Timid and Shy - Chapter 49

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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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49.

Late into the night.
Cressida stroked the Empress’s hair with a gentle hand. The Empress lay curled around her pillow like a child, eyes closing as she surrendered to the touch. Cressida looked down at her resting form and spoke.
“Is what the Emperor said troubling you?”
“I’ve always known the Emperor dislikes me. I have Frederick, and with you supporting him from behind, it didn’t matter. But lately, the way the Emperor clings to Robert… I wonder if I should do something about it?”
Cressida continued stroking without pause, her voice steady.
“Not yet. The Emperor is watching us. If we make a move now, we only give him the pretext he needs to strike. Don’t you see? His provocation was designed to bait you into foolish action. Why would he suddenly say such things? He’s trying to unsettle you.”
The Empress opened her eyes, her tone tinged with frustration.
“Well, he’s succeeded. Frederick refuses to see me, claiming he’s absorbed in his studies. He won’t even meet with Isabel—which is fortunate, I suppose. But what if Frederick continues to reject us? What if he stops listening?”
“Compose yourself. We’ve raised Frederick for over twenty years. A mere three or four months apart won’t make him abandon us. Right now, he’s simply protesting to you through the matter of Isabel. Let Frederick be for the time being. Better to focus on taming Wiscom instead.”
“Wiscom? Why?”
Cressida’s gaze sharpened with reproach. The Empress caught herself, biting her lip. Cressida prevented the gesture, speaking low.
“Since Frederick won’t abandon Isabel, he’ll have to marry into Wiscom. Before that, we must break their spirits. By now, Frederick is deaf to both gossip and praise about Isabel. Isn’t that so? If he refuses to yield on her, then he and Isabel will marry into Wiscom. We need to crush that possibility before it takes root. And haven’t we heard there’s been discord between Robert and Wiscom? All the better. Let Robert and that arrogant girl Ariel tear into Wiscom themselves—we stay hidden from it all.”
The Empress spoke with growing enthusiasm.
“There’s still time. Gareis isn’t entirely finished either. If Frederick were to see how he’s changed…”
“You don’t know the Duke of Gareis’s nature? Forget Gareis. Wiscom is all we have left now. If you try to separate Frederick from Isabel again, he’ll truly bolt from our grasp. But this discord between Wiscom and Robert—we should fan those flames. If Robert and that Ariel girl clash with Wiscom on their own, without us lifting a finger, wouldn’t that be ideal?”
The Empress’s face brightened as she absorbed this.
“You’re right. That arrogant girl and Robert… if we could shake all three of them at once, I’d finally have some peace. Mother, why do there seem to be so many people I can’t stand the sight of?”
Cressida smiled faintly.
“Now rest. You are the Empress. When Frederick becomes Emperor, there will be countless duties waiting for you. Much work lies ahead. For your own health, you must take your rest. My dear.”
At Cressida’s whispered words, the Empress’s eyelids grew heavy. As she drifted to sleep, Cressida extinguished the lamp and left the bedchamber.

***

Cressida returned to the Cressida Estate as dawn broke. Stefano greeted her at the entrance.
“When will you finally learn to rest, sister? Mother can’t sleep, coming and going like this every night.”
Cressida’s voice carried exhaustion, but her eyes gleamed.
“At least the Empress listens well—that’s why we’ve come this far. I’m fine. Starting tomorrow, we begin with Wiscom. Ha! That lot has looked down on us as provincial upstarts long enough. Now we’ll show them what we’re truly made of.”
“Don’t worry, Mother. We’ve already prepared the articles about Robert and Wiscom’s discord. Everyone will believe it was the Prince’s doing.”
“I’d love to see old Wiscom’s face when it hits.”
A thin smile crossed Cressida’s weary features. She accepted Stefano’s arm as he guided her to her chambers. But once she’d reached them, Stefano didn’t return to his own rooms—instead, he descended into the basement.

***

In the dim light of the underground chamber, Stefano looked down at a young maid.
“Well? What’s Frederick up to?”
The girl was Frederick’s personal attendant. She kept her eyes lowered, hands clasped nervously before her.
“His Highness didn’t leave his room all day. He said the noise from the Ball was unbearable and refused to go out.”
“Poor lad. If the engagement hadn’t been broken, he’d have been celebrating like the rest of them. It’s a shame—Robert’s marrying into such an insignificant house. Still, good work. You may go.”
At Stefano’s gesture, one of his men pressed a silver coin into the maid’s palm. She bowed deeply, then left not by the stairs but through a small side door in the basement.
Once she was gone, Stefano spoke to himself.
“So far, so good. When the Wiscom matter breaks, that fool Frederick will come running back to us.”

***

The maid slipped out of the Cressida Estate and made her way back to the Imperial Palace. She knocked softly at Frederick’s chamber door, then eased it open.
She knelt before his bed and spoke in a low voice.
“Lord Stefano questioned me about what Your Highness was doing during the Ball. That’s why he called me out so suddenly in the early hours. I told him you remained in your room all day.”
Frederick, dressed in his nightrobe, replied with easy warmth.
“Did he seem to believe you?”
“I simply relayed what you said—that you couldn’t bear the noise from the Ball and wouldn’t leave your quarters.”
Frederick raised an eyebrow and nodded.
“Well done.”
Frederick dismissed her with a casual wave. The maid withdrew quietly from the chamber and returned to her own small room, her body heavy with fatigue. Sneaking in and out of the Palace at dawn, evading watchful eyes—it was grueling work. But her wages had increased tenfold from her regular salary, and she couldn’t afford to give that up.
As she collapsed onto her narrow bed, desperate for sleep, the door opened silently. A figure slipped inside.
The figure pressed a pillow down over her face.
The maid screamed and thrashed, but the pillow muffled her cries as her limbs flailed helplessly against the dark.
The maid thrashed at the empty air for a long time before her limbs went slack, utterly still. The person who had entered left just as hastily, pillow pressed against her face.
The maid opened her eyes only after the footsteps faded. Her whole body trembled so violently she could barely rise. But she had to leave. It was the only way to survive.
When morning came, the maid crept out of the Imperial Palace in clothes barely worth the name. She made for Cressida Estate, of course. The gatekeeper recognized her and let her through. One of Stefano’s men saw her and spoke.
“Why did you come back so suddenly? Has something happened at the Palace?”
The maid answered through tears.
“Prince Frederick is trying to kill me. He already knows I’ve been relaying information to Cressida Estate.”
“What?”
“Prince Frederick discovered that I was reporting his movements to the House of Cressida. He’s always checked my reports, but today something displeased him and he tried to murder me. Please, you have to save me. Only the Count will protect me. I’ll do anything you ask of me.”
The man acknowledged her and had her taken away. The maid’s fate would need to be decided by his master—and this news had to be delivered immediately.
He hated rousing his superior from sleep, especially since she’d only just fallen asleep that morning. But this report could not wait. He knocked on Stefano’s bedroom door, knocking again and again until he heard irritable shuffling and curses from within.
The door opened. Stefano stood there half-awake, glaring at his subordinate.
“What is it?”
“Prince Frederick has learned of the maid we recruited. He examined her reports several times, and this dawn he attempted to kill her.”
“What?”
“The maid has just fled to the Estate.”
“How long? How long has he known? And you kept receiving reports from her without showing any sign of it? What about that cursed maid?”
“We instructed her to watch carefully. She trusts that only you can protect her.”
“Protect? She’s been deceiving us all this time and now she speaks of protection? Interrogate her. If there’s more to this story, report it to me.”
“Yes, sir.”
As his subordinate left, Stefano leaned against the door frame.
“Damn Frederick. He’s been scheming again. The boy thinks he’s grown too clever for us now. Ah… what am I supposed to tell Father?”

***

That morning, the Duke of Wiscom received a report.
“The sparrow has gone to Cressida again.”
Philip announced this with studied surprise.
“She found her way properly, didn’t she? It’s my plan, but it’s remarkable how it unfolds as intended. The maid reported to Frederick and nearly died—so she’ll surely believe he was trying to kill her. That’s why she went to Cressida.”
The Duke nodded and gestured for the report to continue. His subordinate obliged.
“The Countess visited the Empress’s chambers yesterday as well.”
The Duke of Wiscom smiled with satisfaction.
“The Empress is delightfully transparent. She must have been too angry to sleep. You’ve done well. You’ve been up since dawn—go rest.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Philip, who had been listening to the exchange, stretched and spoke.
“This incident will create a small rift between Frederick and Stefano. But it won’t be decisive.”
The Duke rose from his chair and replied.
“Their true separation comes only after Frederick takes the throne. For now, you’ve handled this well. Go rest yourself.”
Philip bowed and made his way to his chambers.
“Dear boy Frederick, so predictable. Now I understand why Stefano kept you close.”

***

After the ball, the Emperor wished to meet again with the scholars and merchants he had encountered there. Informal gatherings began to occur with increasing frequency.
They were light affairs—tea or dining—yet with the Emperor as host, they could never be called truly casual.
As the bourgeoisie gained access to the Imperial Palace and the Emperor began seeking out certain individuals repeatedly, the Imperial Elders and orthodox nobility grew uneasy.
Though the Empress had played a role in stirring their discontent, their intention in boycotting the ball had been to demonstrate their power and influence to the Emperor through that very absence.
But the result proved the opposite. Their influence was waning. The spaces they had vacated filled rapidly with eager new figures, and the Emperor openly welcomed them.
An aged white-haired Marquis named Melin spoke his displeasure to Count Rasel, who was nearly a generation his junior.
“The bourgeoisie are different from us. If there’s profit in it, they’ll charge forward regardless of danger. We made a mistake.”
Rasel nodded in agreement.
“Indeed. We cannot afford to remain passive.”
Melin and Rasel, members of the Imperial household, chose not to voice their grievances directly to the Emperor. Instead, they sought out Prince Robert to demand an explanation.
They believed that provoking the Emperor directly might accelerate their own decline. Uranos was changing, and mere pressure on the throne would not solve their predicament.
If they allowed the Emperor to meet freely with the bourgeoisie, those commoners might soon encroach upon what had always been the exclusive domain of the nobility in matters of governance.
Prince Robert listened earnestly to their concerns, carefully organized their grievances into proposals and recommendations for the Emperor, and then discussed them anew with the nobles themselves.
Vian watched these orthodox nobles posturing before Prince Robert and shook his head slightly.
‘They come crawling because they need him, yet they hold their necks so stiffly. Does Prince Frederick receive the same treatment?’
Prince Robert met with the Elders not only in his own office but began visiting their estates directly, listening to their concerns and accepting their invitations in kind.
Prince Robert never asked Melin or Rasel to support him as Crown Prince. He only sought to understand their views and ensure they were conveyed to the Emperor without misunderstanding.
The hardliners close to the Empress had refused to meet with Prince Robert at all, claiming they would not dignify him with their time. But the moment rumors spread that the Emperor planned to transform these informal gatherings into official business and would soon be meeting with the bourgeoisie in that capacity, they came seeking Prince Robert immediately.
Neither Crown Prince Frederick nor the Empress made any effort to address the situation, and whenever Ariel sought an audience, they invented excuses to avoid meeting with her.

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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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