Chapter 88

Louise de Dumont and the child in her womb posed a grave threat to Prince Merrick’s claim to the throne, and Madame Schuabel could not allow years of hard work for the Grand Duchess to be thwarted because of that.

Though the plan had gone awry midway and blame for the death was unfairly shifted onto her former husband, their ultimate goal had always been the Emperor. The false rumor that the Emperor had ordered the brutal murder of an innocent young woman and her unborn child to prevent a cadet line from inheriting the throne would serve as the only breathing room for their otherwise unjustified rebellion.

“He could not even steel his heart when I told him that if he made a reckless move before we had finished our preparations, he would be caught by the tail. But when I warned him that he ought to have noticed the Emperor’s recent behavior, that he seemed unusually infatuated with the new male concubine, that if he laid a finger on that man in such a situation, he would not walk away unscathed, only then did he finally flinch. The Emperor must be truly terrifying. And yet he is as greedy as ever.”

If the Grand Duchess and her son were greedy assassin cats, one a wildcat with fangs and the other a kitten whose teeth had yet to grow, then Ebroin V was a mighty lion. A natural ruler whose extraordinariness was apparent to all. Even the common citizens, who had no ties to power, felt a certain pride in such an Emperor.

“I suppose it is better to be a traitor than to live as a bystander.”

Duke La Mer quoted someone etched into his memory as he brought the pipe to his lips. A haze settled in his mind as the smoke filled his lungs.

“In any case, you have done well. I am in your debt.”

“Debt? For something like this? Compared to what you are going to do for us in the future, this was just a bonus.”

She chuckled and shrugged, then noticed the pocket watch on the Duke La Mer’s waistcoat and smiled mischievously.

“Truly a man of unwavering devotion, are you not? Oscar, for a libertine like yourself to be so dedicated, not to a beautiful lady, but to some distant cousin, no less. And yet, that heartless relative of yours barely even acknowledges your existence.”

“It is fine. I have long since grown used to unrequited love.”

The Duke of La Mer replied with feigned lightness to Madame Schuabel’s teasing remark, but it was not entirely a joke.

He truly was fine. Compared to the past few years, when he would hear about him only once every few months, and the man was so often out at sea that it was impossible even to know how he was living, this current state, in which he could at least see his face from time to time, suited him far better.

The real problem is that some completely irrelevant bastard has latched onto his side…

As he recalled the beloved figure in his mind, for whom his admiration had grown so intense it had long since transformed into affection, Duke La Mer frowned slightly, remembering the man who had lately been clinging to him incessantly.

When he first heard those ridiculous rumors, he had scoffed, certain the man would never behave in such a way, but lately, the situation had grown too close to those rumors for comfort. The rumors themselves were clearly spread with intent, yet the relationship between the two had grown increasingly similar to them.

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“That is precisely why it is ominous. If he knows and still remains quiet with that temperament of his, then it is not mere indifference. He is moving in the shadows, and we just cannot trace it.”

Madame Schuabel’s expression changed as she grasped the gravity of what his words implied.

“Are you saying the Emperor’s counterintelligence organization is in motion? Have you identified its leader?”

“It is such a covert organization that I have only managed to narrow it down to three candidates. But all three are difficult to approach, and I cannot be certain. The problem is, based on their qualifications, all three are plausible, but I cannot confirm that any of them is truly part of the Anti-Chevalier.”

The Anti-Chevalier was the nickname for the Emperor’s secret counterintelligence organization, and to be precise, it was more of a derogatory term used by those who opposed them.

The empire had once been famed as a land of chivalry, and the aristocracy still retained a quiet reverence for that legacy. Thus, there remained a surprising degree of revulsion toward those who would use any means necessary to achieve their ends.

As the Emperor’s hidden hand, no one dared to publicly condemn them, but when rumors about them leaked, people would whisper,“Of course, only non-knights would behave like that,”disparaging them behind closed doors.

“If you say they are plausible, then I assume your suspicions are quite credible. I will look into it as well, so just tell me the names. Who are they?”

“The first is Baron Bouilhet. A man anyone would suspect.”

Baron Bouilhet, the Emperor’s milk brother and closest confidant, was one of the few trusted enough to be entrusted with such a role. Intelligence organizations required close proximity and absolute loyalty to avoid corruption, and Baron Bouilhet was one of the rare individuals Ebroin V could trust to that degree.

“And the second?”

“Viscount Dèriche. He served as Chief of Staff for the White Flag Regiment during the Landrienne Campaign. He was recently promoted within the Ministry of the Army for his wartime achievements, but even before that war, he was already close to the Emperor.”

“I know of him. He is the nephew of Sir Gromanic, the Emperor’s swordsmanship instructor.”

Sir Gromanic, once the prized pupil of the Margrave of Renault and the Empress Mother Héloïse’s guard knight, had never married in order to remain faithful to his duty. He had devoted his entire life to the Empress Mother, and when the Margraviate of Renault fell, his entire family was massacred.

The only survivor was his sister, who had married into the Northern nobility. She became the wife of the previous Viscount Dèriche, and Sir Gromanic passed down the rights and swordsmanship of the House Gromanic to her son.

In other words, Viscount Dèriche had trained in swordsmanship under the same instructor as the Emperor, making them fellow disciples.

“I had not thought of him, but now that you mention it, he certainly could be. I had assumed he was all brains, judging by the honors he earned as a strategist, but I heard from the last hunting tournament that his martial skills are formidable as well.”

Madame Schuabel mentally noted the name of Viscount Dèriche. The Duke of La Mer took a deep drag from his pipe and then spoke the third and final name.

“Lastly, Victor Adelphe.”

“Hm? Who is that?”

“Not well known, but he is one of the Emperor’s close aides. His commoner milk brother.”

“Oh. I think I have heard the name before. Because of their childhood bond, he has some influence in the Emperor’s faction, despite being a commoner, right?”

Madame Schuabel nodded as if recalling something, then tilted her head in confusion.

“But he is a commoner, is he not?”

There were valid reasons why commoner milk brothers received less attention than their noble counterparts.

Nobles could leverage their bond with the Emperor to gain political power, but commoners had no such pathway. Only nobles were eligible to hold posts in the central imperial office. A position as powerful, though unofficial, as the leader of the Emperor’s counterintelligence organization would never have been given to a mere commoner.

“He is part of the Anti-Chevalier. He need not be a knight.”

“Do not be ridiculous. Do you think the Emperor has lost his mind? If he offered that kind of position, any court noble would swear fealty. It is a role that could be wielded as a political card depending on the situation, there is no way he would waste it like that.”

Though the Duke of La Mer truly believed it was a possibility, Madame Schuabel, a longtime imperial socialite, dismissed his speculation without a second thought. Not wishing to argue over such a matter, the duke merely shrugged and said, “That is all,” before turning his gaze back to the window.

As though a hole had been torn in the firmament itself, the torrential rain that had been falling for some time now showed no sign of relenting. While silently pondering over the names he had mentioned, Madame Schuabel softly called out his.

“Oscar.”

“Yes, Diana?”

“You must truly be careful from now on. We may be close to our goal, but the Emperor is still very much alive. As long as he has even enough strength to breathe, he remains capable of striking back.”

“I know all too well how frightening a man he is.”

“Do not let your guard down. Keep digging into his tracks. If we cannot obstruct his movements, then all our efforts will have been for nothing. We must find out what he knows, and how much.”

“Hm. I understand.”

Oscar answered graciously to Madame Schuabel’s worrisome advice. Even as they plotted against him, the Emperor’s very existence weighed heavily upon them, a source of constant tension.

A sudden wave of fatigue washed over Madame Schuabel, and with a deep sigh, she rested her head on Oscar’s shoulder. Careful not to disturb her, Oscar shifted his pipe to his opposite hand and gently stroked her small shoulder in a soothing gesture.

“If you go back through this rain, you will catch a cold. Would you like to stay the night?”

He played with a strand of her hair that had fallen across his shoulder, his voice tender. Madame Schuabel lowered her gaze with a weary expression and gave a faint nod.