"Your Highness, I understand your feelings, but this is not the moment for obstinance. Please, at least consider this aunt who cares for you..."
The Duchess's attempts to persuade the Princess—to spare her from the Queen Mother's wrath—bordered on the pathetic.
Medea remained standing perfectly upright.
Her expression stayed as calm as a rock weathering a tsunami's fury.
She simply would not yield.
The Queen Mother, appalled by this brazen defiance, abandoned all pretense of composure.
"Do you ignore me because I am an old woman sequestered in these back chambers? Because you possess that seal, you believe you need not heed my words? Such arbitrary, willful behavior!"
"Vicious creature! You would use that cunning mind to devour everyone around you! I should have sent you away—just as my son wished!"
The Queen Mother could no longer contain her fury.
As though Medea were the architect of every misfortune that had ever befallen their house.
"Why will you not answer me!"
The old Medea would have lowered her head, sealed her lips, and let tears flow freely.
But this Medea swallowed a cold laugh.
The Queen Mother's hatred meant nothing.
The deeper the hatred, the better.
The more the Queen Mother despised her, the greater the shock would be upon discovering her beloved son the Prince Regent's true ambitions.
The weak child wounded by such harsh words had died. Only a woman bent on revenge remained.
The Queen Mother is the sole force in this palace capable of defeating the Duke Regent.
Starting today, the Queen Mother's indiscriminate hatred must be transformed into something useful.
I must retain the seal—and make the Queen Mother want to protect me.
"I cannot provide the answer you desire, Grandmother. Therefore, I shall not speak falsely."
"You dare disobey me now? You refuse to surrender the seal?"
The Queen Mother's fury intensified to a fever pitch. The assembled courtiers held their breath, scarcely able to witness this confrontation.
— The Prime Minister's Calculation — Cissere's brow furrowed deeply.
Princess Medea—the Regent's puppet—had always represented his lord Peleus's most persistent vulnerability.
Rationally speaking, royal authority would benefit if the Princess lost the seal and relinquished this precarious position.
"Your Highness, this is no trivial matter. Perhaps you should deliberate when more appropriate time permits."
Nevertheless, he offered the Princess one final opportunity to retain the seal. He despised watching such one-sided verbal abuse rain upon a young girl.
Knowing no one would protect that child without the seal, he could not bring himself to ignore the Princess entirely.
The torrent of abuse paused momentarily. The Queen Mother cleared her throat.
Her flushed cheeks trembled slightly—perhaps recognizing she had conducted herself indecorously before witnesses.
Then Medea's voice rang clear through the chamber.
"Privately, His Majesty is my brother—but publicly, this seal was bestowed upon me directly by the King, the supreme authority of this nation."
"Grandmother may punish me as she sees fit. But you lack the authority to confiscate my seal."
"What did you say?"
The Queen Mother prepared to unleash fresh fury at this impertinent retort.
"If someone could doubt and overturn the Most High's commands simply because they share familial bonds, who would willingly obey the King's decrees? As a member of the royal family, I humbly beseech Grandmother to reconsider carefully."
The Queen Mother's fury crystallized into cold clarity.
Though she despised her granddaughter for her role in her eldest son's death, she cherished her only grandson Peleus with boundless devotion.
The Prime Minister and Duchess Claudio were present as witnesses—individuals who should ultimately serve under Peleus's reign as the King's close confidants, family members, and military pillars.
Clearly, forcibly seizing Medea's seal would be tantamount to dismissing her grandson the King's authority.
Foolish people might exploit such a precedent for treasonous schemes.
The Queen Mother drew a wheezing breath.
The logic was sound—but the shame of having her immature granddaughter illuminate this truth stung with exquisite bitterness.
She glared at her insolent granddaughter standing so resolutely. Silence stretched so taut that even swallowing seemed impossible.
"Your words contain a measure of truth. I lack the authority to take the seal from you."
A pause. Relief flickered through the chamber—
"However."
—and died.
"As your grandmother, I possess ample authority to punish you, do I not? You acknowledged as much yourself."
"Medea, you shall kneel before the chapel and offer prayers of penitence. You shall remain there until the Goddess herself reveals that she has forgiven you."
The assembled nobles could scarcely trust their ears.
Until the Goddess grants revelation?
Even the most revered high priests of the Holy Kingdom rarely received divine revelations once in their entire lifetimes. The Goddess's revelations were called miracles for precisely this reason.
"No one shall provide this child even a sip of water until she comprehends the gravity of her transgressions. Is that understood?"
What the Queen Mother actually meant: she would punish her granddaughter indefinitely until her own fury subsided.
"Your Majesty the Queen Mother—"
"Step aside, Cissere. From this point forward, this is my palace's internal affair. I shall tolerate no interference."
The Queen Mother shook her head with finality.
"You should depart now. What are you waiting for? Escort the Lord out."
Ultimately, Cissere had no choice but to withdraw, surrounded by sturdy maids.
As he passed Medea standing straight as a young tree, their eyes met momentarily.
No wavering existed in the Princess's green gaze.
Upon departing the Queen Mother's Palace, Cissere tilted his face toward the sky.
"Your Majesty, how far have you advanced? You must achieve victory swiftly."
He removed his monocle and rubbed his exhausted eyes. Deep fatigue settled over his haggard features.
— The Loyal Servant — As Cissere departed, the doors opened briefly.
Neril rushed before the Queen Mother.
While pacing outside—denied entry—she had overheard everything within: the maids' schemes collapsing, and finally, the punishment the Queen Mother had just imposed upon Medea.
Does the Queen Mother truly expect a miracle?
At this rate, the Princess would suffer the Queen Mother's tyranny indefinitely.
Her body moved before conscious thought. Before the Queen's guards could intercept her, Neril had already thrown herself to her knees before the Queen Mother, head bowed to the cold stone.
"The Princess remains physically and mentally fragile from her recent fall. She cannot possibly endure this punishment."
"Allow me to serve in her stead. Impose whatever severe punishment you wish—please, punish me instead."
"Who is this creature?"
The Queen Mother's voice dripped with displeasure. Neril frantically repeated her plea.
"Your Majesty, please reconsider your granddaughter's wellbeing once more."
At the mention of familial bonds, the Queen Mother's expression hardened instantly.
"Where does a mere maid find the presumption to speak so? Pinatelli, remove this creature from my sight."
"Step aside, Neril."
Medea walked forward and positioned herself before her maid.
"I offended Grandmother with discourteous words. Therefore, I shall accept my deserved punishment."
No trace of fear or concern regarding the Queen Mother's sentence showed upon her face. As though her own dignity meant nothing.
"Ha."
The Queen Mother released a bitter laugh.
This child claims to be detestable—yet only performs detestable actions?
"Very well. Proceed to the chapel immediately."
"Yes, Grandmother."
Medea bowed once more and departed, her spine straight as a blade.
— The Duchess's Fear — "Mother, please reduce the punishment's severity somewhat. Her Highness remains young—what if she falls gravely ill?"
Catherine interjected belatedly.
Medea accepting punishment meant the situation had truly spiraled beyond control. They could not afford the Princess falling ill.
We still require Medea. Until the King returns, we need a puppet to absorb all criticism and blame.
"Silence! Do you imagine I am a fool now?"
"I merely—"
"If you possess such abundant concern, manage your own household properly!"
The Queen Mother screamed and stormed away.
"Mother, just let Medea suffer. Why step forward and receive scolding unnecessarily?"
As Catherine stood frozen, Birna—following behind—chided her petulantly.
"Be quiet."
"It is exactly as before. Did you not witness Medea standing there like carved wood, ignoring everything Grandmother said?"
They remained within the royal palace. Her immature daughter was far too careless with her tongue.
"I said be quiet!"
"Why are you yelling at me..."
Birna pouted, but rather than comforting her daughter, Catherine's mind was racing elsewhere entirely.
The connection between the head maid and Prince Regent that Marieu had mentioned seemed overlooked in the chaos—but Catherine had not forgotten.
It was understandable that Madame Cuisine attempted to slander Medea with fabricated evidence. But targeting Minister Etienne and the Princess specifically?
Did Cuisine act alone? Or did Cuisine and Etienne collaborate? Did that mean the Minister harbored separate ambitions?
Furthermore...
Who planted the false evidence in Marieu's belongings?
Who aided Medea?
It would prove far more troublesome if Medea possessed unidentified allies.
Catherine had underestimated her foolish niece so completely that she had never once suspected Medea orchestrated everything.
Why did Medea suddenly confront the Queen Mother like that? And why did the Queen Mother react so unreasonably?
The unexpected developments unfolding consecutively left Catherine profoundly unsettled.
Why is everything spiraling this way?
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