TEWRIT 89

Chapter 89 

Flint asked softly, puzzled:
“Why would Margraten—your great‑great‑great‑grandfather—do that?”

Eliano frowned. Margraten… That was Duke Margraten of Boarne, a southern duchy with royal blood ties to the Empire of Bianteca.

She pictured the imperial family tree: the late Boarne Duke was the emperor’s niece’s adopted son, making Margraten a cousin to Emperor Leopold. But she recalled one name and forgot everything else.

“They sent Prince Pablesica.”

The way “Prince” was said felt oddly deliberate.

Pablesica… He was the imperial bastard discovered by the Rosana Duke—a perfect resemblance to the late emperor. At that time, the North’s Crown Prince Heriath had gone to Zacador on a mission and vanished—presumed dead.

The old emperor believed Pablesica was his heir until Heriath’s miraculous return. To secure the throne, the court acknowledged Pablesica as a prince and raised him for a year as the new heir—until Heriath came back victorious. Then Pablesica was pushed aside.

Heriath, returning as war hero from Zacador, was no longer the innocent heir. Even his name caused Heriath irritation:

“Pablesica is named after the great‑grandfather? A heavy name for a child.”

He shared the emperor’s childhood portrait and the name—but not the throne.

Crown Princess Beatrice was devastated by the arrival of a royal bastard. She welcomed Heriath when he returned, tears in her eyes—remarkably comforting public virtue.

Yet soon she took steps to block further testing of Pablesica’s lineage, resisting any legal challenge. Her actions made clear she would not tolerate him.

Pablesica’s status fell: he was sent to be raised in the South by Duke Margraten—publicly accepted, but quietly exiled.

Now that his imperial guardianship term ended, Boarne had written to inform Flint he would send Prince Pablesica north, along with his governess.

The notification—and the prince—arrived without warning. The Cyclamen regents were shocked. They protested to Flint, but Margraten lashed out:

“Do you think Howard cannot care for a single child? Who says the North is too poor? Have you forgotten Flint’s capability!”

The Cyclamen couple reluctantly accepted—they could not refuse.

Once they arrived, the prince’s guardians declined entering the house; he would stay in Cyclamen March nearby.

Flint read aloud from Boarne’s letter:

“Pablesica is mature for his age. Charlotte will raise him. All we ask is that you provide a home and ensure he isn’t harmed. Remember: he is your kin. If His Grace disapproves, we can send him back—but you must accept some responsibility for our father’s ambition.”

As Flint read, Eliano watched silently. She caught the subtext: Boarne had forced out Pablesica’s mother to control the boy.

Why must I bear the consequences of my father’s actions? she thought.

Despite Flint’s calm demeanor, the Cyclamen couple trembled at his composure.

Flint told them firmly:
“This matter will be decided between the Duchess and me.”

He then offered Eliano his hand. She took it, rising from her seat.

Silence fell while the attendants prepared tea. At last, Eliano broke it.

“If the imperial guardianship ended, why wasn’t Pablesica sent back to the palace?”

Flint said nothing.

“Did my husband make a deal with the august Emperor? Or with his son?”
‘Aug ust Emperor’ meaning Leopold; ‘his son’ meaning Heriath.

Eliano pressed — She wanted to know which was involved.

Flint spoke patiently. Eliano took a small bite of cake and waited.

But northern desserts were surprisingly mildly sweet. She lost interest and put down her fork.

Then Flint spoke:

“Neither. No deal was made. Pablesica belongs in the palace.”

“Do you think he could survive there?” She stirred her tea.

“It seems he’d never be safe.”

Flint paused. He met her gaze.

“Eliano, Her Grace does not dislike Prince Pablesica.”

“And Emperor Leopold?”

“Pablesica is his son too.”

Eliano interrupted:

“If the glorious Sun can deeply love the Moon shining by his side, why does the Empress never bear a child?”

She had come back in time—she knew the tragic truth. In the future, Empress Beatrice discovered the emperor had made her infertile out of fear. He wanted Heriath to inherit everything.

“The Crown Prince knows that, but doesn’t seem to share it much.”

Her tone cold. Flint replied softly:

“Because the truth wasn’t his to know. Even if the Empress produces an heir, Heriath remains sole heir.”

She stared deeply at Flint, then tapped the letter again, voice calm:

“If the ruler of the South says so much, how could the daughter of Rosana refuse?”

She held onto every phrase:
“Just care for his life? And if he dies in the North… who is responsible?”

Flint winced, realizing she was right.

“There’s a risk people might interpret your loyalty as means to silence him.”

He read another line quietly:

“If she despises him, send him back.”

Eliano spoke that line out loud:

“If I ask you to send him back… who else am I but ‘the one who hates him’?”

She glared at the letter. Flint, trapped in truth, spoke:

“I’m sorry.”

“What do you have to apologize for? The one who sent him south is your brother—our Sun.”

Flint flinched, as if caught. Eliano clicked her tongue.

It all made sense now: if Heriath truly did not hate Pablesica, someone else forced him out. Maybe Emperor Leopold, the infertile father who saw a bastard as enemy.

She whispered:

“The Crown Prince seemed gentle once.”

Flint sighed:

“He once pitied his half-brother. That was why he let him go south.”

“Does Pablesica understand that grace?”

“Yes, he knows.”

Eliano closed her eyes and thought back.

In her past life, Prince Pablesica, under Rosana’s influence, attempted to seize the throne. He was never accepted by the imperial family. He lived in fear—and eventually fled.

Had Pablesica rewarded grace with hatred? Or had Rosana shaped that outcome? Eliano wondered.

Then she asked quietly:

“How old did they say Prince Pablesica is now?”

Even in her previous life he had been very young.

When Flint answered, Eliano’s face hardened.