A Taste

Happy holidays are fleeting. After wrapping up her work here, Tang Feiliu set off on her journey, returning to the imperial capital with Edward.

The atmosphere among the upper echelons was subtly tense, yet many below remained utterly unaware, unknowingly swept along by events without realizing it. Alexander's hospital began receiving an increasing number of patients. However, it was said that devout followers of the Temple had gathered outside, singing hymns and urging people to turn back from their ways.

The most sensational incident involved the illegitimate daughter and mistress of the Duke of March seeking medical care at the hospital. When the Duke discovered them, he drew his sword and killed both his mistress and daughter.

Such an incident would normally be unremarkable in this era, yet inexplicably, it became the talk of the entire city overnight, even reaching the ears of Her Majesty Josephine.

It turned out that Miss Laura had played a role in this.

After arriving at the imperial city, introduced by Alexander, Miss Laura proactively expressed her desire to train as a nurse. The charity hospital happened to be short-staffed at the time. Initially, Miss Laura, being delicate and spoiled, made some mistakes and was scolded like a dog by Mr. Charlemagne. Yet before long, perhaps driven by genuine passion and her fiery spirit, Laura began to excel. When Charlemagne expanded enrollment at the Imperial Hospital, he even included this Miss Laura in his plans.

A female doctor—even as an intern—still sparked resistance and discomfort among many at the time. Dr. Charlemagne was even more direct: "Those who don't want to learn can leave. I don't need students who will criticize me."

With that, no one dared murmur again. Laura stayed, eventually becoming one of the most outstanding students. Having weathered hardship, she grew more meticulous and steadier. Charlemagne placed increasing trust in her, gradually assigning her responsibility for patients.

Coughs and wind-cold ailments were not considered particularly serious at the Imperial Hospital. As long as there was no inflammation, the issues were manageable. Fevers, however, were more troublesome. For reducing fever, physical cooling methods proved faster. The illegitimate daughter of Sir Mach had been brought in secretly by her mother precisely because of a fever. She was the first patient Laura successfully cured.

The young woman possessed a gentle disposition, the epitome of an aristocratic lady. Deeply grateful for Laura's care, she frequently brought her food and even arranged outings to shops during Laura's free time. It was precisely these interactions that drew attention, ultimately alerting Sir March.

Duke March was busy crafting propaganda for the Templars when news broke that his daughter had been cured by the enemy. Enraged, he stormed to his mistress's quarters that very day. In the ensuing argument, he brutally murdered both the girl and her mother.

Such acts were utterly appalling. Though Natt society discriminated against women, treating them as property and possessions... beyond the cold, harsh reality, there was always a veneer of civility. Those who considered themselves upper-class would never commit such crude acts.

They could strip women of their dowries and family fortunes, but those with chivalry ingrained in their upbringing and very bones—call them the earliest awakened gentlemen or the majority of hypocrites—well, despite the rotten environment, a noble could deprive his mistress of her livelihood, could drive her to death, but he could not raise his hand to kill her himself.

That was different.

Driving them to death while shedding a few tears might even earn one a reputation for profound affection. Direct murder, however, was discarding even the last shred of decency.

And in his fury, the Duke of March—likely provoked by the young lady's friendship with Laura, who had encouraged her to shed her timidity—found his own repeated failures in the outside world stung. In short... tragedy unfolded.

That was Laura's first friend. Laura never truly understood what happened that night, yet she was consumed by guilt. Instead of weeping, she sought out her teacher, Charlemagne. Charlemagne, clueless about such matters, summoned Alexander.

To Alexander, the incident was revolting and infuriating. The Duke of March, hiding behind the chaos at the hospital gates, was the instigator. Regardless of the reasons, Alexander refused to let this matter be swept under the rug as a private family affair.

Fortunately, thanks to his position at the hospital, Alexander had the authority to report matters to the Queen in writing and even request an audience. In short, after Alexander entered the palace, by the next day, the Duke of March's murder of his mistress and her daughter had become common knowledge.

In a nation that valued appearances and decorum, one could commit the most repulsive acts in private and still be considered a gentleman as long as they remained undiscovered. Of course, given the Duke of March's status, even if he did commit such acts, no one dared to confront him.

But this time, it was clear someone of even higher standing intended to take action against the Duke of March.

In short, by the time Tang Feiliu returned, the Duke of March had become the subject of public gossip. Moreover, seizing this opportunity, His Majesty gave him a thorough dressing-down, which promptly made him behave himself.

Of course, perhaps he was merely biding his time until the storm passed.

Still, this outcome remained deeply unsatisfying. After all, two lives had been lost, yet the Duke of March had paid no price whatsoever!

Such was the privilege of the nobility. When someone like Tang Feiliu occupied that position, he would leverage that privilege to accomplish many commendable deeds. His influence spread far more rapidly than if he were a commoner, swiftly benefiting the populace. But when it fell to someone like the Duke of March, it became an uncomfortable stumbling block.

It was precisely at this moment that word spread: on his way home, the Duke of March had been challenged to a duel by the Marquis of Raven. The Duke, unwilling to accept the challenge, had cowered inside his carriage.

Frustrated at failing to vent his anger, the Marquis of Raven stormed straight to Duke Edward's domain. The moment he entered, he bellowed in irritation: "Edward! Come out here! That cowardly March has infuriated me to no end!"

Mid-sentence, he spotted a figure emerging from the inner dining room—familiar yet unfamiliar. It was none other than Tang Feiliu, who had been in her room tinkering with the spices purchased by the sea!

"...What's that smell?!" Upon entering, the Marquis of Raven caught the intoxicating fragrance filling the room. Spotting Tang Feiliu, who had come out specifically after being notified by a servant, he grinned familiarly. "Youngster, what tasty treats are you hiding in here?"

"...Nothing hidden, but Edward isn't home right now," Tang Feiliu replied earnestly. "He just left. Something to do with His Majesty, I think."

"Ah, I don't need to be told... It's about Wright's death, isn't it?" Raven sighed, clearly somber about the matter. Tang Feiliu gasped in shock. "Wright is dead?!"

"You didn't know?" Raven was equally startled by Tang Feiliu's reaction. He hesitated, "...Maybe I shouldn't have told you?"

Clearly aware of his friend's temperament, Raven suspected he'd deliberately kept it from the young man before him. Raven wondered if he'd come here seeking a beating instead of dishing one out. But Tang Feiliu pressed on with questions. Raven sighed before saying, "Fine, fine. I'll tell you... but you mustn't tell Edward it was me!"

"Promise!" Tang Feiliu declared earnestly.

"And bring me another plate of that delicious stuff!" Raven shamelessly added.

"It's not ready yet, but I'll get you some soon!" Tang Feiliu agreed decisively. Only then did Raven begin his explanation from the start.

Prince Wright had actually committed suicide several days prior.

After attempting to assassinate Her Majesty Josephine, he had been confined within the palace. The Empress had not ordered his release, yet she also did not permit him to be mistreated.

It was much like his days as a prince, yet Light had completely broken down. Unable to bear the series of upheavals, he ultimately chose to end his own life.

His knight personally presented him with the long sword—the very blade meant to protect Prince Wright, the sword Wright himself had bestowed upon his knight—which ended his confused and wretched life.

Prince Wright was not a model royal, nor was he entirely a good man. He bore many inescapable sins, yet his life remains a tale of profound sorrow.

Being sent away to study as a child, witnessing friends suffer persecution, enduring sexual abuse oneself... placed within the biography of a great figure, it would likely sow the seeds of vengeance and ignite the flames of revenge.

For ordinary people, it would likely leave only pain and despair.

But Wright was different. He was a sensitive and fearful child. Throughout his childhood and into adulthood, Wright never mustered the courage to fight for himself. He was always desperately seeking shelter.

He sought help many times, starting with his own brother, Charles. But Charles was destined to inherit the throne. Help Wright fight against the very sanctuary that would one day grant him royal power? Charles chose to make Wright endure. He sternly threatened Wright, forbidding him from revealing these matters. Otherwise, upon ascending the throne, Charles would ensure Wright spent his entire life serving within the sanctuary.

Light was terrified. He gritted his teeth and endured it all. Every time those wrinkled hands affectionately stroked his hair and face, every time that dreadful old man smiled and patted his companions, Light trembled with fear.

Yet despite this terror, Light desperately wanted to help his gentle, beloved brother. But at just over six years old, though a prince of Natt, no one took a child seriously. Light and Danny were together daily, but when that adult led Danny into the secluded rear temple, no amount of crying or screaming could stop his friend from being taken away by the demon.

The profound helplessness and despair terrified Light, but what ultimately shattered him was discovering Danny had hanged himself from his bedpost before his twelfth birthday.

Light joyfully pushed open the door, thrilled to receive the annual gift given to every member of the Natt royal family. He wanted to share it with the big brother who had looked after him since his arrival. But the moment he opened the door, he saw dazzling golden light. Through the stained-glass windows depicting religious scenes, it refracted into a kaleidoscope of shimmering waves, illuminating that thick, curly golden hair... Young Danny hung from the bedpost crossbar, swaying slightly. Bathed in the halo of light, he resembled an angel poised to take flight.

Wright stood there watching, watching.

Until a servant came looking for him.

That year, upon returning from the Temple, Wright found his mother. Gripped by the fear he might face execution, he revealed everything about the Temple. He wept, begging her not to send him back. Her Majesty Josephine allowed him to convalesce for three months. The Emperor at the time disliked this timid young son. At his mistress's urging, he coldly demanded the child be sent away.

By then, Her Majesty Josephine's position had already grown precarious. Contrary to rumors, the Lioness of Natt, Her Majesty Josephine, was not as unyielding in character as she seemed. She was resilient, yet she too had her vulnerabilities.

Yet she could not prevail against the Emperor's will. Little Louis was sent away in tears, and it is said Empress Josephine wept until her eyes swelled shut.

That remained the tenderest memory in young Léopold's heart—his mother weeping for him. Though she could not prevent his return to that dreadful place, she had done everything in her power.

Those tears were etched into young Leth's heart. From that day forward, he grew more docile and cheerful—which was truly terrifying. For the fear and hatred within him, denied release and deprived of a proper outlet, simmered like unlit flames, smoldering in a tight knot. If it wasn't unleashed to burn others, it would suffocate him alive, like a hidden fire consuming his heart day by day, as if he were a restless spirit condemned to eternal torment.

Yet no one noticed poor Wright. He grew day by day, enduring until Edward finally reached the imperial capital. Empress Josephine devoted herself to nurturing this nephew, biding her time and building strength. Years later, she struck decisively against her once-mighty enemy.

To outsiders, it seemed merely another tale of palace intrigue—a familiar chapter in the annals of imperial power. Only those who lived through it knew the true cost paid by the victors.

Empress Josephine sacrificed the tender, capable girl she once was; she sacrificed her eldest son, corrupted by servants deliberately placed by her mistress, who grew ruthless and cruel; she sacrificed her youngest son, that tiny bundle who once burrowed into her embrace seeking shelter...

Hatred and ambition brought many down. Charles, once a boy clinging to his mother and worrying over his brother, transformed from sorrowful struggle to ruthless determination. and the timid Lete grew gloomy, like algae in darkness. He feared everything, even himself, yet his actions grew increasingly absurd. Though many seemed to like him, in his world, he remained forever frozen in that moment at the doorway, staring at Danny's corpse...

Only Queen Josephine was different. Her anger grew until she rose from the ashes. Once her innocence was consumed by fire, she became stronger, even ruthless. She came bearing hatred, slaying all her enemies. She despised them—and even despised herself...

"Her Majesty dared not face Prince Wright. She wished him a new life because she always felt guilty toward this youngest son..." Marquis Raven murmured softly. His mother had once been Empress Josephine's closest confidante, freely entering and leaving the palace for years. She knew the secrets of that era intimately, even old tales unknown to Edward himself.

Tang Feiliu’s face betrayed disbelief—not skepticism, but the fact that when Empress Josephine had seen Prince Wright, she hadn’t seemed particularly concerned for her son.

Lavin clearly noticed this. He smiled faintly, shook his head, and said, "Truthfully, I don't understand it either. But my mother once told me that Her Majesty Josephine had broken down. She hated everyone back then... including herself—she believed that if she hadn't been so weak back then, perhaps things wouldn't have turned out this way..."

Had she rallied sooner, the mistress wouldn't have gained power, the balance wouldn't have shifted. Then she could have protected her children and loved ones, and things wouldn't have escalated to this point. Though her enemies were dead, the living still languished under yesterday's shadow. Her Majesty watched day after day, the fire of rage in her heart never extinguished.

Tang Feiliu understood. He sighed softly. Just then, a maid emerged from the kitchen, smiling as she announced, "Sir, the curry chicken is ready."

"Curry chicken?" Raven's curiosity vanished instantly. The rich aroma wafting through the air made him jump out of his seat.

The earlier gloom and oppression were instantly shattered by the maid's interruption. Tang Feiliu smiled at Raven's sparkling eyes and called out, "Then as I suggested earlier, prepare some for Lord Raven to sample."

Author's Note:

Thanks to Tangyuan Nuonuo for the landmine.

The New Year seems to hold a magical power—it feels like all the laziness accumulated over the past year is being channeled into this!