"Miss, His Majesty invites you to et him in imperial study."
The day after Lyra left, Astrid was having breakfast at the Royal Dining Hall as usual. Just after finishing the mushroom soup carefully prepared by the palace chef, she picked up a silk handkerchief and gently wiped her lips, when she imdiately heard Elise report in a soft voice.
"Father wants to see now?"
With war approaching, Emperor Hibbort Valeria naturally had a mountain of troubleso affairs to handle. Astrid rembered that the last ti she saw him was at the beginning of last month.
Even as the sovereign ruler of an empire, despite his ailing body, he was still diligently arranging affairs for after his passing. Thinking back now, in the original story Hibbort’s condition rapidly deteriorated in the middle of the plot, likely due not least to the relentless overwork during this period.
Had he rested peacefully and properly, perhaps the old emperor’s vitality wouldn’t have drained so quickly, allowing him to enjoy a longer period of calm.
"Reporting, Miss, this was Master Trin’s suggestion." Elise took the used handkerchief from Astrid, gently handing the tray over to a nearby maid.
Trin was Hibbort’s most trusted personal guard, and also a powerful Arcanist mage. In the future dream, when Lyra attempted a midnight coup at the Imperial Palace, he was the troubleso guard who stood in Alia’s way.
"I understand. I’ll go right away."
Watching Alia spit mouthwash into the silver basin before her, then wiped her lips clean with a napkin, Astrid took the cold, aloof little girl’s hand and straightened the girl’s creamy white dress hem and the thin stockings slightly wrinkled from kneeling.
"Livia, stay with Elise for now."
"Okay, I will, sister."
Hearing Alia sweetly replied, Astrid lifted the corner of her lips, bent down, and kissed the girl’s forehead.
The more intimate they appeared before others, the less likely anyone would suspect Livia’s true identity as Alia.
After all, Astrid’s hatred towards the Fourth Princess was common knowledge. In a way, this subconscious notion fixed, by a twist of fate, beca a layer of protection the past Astrid unknowingly left for her present self.
Although back then she had rely bullied Alia purely out of cruelty, never imagining it could serve this purpose.
Twenty minutes later, at the Emperor’s residence. Astrid gently knocked on the door, then entered the study after receiving Hibbort’s permission.
"Good morning, Father."
Seated there, the once sharply-featured, robust golden-haired man seed sowhat paler than before.
But when he raised his eyes, that faint sense of frailty disappeared completely beneath the commanding sharpness of his erald gaze. Sunlight bathed the room, his golden hair falling beside the shoulders like low-lying waves of wheat.
Perhaps it was psychological; after learning through the original plot about Hibbort’s poor health, she’d subconsciously added a filter.
No matter how weak his body might be, Hibbort could never allow himself to show it to others at this stage, even before his most beloved Third Princess, especially since she was closely associated with a certain crown prince.
"Good morning, my daughter. The Empire’s most brilliant gem." Hibbort replied softly.
Unlike usual, when Astrid knelt on one knee in the noble’s salute, she noticed an extra chair beside the desk.
Normally, Hibbort’s private chats with her lasted no more than fifteen minutes, hardly long enough to require another chair. It seed their conversation today might be longer than previous ones.
As thoughts crossed her mind, Hibbort raised his hand, signaling Astrid to rise.
"Sit and talk."
Astrid stood, slightly lifted her skirt, and walked to sit beside Hibbort.
Watching the dignified and courteous Imperial Princess, Hibbort’s expression gradually softened, the sternness in his eyes diminishing slightly.
"High heels may be beautiful, but they are extrely tiring."
"Even when not in my presence, and when visiting other noble residences, try to find seating to rest more often. Don’t stand for long periods."
Hearing Hibbort ntioned such trivial details, so insignificant they weren’t even worth calling petty, Astrid blinked, then answered after a mont.
"I’ll rember. Thank you for your concern, Father."
Why did today’s Hibbort seem more approachable than before, his words filled with unusually warm fatherly affection?
It was true the Emperor doted on her, but he’d never been this sentintal. Unless the ti had co, and his body hadn’t yet reached the point of imdiate collapse, Astrid would have thought Hibbort was about to trust her with final instructions.
Sensing Astrid’s confusion, Hibbort didn’t speak imdiately. Instead, he lowered his gaze to the book opened on the desk. On the cover was a portrait of a golden-haired man and a brown-haired woman.
"Strange that I’d know these inconveniences in won’s daily lives?"
Hibbort spoke slowly, his rough fingers gently stroked the portrait.
Astrid nodded slightly, replying gently.
"I am sowhat curious."
Even as his most favored daughter, she’d never seen this lion-like man displaying such delicate sensitivity before.
Could it be because of the person in the painting?
Following Hibbort’s line of sight, Astrid saw the beautiful woman with light brown long hair between his fingers. She wore a pale yellow formal dress and pure white high heels, standing beside Hibbort on a green lawn, smiling gently toward the painter’s direction.
In both novels and reality, Hibbort’s wife, the mother of the First and Second Prince, seed deliberately downplayed. The only thing Astrid knew was that she died shortly after Alistair’s birth, her body buried in the Royal Mausoleum outside Post City.
"My wife once complained to , saying these shoes, while beautiful, were uncomfortable to walk in."
Through the painting, Hibbort seed to gaze upon a scene not belonging to the present, his voice growing deeper.
"She wore them for over thirty years, yet never got used to them."
The noble ladies of Valeria Empire knew this well, yet still sacrificed comfort for beauty and etiquette.
"..."
Looking at the woman in the painting, Astrid thought briefly, then spoke after half a minute.
"Her Majesty the Queen seems to have been a very gentle person."
Just from the portrait, Astrid could sense the woman’s dignified, gentle aura. It was hard to imagine she was the mother of Lucas and Alistair, two problematic princes.
But then again... wasn’t Alia the sa?
Her mother had treated her rely as a tool for profit, a ans to climb social classes. Yet despite such a mother, she’d given birth to a child with extraordinary creativity and artistic talent.
Thus, parents’ personalities don’t necessarily resemble their children’s. More often, it depends on postnatal education. Judging from the four examples of Lucas, Alistair, Astrid, and Alia, Hibbort clearly wasn’t good at raising children.
Hearing Astrid’s words, the man’s gaze grew deeper. After a mont, Hibbort spoke slowly.
"She was indeed very gentle. She always maintained rationality and self-control towards everyone, as if any intense emotion before her was rely a fleeting ripple on a calm sea, vanishing instantly in the light."
"If she were still here, perhaps everything would be different."
A gentle, loving mother was crucial to children’s growth. If the Queen hadn’t died, perhaps Lucas and Alistair’s personalities wouldn’t have turned out this way. The two princes might not have ended up in such fierce opposition.
Listening to Hibbort reminisce about his deceased wife, Astrid kept her legs together, her red eyes silently fixed on the portrait, saying nothing for a long ti.
A fierce tiger, delicately sniffing roses.
Today’s Hibbort was indeed different from before. Compared to the Emperor, he seed more like an ordinary husband or father, mourning those monts once held in his arms.
Then, as a father, the sight of his two biological sons becoming bitter enemies must have pained Hibbort deeply.
"..."
Or perhaps, this was the price one must pay for power.
If Hibbort were rely an ordinary prince, even if his sons quarreled, they might not have reached such deadly hostility.
"Father..." Astrid lowered her voice, her gaze flicking over the man’s knuckles.
"Could you tell about Her Majesty the Queen?"
Hibbort didn’t turn to look at Astrid, rely staring at the book as he replied in a flat tone.
"Of course."
"If you’re willing to listen, I can say more."
It was an extrely long story.
.............
Perhaps because they’d touched upon the topic most likely to stir emotions, Hibbort paid no attention to ti. By the ti he finished recounting another trivial episode from his and his wife’s life, the clock hands had reached between ten and eleven.
"I apologize for making you listen to so many things from the past, Astrid."
Astrid shook her head, her pink lips parting slightly.
"I’m glad you shared these with , Father."
"Besides, if it eases your heart even a little, I’d be happy to listen longer."
After hearing Hibbort’s account, Astrid gained a deeper understanding of why he held such cold indifference towards Alia.
Imagine: an Emperor who had just suffered the pain of losing a beloved wife, still holding a faithful belief in lost love, then having his dignity tainted by a vulgar dancer using despicable ans, even resulting in a child that should never have existed. For Hibbort not to have imdiately disposed of Alia, but instead chose to keep her confined within the palace, seed already an act of rcy.
Still, understanding was one thing. The neglect and coldness Alia received had undoubtedly incurred severe harm on the child who’d never experienced parental love, a fact impossible to ignore.
True, Hibbort had failed in his duties as a father. But the one mainly responsible for causing all this was more likely that dancer, who risked everything in a desperate bid for lifelong luxury and glory.
After hearing Astrid, Hibbort deeply looked at her for a mont, then continued speaking after half a minute.
"Let’s pause here regarding her story."
Having said that, the man continued.
"I heard Baroness Lyra boarded a carriage yesterday bound for Duke Charles’s territory?"
With Hibbort’s intelligence network, obtaining this information wasn’t difficult.
Astrid nodded, answering truthfully.
"Yes. Lyra’s strength has hit a bottleneck. Staying in the capital might make further progress difficult."
"Perhaps in the wider world beyond the Academy, she can find more opportunities to improve."
Choosing this specific timing to head to the frontier, Astrid’s implications were clear enough. For this Holy Light Knight who once brought honor to the Empire and now committed to the frontlines, Hibbort naturally held a slight degree of goodwill.
"If Baroness Lyra has any needs, the Royal Family will be our best to accommodate."
"I’ll also relay relevant matters to Duke Charles."
Lyra was both a once-in-a-lifeti magic prodigy and his daughter’s closest friend. Naturally, Hibbort had every reason to arrange proper care for her.
"In that case, I’ll express Lyra’s gratitude to Father in advance." Astrid replied softly.
After exchanging a few more words, with lunch approaching in another hour, Hibbort had other state affairs to attend to, and was preparing to end the conversation.
"How has Miss Livia been lately?"
Hearing Hibbort suddenly ntioned Alia, Astrid’s heart skipped a beat, though she remained outwardly calm.
"Reporting, Father, Livia has been well lately. Aside from playing with cats and reading, she hasn’t much else to do."
"I heard she’s learning to paint?"
"..."
Hesitating less than half a second, Astrid gave an affirmative answer.
"...Yes."
His blue eyes sweeping over the silver-haired girl before him, Hibbort took a sip of tea to moisten his throat. His deep voice echoed through the study.
"There are many masterpieces in the imperial residence, collected and arranged by over several decades."
"If she’s interested, you could bring her to visit. It might aid her studies."
Astrid lowered her gaze slightly, responding in a perfectly natural tone.
"Alright. If I have ti, I’ll have Livia take a look."
But if one truly sought the person’s opinion, Alia probably never wanted to set foot in this residence where generations of emperors had lived.
She equally disdained every mber bearing the Valeria surna, firmly believing the na itself carried certain inherent flaws.
Standing up and performing a standard farewell bow, Astrid looked at the golden-haired man bathed in sunlight, speaking softly.
"Good afternoon, Father. Your daughter must take her leave for now..."
"Also, please take care of your health and avoid overexertion."
Hearing Astrid’s unusually sincere tone, Hibbort stroked the Imperial Scepter in his hand, replying softly.
"Go, my daughter."
Giving Hibbort one final glance, trying to read sothing from his facial expression, Astrid, having gained no more useful information, cald her mind and turned to walk outside.
Closing the study door, two smooth, long black-stockinged legs crossed and swayed, sending waves of fragrance. The crisp lody of high heels tapping the tiles echoed down the corridor, their rhythmic sounds distinctly contrasting with the servants’ footsteps.
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