“The lady… or rather Countess Cattleya has returned, so she must be in good health, right?”

“The Emperor is always in good health.”

“Sir Raoul, don’t treat me like a child. Just because I married into the countryside doesn’t mean I’m so out of touch with Solam’s affairs.”

“Baroness Algernin.”

“Are you still unable to stop him taking the medicine?”

Renee asked with a worried look on her face. Raoul made a conscious effort not to say anything. Renee was no longer the Princess of Amiens. The Emperor had sent her far south to marry, knowing that she had no place in Imperial affairs.

Even if she had wanted to, marrying a noble from a lesser family like Baron Algernin had never been done before.

It was beneath her family’s status, and if her aunt, Marchioness Jacqueline of Amiens, had cared about the family’s honour, she would never have supported such a match. Even if she had, she wouldn’t have allowed the Algernin family to remain as it was. Whether it was land or title, Renee would have been honoured according to her own status, but she had long since fallen out of favour with the Emperor.

In spite of all this, the naive Renee had once cried, believing that only her cousins thought of her.

“It’s none of your business, Madame.”

“Raoul!”

“Please, go back.”

“I will visit His Majesty and then leave. It’s the Empress Dowager’s birthday, so I’ve only come for this rare occasion. After today, I may not have the chance to see His Majesty in person again… No, what is more important is that this woman has returned. Isn’t that enough? You don’t think she…”

Raoul closed his eyes, then opened them and signalled to one of Renee’s servants who had been watching from a distance. At Raoul’s gesture, the servant approached and muttered something to coax her out of the corridor. With a deep sigh, Raoul turned his attention to the emperor’s bedroom.

It had been two and a half weeks since they had left the summer retreat. The Emperor’s mood had darkened with each passing day. His wife seemed equally troubled. After the Empress Dowager’s birthday celebrations, the coronation of the new Empress would finally take place. Even if she had been a runaway serf, as the adopted daughter of the Marquis of Clephas, there would be no lack of legitimacy.

The Imperial Family had once elevated a woman of low status to the position of Empress. At that time, the Emperor had taken her by force, and the Imperial line had been perpetuated by that act. Had the Emperor not made her his Empress, she would undoubtedly have been executed according to Church law.

In Solerium, it was impossible to elevate a woman of low status, such as the neighbouring Dale or Kylak, to the official position of concubine. Had the Emperor been able to elevate the Princess’s mother to a secondary or secure concubine status, he might have had more options. But Solerium was not a place where that could happen. And the Emperor…

“Your Majesty, it’s Raoul.”

He looked at him. The servant who had been standing guard at the door shook his head slowly. While one could never truly understand a woman’s mind, it was not difficult to see that the Emperor’s wife, Adelaide, did not find the situation so challenging.

The Emperor had married the daughter of a runaway serf. Yes, a wife, not just a concubine. There could only be one wife for the Emperor, and that was the Empress. So it was only natural that Swan should rise to the position of Empress. Raoul pressed his lips together, wondering if the Emperor could really control his actions, then bowed his head in thought.

Since his wife had fled, the Emperor had begun to suffer from sleepwalking and self-mutilation. Of course, he was unaware of this, and when he regained consciousness, he would find burns or cuts on his body. He had taken medicine to prevent this, but it only made him talk nonsense and hallucinate.

Upon his return to Solam and immediate ascension to the throne, the Emperor’s delirium had not reached the ears of the Privy Council, and the Emperor remained in this state. He met with the royal physician every four days, but there was little hope of improvement.

“I will go in.”

The servant opened the door and Raoul entered the emperor’s bedroom quietly, his steps barely making a sound. His eyes fell on the untidy table. The Emperor, who had once displayed an almost obsessive cleanliness, was now a man who discarded anything that came into contact with a line or barrier, as if to cut it off. Raoul had been with him since childhood, even before the prince’s accession. He knew the Emperor’s nature only too well.

If Raoul and the other closest servants considered the woman to be the Emperor’s legitimate wife, there was only one reason: the Emperor could not maintain his composure. He clung desperately to the woman without any clear reason or rationale. It was a puzzling situation. But for the emperor, there was only one woman. It would have been better if the emperor had been able to distinguish between woman and wife.

Raoul, dressed in a robe, stood watching the Emperor as he smoked a cigarette. The dishevelled hair revealed his dull blue eyes, but there was a disturbing intensity to his gaze. His gaze shifted to Raoul.

“Your Majesty.”

Raoul looked at the white powder marks around the edge of the glass. He couldn’t help but think that the sedative the Emperor had been prescribed was making him more dangerous. He swallowed the burning sensation in his throat. The exposed skin was scarred, now red and prominent. His arms. His thighs. His wrists. The signs of self-harm.

Despite everything, the emperor seemed determined to swallow it all. His wife, who had fled. The woman who, in her desire to become a commoner, had done menial jobs. And as midnight approached, the Emperor often claimed that he imagined his wife in the arms of another man, not her husband.

It was not entirely incomprehensible. Raoul also knew that if Adelaide were to lift her dress and spread her legs in front of another man, it wouldn’t just be enough to make his blood boil. The thought of his wife’s infidelity made his blood run cold.

He swallowed dryly before glancing back at the Emperor, who was staring at him with a cold, almost detached gaze. It always sent a shiver down his spine when the Emperor scrutinised him like that.

“The Privy Council has requested an extension of time to consider the dissolution of some of the monasteries in Solam.”

Raoul muttered his formal report in a detached manner, though his gaze traced the Emperor’s sunken features and the dry, cracked lines under his eyes. It was disheartening to see it all fall apart, despite having brought the woman he had so desperately sought to the Imperial Palace. His thoughts suddenly drifted back to the woman he had met at the summer retreat.

She had gone beyond the affair, yet she seemed so bold, so undaunted by her actions. If she had been his Adelaide, she would never have dared to leave the house. And even if she had, she would have returned quickly to soothe his anger with sweetness.

“Your Majesty.”

Raoul spoke again, pulling himself out of his thoughts.

“The Privy Council is adjourned for a week. Tell Marquis Clephas to come to the palace in two days.”

“Yes.”

It was as if nothing had ever been lost, as if he hadn’t been through this madness. He had been informed that the Emperor had hallucinated the night before. If the servant hadn’t lied, the Emperor’s condition would still be critical. Raoul bit his lip, feeling the full weight of the situation on him.

Raoul was suddenly reminded of the time he had secretly brought a concubine into the Emperor’s chambers, following the advice of the Marquise of Amiens, who had suggested he try to calm the Emperor with another woman. The memory sent shivers down his spine and he felt bile rise in his throat.

“Is there anything else to report?”

The Emperor asked, breaking Raoul’s thoughts.

“No.”

The Emperor looked away. He was still smoking, a cigarette dangling from his lips. As well as his usual tobacco, he had mixed hemp and opium, which were said to calm the mind. The palace physicians had recommended it, but the Emperor had gone too far.

Of course, it hadn’t started that way. It had begun as a simple prescription, a trial. But now… His eyelids fluttered slightly. Before this incident, before meeting this woman, had he ever seen the Emperor as he once was? Raoul, who had once devoted his life to serving him, had tried desperately to help him return to the glory he had known.

The noble, glorious Crown Prince. The pride and honour of Solerium. Raoul remembered the Emperor in his prime. If only he could bring him back, he would go so far as to lick the soles of a slave’s feet, not just a peasant’s. No, perhaps even more.

If he could bring back the Emperor from those days, Raoul was prepared to do anything. As the emperor drank the medicinal wine, he turned to look at Raoul. An aura of menace seemed to descend upon him as he was interrupted by a commotion outside the door. He thought he heard Adelaide’s voice above the noise. Raoul pursed his lips weakly and moved towards the door.

“Who is it?”

“Lady Adelaide said she would show Countess Cattleya around the palace. It seems the lady has arrived. Shall I let her in?”

The emperor remained silent. Through the door, Raoul could hear Adelaide’s cheerful voice and a softer reply, probably from the woman accompanying her. The Emperor began to feel uneasy. He hadn’t seen Swan for a long time, not since things had gone sour between them over the child.

Before the Emperor could call for a servant, Raoul opened the door. He wasn’t going to wait for the Emperor to regain his composure. At the very least, his wife couldn’t have remained indifferent to her husband’s illness. Even if their relationship had been strained by the child, a wife would still care for her husband.

“Oh my.”

Adelaide entered the Emperor’s bedroom holding a fan to her nose, but quickly realised the gesture was inappropriate and lowered it immediately. She was followed by Swan, who looked at both the Emperor and Raoul with a surprised expression. The Emperor, dressed in black with a purple cloak, stared at his wife.

Raoul watched the Emperor whose face, twisted with anger, also showed a hint of fear. It was a look Raoul had never seen before. Only three weeks ago, at the summer retreat, the Emperor hadn’t shown such an expression. Why was he so afraid of his own wife?

It was as if she had control of the relationship, as if she held the reins. The emperor, the ruler, was so afraid of his own wife. Raoul, feeling a sense of helplessness, lowered his eyes for a moment.

“I’m sorry to disturb you while you’re resting.”

Swan whispered softly. She quickly scanned the room, then turned her attention to the table. Raoul silently hoped that she would approach the Emperor with concern, caress him gently and shed a few tears in the process.

“Have you taken opium?”

“It’s medicinal.”

“Medicinal?”

The woman asked again, her eyes lingering on the table. The Emperor, who had moved the medicine and alcohol out of sight, turned his attention back to his wife. She stared at him for a moment, her face pale, before walking towards the table.