I Possessed The Immoral Empress

Ermedeline’s expression as she looked down at the draft notice was unexpectedly calm.

“What is this… How can this be! Sending Her Majesty the Empress to the battlefield? This is outrageous!”

Rooney, who had been watching from the side, jumped up in anger, but Ermedeline calmly folded the draft notice and placed it on the table.

“Isn’t it natural that I, too, be included as one of the Empire’s mages?”

Ermedeline actually felt a sense of relief.

No matter how much she tried to seize this second chance to survive, the situation never turned in her favor.

It was like a swamp, the more she struggled, the deeper she sank, showing no signs of escaping her fate of death.

Ermedeline, who had been holding on to a thin branch, was actually quite exhausted.

Her lungs filled with mud, her hands trembling uncontrollably, her vision already blackened, making it impossible to see ahead.

Despite all this, Ermedeline did not give up.

Not when sharp metal pierced her heart, nor when her body turned into blackened ashes.

But now? What about now?

Her own family, her bloodline, started a war to destroy her.

Ermedeline accepted the draft notice signed by Henry without resistance.

It was time to let go of the hand that had been desperately holding on.

“No matter how many mages they need, how can they send Her Majesty the Empress to the battlefield? If something were to happen to you in such a perilous place…”

Rooney, horrified at the mere thought, tightly gripped her apron and lowered her head.

“With soldiers suffering because of my family, how can I stay here comfortably? I must go.”

Ermedeline began to pack her things, instead of Rooney, who was trembling and holding back tears.

“I won’t be alone. Priest Arvian and Prince Felio will be going with me, so don’t worry too much.”

At Ermedeline’s words, Rooney quickly raised her head and frowned.

“What about me? I must go too!”

“No.”

Ermedeline firmly shook her head at Rooney’s audacious stance.

“You and Margo will stay here. Your families are all in the capital.”

“No, how can I let Her Majesty go alone? Who will fetch your washing water in the morning? Who will help you dress?”

Ermedeline smiled faintly and stroked Rooney’s thick blonde hair.

“I can manage on my own, don’t worry.”

Rooney, in defiance, slapped Ermedeline’s hand away with surprising force and shouted.

“No! Absolutely not! I might not be a mage, but I will do my best to help you concentrate on your magic! Even if you refuse, I will go! I’ll even get the Emperor’s approval if I have to!”

Such determination from a child not yet of age.

As Ermedeline found herself caught between choices, contemplating Rooney’s determined gaze, Arvian offered his insight.

“Mages are rarely deployed directly in combat. This little ‘yellow pup’ will mostly stay in the camp, so there’s no need to worry too much.”

“What?”

Rooney, momentarily glaring at him for calling her a ‘yellow pup,’ restrained herself from retorting as usual. Accompanying Ermedeline was more important than arguing.

While Ermedeline hesitated, Felio, flushed with emotion, arrived at the drawing room. Ignoring the presence of Arvian and the maids, he grabbed Ermedeline’s wrist and led her into the bedroom.

“Listen to me carefully.”

“Huh?”

Pulled into the bedroom suddenly, Ermedeline stammered, unsure how to react, while Felio quickly laid out his plan.

“I have arranged an escape route before we pass through Count Serian’s territory. There is a mountain path difficult to track. Once we cross the mountains, we will reach the Luene Kingdom’s border, and following the river will lead us to the port.”

“….”

Ermedeline realized that Felio had dragged her into the bedroom to explain his escape plan.

“My lord, there is a war going on.”

“Yes, I know.”

“And amidst this, you suggest that I, the Empress, flee to another country?”

“Yes.”

Felio’s response was firm and straightforward, as if no further explanation was needed.

“I understand why you are doing this. But with all the Empire’s mages being conscripted, how can I be the only one to step back?”

A dignified and noble response befitting an Empress. Yet, Felio’s face twisted into a bitter smile.

“Your Majesty, have you ever experienced a battlefield, even a local skirmish?”

“….”

“When you fought with just four soldiers from the Francoise Duchy, you were at a loss. The battlefield is not a place where you can simply cast a curse spell and expect to survive. It is not as simple as casting one spell and downing four soldiers to save your life.”

Felio released Ermedeline’s wrist and rubbed his face in frustration.

“Dying? Yes, I know well that you do not fear death. But the battlefield is not a place where you can endure by merely being ready to die. You must be prepared to kill strangers to survive.”

“….”

“Yes, I know. You have used curse magic extensively. But how many times have you directly killed someone with your curses? This is not about writing a spell on a piece of parchment or shedding a few drops of blood. Due to your curse magic, soldiers from the enemy will die countless times before your eyes.”

As Ermedeline quietly listened to Felio, she suddenly seemed to grasp something and a soft smile appeared on her lips.

That smile was so incongruous with the desperate situation, yet so beautiful and radiant that Felio’s heart momentarily fluttered with the excitement of love.

“So, there is something you must do.”

“What?”

“I am not going to the battlefield to deal with the soldiers. I am going to deal with Ermond, who surely cast a powerful curse on Trivian. You must help me get to Ermond as quickly as possible.”

“…”

Felio was at a loss for words, listening to Ermedeline.

“Protect me so that I can kill Ermond and end this war as swiftly as possible. Protect me so that I can survive and bring this war to an end.”

Ermedeline did not issue a command to live for her sake or to fight for the country. She simply asked him to protect her life. It was a request that he could most genuinely and earnestly fulfill.

Felio knelt before Ermedeline and bowed his head.

“I will carry out your command, Your Majesty.”

Ermedeline gently placed her hand on Felio’s neatly groomed head, though she couldn’t bring herself to touch his beautiful, deep blue hair as she had before. She merely looked at the night-like strands that had once brushed against her fingers.

For someone who had resolved to die on the battlefield, Ermedeline now had a new goal: to ensure this beloved man survived and returned home.

Ermedeline entrusted Margo, who had stayed behind in the palace, with a letter. The letter to Leopold bore no signature or seal, and its contents were very simple:

“Keep your promise.”

Ermedeline believed that Leopold would understand her intention. She thought that no matter what happened in the capital, her biological father would protect Ferdant.

Before the rear guard’s departure, Ermedeline visited a nearby mansion to see Ferdant one last time. Henry, with a mocking smile, granted her this final meeting as if doing her a favor.

“I didn’t expect you to willingly head to the battlefield. Even a witch cares for her child, it seems.”

As Ermedeline waited with a pounding heart for Ferdant to appear in the garden, she reflected on Henry’s words.

Strictly speaking, Ermedeline was neither a witch nor Ferdant’s mother. By some twist of fate, they had become mother and son, but she had no memories of bearing or loving a child.

Thus, the primary reason Ermedeline had so fervently tried to protect Ferdant was not maternal instinct. Responsibility as an adult? Perhaps that was the most fitting term.

But more than that sense of responsibility, what had bound her was anger. Having lived in an institution from a young age with no memory of her parents, Ermedeline had no expectations of what parents should be.

A child who had learned to give up before anything else never deeply considered the concept of parents, beings that had never been present in the first place.

However, as she grew up and gradually learned what family was and what it meant to have parents, a deep-seated anger began to take root within her.

It was anger towards the parents who had brought her into this miserable world without ever asking for it, and then abandoned her without taking the slightest responsibility.

The world was not kind to an orphan who had just learned to stand on her own. She always had to endure the biting cold storms alone, without even a small roof to dry her wet body.

Looking at Ferdant, Ermedeline thought of her own parents, of whom she had no memory. Her mother, who had carried her for ten months, abandoned her, but Ermedeline did not want to behave the same way. Even though she had no memory of holding that six-year-old boy, she did not want to irresponsibly abandon him as her parents had done to her.

For Ferdant, to save the boy, she had stayed in the palace, trying to win Henry’s favor, but it was all in vain. Now, she could only hope that an adult who would love him, not one who would use him for his formidable magical talents before they fully awakened, would come along.

‘I’m sorry. Truly sorry. I don’t want to leave you and go alone…’

‘I’m sorry I couldn’t bring your mother back to you. I’m really sorry.’

No.

I really don’t want to.

Ermedeline hated turning away from Ferdant. Even though she had only watched him from a distance for a few months, leaving him was heart-wrenching. The mere thought of separation felt like her heart was being torn out. How had her parents, her mother, abandoned her?

A child becomes a person only after ten long months in the womb, those months of endurance. How could her mother abandon her own child after experiencing that miracle, that wonder? How could she not seek her even once during all those years?

These questions, which plagued Ermedeline every time she looked at Ferdant, now seemed meaningless. Regardless of the situation, she too had to leave that innocent child behind.

There was nothing more Ermedeline could do for him. She could only hope that someone would come along to be a roof for the child, sheltering him from the rain that poured on his future.

Despite the urgency of the situation, time moved at the same pace as always, and the sun rose on the new day.

In the early dawn, mages led by Ermedeline and priests led by Arvian gathered. Rooney and Heather, who had stubbornly joined them, along with other servants carrying their masters’ belongings, arrived one by one.

Unlike the advance party led by Duke Batistian, which had departed immediately yesterday, the rear guard included retired old women and children who were not yet in their mid-teens.

By imperial decree, they all headed towards the battlefield at the border.