After Tiberio left, Westalia approached the cell and looked down at the two guards. The tips of her fingers trembled slightly from confronting Tiberio.
One of the guards let out a squeak when he saw the blood dripping down her face.
“You know what happens if you try to escape, don’t you?” Westalia said, her face expressionless, as she gestured to the poison needle that rested inside her breast pocket.
“H-Hey, just when are you going to get us out of here?”
“You’re not speaking very respectfully to your superior. I’m sure you mean to ask ‘might you let us out?’ Why don’t you try that again?”
“When might you let us out...?”
Westalia smiled wryly as she wiped the blood from her temple with a handkerchief. Her head ached from the blow. She’d grown angry, wondering why she had to endure so much pain at that man’s hands.
“I’m sorry, but you won’t be getting out. You’ll be stuck in this dark dungeon forever, never seeing the sun again.”
“You...!”
“Just kidding.”
“Just...!” The men’s faces changed from fear to surprise and back again. After toying with them, Westalia came to her senses and shrugged.
Taking out my anger on them does nothing, Westalia thought. She fastened the lock on the cell and then spun away sharply on her heel. She walked down the long hallway of the dungeon and stopped near a corner.
“You can come out now.”
“Okay...” Emerging from the shadows of the dungeon was the Royal Chronicler.
In the Archaitian royal palace, when the emperor participated in important discussions or events, there was an attendant who kept a record of it. This was to provide proof in case any problems ever arose. There were only a few historians in the imperial palace, and they spent their time listening to the conversations of the royal family and writing down every word. Their records were absolutely reliable.
“You recorded our conversation just now, correct?”
“Of course, Lady Westalia. I have recorded everything Duke Reyn said, word for word, right here!”
Westalia took the proffered book from the chronicler, noting that indeed their conversation was accurately recorded on the page. It included what had been said about the truth regarding Elizabeth Pink, the outrageous statement that Westalia should’ve died in Lhumzia, and the assault Tiberio had perpetrated against her.
When Westalia had heard that Tiberio was heading to the dungeon, she’d used the power of the crest inscribed on the earring from Leonardo to ask for the cooperation of the Royal Chronicler while she tried to provoke a reaction from Tiberio, hoping that she would be able to elicit some useful testimony. Perhaps Tiberio’s impatience had made him speak his true feelings in such an unguarded manner.
“Hmm? Wait a moment...” Westalia said.
“What’s the matter?”
Looking down and reading further into the text, Westalia saw that it even included the exchange she’d had with the two guards.
“What do you mean by ‘Lady Westalia teased and terrorized the two detained guards with a nasty look on her face, then took pleasure in watching them squirm’?”
“Of course I had to record that you took your frustration out on the two guards!”
Westalia furrowed her brow and grabbed the chronicler by the collar. “And what do you mean by saying that I had a nasty look on my face and took pleasure in watching them squirm?!”
“Well, that’s the way it looked to me... It’s my obligation to write down what I see and hear. Please let me go!”
“Isn’t this just your opinion?! You don’t have to make any unnecessary adaptations. I want you to erase all these lines.”
“I can’t do that! It’s forbidden to make changes to the records.” The Royal Chronicler was a frail-looking young man with glasses. This was also the man who’d been recording beside the emperor at the empress selection announcement party. He seemed to be a little older than Westalia.
Westalia released him and he immediately picked up his pen and notebook again and began writing at great speed. The sound of the pen’s nib gliding across the paper echoed around the hall of the dungeon.
Westalia could guess what he was writing as he looked at her grudgingly from time to time. She took the book from him and read it over. The new section read: Lady Westalia screeched not to add any embellishment. Her face is like that of a demon.
“I told you you don’t have to add that!” Her voice echoed around the dungeon. From that day on, Westalia became warier than anyone else when around the Royal Chronicler.