59. Seeds of Conspiracy

The aftermath of Velido was dreadful. Adelaide suffered from headaches for some time, unable to call for a doctor because the cause of her illness was not known, so she could only grunt in the room.

“My Lady, I have made a decoction of herbs, please try it.”

“Is this…… really something I can drink?”

Adelaide asked, peering into the bowl of the mysterious substance. Margaret nodded and looked over at Zatia.

“I tried it, and it was fine.”

“Why would you drink this?”

“Because yesterday I went into my room to get my valuables, and my head kept hurting, so I asked Zatia to give it to me.”

Adelaide sighed deeply at Margaret’s response. She must have tasted it first to see if it was safe to drink.

Adelaide took the bowl without question and gulped it down.

“Ouch.”

“You shouldn’t throw up, it’s only a ten-day supply.”

Zatia’s words barely calmed Adelaide’s vomiting.

Zatia had brewed a concoction of a grass called ‘Noxia’. Adelaide had never heard of the plant, but she was told it was widely known among the Caucasians for its medicinal properties.

Whether it was due to her mood or the actual effect of the medicine, her headache miraculously subsided as soon as she drank it.

“How are you feeling?”

I feel much better.”

“If you drink it regularly for a week, you’ll feel much better.”

Zatia said as she cleaned up the empty bowl. She heard shamans had healing powers. Adelaide stared at Zatia intently, then opened her mouth.

“Zatia, did you know Velido, too?”

“What? Uh…….”

Zatia gave her an embarrassed look, and Margaret, who was quick on the uptake, grabbed her empty bowl and quietly slipped away. Only when she heard the door close did Zatia speak up.

“I’ve smoked it a few times. The Caucasian shamans often use it to honor their gods.”

“So you know the cure.”

“Yes. If you don’t neutralize the venom of the Velido, you’ll go insane quickly. It’s one of the reasons shamans don’t live long.”

Many shamans are addicted to Velido because they believe its hallucinogenic effects enhance the effectiveness of their spells, Zatia adds.

“Can you get that grass called Noxia here?”

“No, no. Noxia is grass that only grows in the Caucasus Mountains, so you can’t get it here. I brought it with me just in case.”

“But can it be grown?”

“Grow it?”

Zatia blinked as if she hadn’t thought of that.

The Caucasian Autonomous Region was cold and barren. Rugged mountains surrounded it, and the land was too gravelly to farm. That’s why the majority of Caucasians are hunters.

“It’s hard in the Capital because of the warm weather, but maybe it’s possible in Tiflis.”

“I see.”

Adelaide pondered. If Noxia was Velido’s only cure, maybe she could try to wean the addicts off it.

“Farming sounds like fun.”

“Who would do farming?”

“Your Grace.”

Callion entered the room without a sound, and Zatia left the room with her head bowed and a shuffling step.

Adelaide, sitting on the bed, started to rise, but Callion shook his head and sat her down.

“How are you feeling?”

“It’s much better. My headache is much better too.”

“Can you look at my face properly?”

“Don’t tease me.”

Adelaide blushed uncomfortably. He snuggled up next to her and buried his head in the crook of her neck.

Ignoring her embarrassed movements, Callion savored Adelaide’s scent like a predator inspecting its prey. Every time his hot breath brushed against her skin, she shivered.

“The smell is gone.”

He could barely smell Velido’s scent with each breath. She hasn’t completely recovered yet, but this was good.

“You’re not dizzy, are you?”

“No. I’m fine now.”

Adelaide replied, smiling brightly. She looked fine even with that haggard face. About to tease her, Callion changed the subject.

“What were you talking about earlier? Farming?”

“Oh. Zatia gave me a decoction of an herb that neutralizes Velido, and I was thinking about growing it.”

“An herb that neutralizes Velido?”

“Yes.”

It seemed that even Callion didn’t know about it judging from his reaction. Adelaide relayed exactly what she heard from Zatia.

“If the herb really does have that effect, it might be worth a try.”

“I will tell you about the effects after taking it myself.”

Adelaide folded her eyebrows. He was appalled at her calm demeanor after putting herself on fire like that, but since she was not one to listen to him trying to stop her, it was wise for him not to say anything at all.

“I’ll send someone to Tiflis. I’m sure there are some men there who are good at farming.”

“What about entrusting the cultivation to the Temple of Therminas.”

“In the temple?”

“I was thinking it might be a good idea to put the apprentice priests in charge of growing Noxia.”

“That…… a good plan.”

With the departure of Samuel Dorfman, who had guarded the Temple of Therminas for decades, the temple’s priests would have to find a way to survive.

Noxia is not a forbidden grass, so it would be beneficial to both parties if the apprentice priests were paid to grow it.

Callion applauded Adelaide’s cleverness and asked.

“Were you also the one who told High Priest Dorfman to relieve the poor?”

“It’s a priest’s job to relieve the poor who have nowhere else to go, and from the sounds of it, he’s doing a good job.”

It is the aristocracy that makes the emperor, but it is the people who keep him. As Samuel Dorfman’s name spread among the poor, so did the rumor that his patron was the Duke of Tiflis.

“I also hear that he is scheduled to be ordained a cardinal soon.”

“Still, I don’t like him.”

Adelaide laughed wordlessly at Callion’s grumbling.

She was going to let him rest. But since there was nothing to do, she decided to bring up the matter she was trying to hide.

“Actually, a messenger came this morning, and the date for the ceremony has been finalized.”

“When is it?”

“In a fortnight. It seems they’re planning the ceremony to coincide with your uncle’s birthday.”

Adelaide smiled bitterly as she considered the date.

A ploy to delay Regalia’s unveiling. It was a clever way to keep people quiet by weaving two hot topics together: the Emperor’s birthday and Duke Tiflis’s welcome ceremony.

“Elkius is crafty. He can’t get Regalia by then, so he’s buying time.”

“And then we might lose it.”

“We’ll make sure it doesn’t.”

⚜ ⚜ ⚜ ⚜

“You mean we can’t get the red spinel?”

“Yes. Red spinels of the size you want are so rare that they don’t come up for sale very often.”

“It might still end up in failure.”

Cardinal Orland stamped his foot and lamented.

Without the red spinel, his plan to make a fake sword and pass it off as the real thing would fall apart.

The blacksmith, who had been promised a hefty reward for obtaining the red spinel and forging the sword, spoke cautiously.

“I’ll need to get to work this week if I’m to meet Your Highness’s desired date.”

“If you don’t have the red spinel, what are you going to do with it?”

“Speaking of which…….”

The blacksmith opened the bag he had brought with him. Inside was a fist-sized red gemstone. Cardinal Orland’s eyes widened.

“Isn’t this a red spinel?”

“It is not a red spinel, but a ruby. They are similar enough that an untrained eye could not tell the difference.”

“I see.”

True to his word, the color and luster were very similar to red spinel. The blacksmith glanced at Cardinal Orland.

“I’ll do my best to find it, but if I can’t get the red spinel, why don’t we use this instead?”

“……hmm.”

Cardinal Orland stroked his smooth chin. It wouldn’t necessarily have to be a red spinel as long as it was for replacing Regalia, not making the real one.

“It must be made to look genuine to anyone.”

“I understand, Your Eminence.”

The blacksmith answered briskly. Cardinal Orland handed him a heavy pouch.

“Here’s the advance payment. If this gets out, neither you nor I will be safe.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll contact you when the goods are complete.”

“I’ll be expecting it.”

The blacksmith left the confessional. Cardinal Orland swiped at his face.

‘…What am I doing now?’

He knows it’s dangerous, but with the seat of the pope at his fingertips, he can’t give up.

The election of the pope was the authority of the cardinals, but the final approval was the Emperor’s. If he could resolve this matter safely, Elkius’s credibility would be strengthened, and the temple would fall into his hands. So a little bleeding was worth it.

He steeled himself and stepped out of the confessional.

“Have you received your confession?”

Samuel called out to him as he left the temple, carrying a small bag.

The blacksmith watched him go.

Cardinal Orland replied gently.

“Yes, I did. Where is the high priest going?”

“The temple is empty, so I’m on my way out to do some preaching.”

“Your ordination as a cardinal is just around the corner, and you are not preparing?”

“I have nothing to prepare but my body and I might as well be begging at that hour.”

High Priest Samuel chuckled.

Cardinal Orland and other priests of the Capital sarcastically referred to the practice of priests of local temples traveling from house to house asking for donations as begging.

“The temple has no money,” he says, “so if Cardinal Orland can’t do it, someone like me should.”

“We all have our God-given roles.”

Cardinal Orland replied with a sneer. Samuel’s eyes suddenly turned fierce.

“I wish money would just fall from the sky. Even if only the tribute from the Duke of Tiflis were pledged, we’d receive thousands of cels.”

“His Holiness will be in trouble if he hears this.”

“It’s just a saying. The other day, I even dreamt of sneaking into His Holiness’s bedroom to steal the tribute.”

“Heh, heh, High Priest Dorfman.”

“Just kidding. I’ll be off now.”

Samuel chuckled and left the temple.

The tribute is in the Pope’s bedroom?

Cardinal Orland pondered the words.