[SCR] 12 – Beatrice, Unwell?

"... If you will allow me to do so, I will be on my way."

“I do not mind, please go ahead.”

She felt a little uncomfortable, as the abbess seemed more nervous than she was.　In addition, as she left, he held Idyllia's hand with great strength and said, "God bless you."

She prayed. (Could it be... my sister really is unwell...?)

Idyllia, who became anxious, and hurried back to her room. She put on her cloak and got into the carriage the messenger had prepared for her.　The carriage entered the royal capital after an hour or so, as she was rocked with worry.

The bustling city had not changed a bit from the old days. Although it was nostalgic, she couldn't help but remember what happened five years ago, and her mood sombred.

Five years ago, the Leveaux family won a victory over the Fontana family and achieved prosperity in this country.　Her sister Beatrice was taken as the Crown Prince's wife, and now that her husband had ascended to the throne, she reigned at court as queen.　

The king seemed to trust her as a companion, and her power even exceeded that of the head of the Leveaux family.　She has also told Idyllia that she would never be lacking if she married into the great nobility as a political pawn. But Idyllia had shaken her head at her words and passed through the convent's gates.　Even though she’d been unaware of the events as they took place, she had committed a crime against the Fontana family. Guilty; by association. She couldn't bear the awareness of it, which was growing by the day.

(Not only that...)

Above all, she didn't want to marry anyone other than Silvio. That was it.

While she pondered, the carriage passed through the gates of the royal palace. However, it was a back gate, perhaps under the direction of her sister.　Although not quite the same as the magnificent exterior seen from the front, it was still a vast chalk building.　After a long ride, the carriage arrived at the servants' service entrance. As she was dressed modestly, she became thankful that her arrival was less conspicuous.　

As Idyllia disembarked from the carriage and looked around, a maid, who had received the news, came to meet her.

"Welcome, my lady. The queen is waiting for you."

　Her words were polite, but her eyes were cold. Idyllia quietly walked behind the chambermaid and headed towards her sister.　From the servants' passageway, she emergeed into a long corridor that was also used by the nobility, a world that could only be described as luxurious and opulent.

The long scarlet carpet was lined with extravagant paintings and furnishings, and the walls were lined with slender, vertically grooved columns at equal intervals. Even the mere corridors were decorated with elegant splendour, in the style of ancient temples, and with chandeliers shining from every corner of the ceiling.　

She was shown into a large living room the size of a small hall.　The crimson wallpaper, which had been deliberately re-painted with the Leveaux family's rose emblem woven into it, told the story of the room's owner's origins.

The rest of the room was a dazzling display of gold, including the table, chairs, clock and candlesticks, all of which stood out extravagantly.　A large painting on the wall, framed in gold of course, depicted her regal sister in majestic formal attire.　

The person in front of her was also wearing a glittering blue dress and a big smile on her face.　When she noticed her, the woman approached Idyllia with her arms outstretched.

"Idyllia!　My dearest sister!"

　She received a passionate embrace and was hit by a raw ornate jewel.　The scent of perfume was overwhelming.

"Welcome!　You have not shown your face once since you entered the convent. You will forgive me for lying and calling you, won't you?"

　She clasped her sister's face in her hands as she slipped out of her embrace.

"It's been two years. I've been worried about you for so long!"

　Idyllia smiled vaguely at her theatrical words.　She was not surprised, for she had lived with her sister for fourteen years before entering the convent and was well aware of her sister's cold heartedness.　She must not have once thought of her sister in the past two years, who'd stubbornly refused a political marriage.

"... I'm glad to see you are well, sister."

　When she returned the greeting with distance, Beatrice clutched her chest in exaggeration.

"No way. I'm not only fine, I'm crushed with anxiety!"

　As soon as she said this, she waved her hideous fan and chased away the attendants.　In the empty sitting room, she announced gravely.

"That man has returned."

"That man..."

"Silvio, the heir of the Fontana family!　I had heard that there was a man who looked like him in Mediolam, but I never thought he would come back like this...!"