wine glass. The memory surfaced of that pale face when I had presented the pre-selected dresses. The Princess of Lebovni had rolled her eyes and deliberately chosen lighter, less ornate gowns. Two years had already passed, yet I wondered why I remembered such details so vividly.
‘She must be someone difficult to encounter in Belgot.’
Clarisse casually glanced toward where the Imperial Throne stood. But the Emperor was not there.
“My, where has he gone?”
The Emperor, who rarely enjoyed dancing or social activities, typically remained at Imperial functions for only a couple of hours before departing. This had been his pattern since his ascension, but since last year, he could no longer simply make an appearance and leave. Aiven Count, who had been clinging to his wife’s side, clicked his tongue.
“Tsk. Marquis Birzen is still pushing his second daughter on His Majesty, it seems.”
“What did you say?”
Clarisse’s voice turned sharp immediately.
“Where? Where is he?”
Aiven Count, startled and nearly dropping his glass, hastily distanced himself from his wife. Worried about having his backside pinched again, he only pointed toward the right side of the Grand Hall once he had established a safe distance.
“There…over there.”
Clarisse’s head turned with combative intent. Near the Terrace on the right side of the Grand Hall, closest to the Imperial Throne, a striking silver gleam was visible. The Emperor appeared to be rising from his seat to return to the Imperial Palace when he had been caught by Marquis Birzen.
A beautiful young lady stood shyly beside the Marquis—Marquis Birzen’s second daughter. A young woman whose face I knew well, currently emerging as the new flower of High Society. There was nothing more to consider. Clarisse moved forward with fierce determination.
“M-madam. Where are you…?”
Aiven Count reached out, but he possessed no strength to restrain his wife. The Count pressed his hand to his forehead and hurried after her. As the distance closed, the conversation between the Emperor and the Marquis became distinctly audible.
“My marriage is my own concern, Marquis Birzen.”
“I have heard that very statement for two years now, Your Majesty. Surely it is time to give some thought to matrimonial arrangements and the matter of succession….”
In truth, Marquis Birzen was not entirely wrong. With the Emperor approaching thirty, the absence of even a betrothed was indeed a matter worthy of consideration. It was customary for members of the Imperial Family to become betrothed at a young age, ascend to the throne, and simultaneously proceed with marriage and the appointment of an Empress.
Imperial marriages were typically inseparable from the union of political powers, so it was natural that all nobility focused their attention on such matters. Yet tradition was merely tradition. The reality of the present situation diverged too greatly from blind adherence to custom. The current era was not one of political chaos, divided between Imperial and Nobility factions, or factional strife among the nobility themselves.
Ever since the Emperor of two generations prior, weary of political turmoil, had extended the principle of monogamy even to the Imperial Family, the bitter conflicts among the Capital’s nobility—which had raged like dogs—had noticeably subsided. Moreover, the current Emperor had no siblings or cousins raised alongside him, so naturally there were no rivals competing for the throne.
I was the sole member of the Imperial Family designated as Crown Prince from birth, and my legitimacy was beyond any shadow of doubt—there was simply no reason or necessity for me to rely on the backing of noble factions.
A single sovereign with no political vulnerabilities. That was the status this generation’s ruler of Belgot possessed. Therefore, the conclusion was that while the marriage arrangements deviated slightly from convention, postponing them was neither a mistake nor an urgent matter.
Moreover, the Emperor had never been particularly inclined toward women, even during his time as Crown Prince. Aside from the fact that his refined appearance had always drawn flushed-faced young ladies to his side, the Emperor was consistently gentle and kind, yet fundamentally a man with formidable emotional walls.
The Emperor responded curtly.
“My body is healthy, and my mind is sound. Therefore, there is no reason to expect my death tomorrow. If your concern is about succession, I assure you it is hardly an urgent matter.”
“It is not merely about succession, Your Majesty. Belgot requires a mother figure. An Empress who can tenderly attend to the aspects Your Majesty has not yet noticed.”
“Where have I fallen short? While I may never be remembered as a sage ruler, I trust I am no tyrant.”
“I am certain you understand my meaning. Should you take an Empress, your workload would be halved. I am aware of how you have overextended yourself these past months.”
“If you would simply cease tormenting me in this manner, I might find some relief from the burden on my heart.”
Yet despite this, the ambitions of the nobility—those who wished to become the Emperor’s in-laws and solidify their families’ positions within the Imperial household—had not diminished in the slightest.
For nearly two years following the disappearance of the Elad Marquis Family’s mage, who had once been the Emperor’s betrothed, the court had swarmed with nobles desperate to attach their daughters to him. The Emperor pressed his temples in exasperation.
“Not once or twice. Are you not weary of this yourselves? Two years of repeating the same words every time you see me.”
“But Your Majesty….”
“Your daughter deserves to meet a better man than me, Marquis.”
In that moment, Marquis Birzen, Clarisse, and Aiven Count all harbored the same thought. Where in this realm could one possibly find a more suitable suitor than a young, handsome Emperor?
“Is your daughter not too precious to squander two whole years on me?”
Though his words were softly spoken, their true meaning was unmistakable: please cease this torment and withdraw. Clarisse felt a refreshing satisfaction at his cold tone. There was no need to worry this time either. With that thought, she stepped forward.
“My goodness, Lady Birzen. I wondered where you had gone, yet here you are.”
Upon spotting Clarisse, a brief flash of relief crossed the Emperor’s eyes. It was a peculiar bond born from enduring this similar situation far too many times to count on both hands. Clarisse smiled knowingly.
“Everyone has been searching for the young lady. Young gentlemen have been lined up, eager to steal even a kiss upon her hand.”
“Ah…. Countess Aiven.”
“Marquis, might I take the young lady with me?”
Clarisse smoothly inserted herself between the Emperor and her father, then linked arms with the poor young lady who stood helpless between them and drew her away. Marquis Birzen’s eyes immediately narrowed into triangles.
“Yes, yes. Do go ahead, Countess.”
Before the Marquis could utter another word, Aiven Count slipped in with practiced subtlety. He too had participated in this theatrical performance numerous times at the Countess’s behest, and what had once been an awkward line had now become perfectly natural. Marquis Birzen ground his teeth as he watched Clarisse swiftly depart with his daughter.
“…Then I shall take my leave as well, Your Majesty.”
“That was the most welcome thing you have said to me all day.”
The Emperor replied tersely. His mood was clearly soured. Now it fell to Aiven Count to soothe him. This too was something he had experienced countless times before. The Count released a deep sigh.
“So it was Marquis Birzen today.”
“Yesterday it was Duke Laymon.”
“Good heavens, the Duke has a daughter?”
“His wife’s niece, I heard. It was utterly absurd….”
The Emperor ground his teeth savagely.
“Does anyone think I refuse to marry because I do not wish to?”
Then why do you not simply bring her to me? The words rose to the Count’s throat but he swallowed them admirably. He understood all too well why his sovereign reacted with such sharp irritation.
“Has there still been no response from Lebovni?”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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