The Reversed Hierophant

Rafael was also fortunate enough to take a look at that extravagant betrothal gift. Even he couldn’t help but marvel at the generosity of the Emperor of Calais. It seemed that the young emperor had taken out everything he could within his authority, and his sincerity in marrying Sancha was undeniable.

So, his current situation must be quite dire.

This was Rafael’s only thought after he finished reading the parchment.

Duke François has certainly been putting immense pressure on his young nephew. Rafael hadn’t devoted much attention to the affairs of Calais, nor was he fully aware of the current state of the Calais court. However, judging by the offerings the young emperor had presented, it was clear that he was in desperate need of an ally to help him escape the oppression of his powerful, elder uncle.

Since ancient times, the struggle for the throne has been a fight to the death. François III of Calais passed away due to illness in 1075, and at that time, the young emperor François IV was just seventeen years old. He was essentially the late emperor’s child born in his old age, arriving when the emperor was nearly fifty. Naturally, he had two older brothers ahead of him, but these two strong and promising crown princes died one after another due to different reasons, and thus the crown of Calais inevitably fell to François IV, who had never received any formal education in governance.

The old emperor was worried about his young and inexperienced son possessing such a huge empire, so he appointed his most trusted brother as his son’s chief regent. Thus, the Duke successfully grasped the supreme power of the empire.

He had once fought alongside his brother, risking life and limb for his brother’s country and throne. Otherwise, the cunning Francois III would never have handed over his trust to him so easily.

But power and ambition can change a person.

Clearly, the Duke was no longer content with merely being a steady support for his nephew. He wants more – no, it should be said that even earlier, he had already been unable to suppress his greedy desires.

A duke who had been on the battlefield, had troops in his hands, was entrusted with power by the late king’s will, was in his prime, and had extremely high prestige, compared with a young and inexperienced emperor. Calais was invisibly divided into two factions, fighting each other secretly.

However, such struggles will never exist forever. As the little emperor grew older, as long as the duke failed to launch a successful coup, his chances of failure would only grow larger and larger.

In Rafael’s opinion, Francois’s failure was already doomed the moment he didn’t cut off the little crown prince’s head immediately after the old emperor’s death.

He waited and waited, hesitated and hesitated, and finally allowed the little emperor to gain an ally in the Roman Empire.

Therefore, to achieve great things, one must be quick and ruthless.

Sancha accepted the marriage proposal. The next step was to set off for Calais to hold the engagement ceremony. Both sides quickly agreed on the location for the engagement ceremony. For safety reasons, the ceremony was chosen to be held at Château de Houssancourt on the border. This place was located on the border between Calais and Rome, equidistant from the two countries. It’s clear that whoever chose this location racked their brains to find a place that perfectly balanced the interests of both nations.

Letters between Perigo and Daudet were frequent. After the location was determined, Daudet quickly dispatched a large number of people to Houssancourt, and at the same time sent out invitations to the nobles to attend the ceremony. The entire capital of Calais was filled with a festive atmosphere – of course, except for the place where Duke Francois lived.

However, everyone knew that this silent battle for the throne had basically come to an end. The Crown Princess of Perigo would bring an unquestionable victory to the little emperor. The loser of the gamble would completely withdraw from this historical game. The only reason why the nobles hadn’t rushed to throw stones at the drowning man was that there was still some time before this engaged couple officially tied the knot, and fate was never stingy in playing tricks on people.

The dawn of the dust settling could already be seen, but the possibility of accidents could not be ignored.

After all, there were so many wise and capable monarchs in history who died on the eve of victory. Who could guarantee that Francois IV won’t be the unlucky one?

The court architecture of Daudet is world-renowned. While Florence prefers to use alabaster and white marble to create a holy atmosphere, and the palace of Perigo favors a romantic and refined classical style, the monarchs of Daudet consistently pursue opulence. Calais is rich in resources, and the royal family even has gold and silver mines under its name, making their palaces astonishingly splendid. All members of the royal family seem to have a penchant for the extravagant pleasures reminiscent of ancient Roman nobility, even if it makes them appear quite decadent.

Lights in the palace were burning day and night. All rooms and courtyards – even the remote corners that the little emperor would never set foot in his life – were lit with gasoline lamps day and night. They didn’t care about waste, and took pride in such extravagance.

In the central courtyard of the palace lies a massive garden maze, covering nearly a hundred acres. The paths within are so narrow that they can only allow two people to walk closely side by side. The hedges are dense and towering, making it impossible for anyone inside to see what lies beside them, let alone attempt to climb over, as the thorns entwined within will warn you of the consequences of underestimating them. The hedges also host many climbing plants that bloom into beautiful flowers, hiding the dangerous thorns beneath their delicate petals. The maze features elegantly designed fountains and sculptures, making it a marvelous work of art by day, combining fun and excitement. 𝐫𝙖₦Ô𝖇Ê𝘚

But if someone were to wander into it at night…

It would be an absolute tragedy.

“Lost little lamb, come to me,” a soft and magnetic male voice hummed a tuneless song, like the legendary siren’s call, luring lost sailors. “Come to me, sweet wine, mellow milk, all the pleasures you could desire, all here for you.”

He held a lantern in his hand, the flame inside the glass shade burning steadily, casting twisted, giant shadows on the dark hedges on either side.

To those who had been lost for a long time, such light was nothing short of a lifeline. Yet, no matter how sweetly and affectionately he called, those shivering from cold and hunger never appeared before him.

“How unfortunate, you’ve let down the kindness of a good soul,” the young man holding the lantern stood still, complaining in a flat tone. “You know, there aren’t many good people like me.”

His voice seemed to startle a little bird hiding in a corner. There was a short rustling sound there, before it stopped abruptly.

The man hiding there trembled all over. He almost buried himself between his legs, holding his head in his hands, his body shaking uncontrollably. He tried his best to cover his ears, but the haunting voice still kept drilling into his brain.

Hurry up, go, go… go grab someone else, go find someone else!

He begged desperately, hoping that some other fool would make some noise to lure the madman away.

The sound of footsteps slowly came near him, and the orange light also illuminated the surroundings. He tried to squeeze himself into the hedge behind him, completely oblivious to the thorns that pierced his clothes and flesh. The vines in front of him hung down with branches of varying lengths, which happened to cover his figure, allowing him to hide in this naturally formed small hollow. The pair of sheepskin boots stopped in front of him for a moment, and then went away with the light.

The light flickered on the wall, and the receding darkness enveloped him once more. As the footsteps gradually faded, he let out a sigh of relief – he had never realized that darkness and silence could be so comforting.

After exhaling, he belatedly realized the stinging pain in his back. He cursed softly twice, his body paralyzed by fear unable to move. He simply lay there and rested for a while, until all the sounds around him disappeared, leaving only the regular sound of the wind passing through. Then he regained his energy, crawling out of the vines with great effort. After crawling a few steps, his head bumped into something.

“A surprise,” a soft, rounded voice said with a smile, like a polite gentleman presenting a gift to his beloved.

But the man’s blood ran cold in an instant.

He raised his head tremblingly. There was no light, and the sparse moonlight above his head fell down, illuminating a snow-white face.

That face smiled, his eyes narrowed into two semi-circular arcs, his lips full, his nose high and straight, his long and curly hair gathered behind his back. He was bending over, bringing his face close to the vines. One could imagine how patiently he had listened to the man’s breathing while he rested comfortably earlier. This imagination filled the man’s bones with fear. He collapsed and sat down on the ground, his teeth chattering, only able to gasp in terror.

The young man who was bending over straightened up, still speaking in that precise, slightly slurred accent: “A gentleman, oh my. I thought only beautiful ladies liked to hide here, but this surprise isn’t bad either.”

He raised his right hand, which had been hanging in the shadows.

A finely crafted hatchet gleamed coldly in his hand, with bloodstains all over it.

A piercing scream suddenly erupted from the maze, accompanied by rhythmic thuds and faint humming, forming a macabre accompaniment to the continuous screams. Even after the screams stopped, the rhythmic thudding never missed a beat.

“The last one, mission accomplished.”

The young man straightened up, wiping a drop of blood from the back of his hand, his gaze flicking to the vines.

“Such a perfect trap. They didn’t even bother to think twice.”

He hummed a nameless nursery rhyme, lazily walked to the corner to pick up the lantern, relit it, and strolled leisurely away from the gruesome crime scene.

At the exit of the maze, a group of servants holding lanterns stood in silence, waiting. They stood motionless, like breathing statues, until the faint orange light from the maze swayed into view, enveloping the young man with half of his body covered in blood in a halo.

The leader of the group shook out a cloak, stepped forward, and draped it over the young man’s shoulders, bowing deeply. “Your Majesty.”

The young emperor tilted his head up, his snow-white face still wearing a gentle smile. There were still traces of blood that had not completely dried on his face, which made his smile particularly creepy. “What is it? Did you find more of my uncle’s spies? The game ends here for today. Let them stay in the dungeon for now.”

“No, Your Majesty. There are no more of the Duke’s men in the palace at present. Its news from Houssancourt. The Princess of Perigo has set out, and she has also sent word that His Holiness the Pope will accompany her to Houssancourt to be a witness to your engagement ceremony.”

“Ah, so it’s good news,” the young emperor narrowed his eyes, like a well-fed cat purring contentedly. His eyes were a light brown, but under the swaying lantern light, they occasionally took on a golden hue, like the pupils of a beast. “My fiancée is really considerate. This saves us the trouble of communicating with Florence—a gentle, wise wife, who will also be the best queen for Calais, won’t she?”@@novelbin@@

The servant did not answer, but bowed his head even lower, expressing his silent reverence.

“Don’t be nervous. After all, I’m not some kind of demon. My dear uncle is bound to make a big move soon. I hope he acts swiftly—I wouldn’t want my queen to see anything she shouldn’t. That would seriously affect our relationship as husband and wife—” he said seriously, “And I’m not very patient when it comes to comforting girls.”

He casually threw the hatchet in his hand to the ground, took the snow-white handkerchief handed over by the attendant, and wiped the blood stains on his face absently, walking towards the brightly lit palace. The entire luxurious and magnificent palace was silent at this moment. Only when its master stepped onto the stairs did the palace seem to come alive, as other sounds finally emerged.

Rafael hadn’t originally planned to go to Houssancourt, but… well, Lucrezia was clearly very curious about this matter. As a reward for the girl’s obedience and diligence during this time, Rafael decided to change his plans and accompany Sancha’s convoy on the journey to Houssancourt.

A week after they set off for Houssancourt, Amandra led her army from Perigo, aiming to reach Assyria before the end of spring to quell the rebellion around Gonda.

Before their departure, Rafael met Amandra in the garden. The queen was as radiant and wild as ever, her golden eagle pendant gleaming in the sunlight.

“…I’m very glad to have met you in person. Although Sancha has told me how wonderful you are, as a mother, I can never truly feel at ease until I’ve seen you with my own eyes,” Amandra said with a smile.

“And, although it’s hard to believe, it is amazing how that bastard Delacroix actually managed to have a good child like you. It’s truly astonishing. Your God is too kind to him,” the queen added with a teasing tone.

Rafael couldn’t help but ask, “It sounds like he was quite a terrible person back then.”

Amandra made a subtle expression. “Terrible doesn’t even begin to cover it. I’d call him a wicked scoundrel, a morally corrupt teacher, a wretch even the devil would spit on—”

As she spoke, she couldn’t help but laugh along with Rafael.

“But to think he had a child like you…” the queen sighed softly, her gaze lingering on Rafael’s face as if she was seeing a distant old friend through him.

Those were the years of her youth, her girlhood, the long-lost and forgotten years sealed away in a distant homeland.

“These years must have been hard for you, child,” Amandra reached out and gently touched Rafael’s hair. Her gesture held no pity, simply like the touch of a mother to her child. “You’ve done very well. If I were your mother, I would be proud of you.”

Her voice was low and gentle, and the fingers that brushed Rafael’s forehead were rough but warm enough to bring tears to his eyes.

The touch lasted only for a brief moment.

“Don’t resent fate,” Amandra lowered her hand, her blue eyes fixed on Rafael. “It has already given you everything it could.”

Rafael watched as the queen’s figure disappeared into the corner of the garden, feeling an inexplicable sense of loss.