Chapter 12
“What do you mean I can’t have that dress?”
Clara’s furious voice rang through the dressmaker’s shop, making the walls tremble.
Her maids, clearly accustomed to such outbursts, lowered their heads and held their tongues.
The shouting was loud enough to be heard beyond the shop, and passing pedestrians glanced in curiously before hurrying on.
The couple who ran the establishment, Mr. and Mrs. Walters, knew the temperament of Marchioness Clara Augustine all too well, yet today she was proving especially difficult to placate.
Her eyes remained fixed on a single gown, still unfinished on the mannequin.
It was an evening dress meant for Henriette.
“Madam, I offer you my deepest apologies. But that dress is to be worn by Her Majesty the Empress for the upcoming festival…”
“Do you think I don’t know that? So what? Whether the Empress wears it or the Princess does, what does that have to do with me? I told you I want to wear it.”
“But, Madam, that gown was commissioned directly by the Imperial Household. It is not something we can simply sell as we please.”
“Unbelievable. I can’t even wear what I want? Is this how the House of Augustine treats people?”
Even after all her shouting, Clara’s anger showed no sign of abating.
She planted her hands on her hips, muttering under her breath with great irritation.
When the uproar had quieted a little, Mrs. Walters approached with cautious tact.
“Oh, Madam, I give you my word as the name behind this atelier, your gown will be completed to perfection. If you would only select the fabric, I shall make it the most splendid and magnificent dress. Please, calm yourself and hear me out. I mean it; there is no one in this city more honest and devoted to fashion than I.”
Perhaps the heartfelt persuasion worked, for Clara’s tone eased, if only slightly.
“Very well, I shall let it pass this time. But my gown must be the most beautiful. Do you understand? If it is anything less than perfect on the night of the ball… things will not end well. Is that clear?”
“Of course, Madam. You are so beautiful and radiant that I have no doubt about it. We will make you the finest dress. On the night of the ball, you will be the most stunning lady there, will you not?”
Clara sniffed disdainfully, clearly still displeased.
Mrs. Walters’ smooth words had managed to soften her temper for now, but Clara’s gaze never once left the Empress’s gown.
Though incomplete and merely draped on a mannequin, the gown shimmered with such elegance that even the loose threads seemed noble and mysterious.
Such a beautiful dress should be worn by me, not that stone-faced Empress. Why does the world torment someone as delicate and lovely as I am?
Her greed stirred anew. The Emperor’s love and the Empress’s red evening gown were still not enough for Clara Augustine.
As Mrs. Walters took her measurements again, Clara’s lips curled into a sly smile, as if struck by inspiration.
What she coveted would be hers, no matter the method.
This time would be no different.
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That day, Henriette was hosting a tea party for the noble ladies and young ladies of the Empire.
After a long period of quiet, the Empress’s drawing room was bustling once more.
The guests, dressed in their finest, exchanged polite bows and greetings, though their stiffness made them seem as if wearing ill-fitting shoes.
One older lady, unable to hide her discomfort, dabbed at the perspiration on her brow or fanned herself with restless hands.
It seemed the invitation itself, sent directly by the Empress, had unsettled them.
Several could not resist whispering in low voices.
“What do you suppose Her Majesty means by inviting us here?”
“It is highly unusual.”
“She has always seemed more concerned with commoners and the poor than with people like us.”
At that moment, a chamberlain’s voice rang out.
“Her Majesty the Empress Henriette approaches.”
The drawing room, filled with hushed gossip, fell silent. All the noble ladies bowed deeply.
The ivory doors opened, and Henriette entered with graceful steps.
“You may rise.”
Her gaze swept slowly over the room.
Among those assembled were the wives and daughters of the Empire’s most prominent houses.
Yet here and there, conspicuously empty seats remained, a calculated absence she had anticipated.
Her purpose today was not mere socialising.
Henriette had invited these women to seek allies.
Though Zakhar and Bertrand stood as her staunch supporters, they were not enough. Zakhar was publicly known only as her consort, and Bertrand carried the lingering stain of scandal from before her first death.
More damning still was the fact that many nobles viewed her unfavourably. In life, she had often championed the people over the aristocracy, and such actions had inevitably placed her in opposition to them.
Her efforts to protect her subjects had earned their resentment, and her standing in society had suffered for it.
As she looked around the stifled room, she recalled a conversation she had once had with Zakhar.
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“Elegant revenge? Humans are stranger each time I look at them.”
Zakhar leaned lazily against the wall, scoffing.
He had never liked her cryptic talk of elegance. This woman was harder to read than ever.
“So what exactly is your plan?”
Henriette delayed her answer, drawing a sheet of paper from her desk and writing a list of noble houses in careful script.
“Zakhar, what I truly want is not some petty personal grudge. My goal is greater, and as I work toward it, revenge will simply come as a natural result.”
He understood her at once, though his frown suggested he was far from satisfied.
“If you wish, I can crush his windpipe this instant.”
“You can be rather childish at times, you know.”
“What?”
Henriette laughed aloud, setting down her pen.
“A bloody revenge might feel satisfying for a moment, but it would forever destroy the chance to expose the truth of my death. And… it would make retrieving your child all the more difficult.”
Zakhar clicked his tongue and turned away.
“I want to give everyone in the Elhide Empire a boundless future. For that, I need your strength and your wisdom. When I achieve that dream and stand at the summit, revenge will follow naturally.”
“…A future, you say.”
“And do not worry, I have no intention of forgiving him or showing him any misplaced mercy.”
“That much I knew already. But what have you been scribbling so intently? Your hand hasn’t stopped moving.”
“As you have chosen to stand by me, I must gather more who will do the same.”
She handed him the invitation list.
“The more allies, the better.”
In her mind, she saw a stage, she and Wilhelm, facing each other in the centre.
The sword in his hand dripped her blood onto the floor. In her grasp was a dagger yet to be drawn.
But she would not merely stab him; she would drive him from the stage of the Elhide Empire entirely.
For such an elegant revenge to end in triumph, strength alone would not suffice.
She drew her sword at last, aiming it at him.
To push him from the stage, she needed allies who would lift the heavy blade with her.
Allies who understood her purpose completely and would offer wise counsel without hesitation.
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“With all of you gathered here, my lonely drawing room has been transformed into a blooming garden. In such a lovely place, fragrant tea and pleasant conversation must not be absent. I would like to speak freely with you all.”
“Merely being summoned here is the greatest honour, Your Majesty.”
“We can only hope we are able to please you with our poor conversation.”
The noble ladies smiled awkwardly.
Henriette knew most of them were far from pleased to be there.
“Then perhaps I should begin with an amusing story. In fact, since we are all gathered, why not play a game? The winner shall earn the right to join me in a mining venture I am undertaking.”
Mining? Eyes lit up around the room. No matter its scale, a mining enterprise promised considerable profit.
“Your Majesty, forgive my boldness, but may I ask what this mining venture entails?”
It was the daughter of Count Randis who spoke, bold enough to voice what all were thinking.
Henriette smiled warmly at her.
“You have all heard, I am sure, of how, due to the matter of Archduke Aubert, His Majesty and I inherited land.”
“Indeed, Your Majesty. Did you receive the southern lands of Kensington? I have heard fine amethysts are mined there.”
“No. I was given Conhill in the north.”
As her words sank in, a chill settled over the room. The earlier heat at the mention of mining cooled at once.
Did she think to bait us with something like that? Several women exchanged faintly mocking glances.
Then, a gentle but steady voice broke the uneasy silence.
“Conhill… that region is linked to a vast mountain range rich in mines. It has seen little development due to its harsh terrain and climate, but I believe it has great potential.”
All eyes turned toward the speaker, Hilde Cardia, the eldest daughter of Viscount Cardia.
Henriette regarded her with mild surprise. She was not strikingly beautiful, but carried a calm, composed air.
“Miss Cardia, you seem well-informed about Conhill.”
“Not as much as Your Majesty, but the unusual circumstances of the Archduke’s case led me to study what records I could find in our library.”
Henriette’s smile deepened.
“Indeed. As Miss Cardia says, Conhill lies near some of the Empire’s most significant mineral veins, vital to our strength and standing.”
“Then, Your Majesty, what is this game you propose?”
“From this moment, I shall pose three riddles. I am certain such wise ladies as you will have little trouble. Even if your answer is not the one I have in mind, I may still reward the most reasonable.”
She sipped her tea and set the cup down.
“The first question: in the Elhide Empire, what is the most supreme thing of all?”
A young lady from the House of Count Stuart raised her hand first.
“The most supreme thing is, of course, His Majesty Emperor Wilhelm.”
Henriette only smiled gently, giving no sign of assent.
Then Hilde raised her right hand without hesitation.
“The most supreme in this Empire… is the Black Dragon Zakhar.”
