The Villainess Lives Twice - Chapter 189

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Team. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 189

Elderly priests and monks in yellow robes sang hymns. The chorus that began from deep within the Grand Cathedral instantly filled even the forecourt.

At the prayer service, young altar boys sing, but at the harvest festival, it’s the opposite – the elderly sing.

It was a ritual to give thanks for the harvest and acknowledge winter’s approach. It’s only right that those who have borne fruit should offer their gratitude.

The Emperor listened to the singing while briefly narrowing his eyes and looking around the Grand Cathedral’s garden.

Wherever his gaze fell, nobles knelt and bowed their bodies. Their attire was uniformly splendid, more brilliant than light-reflecting waves when touched by sunlight.

The Emperor let out something that could have been either laughter or a sigh.

Then he made the sign of the cross toward the sacred relic held high by the bishop leading the procession.

The bishop silently turned around. Normally greetings would be appropriate, but there was an exception when holding sacred relics.

This was because he was not a human priest but a vessel serving the divine. The same applied to the procession behind him and all the singing priests.

After greeting the Emperor, the procession turned back toward the altar. The Emperor walked with slow steps at the very back.

Cedric followed behind him. Behind Cedric came Prime Minister Lin, high nobles, and officials in a line.

As the procession approached, the ladies around Artizea also knelt with their knees touching the ground. Their skirts spread out like flower buds.

Since Artizea couldn’t kneel due to her condition, she intended to stand after all the sacred relics had passed.

However, maintaining balance wasn’t easy. As she struggled and grabbed the armrest, one of her guard knights moved hastily despite being in front of the Emperor.

Before that, Cedric approached first and extended his hand to support Artizea.

Artizea relied on his arm to barely raise herself. Perhaps startled by the hymns, the baby had been moving unusually actively in her belly. Cold sweat broke out.

“Forgive me for not kneeling even though the Empire’s Sun has risen to the highest place. Artizea of Evron offers her greetings.”

“Be at ease. Would I really ask a woman in her final month to kneel?”

“I am honored.”

Artizea bowed her head.

“It’s been a long time. I’ve heard news of you, but seeing you safe like this puts me at ease.”

The Emperor looked her over once and let out a hollow laugh.

He did evaluate Artizea as politically astute, possessing both prudence and decisiveness.

But the impression of her young age wasn’t something that easily faded.

The Emperor remembered Artizea at five or six years old, clutching her dirty skirt hem and following behind Lawrence.

However, Artizea was already Marquess Rosan, had established herself as Duchess of Evron, and would turn twenty next year.

The Emperor had heard through three different channels that work to fill warehouses for grain relief in the western regions was proceeding smoothly.

Secret investigators reported that the Rosan Marquess family’s wealth wasn’t decreasing despite spending considerable amounts.

The two maids brought from Evron Duchy – one clever and one kind – had good reputations despite their low status.

He also knew that while many initially mocked them for being from provincial nobility, especially from the northern countryside, now more people sought their friendship.

And now she was bearing an heir. If born healthy, the child would be a legitimate successor.

The hymn blessing the harvest filled the vast Grand Cathedral and overflowed into the Emperor’s heart, making his stomach feel empty and burn.

So he half-listened to Artizea’s brief responses.

“It’s all thanks to Your Majesty’s grace.”

“Standing at the altar that blesses the harvest, your baby will also receive blessings.”

“I am honored.”

The Emperor offered kind words and turned away. It was harvest festival day. There was nothing wrong with speaking well to a pregnant woman on a ritual day.

The Archbishop standing before the altar greeted the Emperor.

Cedric also linked arms with Artizea and followed up onto the platform. Only then could they see what was placed on the altar.

Agricultural products sent from each region were placed in small portions. Knowing Cedric’s gaze was scanning the offerings, Artizea gently tugged his arm.

‘Ah.’

Cedric tried to remove intent from his gaze.

“Lisia sent a letter saying a new crop called Melben was chosen as this year’s harvest festival offering.”

Artizea had conveyed this information two weeks ago.

“Melben?”

“The western agricultural inspector discovered a crop that can be harvested in midwinter and gave it that name.”

Just hearing “midwinter,” Cedric immediately knew what it was.

But before he could voice his excitement, Artizea placed her index finger to her lips to stop him.

If discovered, this would be grounds for one-sided attack and could endanger all of the north. It required more careful handling than most political issues.

There was no need for further discussion or action.

Cedric understood this meaning and changed the topic to something anyone unaware of the circumstances could discuss.

“But getting a new crop onto the altar wouldn’t be simple.”

“The western grain merchants’ union apparently spent considerable bribes. Wheat is more than currency – it’s the foundation of trade in the west. If farmers can sell wheat instead of consuming it, grain merchants can reap great profits.”

“You too?”

Artizea smiled. The now-enlarged western grain merchants’ union didn’t move according to her will.

However, 27 of the member grain merchants belonged to Artizea.

Even considering the bribe money, if they could profit from both wheat prices and trade volume for two or three years, it would be reasonably profitable.

“The official who named the crop is said to be quite old and diligent. He has no power, but apparently knew quite a few people here and there. Many trust him for his diligence.”

Artizea only knew Pove from records.

In the past, after Lawrence’s ascension, Artizea had researched and found many capable people to rebuild the west. Pove was on that list.

She couldn’t actually use him. Lawrence focused more on crushing warlords than rebuilding western industry.

Perhaps he implemented even harsher policies because it was a place Lisia loved.

Completely despondent, Pove wouldn’t serve no matter how many times he was called.

Later she heard he died of illness from poverty. The messenger who brought this news also carried his will.

It contained lamentations that since the Emperor was heaven, nothing under heaven would change unless the Emperor’s heart changed.

Artizea personally burned that will. Pove’s family probably gave it to the messenger hoping for some recognition. But it could have resulted in the entire extended family being executed for treason.

She thought he would be someone Lisia could utilize well. She was pleased it seemed she wasn’t wrong.

“Several local officials petitioned the temple on behalf of that diligent official.”

“What’s his name?”

“Pove. You don’t need to remember it for now.”

For now.

Cedric nodded at those words.

“Right, since you’ll remember anyway, I can just ask you when I’m curious.”

“Lord Cedric.”

“And even if I forget to ask, you’ll remind me.”

Artizea sighed and lightly shook her head.

Cedric knew this was Artizea’s version of a light response.

Though he’d heard about it beforehand, seeing it actually placed on the altar still stirred emotions he couldn’t suppress.

The Melben was thicker with thinner skin than when grown in the north. But Cedric could recognize it as the same crop.

Artizea tugged his arm again slightly.

Cedric erased his expression and lightly stroked Artizea’s hand to show he understood.

But this tug wasn’t meant to tell Cedric to manage his expression.

Artizea’s breathing became irregular.

Cedric glanced at her sideways. Artizea had her head slightly lowered. With her right hand, not the left arm linked with Cedric’s, she was supporting her belly with force.

“Does it hurt?”

Only the Emperor and the two of them were on the altar. Despite knowing all eyes were on them, Cedric couldn’t help but ask.

Artizea, breaking out in cold sweat, spoke quietly in a whispered voice.

“I’m fine. It could be, false labor, at this time.”

“Tia.”

“Even if it’s, real labor, it’ll be like this, for hours anyway.”

Artizea took a deep breath.

Cedric almost cried out, but before that, Artizea tugged his arm again. This time some color had returned to her face.

“It’ll end soon. It’s bearable.”

“Tia…”

“Shh.”

Making noise during the ritual wouldn’t look good. Artizea gripped Cedric’s arm again.

Meanwhile, the Archbishop continued the ritual, reciting prayers. The long prayer blended softly with the hymn’s melody like a song.

Cedric grew anxious. It wasn’t easy to keep it from showing on his face.

“Your Majesty, the wine.”

The Archbishop stepped aside slightly in front of the altar and spoke.

Cedric gritted his teeth. The ritual had to be performed anyway, and he had the responsibility to assist the Emperor in this place.

Artizea released his arm.

Cedric approached the Emperor’s side. As the Emperor knelt on one knee before the altar, he knelt on both knees and poured wine from the bottle the Archbishop handed him into the wooden cup the Emperor held.

The Emperor sprinkled the wine from the cup evenly over the offerings. Then he lit the fire.

The offerings burst into flames. Cedric watched those flames while holding his breath.

No one paid attention to crops they had never seen before.

In the first place, among the people watching this altar, there was no one who would know that such crops had not existed before.

Probably only the priests who prepared and arranged the offerings and those who received bribes would know.

Finally, the Emperor transferred the fire to a long candle from those flames. The Archbishop received that candle and placed it in a lantern made of gold and glass.

This fire would be maintained without being extinguished until next year’s harvest festival.

The bishop who received the lantern from the Archbishop now stood at the very front of the procession. Following behind him were bishops carrying the sacred objects used in the ritual.

The Emperor watched that procession. His role in the ritual was completely finished.

The Archbishop bowed his head to the Emperor in gratitude.

“You made no mistakes again this year.”

“There shouldn’t be mistakes in such a thing. It’s not like I’ve only done this for a year or two.”

Only the fact that Cedric had done what he had Lawrence do last year bothered him.

Now it was time for the festival.

That was when it happened.

“Oh, ooh!”

The Archbishop opened his mouth and trembled all over while casting his gaze over the Emperor’s shoulder.

The Emperor turned around in surprise. Cedric was lifting up the collapsed Artizea while shouting.

“Doctor! Midwife!”

A green light flickered around Artizea’s body.

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