TOPWL 138

The dining table was large enough to seat ten people, yet the spread atop it was simple—mushroom soup, steak, a salad of corn and greens, and cheese mixed with honey-soaked figs and apricots.

“Thank you for the meal.”

“There’s plenty, so eat as much as you like.”

As soon as Yudit took a spoonful of the mushroom soup, the tension in his face eased. The unembellished soup was mild and smooth, slipping easily down his throat. The other dishes were also lightly seasoned, making them easy to eat.

“All the food is delicious.”

“I’m glad.”

A slight flush returned to Isiah’s otherwise chilly expression.

“As I’ve gotten older, I’ve found myself disliking food that’s heavily seasoned. I usually eat mostly fish, but I prepared meat today because you were coming.”

“Did you make all this yourself, Lady Isiah?”

“I’ve grown tired of being holed up in the palace reading books all the time.”

“I thought for sure a palace chef had made it. It’s truly delicious.”

Yudit spoke with sincerity, and Isiah blushed slightly in embarrassment.

“You… seem to have gotten taller.”

“Do I? Maybe it’s just that I’ve put on a bit of weight.”

Isiah looked at Yudit quietly for a moment before asking with concern,

“I heard you were in a carriage accident. Are you all right?”

“My guards protected me, so I’m fine.”

“…Still, be careful.”

Her voice carried deep worry. Yudit realized she was seeing her late daughter Lillia in him. After all, she too had died from a fall from a horse.

“There are rumors going around that Hiore was behind it.”

“…Hm.”

Yudit gave a troubled look. He knew Hiore wasn’t responsible, but now that the matter had been quietly buried, he wasn’t sure if it was right to tell Isiah. Noticing his hesitation, Isiah wiped her mouth with a napkin and said,

“If it’s difficult to talk about, you don’t have to.”

After speaking, she called for a servant. The servant held something in their hands. Yudit immediately recognized it: Lillia’s sword. The very one she had worn until the day she died.

“His Majesty will start a war soon. It’s only right that you have something with which to defend yourself.”

“Is it truly all right for me to accept something like this?”

Isiah gazed at the sword for a moment, then nodded.

“Better that it’s used to protect Your Highness than gathering dust in the storage room.”

She handed the sword to Yudit. He could feel its heavy weight in his hands.

“Thank you. I will accept it with gratitude.”

Yudit strapped the sword on immediately. At that moment, Isiah’s gaze shifted. Her lips trembled faintly. Yudit sensed that she was still living in that moment of the past.

“Lady Isiah.”

Before leaving, Yudit spoke to her.

“Have you never considered living somewhere other than the palace?”

Isiah blinked in surprise at his question.

“After returning here, the palace felt colder than ever. I wish you could be somewhere… warmer.”

“Yes, the palace is a cold place, even in midsummer.”

A place so cold that even as a child, knowing he’d be scolded, he still sneaked into her chambers just to feel a bit of warmth.

“But I believe this is where I’m meant to live… and die.”

“Why…?”

“If a mother doesn’t guard her daughter’s grave, who else will?”

Isiah spoke bitterly. The emperor’s love had long since faded, and though she could easily leave under the pretext of her health, Lillia could not. Isiah wasn’t so heartless as to abandon her daughter’s resting place and walk away.

“Thank you for your kind offer.”

Yudit bit his lip.

“In that case…”

He looked Isiah straight in the eye and spoke firmly.

“I will make this palace a warm place. A place where you—and my sister—will no longer feel cold.”

At his words, Isiah stared at him.

“You’ve finally reached a point where you can say things like that.”

“I mean it.”

“I know. I only said that because… it moved me.”

She smiled faintly.

“I’ll look forward to that warm palace someday.”

***

After parting with Isiah, Yudit exited the reception room and began walking down the corridor. The new sword at his side felt heavy. As he ran his fingers along its hilt, he made his way to the second meeting of the day.

It was a private audience with the emperor—his first, to his recollection. Though he had formally requested it, he hadn’t expected the emperor to grant it. Surprisingly, the reply had come quickly. When he mentioned it to Khalid, the latter had guessed the emperor must have grown curious about him.

Yudit stood before the audience chamber, eyes fixed on the imperial throne. Though only five paces away, the distance between them felt as vast as the heavens and earth.

At last, the doors opened. Footsteps heralded the emperor’s approach. Yudit slowly bowed his head.

“Raise your head. A son comes to see his father—no need to bow so low.”

The words were gentle, but the tone was anything but. Yudit had never expected affection from him. The emperor had already chosen Azil and Aisa as his family.

“Thank you for granting me this audience, Your Majesty,” Yudit said with formality.

As he raised his head, he saw the emperor’s face. It struck him anew how much they resembled each other. Judging by the way the emperor’s gaze lingered on Yudit, he seemed to notice the same.

“Well then, what is it you’ve come for?”

Just as interest began to show in his eyes, the emperor cut to the point.

“I came to thank Your Majesty for bestowing the pardon.”

“Ah, that matter.”

The emperor sounded uninterested. Perhaps he had harbored expectations about what Yudit might say in a private audience.

“Well then, Prince, how do you plan to use that pardon?”

Leaning his chin on one hand, the emperor asked the question. Yudit swallowed dryly and replied.

“…I would like to use it on someone else.”

He looked the emperor straight in the eye. Though his demeanor remained indifferent, a spark flickered in the emperor’s gaze.

“Is that possible?”

“The pardon was granted to you, Prince. You may use it as you please.”

Though it was rare to transfer such a pardon, it wasn’t unheard of. Some seventy years ago, a prince had used his own pardon to protect a subordinate who had attacked another prince. Now that the emperor had essentially given his consent, Yudit’s heart began to race.

“Do you remember Aldrich Von Dervan?”

The emperor narrowed his eyes in mild confusion.

“I wouldn’t say I’ve forgotten him.”

“…I wish to use the pardon on him.”

The emperor’s expression shifted to one of surprise—for good reason. Aldrich was already dead.

“Aldrich is already dead, is he not?”

“Yes, it’s been several years since his passing. But those who were arrested for defending him are still either imprisoned in the dungeons or living in exile.”

Aldrich, Yudit’s mentor in the slums, had been condemned for defending minority peoples and criticizing imperialism. He had taken all the blame and ended his life, but many of those involved with him were later captured and punished. If Aldrich’s crimes were pardoned, their continued imprisonment would lose its justification. Though they were few in number, nearly ten people remained behind bars.

The emperor stroked his graying beard.

“You must have been close with them.”

Cold sweat trickled down Yudit’s back.

“As His Late Majesty was once his pupil, I too had a brief connection with him.”

The emperor’s expression became unreadable, as if he understood the deeper implication. Was that a good sign—or a bad one? It was impossible to tell. Surely, he already knew of Yudit’s past involvement with them. If Reginald knew, the emperor certainly would as well.

“I am not asking Your Majesty to proclaim Aldrich innocent. I simply wish for those connected to him—people I knew—to live out their remaining years in peace.”

“Ah, yes. You did employ the Lirut people. I suppose your ties with them are deep.”

There was a barb in the emperor’s tone, but Yudit continued unfazed.

“Even the deepest of friendships cannot compare to blood. However, if Your Majesty is asking whether I plan to employ them again in the future—yes, I do. I see no reason not to use those more eager than anyone to become citizens of the Empire.”

“Do they truly wish to become citizens?”

“Were they not the very ones who cast themselves into the perilous sea for that very reason?”

“Yes… they were.”

The emperor’s reaction remained lukewarm. Yudit watched his expression carefully as he continued.

“Your Majesty, Aldrich’s writings are read even in foreign lands. Many of his works will be read for the next hundred years. He was born and raised in this Empire. Rather than abandon him, wouldn’t it be wiser to claim what is useful from his legacy?”

“Claim what is useful, you say. That is well put. But he criticized the royal family and defended minorities. If I forgive him, how do you think history will remember me?”

This was the final question. Yudit chose his words with care, then looked the emperor in the eye.

“It will remember Your Majesty as a wise and benevolent ruler—one who could embrace even a sinner such as him.”

The emperor stared hard at Yudit. Yudit met his gaze, then slowly shifted his eyes to the corners of the emperor’s mouth. At last, those lips curved into a slight arc.