Chapter 112: Ch. 112: Busted

Impervious of the spider’s web his daughter was slowly building to entrap his wife, Emperor Helio stood on the balcony with his hands clasped behind his back. Trained footsteps belying an extensive training background echoed behind him.

“Your Majesty,” Harold said, “The Lord Protector has arrived at the palace.”

“Bring him in,” Emperor Helio ordered indifferently, not shifting from his position.

But Harold did not leave just yet. “He has brought his son as well,” the faithful aide added.

This time, the emperor cast one look over his shoulder.

“The lame one?” he asked bluntly.

“Ah yes. The one that uses a wheelchair, Your Majesty,” Harold replied.

.....

Hearing this, the emperor lost immediate interest. But on account of his oldest friend, he added, “Make sure he comes to no accident in the palace.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

The door to his office closed, only to open again minutes later.

“Hakon.” The emperor tucked his hands into his pocket as he turned around to face the Lord Protector of the North and the only man impervious to his killing aura.

“Old friend.” Hakon Wolfe strolled forward, circumventing the desk to reach the emperor. “How has the empire been treating you?”

Hearing how little the Lord Protector’s voice had changed over the years, a small grin sprouted on the emperor’s face, an utter rarity that would give anyone at the palace used to his stony visage a heart attack.

They both shook hands, comparing grip strength with enough power to snap a tree in half. Seeing that the other hadn’t weakened over the years, they let go to a tentative truce.

“You haven’t changed a bit,” Emperor Helio chuckled.

“I could say the same. How long has it been?” the Lord Protector mused.

“Since the wedding.” The emperor did not need to distinguish between which wedding he spoke of, after all, only one had ever mattered to him.

The thin smile on the Lord Protector’s face faded. “Yes, since the wedding. And yet the old problems from back then still linger.”

The day everything Emperor Helio had ever wanted in life had been within his grasp, and one of the last few happy ones before the facade had crumbled.

“Old problems?” he asked, blocking his late wife’s face from his mind to focus on the present.

“Your old advisor. I thought you’d killed him,” the Lord Protector remarked.

“He’s a roach. Difficult to kill.” The emperor’s face blackened with dark memories. Even after he’d made his deal with Akira, Lord Bromely still proved to have roots buried too deep for him to uproot all at once.

“Well, your roach has braved the cold run up north and become my problem. It’s hard to figure out his movements, but they are suggesting he may be trying to contact someone on the Old Continent,” Hakon was not one to beat around the bush, quickly getting to the heart of the matter.

Emperor Helio bit back a grimace, a thousand secrets flashing through his eyes. Secrets were currency for kings, treasures for emperors. The one that Lord Bromely was trying to dig up, it was the kind that brought down empires. The kind that even the lord before him did not know the full extent of, or the emperor would have to get rid of him.

“And here I’d thought you just came to say hello to an old friend.”

—————-

“Your Highness! Princess!”

Maids were scattered throughout the royal gardens, frantically peeking under bushes and searching high and low for me.

But they’re out of luck.

The gardens are the last place I’d hide to stay out of sight. I brush off a little moss and dirt from my dark-colored skirts as I peer at the tall Eastern trees at the center of the palace. A boy in a wheelchair sits alone in front before the uprooted patch of forestry, just as Emma had reported. Recalling how he’d commented on the trees the last time we spoke at the Celebration Ball, I simply chalk it up to a youthful fascination with such strange-looking trees.

The bark is a pale greenish-brown as if the color has been leached from it. And it’s not just the bark, both the leaves and the small flowers that only bloom during spring similarly lack vibrant color. Catching one’s eyes at the most unlikely of times, I have even found myself staring aimlessly at the strange forest on occasion.

“Elias?” I call out tentatively. He swivels around rapidly, his face stony and eyes narrowed. But when they focus on me, Elias’ face lightens tremendously and his goofy smile that I’m used to sprouts on his face. I smooth down invisible wrinkles on my clothes and approach, very much looking like a student in my dark full skirt and white blouse.

However, I can admit that I’ve failed as a student, having snuck out of one of Mrs. Laroche’s stuffy lectures after receiving a secret note from Emma. How on earth did I miss having her as an etiquette teacher? She’s even worse than my college professor who spent every two-hour class monotonously lecturing us on long-dead philosophers.

“Your highness-” Elias starts to say in a chipper voice.

I’ve already reached him, pressing a finger to his mouth with a threatening expression. “Didn’t I tell you not to bother with formalities? Just call me Winter, silly!”

“Summer,” Elias says warmly with a fat grin.

“Winter!” I scold.

“Autumn,” He counters. I cross my arms and pout, my bottom lip sticking out. Why does he sound more and more like Clever Jack, who always irritates me every time he opens his mouth?

“I’m sorry,” Elias cooed, although he doesn’t look very sorry to me. But he’s just a kid having fun, after all.

“Don’t sweat it. Erm, I mean... don’t fret about such matters. I know it was all in jest.” I cannot lie, making my speech formal for this era can be quite difficult, even after years here.

I spy movement out of the corner of my eye and dive behind Elias’ wheelchair before my mind registers my body’s movement. It was all in good time too. I see a maid from the central palace try to look under the hedge I’d wiggled under to reach Elias, although she’s much taller and finding it considerably more difficult. She toils for only a few seconds before throwing in the towel and disappearing back to her side.

I let out a loud breath, dragging myself back to a standing position while Elias watches the whole exchange with an invisible bag of popcorn in his hands.

“Hiding from someone?”

“You could say that,” I acknowledge, embarrassingly still out of breath. “But who cares about me? Why are you here?”

It is quite surprising to find Elias all alone and unattended within the palace. Those who can enter the palace must be of noble descent and have an invitation from one of the masters in the palace. I can think of no reason for my father, mother, or brothers to summon a still young Elias to the imperial palace.

“My father is here,” Elias says as an explanation. He jerks his head towards the central palace, where my father eats, works, and ignores my existence when he isn’t galavanting off to conquer or fight outside of the palace. Do I sound bitter? I’m really not trying to be.

“Ah... your father. He’s...?” I snap my fingers, trying to remember who Elias’ father was from the webnovel. But remembering details of a character who really was at most mentioned in passing after reading the book years ago is as difficult as it sounds.

“He’s the Lord Protector of the Northern Territories,” Elias says helpfully. A rarely mentioned character who is powerful, albeit very far removed from the power games of the capital. It’s no wonder I couldn’t recall him. Hailing from one of the original founding Houses though, House Wolfe, the Lord Protector is not someone to be so quickly dismissed.

“Yes, of course. The Lord Protector. I knew that. Do you know why your father’s here?” My curiosity gets the best of me. My father has famously had a detached stance concerning noble families, using them as he sees fit and then dumping them like an asshole boyfriend. If it weren’t for his strong military power and presence, perhaps Emperor Helio’s seat on the throne would be far more precarious than it is now without much noble support.

historical

“They’re friends. Very good friends.” In the last sentence, Elias adorably whispers as if he doesn’t want anyone else to hear.

“Friends?” I muse, rubbing my chin. This was never mentioned in the webnovel. But it’s fascinating nonetheless. With one of the original Houses firmly in his corner, it’s no wonder House Duvernay’s growing power hasn’t unsettled him yet. “I don’t suppose you know what it is they are speaking of?”

It’s a shot in the dark, my question. But surprisingly, Elias has an answer.

“The Old Continent,” he tells me, wagging his fingers in the air with mystique.

The Old Continent is to the Erudian Empire what Persia and India were to Victorian England. A land of oriental mystery with traditions, fables, and practices far different from our own. It had obtained its name due to the fact that the landmass the empire and neighboring kingdoms were located on had split off several eons ago from the original continent. I pat my hair unconsciously, the fact that my mother had been of descent from the Old Continent coming to mind instantly. It couldn’t be that they had met to discuss something related to me, could it?

“You’ve heard the rumors, haven’t you? That my mother was from the Old Continent?” I ask Elias rather directly.

Noting his shy expression and the way he looked down at the ground, I know I’ve poked at the truth.

“I try not to. My nursemaid told me that listening to rumors will make flowers grow out of your ears,” Elias murmurs sheepishly.

“Well, don’t worry. It’s true,” I tell him point-blank. One of the few facts ever mentioned about the late Princess Winter in the webnovel was that her mother was from the Old Continent, thus explaining her shockingly white locks.

“That’s not a bad thing, is it? Why don’t you look happy?” Elias asks me.

I shrug, taking a second to string my words together. “I’m not unhappy per se. It’s just weird not knowing my heritage. And when that heritage is just another reason for people to dislike you...”

My words trail off but the message is clear. In my last life, I was a proud Latina and knew it. Speaking Spanish with my mom, watching soccer (football) with my cousins, and eating dishes that had been well seasoned make up many of the warm memories I reflect on when I’m all alone in bed at night. But here, my deceased mother comes from another country with a lukewarm reception in the empire that no one really seems to know anything concrete about.

It’s just another can of worms that’s going to explode in my face one day, I can already feel it. Even if Peppermint can’t meddle with the plot anymore, I’m still cursed with bad luck.

“But your father, he doesn’t dislike you for it, isn’t that right? After all, he welcomed you into the family when he found you,” Elias reasoned. I can’t even get annoyed with the question as I see his pure, round eyes peering up at me.

“You would think so, right? But no, sometimes things aren’t what they seem. Honestly, if I didn’t have my healing abilities... I would be dead by now. They saved me,” I give my hands a reverent look before a thought occurs to me. “Wait! Let me try to heal you!”

I grin at Elias, my heart overflowing with excitement but it’s like we’ve switched positions. Elias has a rather grown-up expression on his face, disappointment.

“You don’t want me to try?” My hands that were about to pounce on his legs still in their path.

“No, it’s not that.” Elias shakes his head, his tone bitter. “But I’ve met hundreds of doctors. All of them have told me that I will never be able to walk on my own.”

“Maybe my hands will be different,” I say humbly. In actuality, my hands are the stuff of legends, miracle workers, a divine gift perhaps from Helio. After healing all sorts of gruesome injuries, I have utmost faith in my ability to heal others.

“Maybe,” he says in acquiescence. Seeing his silent acceptance I quickly lay my hands on his thighs only for nothing to happen.

There is no golden light, nor is there any remnant of breakfast shooting up my throat. It’s as if I were touching my own flesh, the only person who I cannot heal. Until now.

“You have got to be kidding me,” I mutter in my breath in lieu of letting out a frustrated scream.

Someone pats me lightly on my shoulder, I see Elias giving me a look of pity and it crushes me briefly when I recall my overwhelming pride seconds ago.

“Sorry.” My voice is so small it sounds like a mouse. “I don’t know how it- I don’t know why I can’t...”

“It is something I was born with, my burden to bear for life. Be at ease, I have long become accustomed to life in this chair. Besides, your healing hands probably do not work only because this is a congenital defect,” Elias says valiantly, his glass half full mindset standing out.

“Maybe,” I say, not certain if his words ring true or if he’s just comforting me. But he is very kind for the effort. “How long will you be here?”

“As long as my father deems fit. He shall return north without me,” Elias tells me.

“Without you? As in, he will leave you behind in Radovalsk?”

“Precisely. We will be able to play together if you’d like.” Elias looks forlorn in his wheelchair, but attempts to put on a brave face when discussing how his own dad will leave him behind in the dust.

“But, what about your mother? Surely she would object to you being away from home for so long?” I insist, trying to dig up how the Lord Protector could be so callous to his own son.

.....

Since this is an era still caught up in buggies and carriages, traveling anywhere is an ordeal. I know enough about the Erudian Empire’s terrain that if one doesn’t travel north before it’s too cold, they’ll be caught in the ensuing snowstorms and terrible weather. So if Elias doesn’t return north with his father, he won’t be able to return home until early summer next year at the earliest.

“My mother’s dead. She died giving birth to me. And then I came out lame.” Elias’ short answer paints a clear picture.

“Ah...” I draw out the long syllable. Elias has always been so self-aware for his age. Turns out, just like me, he had to be. “So you’re like me.”

My father and his father must truly be friends, as neglecting their kids seems to be a pastime hobby of both.

“I’m like you, but you still have a chance. I don’t think your father hates you. Perhaps he’s just bad at expressing it,” Elias pleads with me.

“I’m afraid that is very much not the case,” I say, rolling my eyes.

“You can’t say that. Didn’t he move you to live closer with him after the war? That means he cares!” Out of nowhere, Elias’ good-natured appeal starts pushing all my buttons.

“Listen, Elias. Even if somehow in a million years the emperor had a speck of love for me, I wouldn’t care. Do you want to know why?” I ask as sweetly as possible.

“Because I hate him! I HATE MY DAD, OK? And that will never change.” I take a deep breath after my sudden outburst only to feel that we aren’t alone anymore. Elias’ expression is frozen in half panic half fear and when I turn around, the last person I’d ever want to hear my words stands before me.

Emperor Helio and Lord Protector Wolfe, who were perhaps walking to come see Elias, both stand in front of me, their expressions betraying the fact that they heard me loud and clear.