Please Leave The Sickly Villainess Alone

The pleasant weather seemed to invigorate the training knights with renewed energy.

Since that day, I had attended the morning practice sessions without fail.

Tharo too accompanied me, running the practice yard laps.

Having won the knights’ affection, Tharo had practically become the knights’ mascot.

When I asked about the flag depicting Tharo’s likeness flying atop the knights’ barracks, wearing a wry expression and inquiring what it was, the captain simply replied:

“Isn’t it adorable…?”

Seeing Hewt’s flushed cheeks as he uttered those words prompted Tharo to roll about in embarrassment.

[That human! Whenever he lays eyes upon me, this Tharogrikken Drezula III is reduced to a mere neighborhood mutt!]

Well, from Hewt’s perspective, you are essentially a neighborhood mutt.

Unable to comprehend Tharo’s outburst, Hewt merely requested we join the practice sessions again before taking his leave.

“You all worked hard today.”

“Well done, everyone.”

As I wiped away my perspiration and headed back to the estate, a silver tray laden with dozens of invitation letters greeted me.

“What, what is all this…?”

“In the month since the momentous debutante ball, the nobles have gradually begun hosting parties again. All these are invitations addressed to you, Miss.”

“Surely I don’t have to attend them all…”

“No need to fret over that, Black Plague Dragon.”

Drehan was leaning against the doorframe.

Did that man truly have no duties? I distinctly recalled the Grand Nobles’ Council was scheduled for tomorrow.

“Among these, three have already been decided for all of Rayes to attend. The rest are optional.”

Sorting through the stack, Drehan extracted three specific invitations.

The annual Imperial Hunt, the subsequent festival hosted by the Claire Duchy following the hunt, and the New Year’s Celebration…?

“The Imperial Hunt…”

“An annual Imperial event. With foreign royals in attendance, our presence is mandatory.”

“What does it mean for Claire to host a ‘subsequent festival’ following the hunt?”

“The Imperial Hunt is a joint event co-hosted by the Imperial household and the Claire Duchy. The palace oversees the proceedings, while the Claire Duchy hosts the celebratory festival for the winners.”

Nodding in understanding, I examined the three invitations once more.

The New Year’s Celebration was self-explanatory – an event welcoming the new year. With half the year already passed, the early distribution of invitations was expected for such a major noble gathering.

Even Drehan seemed reluctant about attending the Imperial Hunt, his grimace betraying his distaste for such physically demanding activities.

As an archetypal scholar, he greatly disliked exerting himself.

Upon encountering the term ‘Imperial Hunt,’ I recalled the meticulous notes I had painstakingly compiled from the original story during countless sleepless nights.

Following this episode, Senia would rescue Luka from the orphanage, after which he would pursue academic studies before undertaking the ‘Monarch of the Battlefield’ trial on the battlefield.

‘The original story’s beginning is imminent.’

Setting aside the invitations, I remarked:

“More importantly, will everything be alright at tomorrow’s Grand Nobles’ Council?”

“While I have a general grasp of our superiority, the concern lies in how the Noble faction might retaliate. Those insidious fellows are unpredictable. Who knows what underhanded tactics they might employ.”

He sounded troubled by the prospect.

As far as I knew… the Grand Nobles’ Council would undoubtedly conclude with the Crown Prince faction’s defeat.

* * *

The next morning, Miller’s face was taut with tension as we crossed paths at the practice yard, despite his lack of involvement in today’s Grand Nobles’ Council.

“Brother, that practice sword you’re swinging is aimed at Ion, not a scarecrow.”

“Yowch, young master! That hurts!”

“Ah, sorry, Ion.”

Miller sheepishly rubbed his head, offering Ion a sincere apology.

His apprehension was understandable, to an extent.

While the Rayes held immense prestige, entirely subduing the Noble faction that had amassed power over two years seemed somewhat unrealistic.

And I too had grappled with whether to intervene in today’s events from the original story.

Yet reaching that decision proved far simpler than the prolonged deliberation preceding it.

“Brother, if you’re that concerned…”

I whispered into Miller’s ear.

His eyes lit up with intrigue.

* * *

Observing the departing black carriage through the window, I turned and remarked:

“He’s gone.”

Miller had promptly summoned his attendant to prepare a carriage.

“But do we even have a valid reason to follow him, Ria?”

For me, there was indeed one.

In the original story, Marquis Gassen of the Noble faction played the antagonistic supporting role, launching a vicious assault against Luka during the Grand Nobles’ Council. He even went so far as to present the circulating detrimental rumors about Luka as irrefutable facts, completely disrupting the proceedings.

As a consequence, Luka faced ostracization from noble society and endured relentless mockery and condemnation, even as he marched onto the battlefield.

The very things that tormented Luka until he finally achieved the title of ‘War Hero’ after countless battles were…

[Is it true the Crown Prince is not His Majesty’s biological child?]’

A denial of his legitimacy.

[Were there truly illicit relations between the late Empress, executed for treason, and Archduke Gruben?]

The false adultery allegations against Luka’s ailing mother, the Empress.

[I hear the Crown Prince’s ‘Monarch of the Battlefield’ trial has been decided. The Imperial bloodline’s impurities must be purged on the battlefield.]

And the desecration of the sacred final trial undertaken by the young Crown Prince to secure the succession.

The root of all these issues stemmed from today’s Grand Nobles’ Council.

While part of the original story, my intervention had accelerated this episode by a year, just like the debutante ball incident.

Although Miller harbored lingering concerns, he seemed content overall. However, the original story depicted the Crown Prince faction suffering a crushing defeat against the nobles.

Luka had narrowly averted being deposed, barely clinging to his position as Crown Prince.

My hesitation regarding intervening arose from the uncertainty of how events might unfold if I deviated too drastically from the established narrative.

Yet to cower from an unseen future would render it no future at all.

Rather than resigning myself to the recorded fate, I decided to forge my own path forward.

Of course, neither Miller nor I possessed the qualifications to attend the Grand Nobles’ Council itself.

However, we had…

I gazed down at Tharo, who was rolling about on the floor as usual.

[What is it, Master?]

* * *

“Please present your entry passes.”

I showed the knight the golden medal I had received from the Empress and explained:

“Will this suffice? This is my older brother accompanying me.”

Without inquiring further, he bowed deeply and held the door open for us.

Our brazen entry seemed utterly at odds with our dubious intentions.

The entry pass the Empress had gifted me allowed unrestricted access to the imperial palace grounds at any time.

Ever since the debutante ball, my meetings with the Empress had become quite frequent.

Regarding me as akin to a daughter, the Empress had bestowed this pass, urging me to visit the palace regularly.

It permitted a single accompanying guest as well.

After passing through the gate, Tharo poked his head out from Miller’s bag.

[Phuh-hah, I almost suffocated in there.]

“Wow, it’s been ages since I last visited the palace. Where is this place?”

“Just follow me, Brother.”

Having grown intimately familiar with the palace layout from my frequent summons by the imperial siblings, including the Empress, I led Miller and Tharo through the main palace where the Grand Nobles’ Council was underway.

Evading the gardeners tending the beautiful gardens, the attendants ushering guests, and even Rachel pacing worriedly around the palace perimeter, we ultimately arrived at an empty courtyard behind the castle.

While the front facade boasted meticulously manicured gardens, this rear area seemed designed as a simple retreat for the staff, devoid of any human presence.

“Stay low.”

Crouching, we cautiously scanned our surroundings in search of the council’s location.

After passing over a dozen windows, a voice drifted out.

“Thank you all for attending today’s Grand Nobles’ Council.”

It was Lady Jeria’s voice.

“It seems to be coming from here.”

Peering through a window adjacent to the council chamber, I glimpsed what appeared to be a reception room where the attending nobles had been resting momentarily.

The tea cups lay abandoned, the contents having grown cold, with no one inside.

As guards stood sentry along the corridor, we would need to infiltrate through this window.

Bracing one foot against the windowsill, I mustered my strength and hoisted myself upwards.

It seemed my physical training had paid dividends – I lightly vaulted over the sill towering above my height…

“Oho, trying to climb up, were we?”

Ah, Miller had boosted me from behind.

[The Master certainly has her endearing moments. Dreams of levitation, I presume?]

‘I’d rather not hear that from someone as blunt as you!’

[What’s that supposed to mean? Have you forgotten my true form already? I can grow as large as a mansion! This is merely following current trends…!]

‘Hmph!’

Ignoring Tharo’s verbose retort, I entered the room and surveyed our surroundings.

Miller and Tharo soon followed, clambering through the window behind me.

“No one here, it seems.”

Miller’s assessment carried more credibility than my own senses.

As an exceptional swordsman, he would have instantly detected any lingering presence within this chamber.

“Just two knights guarding the council entrance in the corridor. No one else.”

I nodded, pressing my ear against the wall separating us from the council to eavesdrop on the proceedings.

Faint voices gradually became audible.

* * *

Marquis Gassen had awaited this day with bated breath, for nobles lived and died by honor.

Even royalty was no exception.

The slightest blemish upon that distinguished reputation would initiate a fissure, inevitably leading to complete collapse.

Today, his task was to hurl the rock he had painstakingly crafted, chipping away at the Crown Prince’s credibility.

Having vanished for two years, the Crown Prince had likely faded from the citizens’ memories as well, rendering their previously fervent support akin to a crumbling seawall.

A towering tidal wave was poised to engulf Luka, a fact acknowledged through the furtive glances exchanged among the assembled Noble faction dignitaries.

Observing this, Marquis Gassen mused that their evaluations of him would diverge based on today’s outcome.

Moreover, if he could secure Lady Jeria and the Marquis Croia’s favor, he could potentially secure his eldest daughter’s betrothal to the future Crown Prince Consort, or at the very least, an Imperial Prince Consort.

Marquis Gassen gazed reverentially at Jeria, seated upon the dais, his covetous gaze nearly worshipful.

The Emperor remained preoccupied with his latest foreign mistress, while the feeble Empress languished in self-imposed exile within the Imperial Palace.

In stark contrast, observe Lady Jeria’s avaricious eyes, brimming with ambition.

Marquis Gassen examined the reins he had grasped firmly.

In his assessment, the Crown Prince had already lost his power base.

A glance at the Crown Prince faction revealed an utterly unremarkable assembly, barring the Duke Rayes himself.

The Marquis scoffed derisively at those waning forces.

Conversely, Marquis Croia had amassed a formidable presence over the past two years, to the point of inspiring trepidation.

Even a child could discern which side held the advantage.

Moreover, the 30 Grand Nobles in attendance today, and their noble subordinates, would undoubtedly align themselves based on the outcome of this council.

He could perceive the vast chessboard beginning to shift beneath his feet.

It was at that pivotal moment that the young Crown Prince finally entered the chamber.