Beneath the Surviving Princess's Joyful Facade - Chapter 139

On the way back in the carriage, Miesa was in a bad mood.

Although she had met with her kin, neither her grandfather nor the Grand Duke could provide the warmth she had hoped for. Her grandfather found her presence uncomfortable, while the Grand Duke was uneasy around her.

However, her mood only lasted for a short while, as she was greeted by a familiar face upon arriving at the Central Palace. It was Gella, who had been sent to the Crispin Marquisate’s territory to search for the doctor’s records.

Gella’s nose and cheeks were red from the cold, indicating how long she had been waiting. As soon as she saw the carriage, she became excited, her shoulders trembling with anticipation. Miesa, who was also eager, hurriedly got off the carriage as soon as it stopped, urging Eirik to do the same.

Unable to hide her excitement, Gella nevertheless maintained her composure and bowed respectfully when she met Miesa.

“Your Majesty, I’ve confirmed the task you assigned and returned.”

“How long have you been waiting? If I had known Gella was here, I would have left the Grand Duke’s residence earlier.”

Miesa warmly embraced Gella, rubbing her cold hands as they made their way to the study in the Central Palace.

“I transcribed the records,” Gella said as soon as they entered the study, handing over a piece of paper. Duke Salachez glanced at the paper and tilted his head. The writing, though sloppy, was legible, even if the letters were a bit messy.

However, Miesa had no trouble reading it. She was already familiar with the handwriting from the notes Gella had previously sent from the Margrave’s residence.

Still, there was nothing significant written on the paper. Suppressing her disappointment, Miesa praised Gella, “You did well, Gella.”

Eirik took the paper from Miesa and began to read it slowly, furrowing his brow as if deciphering a code.

“The ingredients… lizard… I can barely make sense of it, so you’ll have to explain it verbally.”

“Ah, my handwriting is a bit messy,” Gella said with a smile, though for some reason, Miesa’s face flushed with embarrassment. If Gella’s handwriting was messy, then her own, which was even worse than a child’s, was something to be ashamed of.

While Miesa unconsciously clenched her jaw and sat with a pout, Gella began her explanation.

“Finime is a poison that has been passed down through the ruling family of the Principality of Sidate for generations. The lizard used as an ingredient is rare, and the Tiule flower is so difficult to cultivate that it is said to take 30 years to produce just one bottle.”

“And?” Eirik prompted.

“The poison remains undetectable in the body until an antidote is taken. Once the poison’s effects begin, however…” Gella, who had been explaining smoothly until then, hesitated to say the final words.

Eirik spoke them for her. “Instant death.”

“But if the antidote is taken, the poison is neutralized immediately. So it’s not as bad as it sounds. Although the poison is difficult to produce, the antidote is relatively easy to make, though the recipe is kept secret.”

“…That’s a relief,” Eirik said, letting out a sigh of relief before offering his opinion. “I have confirmed the name of the diplomat from Sidate who will be arriving. He is sharp and relatively reasonable, so if we return the Halec iron mine, we should be able to obtain the antidote.”

“Do you think they will comply so easily?”

“However, we must ensure that they do not realize who needs the antidote. If they find out that it’s for Your Majesty, the iron mine alone will not suffice.”

“Ah.”

“And I suggest leaving this matter to Count Raviate. If I get involved, it will not be favorable.”

Eirik’s name was so feared in the Principality of Sidate that it was almost synonymous with “demon.” Originally, the term “Black-haired Cladnier” was used as a curse due to his predecessor, but now, the short and simple “Eirik” has become widely used.

“Let’s do that.”

His plan was flawless. Perhaps obtaining the antidote wouldn’t have been difficult if not for the presence of a young man with dark brown hair and striking features, who hadn’t been listed among the Sidate diplomatic envoys.

The day before the New Year’s festival, Miesa sat on the throne in the Central Hall, receiving the greetings of the diplomatic delegations from various countries.

The envoys from distant lands, whose languages were so foreign that they required interpreters, presented a variety of treasures, trying to assess the new queen of Esquillir.

The Principality of Sidate was scheduled to present last. Miesa unconsciously tightened her grip on the armrests of the throne in anticipation.

The envoy from Sidate spoke with a different accent, but his words were understandable, “May the water of heaven and the fire of earth bless the prosperity of the Kingdom of Esquillir.”

The greeting was more amicable than she had expected. As she reflected on the various greetings she had memorized the night before, Miesa felt hopeful that they had chosen the most favorable words to address a foreign monarch.

“May the goddess’s blessing be with the prosperity of the Principality of Sidate.”

Miesa, too, responded with the most friendly words she could offer to a foreign envoy. The formalities continued.

“The sky over Esquillir is more beautiful than ever, likely because it has welcomed a new queen. The people we encountered along the way were also kind, a testament to Your Majesty’s friendliness toward Sidate.”

“I’m glad your journey was smooth.”

Miesa responded with a sincere smile, even though the answer was brief. Now, it was the Principality’s turn to present their gift.

At that moment, a tall man standing behind the envoys stepped forward with a troubled expression.

“Your Majesty, please forgive my rudeness.”

Miesa, along with Eirik, who stood to her right below the throne, quietly observed the young man. They had never seen him before, but something about his almond-shaped, sharp, and beautiful eyes, along with his thin lips, seemed familiar.

“What happened to the late king’s concubine? Did you send her somewhere outside the palace?”

The young man committed the grave offense of not identifying himself, but the people of Esquillir in the Central Hall immediately recognized who he was.

In response to the young man’s sudden outburst, the Sidate envoy tried to intervene. “My apologies. This is not the time or place to discuss such matters—”

“I’m sorry. I was just so anxious… My name is Ivan Semenov. I’m Anika Semenov’s brother.” The young man bowed his head in shame, yet he spoke his sister’s name with deep earnestness.

Miesa momentarily held her breath to conceal her agitation. Fortunately, Eirik took a step forward and calmly took control of the situation.

“We will arrange a separate meeting with the Sidate delegation.”

“I understand. Thank you.”

Ivan’s face lit up with sudden relief. Miesa, unable to bear looking at him, turned her head away, only to close her eyes tightly when she caught sight of the Central Hall’s glass window.

“What should we do?”

“I’ve already briefed Count Raviate on the situation on the way here.” Eirik held Miesa’s hand to calm her. “It should be fine as long as we explain the situation. I will accompany you.”

The two of them then headed to the reception room. Count Raviate, the Minister of State, who had been waiting for them in the corridor, greeted them with a stern expression.

“Ah, did you tell Count Raviate where she was buried?”

Anika’s body had been interred in the royal family’s cemetery, in place of Vermel.

“No.” Eirik hesitated for a moment before shaking his head. “It would complicate matters further. It’s better to stick to the facts and observe their reaction.”

“Then how should I tell them?” Instead of asking what the complicated story was, Count Raviate focused on what he needed to say.

Eirik succinctly summarized what the count should convey. “Tell them she was cremated and her ashes were scattered in the river, as per Anika’s last wishes.”

“Understood.”

Count Raviate led the way into the reception room. The two Sidate envoys and Ivan Semenov, who had been waiting, quickly stood up and bowed to the royal couple.

Miesa sat down in silence. It was difficult for her to even meet Ivan’s eyes, filled with such desperate longing, directly. A sense of guilt gnawed at her—she should have done more to prevent Anika’s death, even if it meant restraining her.