The Kidnapped Prince is Mine Now - Chapter 61

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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 61
I felt as though I had just heard a name that absolutely should not have been mentioned here.
To be certain, I asked again.
“…Who?”
“Frederike Falkenberg, that mad woman!”
Unable to contain her fury, Hilda struck the floor with the hilt of her sword and cried out.
“Whoa, whoa. Calm yourself.”
Wolfgang beside her waved both arms downward as though soothing an agitated beast.
Upon witnessing this spectacle, Hilda immediately moved to tear off the gloves on her hands, but Clara’s measured voice came first.
“I took the liberty of examining it beforehand for any traces of poison, and found none. Of course, I did not read the contents.”
“Good work.”
I accepted the note Clara offered me with a bewildered feeling.
‘Why are so many pigeons arriving today of all days?’
And from people I had not anticipated at that.
Rotar Eisenrit, the Archbishop, and now Frederike Falkenberg. I was beginning to feel the weight of stepping into the very center of Imperial politics.
But then.
“…What is this?”
My brow furrowed involuntarily at the contents written on the note.
“Has the Saint been insulted in writing, Your Highness?”
“No, that’s not it.”
The contents were as follows.
「Bookshelf, Founding History Volume Four, right, left, left.」
A cipher?
After staring at the note for some time, I handed the paper to Clara.
“Do you understand what this means?”
Wolfgang and Hilda immediately pressed close beside me to examine the note together.
Their huddled appearance was rather amusing, though I found myself unable to laugh.
Clara, who presently raised her head, spoke with a darkened expression.
“I apologize, Your Highness. I too find it difficult to discern the meaning.”
“No need to apologize.”
I had assumed my own ignorance was to blame for not comprehending it.
If no one present could understand the note’s meaning, then the fault lay entirely with Frederike Falkenberg.
Unless she had deliberately scattered incomprehensible words to sow confusion.
“Do noble ladies engage in such games of wit, Your Highness?”
“Surely not. …Ah! Perhaps the central nobility conduct themselves differently?”
Listening to the somewhat scatterbrained exchange between Wolfgang and Hilda, my spirit deflated entirely.
“Forget it. Wasting effort on this note only serves her purposes.”
Seeing is believing.
Meeting her directly and demanding answers would prove far more fruitful than racking my brains here.
I crumpled Frederike Falkenberg’s note carelessly and tucked it into my garments.
“Let’s depart. Before it grows any later.”
The most pressing matter now was reaching the Imperial Capital.
I left the inn with my attendants and, before boarding the prepared carriage, turned one last time to gaze upon the path I had traveled.
The snowy mountains and fortress. The landscape of Graupels, now so familiar, had vanished from sight.
“….”
So there was no turning back now.
I turned my body and boarded the carriage without hesitation.
And five days later.
“…What?”
The news that greeted me upon arriving at the Imperial Palace was Rotar Eisenrit’s imprisonment.
***
Let me return to the moment of my arrival at court.
From Graupels to the Imperial Palace, the carriage that had raced for weeks finally halted before the Throne Hall, where the Emperor’s Audience Chamber lay.
The moment I descended from the carriage, I was met by a middle-aged man with a frame as thin as a dried stick.
“Welcome, Your Highness the Princess Consort. I am Helmut Wagner, the Lord Chamberlain.”
I gazed down at the chamberlain’s bowed head as he mechanically grasped my extended hand and pressed his lips to it.
Before coming here, Clara had given me a brief account of the Imperial Family’s key figures.
‘The Lord Chamberlain is a minister favored by the Emperor. Thus far, he has shown no tendency to support either the First Prince or Rotar Eisenrit.’
In other words, neutral—or perhaps aligned with the Emperor’s faction. In the Imperial Palace, where the First Prince Faction held sway, he was a relatively preferable contact.
I met the chamberlain’s gaze as he lifted his head and smiled brightly.
“How delightful to meet you. Will you guide me to His Imperial Majesty?”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
The chamberlain offered a brief reply and bowed once more. Then he turned and began walking ahead along the stone path of the Throne Hall.
I followed the chamberlain, walking slowly.
All the while, I exerted every effort not to drop the slip of paper he had pressed into my hand.
‘What did he give me?!’
An unexpected event had erupted the moment I entered the palace. And from an unlikely source at that.
With so many eyes watching, I couldn’t even clench my fist. I kept my palm taut and spoke to Clara behind me.
“Clara, could you give me a handkerchief? My hands keep perspiring.”
I was about to add an excuse—that I was nervous before meeting His Imperial Majesty—but decided against it, fearing my acting would become more obvious.
“Yes, Your Highness.”
And Clara possessed a terrifyingly sharp intuition.
She withdrew a white handkerchief with black patterns from her bosom and handed it to me—arranged so that even if the slip of paper were to peek out, it would not immediately catch the eye.
I pretended to wipe my hands with the handkerchief while unfolding the slip of paper I had been gripping.
And I read it.
「Second Prince Imprisoned」
“….”
Without thinking, I forcibly suppressed the corners of my mouth that had begun to twitch upward.
When I had sent the carrier pigeon, Rotar Eisenrit should have been a free man. Something must have transpired in the interim—I would need to discover what and who was responsible.
‘And the reason the Lord Chamberlain handed me this note.’
Rotar Eisenrit—a man destined to be executed after losing a single round of court politics.
There had to be a compelling reason why the chamberlain of a position with so much to lose would risk his life to hand over a scrap of paper.
My instinct screamed to abandon this rifle I was disguising as a walking stick and sprint directly to the Imperial Palace dungeons.
But before stepping into the Throne Hall, I folded the handkerchief containing the note and handed it to Clara, my tone deliberately exacting.
“Clara, go ahead to the Princess Consort’s Palace and begin unpacking. I’d like everything to be in perfect order when I return after paying my respects to His Majesty.”
“Yes, Your Highness. I shall see to it at once.”
Clara bowed respectfully, then turned and withdrew from the procession at a measured pace, her movements unhurried and composed. There was nothing suspicious about her demeanor.
Yet the moment she escaped the crowd’s gaze, she would quicken her steps and examine the note inside the handkerchief. She would investigate what had transpired within the Imperial Palace and discover the whereabouts of the knight order who had arrived here with Rotar.
Her husband, the Deputy Commander of the Knight Order, was likely imprisoned somewhere within the palace as well.
“…?”
Hilda’s face bore a question mark—she had not grasped the situation.
Her eyes seemed to ask: *Since when is Your Highness such a cunning schemer?* I deliberately ignored that gaze and continued forward.
Soon, the chamberlain’s footsteps halted before the doors of the Audience Chamber.
Before he could announce my arrival, I quickly lowered my voice and asked him a question.
“Is only His Majesty inside?”
The chamberlain glanced at my face very briefly before responding.
“No, Your Highness. Prince Maximilian and Lady Frederike Falkenberg are present as well.”
“….”
In a normal audience, one would meet the Emperor alone. Something was already terribly wrong.
The chamberlain, watching me grit my teeth inwardly, raised his ceremonial staff.
Three times in succession—*thud, thud, thud*—the staff struck the floor, and the chamberlain’s voice rang out.
“The Second Princess Consort enters the chamber.”
The guards flanking the doors immediately pulled the heavy panels open on both sides.
As the Audience Chamber came into view, I pressed my lips firmly together.
A soaring ceiling and an enormous chandelier. A crimson carpet stretching down the center, with marble columns arranged on either side.
Nothing here was particularly unfamiliar—I had visited the Audience Chamber before during Imperial Palace banquets, accompanied by the Archbishop.
But there was one crucial difference from those occasions.
‘He’s looking down at me with that insufferable expression.’
To the right of the Emperor’s throne, one step below, sat an ornate armchair.
Maximilian occupied it, wearing that same serene smile as always.

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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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