BGFV Chapter 159

Chapter 159 

“I spent days reading my daughter’s letters over and over,” Valdemar said softly.
“They contained every detail of her life—how she was doing, what she thought, even what she hoped her unborn child would grow up to be. She even wrote down the baby’s nickname before he was born.”

That nickname was Sly.

Because of those letters, Valdemar began to feel deeply attached to Sylvester, even though they had never met. He started to long to see his only grandson.
“When I finally came to my senses, His Majesty was already four years old. After the scene I caused at my daughter’s funeral, people would never believe me if I suddenly showed up at the palace saying I wanted to see my grandson. They would have thought I was scheming for power.”

“So you’ve stayed quiet all this time,” Hestia said.
“Yes. And pretending to be a kind grandfather now would be ridiculous. He must already know how badly I treated his mother. I’ve been content just hearing news from afar.”

But Valdemar’s expression wasn’t bright. To Hestia, he overlapped with Sylvester—both longing for family love they never fully received.
“Duke, people can’t know your heart unless you speak it. Why care what others think? What matters most is how you feel.”

She smiled gently.
“His Majesty is a generous person. He’ll understand your reasons. Even a little honesty would mean a lot.”

Valdemar stayed silent, thinking.

Knock knock.
“Excuse me, Duke. I have something to discuss.”

The voice was familiar—it was Sylvester, still disguised as “Sly.” He stepped in, looking slightly tense.
“There’s been a request for more supplies at the refugee shelter. Their supply rate is lower than other places, so I thought we could send more today. Would that be alright?”

Valdemar’s lips tightened. He didn’t want his grandson going somewhere dangerous, but also wondered if he had the right to stop him.

Hestia stood up before the hesitation could drag on.
“I was planning to visit the refugee shelter soon anyway. Sly, you rest here. I’ll go instead.”
“What? No, I was going to—”
“Going to the quarantine centers is fine, but not the refugee shelter. You know it’s better not to get too involved with them right now.”

She didn’t want Sylvester, whose identity was still secret, getting linked to the refugees—especially in these tense times.
“And by the way, have you ever had a casual conversation with the Duke?” she asked.

Sylvester admitted he’d spoken to Valdemar many times about official matters, but never personally. Hestia smiled.
“Then I’ll leave you two alone. Have a nice talk, alright?”

Before Sylvester could protest, she slipped out and closed the door—then leaned against it to listen.

“Do you like tea, Your Majesty?” Valdemar asked awkwardly.
“Yes, I do. But please call me Sly, or people might misunderstand.”
“Sly… may I ask why you use that name?”
“No special reason. Why?”
“Because Sly was your nickname before you were born. The late Empress used to call you that when you were in her womb.”

The conversation began awkwardly but flowed more easily as they continued. Hestia smiled to herself—Sylvester would now know he had family outside the Florence Duchy who truly cared for him.

She thought, The more allies we gather, the better prepared we’ll be for what’s coming.

Her determination came from something that happened a week earlier—when she received a large shipment of the new medicine and a letter from Luciard. The letter revealed they’d found a massive supply of Ruberu herb and included Arthur’s shocking confession.

She had suspected much of it, but hadn’t expected Ruberu to have been imported in such large amounts. The mastermind’s identity was now clearer than ever, and she knew she couldn’t ignore it anymore.

The Florence Duchy had been willing to push imperial citizens into suffering for the sake of rebellion. That disgusted her.
People like that will never lead the empire well.

She also noticed the duchy’s subtle moves—spreading provocative articles in the press and repeatedly tying the emperor to the refugees in public perception. If Sylvester was seen at the refugee shelter now, they could trap him easily.

She would need solid proof before telling Sylvester about the duchy’s treachery, or he might not believe her.

****
That evening, Hestia returned from the shelter later than expected. She had met the parents of Marin, a refugee child she knew, and heard vivid testimony confirming that the bloodpox outbreak was man-made. Combined with Arthur’s confession, she now had strong evidence to persuade Sylvester.

The timing, however, was tricky. In her past life, the rebellion had happened during Sylvester’s coming-of-age ceremony, and now it was late February—seven months away from his September birthday. Half a year could be long or short, depending on how it was used.

For now, she decided to focus on solving the immediate crisis—since the whole purpose of Florence’s actions was to damage Sylvester’s public image.

When she returned to the Duke’s office, she found both men with swollen eyes.
“Oh… are you both alright?”
“Ahem! Lady Frost, you’re back? Was the shelter alright?”
“It’s late. Have you eaten?”

The atmosphere felt warmer, and the desk was covered in letters. She guessed what had happened.
“You’ve had a deep talk, haven’t you?”

Both flinched.
“…We’ve cleared up some misunderstandings,” Valdemar admitted.
“I thought my grandfather hated me,” Sylvester confessed. “But I was wrong. I wish we’d spoken sooner.”

Valdemar’s eyes welled up. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty. I’ve been a poor grandfather.”
“No, I understand. And when we’re alone, please call me Sly.”
“That warm heart… you must have gotten it from your mother.”
“Then I must have gotten it from you too, Grandfather.”

They smiled at each other—more like a real family than Florence had ever been.

Hestia said, “You two look good together.”

She then informed Valdemar she would return to the south in two days.
“It’s a shame to see you go, but I can’t keep such a valuable person here forever,” he said.
“You’ve done so much,” Sylvester added.
Hestia shook her head. “I only did my duty as a loyal subject. I just want His Majesty to be happy.”

Sylvester took her hand. “Thank you, truly.”

He also said he would soon return to his duties, now that he knew what kind of emperor he wanted to become.
“I think you’ll be a great ruler,” Hestia told him.

Valdemar suddenly knelt on one knee before Sylvester and pledged the full support of the north—not to the imperial family, but to Sylvester personally. He also promised that the Winston Duchy would be like a sworn brother to Norvin Duchy, always ready to help.

Hestia was surprised—this meant another strong ally for both her and Sylvester.

***
Meanwhile, in Florence, the duchess Lasie raged in her room.
“Aaagh! Useless Winston!”

She smashed teacups and vases while maids cowered. When her husband, Grand Duke Asid, entered, she exploded.
“Winston stole all the public support we should have had! Why didn’t you stop them?”
“I tried. But I didn’t expect them to solve all the problems in the north. And you—didn’t you say you could make the cure?”
“Count Humphrey died! He had the most important herb, and his son gave it all to Winston! He claimed Winston forced him, but there’s no way to prove it.”

Asid sighed. “Then let it go. It’s not critical to our main plan. We only wanted to damage public trust.”
Lasie reluctantly calmed down but thought darkly, Next time, I won’t let Winston get away with it.