The next day, a grand party was held in the main hall of Le Chantier Palace. Hundreds of the empire’s top aristocratic patriarchs, their children, and their wives were gathered together, and the country’s most renowned orchestra was performing. The stars of the party were the two candidates for empress.
The women in the hall all watched Elizabeth with admiration as she entered the main hall.
“Look there! It’s Lady Elizabeth! She looks so lovely today. Truly, there could not be a more suitable candidate,” one of the partygoers said.
“Well, she is the daughter of the Reyns. They’re rich and powerful, and she’s beautiful and intelligent. She’s good at everything. Completely flawless. I admire her so much...” someone else replied.
Elizabeth stood in a dignified manner, surrounded by knights and ladies’ maids. Despite their low rank, her maids were dressed splendidly: unmistakable proof of the Reyn family’s wealth.
“I would like to thank you all from the very bottom of my heart for gathering here today. It is such a pleasure for me to see you here on this very important night. Please make yourselves comfortable,” Elizabeth said with a beautiful smile. Then she lifted her skirt slightly, tucked one leg behind her, and curtsied to everyone. She was greeted with envious gazes and unreserved applause.
Then, the entrance area to the hall grew boisterous again. Heads turned as Westalia, the second candidate for empress, appeared in the doorway.
“Good evening, everyone. Lady Elizabeth. People of the Archaites Empire,” Westalia said, a dainty smile on her lips. The guests gasped as they saw her. Westalia’s long, silver hair looked like threads of silk, and her eyes were like lustrous amethysts. She was a full head taller than the average woman and was wearing heels, which made her even taller and more prominent in the crowd.
Paige was accompanying Westalia as her knight this evening, and she cut a figure so dashingly handsome, one could forget entirely that she was a woman.
You must feel like the star of the show, Elizabeth. But you’re not the only candidate for empress, Westalia thought, looking over at her rival. She then performed the same curtsy the other woman had done earlier.
“Good evening, everyone. My name is Westalia Lejainne. I am originally from the Kingdom of Lhumzia, but I am now one of the candidates for empress. Thank you very much for coming to see me and Miss Elizabeth today. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Westalia said. The words “me and” strengthened the idea that the party that evening was for both her and Elizabeth.
The crowd was silent. There were no words of welcome, no applause, and no murmurs or anything as Westalia greeted the audience. Silence prevailed in the hall, as if the earlier liveliness had been a lie. Everyone stepped aside like a receding tide, opening the way for Westalia to walk forward. Then, for some reason, they stubbornly refused to make eye contact.
Westalia whispered to Paige, who was standing diagonally behind her. “Oh dear, are they all too awed by the majesty of the candidate for the next empress?”
“No, I think they’re just avoiding you,” Paige responded.
“Paige...” Westalia leveled a dry look at her knight, who cleared her throat once before agreeing with her lady that it was certainly Westalia’s radiance that was making the crowd avoid her gaze—a compliment Paige clearly didn’t mean.
Although Westalia had said it was a pleasure to make everyone’s acquaintance, there wasn’t a single person in the country who didn’t know who she was. Everyone knew she was from a ducal family from the Kingdom of Lhumzia and that she’d been one of the candidates for queen there. Westalia had been thought dead as a result of a conspiracy by Princess Lily and the former queen, who had sentenced her to death by poison. In reality, however, she’d been falsely accused of a crime, survived her death sentence, and traveled to the great Archaites Empire to participate in their empress selection process and then had even proven her innocence in Lhumzia on her own.
While the common citizens of both countries were excited by Westalia’s triumphant story, the nobles in this hall were a bit different. Those in power often had guilty consciences. That was why they were wary of Westalia. They all wondered if they would have the rug pulled out from under them and end up losing their positions of power, like what had happened with the former queen of Lhumzia at Westalia’s hands. Westalia felt eyes on her from all sides, as if they were watching a wild animal that might attack at any moment.
Do the nobles of this country really have that much to hide? Westalia wondered. If there were people like that among the nobility, Westalia wouldn’t balk at rooting their wicked ways out and dealing with them. She’d even declared that to the emperor in the audience chamber.
It is our duty as aspiring empresses to save and protect the weak from those who would exploit them, Westalia thought.
Westalia walked straight forward to come face-to-face with Elizabeth. She looked down at the woman, who was a little shorter than her. Elizabeth stared back up at her with a provocative look in her eyes.
“Well, well, isn’t it a wonderful skill to open paths before you wherever you walk? There are yet many roads in the Archaites Empire that need paving. You should quit trying to be empress and go work in construction instead,” Elizabeth said.
Her barb, as if to say Westalia wasn’t suited to being empress, made Westalia’s brow twitch with irritation. Westalia feigned composure when Elizabeth then added that she could help her get a job.
“I think it is a wonderful thing to build roads, which will lead to the growth of the region and eventually the entire country. When I become empress, I will definitely focus on civic development. Thank you for your advice,” Westalia replied.
Elizabeth bristled at the response and sparks flew between the two women. At that moment light from the chandelier reflected off Elizabeth’s pink, bejeweled dress, making Westalia squint.
Elizabeth often wore bright pink dresses, and she wasn’t the only one. Many of the ladies in this hall were wearing pink dresses the same color as Elizabeth’s. The bright pink dye was developed by the Rias Corporation, owned by the Reyns, who had the exclusive right to sell the color. And since it was based on Elizabeth’s hair color, it was called “Elizabeth Pink.” Elizabeth was the envy of society, and when she wore the color and advertised it, Elizabeth Pink had become an instant sensation. Because everything in Elizabeth Pink was expensive, the main clientele consisted of aristocratic ladies and their daughters.
Westalia glanced around the hall and took in how many women were wearing Elizabeth Pink.
“That’s a very beautiful dress,” Westalia said.
“Of course! What a candidate for empress wears must be first-rate. And isn’t this cheerful color especially eye-catching?” Elizabeth replied.
“The fascination with Elizabeth Pink is amazing. I’ve never seen such a vibrant pink before. I’m curious about how you make it.” When Westalia was in the Kingdom of Lhumzia, she had used dye she made herself from safflowers to color her hair red and hide its natural silver. Even mixing that bright-red dye with white would not have produced such a vivid pink. Westalia, a lover of science, asked out of pure curiosity and a desire for knowledge.
Elizabeth snorted in response. “It’s a trade secret. Elizabeth Pink was made by the Reyn family company using a special formula. No ordinary mixture of red and white can reproduce it. Even I don’t know how it’s made.”
Westalia’s curiosity was piqued when Elizabeth said it was impossible to reproduce, and she became more and more interested in the manufacturing process. But if Elizabeth didn’t know how it was made, Westalia had no choice but to give up.
“Maybe they just don’t trust you,” she said.
Elizabeth clicked her tongue, and her expression grew bitter. Westalia had only said that to tease the woman, but it seemed she’d hit the nail on the head.
“A-Anyway, you finally do realize that I set the trends in this country, don’t you?” Elizabeth asked, laughing triumphantly. At that moment, Westalia caught a glimpse of the hand that Elizabeth raised to politely cover her mouth as she laughed. Westalia let out a small gasp as the end of the long sleeve slid down just slightly, giving her a peek at Elizabeth’s wrist, which was covered in a red rash. Westalia could also see a few blisters, and some spots that looked darker than the others, as if Elizabeth had repeatedly scratched at them.
A rash? Westalia thought. While Westalia remained silent, thinking she dared not point out a problem with Elizabeth’s appearance, the woman noticed Westalia’s line of sight and quickly pulled the sleeve down to cover her wrist.
But it wasn’t just the rash. There was sweat slowly beading on Elizabeth’s forehead, and her face was paler than usual, looking slightly ashen.
Maybe she’s not feeling well... Westalia thought. Before she could ask, Elizabeth turned and walked away.
Then, the emperor personally introduced the two candidates for empress. While the emperor was speaking to the assembled people, there was a civil servant standing next to him, diligently writing everything down. The man’s official title was Royal Chronicler, a position unique to the Archaites Empire. When the emperor attended an important meeting or event, his remarks were recorded. It wasn’t just the emperor’s remarks, however, but also those of the people around him. This was done in order to prevent disputes over what the emperor had or hadn’t said when a problem arose. Whenever Westalia had been summoned to the audience chamber by the emperor, the royal chronicler was always present in a corner of the room.