Chapter 214
The grand ducal couple made their official return through the only road connecting Maindulante to the rest of the empire—the Marquisate of Tipien.
The new Marquis of Tipien, formerly the Duke of Tipien, bowed low before Cledwyn. Always timid, he seemed overwhelmed just by having his nephew within sight.
“Please inform me of anything even slightly inconvenient. I will do my utmost to ensure Your Highnesses travel comfortably.”
Nerys found the new marquis—so servile it bordered on pathetic—amusing. The once-boastful son of the previous marquis, who had abandoned his own father the moment things turned against him.
Leaving such a man at the entrance to Maindulante was potentially dangerous. But Nerys didn’t care much. She was more interested in what she’d seen on the way here.
‘A territory wary of outsiders. Prices soaring. And despite the farming season, barely anyone in the fields.’
While commoners grew poorer under suffocating taxes, the interior of the marquisate remained as lavish as any great noble’s home. Gilded mirrors, freshly tailored brocade capes—all flaunted the new marquis’s giddy pride.
“It seemed close to a famine. If food is short, we can provide some aid for the truly needy. If we coordinate with the temple, establishing a supply network won’t be difficult.”
The marquis seemed to think Cledwyn’s comment was meant to insult the pride of his domain. He briefly showed an offended expression before forcing a smile.
Nerys thought fondly that she had chosen her husband well. A man who laid down groundwork without a word. Some idiots used to explode in anger when offered real advice out of concern.
‘Comparing them almost feels unfair to Cledwyn.’
Comparing the worst sort of bastard to the best man alive never made sense to begin with.
The marquis initially refused Cledwyn’s “consideration.” He insisted the domain was fine, and even if it weren’t, he could handle it.
But then his shallow mind began to turn. No matter how much he squeezed from his people, the imperial levies were too heavy, and little remained for himself. And here was money offered freely, without asking for anything in return. Only a fool wouldn’t accept it.
Soon imagining he had found a new financial source, the marquis relaxed. He then added a “coincidental” piece of news, trying to secure the offer.
“Thank you for your generosity. Your Highnesses may not have heard yet, but there was a major earthquake recently. Refugees from Dreykum have come down. If Your Highness would include them in the support funds, that would be ideal.”
“An earthquake?”
Dreykum was indeed the first city one encountered upon entering the grand duchy, but it wasn’t exactly close. Population in the area had always been low.
For refugees to travel all the way here, something significant must have happened.
Seeing their serious expressions, the marquis believed he had fully captured their attention.
“I heard there was also an earthquake in the capital? Ours was severe. We thought the world was ending. And apparently both earthquakes struck on the same day.”
“Is that so.”
The earthquake in the capital had an obvious origin—the pillar of light hidden in the imperial palace. And despite the shock people felt, the actual damage was minimal, a typical result of a mana storm.
So this likely wasn’t related to Dreykum’s earthquake. But the timing was uncanny.
Worried for the people of Maindulante, Nerys frowned. Had she known, she would have returned sooner. Even though she had awakened safely, Cledwyn had driven the carriage extremely slowly, afraid she might still suffer after-effects of the curse. Now she regretted that caution.
But she couldn’t blame her husband or their companions. Even high priests had failed to unravel the curse—an uncanny spell even Nerys, who knew Camille’s methods well, had never heard of.
‘In my previous life, I never once met Camille’s personal mage.’
She had known such a person must exist. The curse used by Silver Moon to conceal themselves was too costly for anyone—even Camille—to maintain without a dedicated mage. But she had never heard of one with such bizarre abilities.
‘Then again, she was never the type to tell me everything.’
Someone who used magic that was grotesque and taboo would certainly have been raised in secrecy.
Nerys nodded.
“I understand. Thank you for telling me. And might there be many of the personal possessions left behind by my husband’s late mother?”
The marquis looked unsure how to answer. Nerys eased his burden.
“Of course the Tipien family would wish to preserve her memory, so I don’t ask for anything too precious. Just a few simple, everyday belongings.”
Not the luxurious furniture or ornaments of the marquis’s daughter—but the humble items belonging to the true former grand duchess who had been pushed into marriage. Anything that proved her real lineage.
Her words implied that she and Cledwyn already knew the entire story. Even hinted a warning not to attempt deception.
The marquis swallowed and nodded.
“Yes, of course.”
❖ ❖ ❖
After leaving the marquisate, Nerys’s party struggled forward along roads torn apart as though scraped by a giant rake.
They were all highly trained veterans, but the road was so damaged that even they could barely navigate it. With carriages included, their pace was slower than a crawling snail.
Speed wasn’t the only issue. The carriage wheels rattled violently over what was hardly a road anymore, making all of them grimace. They still worried about Nerys’s condition.
“Stop.”
By the time they reached Dreykum—or what used to be Dreykum—the coachman felt exhausted but relieved.
“It must be hard. Be careful getting down.”
Cledwyn helped Nerys down from the carriage, his voice thick with concern. Bathed in the warm late-spring sunlight, Nerys looked around blankly.
Not a single building remained. Nothing. The distant horizon was flat, and the mountains of the canyon they had passed were faint outlines.
The bustle, the inns—everything was gone. The only things rising higher than a second floor were piles of earth and rubble.
There was nothing the grand ducal couple could do now that the quake had passed and the people had already fled. Yet they stopped the carriage here for a reason weighing on both their minds.
“Can you find where we were before?”
Holding her arm tightly so she wouldn’t stumble on uneven ground, Cledwyn asked. Nerys looked troubled.
“I can try… but I didn’t expect this. Can you tell where the ruins were?”
“I’ll have to look.”
When Nerys had visited the ruins here with Diane, one pillar bore an inscription in a six-century-old language: “So the wildcat is not forgotten.”
Even then, she had found it odd that the imperial family claimed the ruins were only four centuries old when they were clearly older. The imperial family had no reason to falsify the history of a pile of stones.
But the hidden chamber Cledwyn visited—the one Nerys had passed but never entered—
Contained two altars and a tapestry embroidered with a wildcat.
Nerys had replayed her husband’s account over and over. The way the entity spoke of “the returning child of Elandria,” and how it clearly understood the existence of the violet Jeweled Eyes…
‘Why was there a wildcat in that chamber?’
Golden thread symbolized the brilliance of the imperial family. The sun. Only direct royals were allowed to wear garments woven with gold thread.
A symbol embroidered entirely in gold—or using gold thread—could only belong to the imperial family. So if something—especially in a hidden chamber—was adorned with gold thread…
It should have been the sun.
Not a wildcat.
Unless, at some time in history, the wildcat had been the imperial symbol.
She’d long found it strange. Everyone knew the imperial family had Jeweled Eyes. And the Elandria family also had them—as proven by her existence.
Then what of the last of the three legendary heroes, Phallos?
The brave Bistor’s navy Jeweled Eyes bestowed toughness and strength.
The honest Elandria’s violet Jeweled Eyes bestowed mind-control.
If those two possessed such impossible abilities, could Phallos have had none at all?
The Phallos line had died out long ago. But surely there were distant relatives. Nerys herself had awakened as a distant relative.
But if the pillar said “the child of Elandria has returned,” didn’t that imply someone else’s child had not yet returned?
Why?
Could Camille’s obsessive desire to kill her be related to the extinction of Phallos’s line?
In the Elandria gallery, in the portrait of the honest ancestor, two tapestries hung behind him—one of the sun, the other of a pointed-eared, cat-like beast.
Everyone had always been taught that was a leopard.
But between a leopard and a wildcat, which resembled the tapestry more?
The tapestry that honest Elandria proudly displayed—what if both designs were originally imperial symbols? As if he were more proud to be a vassal of the imperial family than one of the heroes.
Then was the man in that portrait truly Elandria?
Six hundred years ago, who was it that cursed the imperial family with the wildcat?
Perhaps it was all wild speculation. But Nerys thought it worth investigating. Only… in this state, the ruins would need time to stabilize—
Come… here…
Nerys flinched.
Someone was whispering to her. Even though Cledwyn stood right beside her, that shouldn’t have been possible.
The faint, amused voice continued, coaxing her.
…Child of Elandria. I have something prepared for you…
More magic? Something else Camille had placed here?
Even though she knew she should be cautious, the voice carried a strangely irresistible pull. Nerys widened her eyes and scanned her surroundings.
Cledwyn noticed his wife stiffen. He glared at the wind, hand moving toward his sword.
Then—
Rumble. The earth roared. Talfrin and Aidan turned pale.
“Aftershock…!”
Both men immediately checked on their masters. But Nerys had vanished.
“Damn it! Your Highness!”
Talfrin shouted sharply, sprinting toward Cledwyn. Even as the ground shook and split apart, he didn’t hesitate.
It soon became clear where Nerys went—Cledwyn had hurled himself into the gaping crack in the earth.
Fortunately, the tremor subsided quickly.
“Are you safe!?”
Talfrin yelled into the small black hole where the couple had been standing. The shifting earth must have swallowed them and then partially closed again.
No reply came.
“Break it open!”
At Talfrin’s signal, the assassins of ‘Shadow’ lunged forward. Aidan’s knights moved in perfect order to fetch tools.