Sister-in-law of the Heroine in a Childcare Novel - Chapter 37

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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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Episode 37

Everyone sensed it instinctively: when the current Holy Emperor died and a new one had to be chosen, a war—not quite war, but close enough—would erupt.
The incident that had just unfolded in the Imperial Palace was a stark example of this very thing.
The Castrain Ducal House had summoned the High Priest Illian, claiming they could cure the Imperial Princess.
And Empress Cleo, in turn, had summoned High Priest Marjid to prove that the curse Illian had failed to detect and treat was real, and to cure it and wake the Imperial Princess from her slumber.
A Temple that didn’t hunger for worldly power? Ridiculous. This was nothing more than proxy warfare between the Illian Faction and the Marjid Faction.
As the Empress laughed mockingly at those who revered the Temple, the doors swung open.
“High Priest Marjid has arrived.”
“Ah! Your Majesty Empress Cleo. You grow lovelier each time I see you!”
“My goodness, High Priest—you always steal the very words from my lips.”
Empress Cleo’s eyes crinkled with seductive charm as she smiled. Marjid, though bound by his vow as a High Priest to shun desire and maintain a pure body and spirit, gazed upon her smile with evident satisfaction.
At first glance, Marjid appeared to be nothing more than a kindly, round-faced neighborhood gentleman. His generous frame was concealed beneath voluminous priestly robes, and he wore no ornaments—just simple, modest attire—with a warm, genuine smile on his lips. It was quite a pleasing sight.
Yet those seemingly plain priestly robes were woven from fabric so precious that a skilled seamstress would need a full year of embroidery merely to complete a single garment, and beneath the belt, which appeared to be ordinary cloth, were rare jewels interwoven with gold and silver threads, embroidered with the divine symbol.
Though his appearance suggested nothing more than a humble, unassuming priest, the vestments and adornments he wore were worth every bit as much as Empress Cleo’s own dress.
“You’ve heard the details of this matter, I trust? Do you think you’ll be able to manage it?”
“When have I ever once disappointed Your Majesty?”
“Never. Heh heh. If you handle this matter well, I shall see you’re handsomely rewarded.”
“Your Majesty has always recognized my abilities.”
With pleasant laughter between them, Empress Cleo set out toward Lilac Palace with her witness—a haggard-faced maid who had fled Rose Palace shrieking yesterday—and her evidence: the proof of the curse that she herself had fabricated.
Marjid was a man who understood things most remarkably well. He grasped every detail of the situation and stood ready with every preparation necessary to suit the Empress’s purposes.
In other words, he was perfectly capable of lying whenever his interests demanded it. What could he not do in service to his future glory?
If he succeeded in placing the future Emperor in his debt, who could say whether he himself might not one day become the Holy Emperor?
Imagining that rosy future, Marjid walked slowly forward.
He gave no thought to whatever else might unfold from his testimony that the young Imperial Princess was cursed, nor to the countless lives of commoners that would be lost as a consequence. Such was the price of a great cause.
If by some chance the Imperial Princess, lying in bed and feigning sleep, still refused to wake even after he poured his Divine Power into her, he had a plan: he would stab her with the Sacred Dagger under the pretext of purifying the curse.
Once he had struck her with the Sacred Dagger, imbued with divine power, he would claim that the depth of the curse was measured by the pain she endured, and proceed with treatment. Who would dare object?
At the very least, her screams and suffering would ensure she woke up.
The thought of that notorious, insufferably arrogant girl—beautiful though she undeniably was—weeping and shrieking in agony filled him with a peculiar thrill.
The fact that even noble blood could not allow her to resist whatever the High Priest chose to inflict made it all the more exhilarating.
When he saw the Empress produce that object darkened by shadow as evidence of a curse, it occurred to him that she might have made secret contact with those whom the Temple had branded as heretics—those who wielded the power of darkness. But he decided to overlook it. The Temple, after all, needed to keep a few of the Imperial Family’s secrets in reserve as leverage.
Moreover, it was truly an excellent method for eliminating a rival. He decided it would be worthwhile to identify a proper source for such things in the future.
“It seems fewer people are blocking our path than I expected. I thought soldiers would have been stationed here.”
Marjid remarked with apparent surprise as they approached Lilac Palace, and Empress Cleo let out a derisive snort.
“Even if they tried to stop us now, what good would it do? It would be pointless.”
“A fair point.”
“Had the Emperor not granted his permission, there would be grounds for blocking us—but since he has, it would give me cause to arrest them. Pity there’s no resistance to work with.”
“We could always charge them with complicity to heresy, among other things.”
The pair of them—so perfectly aligned in intention—exchanged knowing smirks. At the entrance to the Empress’s Palace stood only a single figure. The Empress’s attendant, Countess Constance, lowered her head in greeting. Empress Cleo, her face alight with the smile of a victor, spoke.
“Constance, it’s been too long. Tell me—is the Empress in good health?”
“The Empress remains unharmed under Your Majesty’s kind concern.”
“How remarkable. The young Imperial Princess, who has enjoyed such splendor within these halls under the Empress’s protection, has been suffering from a curse all this while—and yet you tell me the Empress learned of it only just now and remains unmoved? I had thought a mother’s heart would be torn with anguish at such news.”
“Please, come inside.”
Finding Constance’s response unsatisfying, Empress Cleo snorted derisively, but gestured to High Priest Marjid that they should enter.
The investigation was already complete, and the Emperor had given his approval. Though the inquiry had been rushed through in less than two days, there was no one to lodge a protest.
‘I wonder how that girl will greet me.’
Empress Cleo was curious.
At the dining table, hadn’t the girl played her part so perfectly, extracting from the Emperor exactly what she desired with such artless cunning? Though they hadn’t met face to face since then, she had certainly heard reports.
The Empress had always been straightforward. She endured and bore her burdens steadfastly unless the matter posed a truly grave threat. So her having the maids perform prayers through the High Priest seemed unlike her.
Perhaps the Empress had meant to deceive even Cleo in this. Or perhaps that cunning little thing had orchestrated it all herself.
To think—now that she had the backing of the Castrain Ducal House, she was carrying herself in such a manner?
Either way, it was pathetic that the Empress would place herself under that girl’s protection.
Once this matter was properly resolved, Cleo intended to argue for the Empress’s confinement. The Empress had proven unable to properly care for even one Imperial Princess and had allowed a curse to fester all this time—she was unfit for her position.
Of course, the black sword within Rose Palace had truly been unexpected.
That sword she had gifted—it was something strange?
Since she herself had not given it to Raymond, Titania would have ended up bearing the blame in any case.
It was common knowledge that Titania had no means of obtaining such a renowned blade with such a history.
She was grateful she hadn’t given it to Brian as originally planned. If such a matter had occurred with Brian, the cleanup would have been far more troublesome.
What Empress Cleo still found strange was that Titania hadn’t given the sword to Young Duke Raymond.
It would have been a plausible pretext for summoning her betrothed, yet she hadn’t.
Well. Now that trouble had arisen, Cleo wasn’t particularly curious about the reason. So long as it was something she could exploit, that was enough.
Even if the sword suddenly became docile, after Marjid cured Titania, Cleo would have found another use for it.
Whether cursed blade or holy sword, in the end humans attach names to such things. And Cleo intended to weave whatever story served her interests, regardless of the truth.
Though the Empress’s Palace had been so tightly sealed that few could come and go, there was no resistance whatsoever to their entry now.
Empress Cleo walked forward with delight. She had borrowed three of the Royal Guard—a force only the Emperor could command—to accompany them, which made her satisfaction even greater. Should anyone dare resist, they would feel the full weight of her displeasure.
“This is the chamber where the Imperial Princess resides.”
Countess Constance explained in a dry tone before the closed door. Empress Cleo felt a faint, inexplicable unease.
Why was the Empress’s Palace so quiet?
It was strange that the Empress had not come out to meet them, no matter what. And Prince Adrian—his mother was in peril, yet he hadn’t even attempted to intervene.
She had prepared herself for any number of scenarios. If she didn’t see the Imperial Princess with her own eyes inside the Empress’s Palace, she couldn’t declare her cursed and proceed with treatment. She had assumed the girl would be hidden away.
Or else, she had thought the Empress might rush to produce the Imperial Princess at the last moment, claiming she had just now awakened.
If the girl insisted she had no curse and refused to meet with Marjid, Cleo would seize upon that resistance as suspicious, and through the mouths of the maids declare that “Titania has become strange due to the curse’s effects.”
Whether cursed or mad, the fact remained that the Young Duke’s ward had been saved, and the marriage wouldn’t be jeopardized. The Emperor would have no objection.
Either way, the Empress would look quite foolish. She had anticipated strong resistance, but instead….
Before the closed door, Empress Cleo hesitated by instinct. Just then—
“Your Majesty!”
In the distance, a maid from Cleo’s personal retinue came running, gasping for breath. Empress Cleo’s brow furrowed.
“Your Majesty! Please wait! Disaster has struck!”
“How dare you call to me at such a critical moment! What could possibly be graver than this!”
Irritation flashed across her face. Yet the maid, drenched in sweat contrary to her usual composure, cried out in desperate urgency.
“P-Prince Brian has been chased by a Magic Beast that appeared suddenly and has fallen into the Underground Maze Garden!”
“What—what did you just say?!”
Empress Cleo’s genuine shock was complete.

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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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