IYTTEPAAK Chapter 37

"It's not the seat next to yours I'm interested in—it's your seat itself. I can't sit at the edge of anything, it's just how I was born. I need people on both sides of me, or I don't feel settled."

"Now I want to keep it even more! I will never, ever give Nanaën any peace of mind!"

Shumel and Nanaën's bickering showed no sign of ending, so I switched seats with her just to quiet them down.

A short while later, Lilliana and Orlette arrived and filled the front row.

Lilliana glanced back, caught my eye, gave a small huff, and straightened her head forward again.

Orlette spoke to her.

"It's nearly time and Cehera's nowhere to be seen. Lily, what's become of her?"

"How would I know."

"You two are close."

"Every time I went to see her during her house arrest, all she did was cry. I got sick of it a while back. Haven't spoken to her in—what, two weeks now?"

"Not even on the day Sir Jerome died?"

"......"

Lilliana flinched. She twisted a strand of lemon-blond hair around one finger, playing dumb.

"The time has come. Seating is now closed."

In the end, Cehera never showed.

A smartly dressed master of ceremonies took the stage. Beside him stood an elderly archbishop, draped in so much jewelry over his priestly robes that the vestments could barely be seen beneath it.

"Dear ladies and gentlemen. Before we begin the charity auction, Archbishop Grehmol has a few words to share."

"His Imperial Majesty, a man of the deepest sanctity and devotion, has been gracious enough to arrange this fine occasion for us today. Not only will these precious treasures from the imperial collection delight our eyes—his Majesty has pledged that the proceeds of the winning bids will go toward the betterment of the world. Every last coin raised at this charity auction shall be consecrated to the Goddess. Bear in mind, then, that what takes place here today is not indulgence, but holy offering. I do humbly ask that our great and noble lords draw the gold from their purses as generously as their faith and loyalty demand."

He'd made "spend lots of money" sound downright holy.

"I wonder if His Majesty means to come at all?"

Vivian let the tension drain from her neck and shoulders, looking rather relieved.

The Mad Emperor was, in all likelihood, watching from somewhere in one of the box seats—but I saw no reason to say so aloud.

Once Archbishop Grehmol's rambling sermon finally wound down, the auction proper began.

The first item to appear was an antique easily worth the price of an entire manor house—an ornate decoration cast in the shape of an egg, its metal shell studded with countless gems.

"This is the piece known as the Saver's Egg. A masterwork in which beauty and extravagance are, themselves, its very function. Bidding will begin at one hundred thousand gold."

"One hundred and ten thousand!"

"One hundred and fifteen thousand!"

One extravagant luxury item followed another. Every single one of them, true to the Mad Emperor's taste, was drenched extravagantly in jewels and gold.

The nobles bid against one another as though they believed that buying the Emperor's taste would let them buy his power along with it.

Bidders emerged among the princesses as well, from time to time. Lilliana and Nanaën each won a piece of jewelry.

Whenever the audience's response to the string of similar items grew lukewarm, something special would be introduced—a holy chalice, a jeweled sword, a porcelain doll, treasures of that caliber.

Shumel showed interest in the porcelain doll, but her allowance wasn't going to cover a bid on it.

Nanaën didn't let the chance slip by. She teased the sulking Shumel.

"Shall I buy it for you?"

"What?"

"Say, 'I'll become the most beautiful Nanaën-sis's devoted follower in the whole world,' and I'll buy it for you."

"I won't!"

At the sisters' squabbling, Vivian pressed a finger to the mole by her mouth and let out a soft huff of a laugh—pfft. It was good to see her looking at ease, the tension gone from her at last.

And now that the mood had loosened up like this—it'd be all the better if something inflammatory blew up right about now.

"Only two items remain in our auction. To introduce the next item, would Archbishop Grehmol please join us on the stage."

"Hmm? Do you mean me?"

Archbishop Grehmol, who had been maintaining his dignified posture as a mere spectator, was called up by name. He seemed flustered, but he didn't seem to dislike the attention either.

He cleared his throat with an air of self-importance and climbed the stage, where a very special event had been prepared for him.

"Behold, everyone! The item is revealed!"

"Wh— what?"

"This item is the office of Archbishop itself. Bidding will begin immediately at two hundred thousand gold."

"Wh— what in the world is the meaning of this!"

Not just the Archbishop, veins standing out on his neck—everyone there froze.

Selling and buying a sacred office was nothing corrupt nobles would find objectionable in principle.

The problem was that Archbishop Grehmol, a man who held the Mad Emperor's full trust, was standing right there in plain sight—which made the situation impossible to make sense of.

Of course, the confusion didn't last long before it resolved itself.

The doors of the auction house burst open, and the Emperor's own personal guard came storming in with open menace.

Leading them at the front was the golden-haired knight, Domynick.

"By order of His Imperial Majesty. Arrest the Archbishop on charges of contempt against the imperial bloodline."

"Contempt against the imperial bloodline? What are you talking about! Wh— what have I done!"

"I hear you've been keeping a secret wife and children tucked away in a hidden house? Weren't archbishops meant to be filled with nothing but purity? A man steeped in the world, unworthy of his office, has deceived His Imperial Majesty—that's contempt worth answering for, wouldn't you say?"

"......!"

Archbishop Grehmol, who had been thrashing about in protest of his innocence a moment ago, went quiet all at once—like it was a lie. His face had already gone the color of a corpse.

Domynick bared his teeth in a grin, like some beast of prey.

"Best you sit quietly in the dungeon, Archbishop. I'll make a special request to the Marquess of Osbond myself, to see that your execution is given all the care it deserves."

"How— how could you do this to me! Do you have any idea how much I've done for you, Sir Domynick—!"

"Ha. Shut up."

Domynick, sweeping his golden hair back with visible irritation, seized the Archbishop's throat with that same hand.

"How many eyes and ears do you think I've planted in this palace, that you'd let your tongue run so freely? You'd curse my future son or daughter and expect that to fly?"

"S—son or daughter? Gkh, what are you—guhheeugh—"

Watching the little farce unfold, I found myself openly, unguardedly scowling for the first time in a long while.

It wasn't only the brutal sight of a man being strangled. It was that my mind had gone and dredged up something entirely beside the point.

'Talk like that and you'll be punished for it! The sin will fall on the very child you're set to conceive soon enough—can you bear that weight?!'

He genuinely took that as being about his own future children?

"Crazy bastard."

"...... Eek? Sasha-sis, did you just—"

"What?"

"N-nothing! Shushu didn't hear anything. Shushu heard nothing at all......"

Domynick and the imperial knights under his command dragged Archbishop Grehmol away.

The master of ceremonies smoothly set about restoring order to the auction house's disrupted mood.

"Now then, ladies and gentlemen—there was a brief disturbance, but everything's been sorted out nicely, so let us resume the auction. The office of Archbishop, starting price two hundred thousand gold. It's transferable upon winning bid, so if any of you happen to have a pure and virtuous son at home, please, feel free to bid generously."

Not a single bidder came forward. Everyone present was steeped in luxury and pleasure like the residents of some decadent, fallen city—none of them fit for a life of religious devotion.

"A shame—it seems the item has gone unsold."

Crack, crack. The sound of the wooden auction gavel rang out through the hall.

For a sentence that amounted to the execution of a corrupt clergyman, it was a remarkably lovely sound.

It's over.

Anyone who disturbed the Mad Emperor's peace of mind was, as a rule, executed within a fortnight.

Everything would be resolved within the deadline I'd set for my sworn oath—and when it was, no small amount of dominion would be harvested and come to me.

I straightened my spine, unconsciously catching myself in the act of letting my guard down, and sat up rigid again.

The auction was still going. My stage had ended, but I couldn't rule out the possibility that the Mad Emperor's own stage was still to come.

And, sure enough—keeping my guard up had been the right choice.

"And now, our final item!"

The auction house went dark all at once. Just as the murmuring swelled with anticipation, the light concentrated onto the stage.

"......!"

The moment the item was revealed, I very nearly shot up out of my chair in shock.

"Our final item up for bid is the deposed princess, Lady Cehera Istinel!"

My own sister—dethroned, and put up for auction.