Chapter 97

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Freil said.

“Instead, Countess Marta opened a salon. She has all those who want to be close to Her Majesty gathering there.”

Countess Marta turned her salon into a thoroughly dignified cultural gathering. There was no political color at all.

Scholars gathered to discuss, and poor poets visited to borrow ink and paper. A newly debuted young lady even recited a poem.

There was no political color in the operation. It was to spread the taste of literature to the young ladies whose preference is in line with the hobby of their mistress, Countess Martha.

These salons were usually for very small groups of friends only.

Nevertheless, due to the prestige of the Empress’ Palace, Countess Martha’s salon quickly rose to fame.

“The social circle must’ve been divided into three parts.

Artizea said quietly.

The social gatherings that have so far divided the social world of the imperial capital have been the imperial banquet of Miraila’s and the salon of Marchioness Camellia.

Of course, the biggest power is Miraila’s Imperial Banquet.

Firstly, the Emperor was present. If the purpose, in itself, was to meet the Emperor and win his favor, receiving an invitation to this banquet was the fastest.

However, this banquet was focused on prodigal play.

On the other hand, the people who gathered at Marchioness Camellia’s salon were great nobles.

The most important information and the flow of money that controls the imperial economy casually went back and forth through small talk.

It wasn’t necessarily the people of the Roygar faction to go in and out of the salon.

Those who want to touch the big money, those who want to gather investors with new ideas, and those who want to show their own talent and wisdom, all went to Marchioness Camellia’s salon.

It was also the pride of Marchioness Camellia. In her salon, strength and talent were as valuable as lineage and status.

She prided herself in it being different from other gatherings where the chatter of the nobles who gathered together were about whom they would marry, and which property to send as a dowry.

But now Countess Martha’s salon has become a strong contender.

Her salon, which featured literature, was different from that of Marchioness Camellia’s.

However, if the young and vibrant talents had gathered there, Marchioness Camellia’s pride would have been hurt in many ways as she valued ​​her reputation.

“Marchioness Camellia showed no reaction.”

“It would be ambiguous to respond. Since Countess Martha is Her Majesty’s lady-in-waiting, Marchioness Camellia is not in a position to confront her.”

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Artizea said to Freil, organizing the information she heard in her head.

“Since Her Majesty the Empress is not actively socializing, it is not so different from the reclusive situation that she has been living in, Countess Martha is not trying to exert her own influence through the salon.”

“Yes, it just feels like she really left the space open. Of course, even so, there are many people who come and go, they see it as almost the only window to communicate with Her Majesty.”

“Brother Lawrence.”

“Yes. Thanks to this, a lot of young men and women gathered. There are many of Sir Lawrence’s friends, many aristocrats from the influential family, and many of the marriage age ladies admiring Sir Lawrence.”

It has become famous as a place where you can freely chat in a decent and cultured atmosphere, as no one plays prodigal play or commits hasty actions in the Empress’ Palace.

As young men and women gathered, the atmosphere in the salon naturally became bright. A ceramic brazier inlaid with gold reflects the light, and the jeweled harp gives off a brilliant light.

“It looks like they’re trying to embrace the ladies right now…”

“It’s not something that can be done in a short time.”

Artizea was immersed in her thoughts. Not to disturb her, everyone bit their mouths.

“How about mother?”

“The imperial palace holds banquets more often than before. Nowadays, it seems to be held almost once a week. His Majesty is spending enormous budgets to comfort the Dowager Marchioness of Marquisate Rosan.”

The word Dowager Marchioness of Marquisate Rosan, was carefully pronounced by Freil.

In front of Artizea, it was impossible to call her Miraila, and the title of the Dowager Marchioness of the Marquisate Rosan seemed to hint that the relationship with Artizea was not broken.

Artizea did not respond to the title issue at all. Freil said quickly.

“But when she actually goes to a banquet, I feel like the Dowager is trying to seduce His Majesty. Every time, the Dowager herself brings a new young woman into His Majesty’s bedroom.”

“Right.”

Artizea was a little surprised.

She never thought that Miraila would even utilize a way that attracts other women.

She wasn’t expecting her to be immersed in the banquet.

After settling down in Marquisate Rosan and getting older, she did not hold banquets that often. It was because her relationship with the Emperor was stable enough that she didn’t have to, and she had the belief that her own position as herself would be strong enough.

As Artizea knows, she also remembered the days when Miraila was dressed up and held a banquet every day.

Although Artizea was very young, she didn’t know what a banquet was, and didn’t even understand the meaning behind it.

However, she longed for her gorgeous mother because she was so pretty. Still, Artizea could vividly recall how enchanted she was when she had touched the hem of Miraila’s sparkling skirt.

[“I’m doing it all for you.”]

Miraila used to say that without thinking whether it was communicated properly.

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Little Artizea nodded her head hard. She believed that it was real, and it was partly true.

She herself bought the Emperor’s wrath only from her birth itself. She would have died before she could even begin to walk, if Miraila had not then, with all her might, recaptured the Emperor’s heart.

That wasn’t what Miraila intentionally did for Artizea, but that doesn’t mean that she’s not survived because of it.

Anyway, Miraila has gone back to that time.

No, she considers her own position to be more dangerous than back then. Even so, she didn’t even think that Miraila would attract other women to entertain the Emperor and win his favor with it.

Miraila lost the Marquisate after the loss of Artizea and as she lost Lawrence, her position as the real wife of the Emperor was jeopardized.

The only thing she can trust now is her own beauty and her position as a woman favored by the Emperor.

And both of them are short-lived.

Artizea asked.

“What about Brother Lawrence?”

“He has never attended the imperial banquet.”

“Has he ever visited mother?”

“No. Rather, there have been a few occasions where the Dowager went to Sir Lawrence’s house, but it wasn’t a very good meeting. After returning, she drank and fell asleep all day, and she found the necromancer.”

“… I see.”

As Artizea was quietly immersed in her thoughts, Lysia cautiously called her.

“Your Grace.”

Lysia had guessed that Artizea’s heart must be broken because of her mother’s terrible circumstances and her brother’s cold attitude.

But Artizea shook her head with a cold attitude.

“It’s a good thing.”

“Your Grace….”

“There is no sign that His Majesty’s favor will be taken from the Dowager.”

Said Freil.

“In fact, when the Dowager first began to attract other women, it is said that there were several dukes on the side of Marchioness Camellia.”

It would be great to say if she could drive out Miraila and plant her own person in the place.

Even if it wasn’t, she would benefit from being able to share some of the favors poured out on Miraila.

“It probably didn’t work. His Majesty pities mother.”

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Compassion is one of the most intense emotions that can be elicited from the Emperor.

Pleasures and entertainment are for herself. For the Emperor, enjoyment was the same no matter who offered it.

He can get his hand on any woman he wants and pleasure does not even need to be permitted.

However, to be pitiful is targeting a specific other person.

Even Miraila knows. No one can pick up the Emperor’s heart as well as her. It was almost instinctive.

But she will not be able to use the Emperor’s compassion. To look pitiful to others was what she hated most.

When Miraila becomes anxious, she dresses up gorgeously. Beauty was Miraila’s pride, strength, and strongest weapon.

The clothing is her armament. Whenever she felt shabby, she wore her jewels and put on her most gorgeous clothes. In order to not look ridiculous, she clenched her teeth and made the most gorgeous appearance.

The Emperor considers it lovely and pitiful. No matter how much Miraila is dressed, in the end she is nothing in front of the Emperor.

“His Majesty will probably continue to hold banquets and keep mother reigning like the queen because he knows how to relieve mother’s anxiety.”

There is nothing to worry about. Rather, the poorer Miraila is, the more likely the Emperor will hate Lawrence.

And when it gets to that point, Miraila will become anxious again.

‘The necromancer must have fueled her anxiety.’

Miraila needs someone to rely on. But superstition never really serves to calm the mind.

Miraila knows that her own reign is nothing but a sand castle.

She had an anxiety that if the castle collapsed, she would roll into the gutter that she had barely escaped. She also felt fear of getting avenged.

And that anxiety became a concrete figure after meeting the necromancer.

Mila was captured by the evil spirit she had created in her own mind. She will try as hard as she can if it means to be relieved even just a little.

Because it wasn’t her fault or wrongdoing, but because the evil spirit had cursed her, things are getting worse.

Once she is obsessed with that thought, she can’t get out. The anxiety and fear were created by Miraila herself.

“Anyway, let’s watch. There is no need to rush.”

“Actually, I have something to tell you about that. It’s a story of a scammer…”

As she was in the presence of other people, Freil turned to the door to say it.

“I see.”

Artizea cut his words, it seems like she knew the situation roughly even if she did not hear the details.

Rye’s story is not something to be said in front of others.

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Freil nodded his head.

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