~Chapter 51~
The thing that shattered in the Marquis’s hand was none other than the potion Amel had gifted. Chiara, who had silently watched the scene, finally opened her mouth.
“……Still, since the young ladies of other houses visited today, they will spread the rumors.”
“Ha! In the end, you did nothing at all. Useless thing.”
The Marquis mocked Chiara and sat roughly on the chair.
“You know our Esmeralda family is the greatest magician family in the Verdério Empire, don’t you?”
“Yes, Father.”
Chiara nodded with a blank expression. Since she couldn’t use magic at all, his words always sounded like a story from another world.
“Compared to ignorant knights or those useless priests who only heal, our magicians are far superior. The only weakness is that depending on the amount of mana, the magic we can use has limits.”
The Marquis’s face twisted, and he slammed the desk with his fist.
“But those detestable witches—without being born with any mana—dare to imitate magic! And with no limits at all… with those damned potions…!”
“……”
The fierce energy bursting from his old body was terrifying. His light brown eyes, full of rage, searched for a target to vent on.
“So, my daughter. You must follow the will of your poor father and help me.”
“…Yes.”
Chiara’s eyes looked at the Marquis. In her teal eyes, he seemed like a sick man, unable to control his anger and about to collapse.
“No matter how useless you are, at least this much should be easy for you.”
He continued.
“We must stop witch discrimination from improving. Even if it goes against His Majesty’s order, it doesn’t matter.”
“……”
“Do you understand?”
Chiara forced a soulless smile.
“……Yes.”
While secretly holding different thoughts inside.
“……This is His Majesty’s audience permit.”
It had already been two days since the tea time. Yet again, Amel was being dressed and prepared carefully by the maids.
During a short break, Nina looked at the permit that had arrived from the Imperial Palace a few days ago.
“…There are too many difficult words. It’s hard to read.”
“Then give it here. I’ll read it for you.”
“Ah, Countess?”
Nina, startled, handed it over to Rosaria, who had appeared suddenly.
“Thank you, my lady.”
“It’s nothing. You always work hard for our Amel, so I can at least read this for you.”
“Shall I look too?”
Conrad quietly joined them, and the three of them read the permit together.
“Today at 2 p.m.… We should leave soon.”
“It’s fine. We’re almost done.”
Because she was going to the Imperial Palace today, Amel didn’t choose overly fancy hair or clothes. She picked a proper, elegant dress and her usual hairstyle.
When she finished preparing, Amel packed her belongings and climbed into the carriage.
“Be careful, Amel.”
“Yes, and contact us if anything happens.”
The Count and Countess worried for their daughter as always.
But today, their concern wasn’t exaggerated. One must never anger the Emperor.
Amel smiled brightly, as if to reassure them.
“Don’t worry too much. I’ll be back soon!”
This time, she was alone without Nina.
Inside the rattling carriage, Amel checked her envelope to make sure nothing was missing. Thankfully, the audience permit was still inside.
‘And… this is also important.’
She opened the pouch tied at her waist and counted the potions.
Since she had used many during the last subjugation, she had gathered whatever remained. Still, it felt far too few.
“Two poison vials… one swift current… one muscle enhancement… and only one healing potion left.”
Of course, the Imperial Palace was said to be the safest place. But that only applied when the Emperor was the target. She knew there was always a chance assassins could strike on her way home.
“Sigh… I really need to stock more ingredients when I have time… huh?”
As she searched the pouch, her fingers touched something unexpected. Hoping it was useful, she pulled it out—but it was the translation potion she had made earlier.
“What? Why did I bring this when there’s no Kamarin here?”
She frowned and shook the vial. The red liquid inside shimmered like blood. She stared at it quietly.
“I wonder if Kamarin is doing well.”
Being apart from a master was never good for a familiar.
Although top-class beasts like Kamarin were different, low-level familiars often grew anxious and caused trouble.
Still, thinking of the small owl sleeping alone in the lab made her heart ache.
“Maybe I should ask the head maid to buy a crate of pomegranates in advance…”
She remembered tomorrow would be the last day of Kamarin’s study. While thinking of him, Amel’s mind wandered.
“It would be nice if His Highness brought Kamarin here himself.”
As far as Amel knew, Christan didn’t own a house in the capital. The distance from Bellerophon estate to Barvate was too far to travel in one day. He would need to stay overnight somewhere.
“…It would be nice if he stayed at our house.”
But that was impossible. He was far too busy. The chance was close to zero.
Realizing it was just a dream, Amel slapped her cheeks lightly.
“Ugh! Stop these useless thoughts! I have to deal with the Emperor now!”
Throwing away distractions, Amel stared out the window with determination. The grand and glittering Imperial Palace was getting closer.
She swallowed nervously and encouraged herself.
‘Let’s be strong!’
“This is where you will wait.”
“Yes.”
Although she arrived exactly on time, Gaspar, suddenly busy, sent her to a reception room with a servant.
A palace maid approached.
“What kind of tea would you like?”
“Just peppermint tea…”
“Yes, I’ll prepare it.”
The sound of tea being poured filled the room, along with the scent of mint.
As Amel lifted her teacup, her eyes subtly scanned the room. Maids stood on one side, knights guarded the other wall and the entrance.
Her pouch of potions had been confiscated at the entrance. They promised to return it when she left, but until then she was defenseless. It felt strange that they watched one powerless woman so strictly.
‘Such tight security… huh?’
She almost spat out her tea. The taste was strangely sweet.
‘W-why is it so sweet? Does the Emperor like sweet things…?’
Frowning, Amel smelled the sugar cubes on the table. Luckily, there was no scent of poison.
‘Still, I can’t drink this.’
Losing her appetite, she set the cup down.
With nothing else to do, her boredom grew. Annoyance also rose at Gaspar’s irresponsibility.
“When will His Majesty come?”
“I’ll go and check.”
A servant left and returned shortly.
“His Majesty will arrive in one hour.”
“…One hour?!”
“Yes, that is correct.”
“……”
Amel stared at him in disbelief. Judging by his eyes, it wasn’t a lie. Which meant the cause of this delay was the Emperor himself.
‘To call someone and then keep them waiting—what kind of rude behavior is this?’
She changed her impression of the Emperor to that of a rude man. Crossing her arms, she frowned.
The sudden motion startled those around her.
‘He was the one who started being rude first.’
Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth.
And for rudeness—rudeness in return.
“Then, until His Majesty arrives, may I also do as I please?”
