Who Could Have Loved the Monster Princess? - Chapter 49
The Emperor turned his head to look at Crown Prince Carnelian.
“They say the creature that caused today’s incident appeared without warning?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Carnelian’s expression had hardened.
“We had confirmed the tournament grounds beforehand. There were no issues at the time, were there?”
“No, however—”
“Count Burns.”
The Emperor cut him off and summoned Count Burns, who was responsible for the capital’s defense.
“Creatures like wraiths can awaken abruptly when exposed to traces of dark energy,” the Count replied. “That’s why we dispatch priests swiftly to purify any areas with high casualties.”
As though he had heard everything he needed, the Emperor turned his gaze toward Dahliana.
“Lady Bittern.”
“Ah… Pardon? Y-Your Majesty.”
“This incident stems from the former lord’s failure to purify the domain in due time. Now that she has inherited the title, Dahliana Bittern shall take responsibility.”
“Um… I…?”
The eyes of the nobility turned to her, confused and unsure.
‘So much for hope. Just despair, as always.’
The Emperor was reprimanding a girl that could have been the age of a granddaughter. The other candidates for the lordship hadn’t even been permitted to attend. Of everyone present, Dahliana was the only one from House Bittern.
‘Not that it would’ve made much difference if they had been.’
Sean had said the culprit was among them. The reason Count Burns gave for the creature’s awakening was one among dozens. Wraiths could stir for any number of reasons — ill weather alone could be enough. They were troublesome things, by nature.
‘So now they’re trying to pin it on my curse.’
And how, exactly, was Dahliana supposed to deal with the half-mad Duchess of Felix? That wasn’t something mere coin could fix. In the end, the Emperor didn’t care what became of House Felix. What he wanted was crystal clear: to bleed me and my house dry through her, under the guise of responsibility.
I took out what I had kept tucked inside my coat pocket all this time and set it on the table.
No one seemed to recognize what it was. Perhaps it looked even smaller in my hand than it would in anyone else’s, which might have added to the confusion.
The Emperor glanced at it briefly, but seemed to decide it wasn’t of any real importance. His attention returned to Dahliana, pressing down on her with the weight of his gaze.
‘Even with the Emperor bearing down on her like that, he still won’t look to me…’
I was going to put on a good show to repay the kid who looked at me so longingly, but I guess I’ll just have to step up to the plate in a more obvious manner. I requested the floor, and the Emperor, with all the pretense of careful thought, granted it at a deliberately glacial pace.
“I will take responsibility for this matter, as Dahliana’s guardian.”
The clean decisiveness of my statement seemed to catch the Emperor off guard. Perhaps he had assumed I would take the more convenient route — argue that House Bittern lacked the means to bear the cost, and in doing so, leave myself vulnerable to being named the cause of the wraith’s awakening.
“Duchess Staedt.”
The Emperor sounded rattled. He said my name, but then said nothing more, as if he’d momentarily forgotten what came next.
“…I see. Isn’t that a bit excessive for a guardian to shoulder? I’m curious to hear your reasoning.”
“House Bittern currently does not have the means to take on such responsibility.”
Even a five-year-old Dahliana would know that.
The Emperor, apparently, did not.
“Besides, our House holds a flag that grants the right to make a formal request regarding matters of accountability. I’d like to make that request here and now.”
Only then did the nobles seem to realize what lay beneath my hand — a cylindrical flag case containing one of the tournament flags. Every anxious, uncertain gaze fixed itself on my fingers.
Even the Emperor was watching now, intrigued. Flag cases were sealed with the crest of the House that held them, so there could be no confusion before they were opened.
But it had been half-concealed beneath my hand this entire time, and no one had managed to recognize which family it belonged to.
“Permission granted.”
He didn’t even hesitate. Curiosity got the better of him. And with the air of a man observing someone else’s misfortune, he turned his full attention to my hand.
I pulled it away and lifted the case.
A few nobles, seated where the emblem came into view, drew in sharp breaths.
“Th-That’s—!”
The Emperor glanced over the murmuring nobles with mild confusion, then turned to me, waiting for the banner to be raised.
I unfolded it carefully, taking pains not to damage it, but perhaps too carefully, because the Emperor, clearly growing impatient, prompted me:
“To which House do you intend to share this burden?”
At that very moment, the banner unfurled in full, bright and resplendent. The room fell into stillness. No one looked at the flag. They looked at the Emperor.
Radiance reflecting off a gilded disc. The Imperial standard.
I addressed him with the composure befitting the victor who had claimed it.
“House Staedt invokes the Light of Latropole.”
The Emperor’s expression twisted, eyes locked on the flag in my hands — half in disbelief, half in dread.
“We request that the Imperial House accept full responsibility and compensate for every loss incurred during this tournament.”
Every single one.
‘All losses.’
The value of all the mana stones House Staedt had been extorted out of by noble families at every tournament—
Those too…
The Emperor’s lips moved as if to form the word denied… But he closed his mouth before any sound could leave. His face twisted strangely, as though caught between a grimace and a smile.
