Chapter 411: This problem was becoming serious.
In response to Amalia’s inquiry, Astrid paused briefly. Her two delicate feet, sheathed in smooth black stockings like dark chocolate, lightly kicked off her slippers and stepped onto the soft carpet. She then spoke with firm determination.
"Yes. If the situation turns unfavorable, I’ll find a way to eliminate them, ensuring Amalia can ascend without any competition."
Actually, this statement was somewhat restrained. If not for worrying that her ruthlessness might frighten Amalia, Astrid would have used an even more definitive phrasing.
Crown Prince Lucas recklessly took lives, consumed by lust. He abused his noble status to assault countless commoner girls, causing numerous families to be destroyed.
Second Prince Alistair was much the same as his elder brother, cruel and vicious in temperament. He particularly enjoyed abducting young boys, taking pleasure in torturing them with private punishments. The blood on his hands likely rivaled that of any executioner.
Even setting aside political interests, considering only their personal sins, a clean and swift death would already be too lenient for these two princes. Were it not for her consideration of Emperor Hibbort’s past care toward the original Astrid, and the need to maintain the royal family’s prestige after Amalia’s succession, Astrid would have preferred they suffer public disgrace, ending their lives amid waves of curses.
The main reason Astrid had chosen to risk visiting Amalia at the ancient castle, attempting to nurture this yet-untainted tyrant-in-waiting, was precisely because the two princes’ moral compasses diverged so vastly from hers. They had already committed numerous despicable acts, leaving no possibility of redemption.
Hearing these words, Amalia remained silent, clutching her princess dress. Her two smooth, silk-stockinged legs slightly drew together.
Noticing this, Astrid proactively took the black-haired little girl’s hand, speaking gently.
"What’s wrong, Amalia?"
Livia had always maintained a dignified and gentle older sister image before Amalia. Even without the potion, Astrid had never shown such a sharp side.
Concerned about negatively affecting Amalia, Astrid slightly tightened her grip, her snow-white arm embracing the girl’s slender waist, drawing the nearby white-stockinged girl into her arms.
"Do you think... saying this is too cruel?"
Cruel?
Amalia quietly chewed over the word, naturally resting her head on Astrid’s shoulder so the other couldn’t see her expression, while firmly locking her legs around Astrid’s knees, kneeling to embrace her.
It’s not cruel at all... Her thoughts were far more extreme than Astrid’s...
Crimson eyes flickering, cold glints flashing within, Amalia’s lips curved upward again. Her delicate nose gently breathed near Astrid’s earlobe.
Lucas, bearing the filthy surname Valeria, even harboring those filthy thoughts about his own sister, how could mere death possibly suffice?
’And Alistair, so brutal and vicious, habitually derives pleasure from others’ suffering. I wonder what those horrifying, inhumane torture devices would feel like when used on himself.’
Silently issuing death sentences to both princes in her heart, Amalia spoke softly.
"No, sister. They got exactly what they deserved."
Having spoken, to alleviate any potential unease her sister might feel, Amalia continued.
"I think my sister did the right thing. Being overly merciful in important matters might lead to grave mistakes."
"This is what sister taught me, being merciful to enemies is being cruel to oneself."
Every word Astrid had ever taught her, she made every effort to remember.
Realizing Amalia was now comforting her instead, Astrid smiled gently and ruffled the girl’s hair.
"Alright, I understand Amalia’s thoughts."
After all, she was the little tyrant from the original timeline, her adaptability was indeed strong.
She’d been overthinking things.
They cuddled for a while before Amalia softly spoke.
"It’s time for our nap, sister."
Immediately after, Amalia planted a light kiss on Astrid’s earlobe.
Feeling the fleeting smooth touch on her skin, Astrid lowered her head and returned a kiss on Amalia’s cheek, softly replying.
"Mm, let’s sleep."
She happened to be feeling a bit drowsy too.
Receiving Astrid’s response, Amalia nodded and slid off her lap, her voice particularly sweet.
"Sister... help me take off my stockings~"
"Okay."
Almost eighteen and nearly an adult, yet still needing her sister to remove her socks.
Looking at the white-stockinged girl sitting on the bed, placing her two soft, slippery legs onto her knees, Astrid inwardly grumbled, yet didn’t feel any discomfort.
Probably because Amalia appeared too young, during interactions, her actual age was barely noticeable.
Unconsciously recalling the golden-haired, white-dressed little tyrant from another timeline, Astrid suddenly became curious, how exactly did such a delicate and adorable girl command authority when seated on the throne?
Or perhaps, her affectionate bias toward Amalia had already surpassed the original tyrant’s image.
While thinking, she slowly peeled the milk-colored thigh-high stockings from the girl’s legs. Feeling her legs cool, Amalia curled her tender toes and gradually moved her legs off Astrid’s knees.
"I’ll help sister too."
There seemed no reason to refuse.
Astrid brushed her hair aside and softly replied.
"Then I’ll leave it to you, Amalia."
"But today I’m wearing garter belts. Let me take off my dress first."
"..."
Ten minutes later, the two who had drunk calming tea lay on the bed. Amalia gazed at the girl beside her, her smooth silver hair spread across the pillow like a meandering waterfall.
’My sister’s image today... was slightly different from what she’d imagined...’
Gentleness didn’t mean lacking principles. Even someone as serene as the person before her wouldn’t show pity toward prisoners who deserved death.
Her cheek pressed against the silver hair, bringing a cool, silky sensation. Amalia closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
That’s why... this tenderness bestowed upon herself felt especially precious...
She’d always liked her sister, but now she loved her even more.
Opening her eyes again, looking at Astrid’s snow-white, delicate profile, Amalia slightly parted her lips, wanting to say something before closing them. Her cool crimson eyes turned as gentle as water.
Sister...
I love you the most.
.....
The day after dining with Lucas, Astrid learned partial information about the Imperial Guard through Elise’s report.
This army, directly commanded by the Emperor, differed from Duke Charles’s border troops. They rarely appeared publicly, only occasionally showing during celebrations, festivals, and major events, always clad in heavy armor with their appearances concealed.
Even after years of cultivation, though Astrid’s information network within the capital had taken preliminary shape, she still couldn’t uncover any related intelligence about this army, let alone personnel changes.
However, based on intelligence Lucas specifically revealed to her during the meal, Elise followed the trail and eventually discovered traces of troop movements, sufficient to prove the Crown Prince’s words were true.
Hibbort was indeed systematically directing the entire Imperial Guard, his purpose obvious.
He intended to prepare for the next phase of power transition, eliminating every possible crisis in its infancy.
Did this mean the Emperor’s health condition was worse than outside speculation?
With the critical juncture approaching, Astrid refrained from rash actions. She merely instructed Elise to dispatch more people to monitor the weekly meeting agendas, ensuring she could understand Hibbort’s current situation from both her daughter’s and subordinates’ perspectives.
In the second week after the Imperial Guard accepted reassignment, whether by coincidence or because Alistair received some news, he suddenly returned to the capital after long-term efforts to boost his political achievements, sharing the same city with the elder brother he despised most.
During this period, Hibbort showed no negative emotions toward Alistair’s return. Aside from their initial meeting upon Alistair’s return, the father and son subsequently had several meals together. Their overall interaction was neither intimate nor distant, completely extinguishing the already negligible suspicion in Astrid’s heart.
Even in old age, Hibbort’s mind hadn’t deteriorated to the point of making irrational decisions.
However... all his current arrangements seemed to point toward one possibility...
The current emperor of the Valeria Empire’s life was like a candle in the wind, power transition was imminent.
Perhaps one day upon waking, the entire empire would already have a new ruler.
.....
In the first month after Lyra left the capital, Astrid received a letter sent from the border. Given the capital’s increasingly oppressive atmosphere lately, this letter was like a ray of dawn breaking through thick clouds, slightly dispersing the gloom around her.
Holding a cup of tea while sitting by the table, listening to the nearly inaudible sounds of a nearby paintbrush moving, Astrid took a sip of tea, picked up the envelope, glanced at the words in the upper-left corner, For Miss Astrid Calliste, her moist lips slightly curved upward.
Opening the letter and the parchment inside, rows of delicate handwriting emitted a faint, pleasant ink scent under the lamplight.
Astrid lowered her head to read carefully. The wall clock ticked steadily, occasionally accompanied by a crisp cat’s meow, followed by a gentle female voice soothing it.
As she’d arranged, upon Lyra’s arrival at Duke Charles’s territory, she received personal reception from him, the previous magic exchange competition, though Duke Charles hadn’t attended due to military preparations, he’d learned about the event from other spectators and the Empire Weekly, knowing of the pink-haired girl’s remarkable on-the-spot breakthrough.
Receiving treatment befitting a duke-level noble, Lyra honestly expressed her surprise and gratitude in the letter, then mentioned the harsh weather in Charles’s territory, snowstorms resembling dust storms hadn’t lessened with spring’s arrival but intensified instead. Even the capital’s largest snowfall paled in comparison.
Continuing to read, Lyra described her living accommodations. Duke Charles had prepared an excellent residence for this Holy Light Knight, equipped even with the most advanced magic-powered devices, sufficient for daily warmth and hygiene.
[ I asked Duke Charles. He seemed to prefer me serving as a concrete symbol to boost morale, the positive symbolic meaning of defeating the Kingdom of Velys, and didn’t want me involved in actual combat. ]
[ But after my repeated requests, he agreed to let me participate as an ordinary trainee in various military labors, including constructing defensive magic arrays and transporting outpost supplies. ]
Tracing the handwriting on the page, Astrid could almost see through the words, the pink-haired figure wearing thick cotton-padded clothing, sitting at the front of a carriage transporting supplies.
Looks like Lyra quite enjoyed her military life.
Taking another sip of tea and continuing to read, Lyra’s descriptions gradually shifted toward military composition and daily training environments. Astrid relaxed, casually crossing her legs, her bright red eyes shimmering with gentle waves.
[ Professor Charlotte also came to the front lines. I even had a meal with her. ]
[ Suddenly remembered, if Professor Charlotte knew you gave that ribbon hairband to me, would she be unhappy? ]
[ Also about the staff incident. ]
Recalling that night, Lyra’s excited eyes and her hands unable to stay still, Astrid’s eyes unconsciously showed a hint of smile, something even she herself hadn’t noticed.
[ The food here is very different from the capital. Probably because of frequent training, the army’s rations are surprisingly good. ]
[ But this only applies to the most elite guard units. Other units and mercenaries get somewhat worse. ]
[ ... ]
[ Although I haven’t been here long, it always feels like a long time has passed. ]
[ Everything’s fine here. Astrid, please take good care of yourself too. ]
[ Also, um, ]
[ I miss you ಥ‿ಥ]
In the last sentence, Lyra drew a crying face with her pen, followed by a line written in smaller font than the main text.
[ Waiting for your reply ]
Your ever-devoted maid, Lyra Beckett.
Her gaze lingered on these words, unmoving for a long time. After half a minute, Astrid flipped the letter over but found no additional messages.
So, that’s all?
After pondering briefly, Astrid shook the envelope, and a leaf shaped like a maple leaf fell out.
Probably something Lyra saw one day, picked it to show her.
Her pupils focused on the leaf’s veins, then quickly returned to the letter, rereading it. A strange emotion welled up in her heart. Just as Astrid picked up her quill to write something, a rhythmic knocking suddenly sounded at the door.
"Miss, I have something to report."
"Come in."
A moment later, a black-haired woman in a black-and-white maid dress entered the room, her beautiful face expressionless.
"Miss, today’s weekly meeting has just ended."
"His Majesty the Emperor did not attend. Instead, it was presided over by four ministers."
Upon hearing this, Astrid’s eyelashes trembled slightly, her hand holding the pen pausing momentarily.
Hibbort didn’t attend?
Among the most diligent emperors, Hibbort had missed weekly meetings fewer than five times throughout his entire reign.
He didn’t show up today, especially during such an extremely sensitive period.
This problem was becoming serious.
####
Image of Astrid.