I Possessed The Immoral Empress

Henry was able to gather more soldiers than expected.

Ironically, both the imperial and noble factions sent conscripts to cover up the assassination attempt on Ermedeline.

Caught in a scandal due to the assassination attempt in the palace, Duke Ilyenian, whose two daughters were both compromised by Henry, reluctantly rallied the noble faction’s conscripts by invoking a patriotism he didn’t feel.

Duke Batistian, also compromised by the incident at the orphanage ceremony, had sent soldiers, though he was absent, and other nobles involved in the affair had also sent their own troops.

For Ermedeline, these two incidents had ripped out even the small hope that had been clinging to her desolate heart, but for Henry, they presented an opportunity.

To Henry, even the witch Ermedeline’s brush with death and her upcoming execution were advantageous.

With the substantial forces gathered in the capital, Henry could now effectively checkmate Leopold.

Though multiple issues still plagued the borders with the Brunnian region and Frianton, at least he could breathe a bit easier on one front.

At this point, Henry faced a significant decision.

Throughout, he had resented the idea of apologizing for something that was not his fault, and more so, the notion of an emperor of a grand empire bowing to a mere king was distasteful.

However, now that his position was as precarious as a candle in a storm, he convinced himself that a brief apology, if it could resolve the situation, was not too high a price to pay.

Count Hallstein’s face hardened as he transcribed Henry’s letter.

“Are you truly intending to send this?”

“Why? Is there a problem?”

“I am one of those awaiting the Empress’s execution, but you are reinstating Ermond. Isn’t that against the principle?”

“Principle?”

Henry’s blue eyes, which had been relaxed moments ago, suddenly flashed sharply.

“Prince Ermond has attempted to assassinate members of the royal family several times, not to mention his defection to the enemy. Are you really going to just hand over the Francoise Duchy to him without any accountability?”

Henry asked with an icy tone, giving Count Hallstein a chilling smile.

“Accountability? Then what is my responsibility? I didn’t meet the King of Frianton’s sister, nor did I abandon her. What responsibility do I bear?”

“Well…”

“Do we really need to move all the forces to the border? Especially with Leopold lurking right in front of us?”

At Henry’s question, Count Hallstein sighed and put down his pen.

“My opinion is this: The King of Frianton is a foreign king, and Prince Leopold is a brother, isn’t he? We fight a war with the enemy and negotiate with a brother…”

Listening quietly to Count Hallstein’s counsel, Henry threw a heavy paperweight at him.

Count Hallstein narrowly avoided the lethal projectile.

“Your Majesty!”

“Negotiate? You want me to negotiate?”

Count Hallstein’s words weren’t wrong in themselves.

The King of Frianton’s grudge wasn’t something that could be resolved with a mere apology, and Ermond’s vengeance wasn’t directed solely at Ermedeline either.

But what Leopold desired was just one thing: his family. However, Henry couldn’t make the right choice here.

If he negotiated with Leopold simply because he was his brother, he thought that his position, built on the blood of his half-brothers, might be entirely invalidated.

“Do you want me to negotiate with a man who buys a mansion in front of the imperial palace to bribe the nobles every day?”

“…”

Count Hallstein had thought for months that there must be a reason for Leopold’s cautious behavior, but he knew that this reasoning wouldn’t persuade Henry at this moment and thus gave no reply.

“Stop the chatter and write as I command. If King Frianton and Ermond accept my proposal, wouldn’t Trivian escape the scourge of war? As an administrator, you don’t wish to see the people suffer from war, do you?”

“…”

Count Hallstein gave no reply this time either.

He wanted to say that waging war against a foreign enemy might actually strengthen imperial power, and that the cruelest wars were civil wars, but he knew this too would not persuade Henry.

Henry had officially proposed an apology to the King of Frianton and offered the execution of Ermedeline along with the title of Duke of Francoise to Ermond.

The price was an indefinite end to the war.

Thus, a letter filled with Henry’s erroneous judgment and vain hopes began its journey across the border, sealed with the imperial seal of the Trivian Empire.

***

Meanwhile, Valliere decided to decorate her new home lavishly with the generous funds lent by Leopold.

Traders and craftsmen were frequent visitors at the palace, and Valliere regularly checked on the house she was moving into.

She was eager to leave the palace as soon as the construction of her new home was completed.

Henry was the first man she had ever given her heart to.

She had even carried his child, only to lose it, and not only had she been harshly ignored, but she was ultimately abandoned.

Having learned the bitter lesson of heartbreak from her first love, Valliere no longer wanted to stay in the same space as Henry.

The mere fact of sharing the air with a man who had so blatantly disregarded her affection made her blood boil.

Turning twenty doesn’t suddenly make someone an adult.

It’s the process of experiencing hurt and overcoming it that builds calluses on a fragile heart, gradually shaping someone into a hardened adult.

But Valliere had never experienced being hurt, nor had she ever silently endured and overcome such feelings.

Most of her desires were satisfied without lacking anything, and when faced with insurmountable trials, she would resort to violence to resolve them.

Though she was twenty years old, her inner self was embarrassingly childish, hardly fitting to be called a girl.

Rejected by Henry, her young heart quickly filled with hatred and a desire for revenge.

Valliere wanted to show Henry that she was fine without him.

She wanted to prove that she had never loved him and was not at all affected by the breakup.

Arm in arm with Leopold, she wanted to appear before Henry and leave a deeper and more profound wound in his heart than what she had suffered.

“Planning to take even my title?”

Moreover, Henry had ended more than just their romantic relationship.

Despite undergoing the tremendous ordeal of a miscarriage, being ignored by Henry had slowly dragged Valliere into loneliness; it was the surname Belian that had become her lifeline.

It was not a title that came with any particular rights or a grand estate, but having a respectable identity that was neither a mistress of the emperor nor a bastard of a noble family was what sustained her.

But now, Henry was not only ending their relationship but was also trying to cut off that slender lifeline.

Rich, having been the third generation of a wealthy conglomerate in her previous life, Valliere knew well the metaphysical yet profoundly material power of money.

She was confident that even without the Belian surname or money, she would not be disregarded.

Even without an emperor or a title, she wanted to show Henry, the nobles who had scorned her, and Ermedeline that she was still thriving.

Where the money came from was not important to her.

“So, have you decided to go with marble for the entire hall floor?”

A merchant, well aware of Valliere’s circumstances, looked back and forth between the ledger and her, finally confirming her decision.

“That’s the decision.”

“And where should I send the invoice…?”

Valliere glared sharply at the hesitant merchant.

“Haven’t you heard from others? I’ll be paying for everything. Just start with the down payment, right?”

“Ah, yes, yes. That’s right.”

The merchant hastily responded, bending his head in a commercial smile to appease Valliere’s mood.

Although the mansion was already high-end with mostly premium materials, Valliere was in the midst of changing everything to her taste, leaving only the structural frame of the house.

After all the artisans and merchants had left, Valliere stood on the stairs leading to the second floor of the hall and quietly looked down.

Though significantly smaller than the imperial palace, this place was her own palace, filled solely with her tastes.

Valliere envisioned the floors laid with marble and the curtains on the walls replaced with light-colored lace fabric as she made a significant decision.

“It seems a waste to just leave the newly refurbished house unused, don’t you think?”

Countess Brienta nodded in agreement to Valliere’s question.

“Just imagining it, not using such a beautiful and splendid space would indeed be a waste.”

“How about holding a lazy, bright-themed ball here on a summer night?”

“That sounds like a good idea. Besides, the Marquess Belian is well-known for organizing balls, isn’t she?”

Indeed, Valliere had, regardless of her personality, successfully hosted two fantastic balls.

“That’s right. Hosting a ball in my own home, decorated to my tastes, wouldn’t be too bad either.”

Valliere imagined the twisted faces of the nobles who had sneered at her situation as they saw her extravagantly decorated mansion.

Just the thought was enough to lift her spirits.

“The day I leave the imperial palace, I decided to relinquish my title, so I should send out the invitations first.”

The next afternoon, invitations stamped with the seal of Marquess Belian were sent out across the capital to influential nobles, Leopold, and even to Henry and Ermedeline.

Valliere dreamed of the day when the mansion’s renovations would be completed quickly, and she could invite everyone to receive their jealous and awe-stricken gazes.

Most of the nobles who received the invitations expressed their intention to attend.

Henry and Ermedeline did not respond, but Valliere hadn’t really expected their attendance.

She had sent the invitations merely to show them that she was unfazed.

However, ironically, the nobles’ quick responses were not for the reasons Valliere had hoped for.

Weary from the threats of war, the possibility of civil strife, food shortages, and harsh conscription, the nobles needed a scandal to blow off the accumulated stress.

The news that Valliere, once called the saint of the Trivian Empire and mistress of the Emperor, had been abandoned was a welcome piece of gossip for them.

Unlike other mistresses who, embarrassed by their situations, would enter a temple or retreat to their estates, Valliere was willingly making herself a spectacle.

The nobles, tearing open the invitations bearing the seal of Marquess Belian, all wore the same smile.

It was the cruel sneer they planned to show Valliere at her own ball.