Chapter 169

“You have few allies in court, if any at all,” I inform Augustus after he’s completed a cursory inspection and given me a clean bill of health. If anything, I’ve grown chubbier and fuller as of late. Thanks, puberty.

Augustus lets out a sage sigh, like air escaping a tire. He speaks with the tone one would instruct a young child with when he says, “That is not true. Allies are different from friends, Winter. There are many in court who do side with Father and I-“.

I brutally cut him off. “You are Father’s son. Not Father himself. None of them owe you the loyalty they’ve shown Father, even if honor and sworn oath dictate that it should be passed on to you. You must earn it for yourself.”

“And the divorce trial of a noble couple will help me accomplish that?” he asks, the sarcasm thick in his tone.

“Leave it to me,” I smugly say with a slight smile, patting him lightly on the shoulder. Reading the old tome on divorce law revealed more than a few interesting tidbits and loopholes I cannot wait to exploit. This case will be ground zero, drawing the lines in the ground and showing Augustus who he can trust and who he must befriend in the coming years.

“There you go again, acting like you’re older,” Augustus chides, standing up and promptly reminding the two of us just who is older (on the outside).

“I am, on the inside,” I mutter with a self-assured expression before lecturing him with a satisfied expression. “As I have just displayed, age has little to do with the wisdom one can accumulate in life. It would do you some good to pick up a few books from the imperial library when you have a chance.”

.....

“Oh, learn to quit while you’re ahead, dear sister!” He’s had enough of my deliberately obnoxious talk. The world flips upside down, with Augustus tossing me on his shoulder and tickling me until I squeal in surrender.

“I give up! I was wrong! You are wiser than me,” I gasp out between laughs. My vision reorients itself as I’m relinquished from his unique form of torture, random giggles still bubbling out of my mouth.

“Besides. The appeal has been filed. The case shall begin its run a fortnight from now. There is no stopping it,” I point out with a dark glee.

Augustus still looks skeptical. “There is a possibility that the judge could make a ruling before it even reaches a court of law.” He cites a law that allows for a judge to preemptively pass judgment on cut-and-dry cases to prevent taxpayer money from being wasted on useless cases.

“But this isn’t so simple of a case. Have you ever heard of the Steinway Addendum?” I counter.

“I’ve heard that name before,” Augustus says after a period of thought.

I’m not surprised. “It’s an old addendum, from over 200 years ago. You see, back in the day, there was a problem of desertion.”

“Desertion? Of the army?” I know that Augustus’ mind instantly flits to the definition of a soldier leaving his post in battle with the commander’s permission and an invisible question floats over his head.

“Of marital property, ironically. There was a war at the time. And when the husbands had left to fight, some of their wives who didn’t want to wait around for them filed for divorce on claims of their husband deserting their marital home.” I can’t help but applaud that level of cleverness internally as I slowly begin explaining to Augustus my winning strategy.

“It wasn’t their fault for abandoning the home,” Augustus protests.

I shrug. “Perhaps. But when it’s a law, what can the judge do but grant it? Of course, it would not make for good morale if soldiers fighting a war for the empire returned home to find themselves short a few limbs and a wife. So Harold Steinway, the chancellor at the time,” Augustus snaps his fingers as he finally recalls the name, “Came up with a proposition. Only wives who owned their property outright were allowed to file for marriage desertion. Unfortunately, as most women did not own their marital homes, this stopped the practice right in its tracks. It also prevented many husbands from allowing their wives to own half or all of their marital homes, a custom that has prevailed to this day.”

“Such an absurd happenstance. What a wise solution.” My brother’s lip curls in distaste.

I smile wanly, knowing that there is little way for me to explain to Augustus how damaging this addendum was for women’s rights. “Not quite. What do you know of property law?” I say, launching into the second portion of my grand explanation.

Augustus cocks his head to the side, staring at me like I just started speaking to him in Spanish. “You truly are well-read,” he marvels. If only he knew how much of my youth was spent reading as I was cooped up in the Rose Palace and tiptoeing around the imperial palace.

“In addition to history, understanding property rights and land laws are quite critical to understanding politics,” I tell Augustus quite smugly, more than happy to make use of a bachelor’s degree I was literal weeks from obtaining officially. Am I still bitter about dying before obtaining it? Yes, of course.

“Just carry on with your point,” he says with an eye roll.

“Do you know that according to an ancient law that has been in place since this empire was just one mere kingdom amongst many, if your parents passed away before you are of age, your property automatically belongs to the crown?” I ask.

“No...”

I smirk to myself. Of course he wouldn’t know. “Lady Westmont’s-”

Augustus tries to cut in. “Technically she is to be called Lady Berrick, now-”

“Lady Arabella Westmont,” I emphasize forcefully, completely dropping her marital name, “lost her esteemed father, the great knight, Lord Westmont, a few weeks before she debuted at her coming-of-age ceremony. Which means he passed away before she was of age. According to Erudian law, that means that her property belongs to the imperial family until she files to reclaim.”

“Why was such a strange law implemented in the first place? No one would allow their government to own their homes,” Augustus scoffs in obvious disbelief.

“Protection. Oftentimes, greedy relatives would try to forcibly inherit the land in place of the orphan. This law allowed the crown to step in and protect the property from vultures until the child was old enough to inherit. No one would dare claim someone else’s home for themselves if I were protected by the highest power in the land.”

“Why did we stop?” The crown prince shakes his head. “Such a policy would still be useful today.”

“Such a law was slowly forgotten over time. The empire’s simply grew too big for the crown and its delegated officials to step in on every single property dispute. But don’t worry, YOU,” I stab a finger in his chest. “Will bring that policy back in full force with this case.”

I can see the wheels turning in his head, as my astute brother immediately picks up on the underlying intentions beneath my proposal. “You mean to make me a political player in the court and increase my popularity amongst the common people.”

“Do you know what one of the biggest unspoken scams being run in the empire at the moment is? It is to have a family killed save for one young child and then have a distant “relative” rustle up some doctored papers and inherit the familial property in place of the child. Even if the scam is eventually unearthed, by then the falsely inherited property has been sold for a profit and the “relative” long gone for the next scam.”

This is just one of the many interesting tidbits Jack has told me in the past about what happens beyond the elite circles of the capital.

Augustus looks perturbed at the revelation. “This has never been brought up during court discussions.”

“Why would it be? There is no culprit to point a finger at. The dishonestly acquired home was sold honestly. Even if there are minor nobles at court who are aware of this scheme occurring in their territory, it seems like one of those problems that can be easily swept under the rug.” The scammers are smart, never touching people with true connections to power or nobility. As such, it is truly not in the interest of the few nobles aware of the property scams to put a stop to the thieving.

“Truly insidious, those minor nobles,” Augustus comments. He pats Devil’s head, who has been staring at him without blinking for the past few minutes. Traitor.

Nonetheless, I let out an amused huff. Those worthy of my brother’s true disdain are the ones who fill our halls regularly during balls and imperial events, not the low-tier nobility who must answer to higher-ranked lords and ladies.

“What the nobility of old eventually realized about that property law is that it gives power back to the imperial family. Technically, we own the empire, but only on a grand scale. The land is mostly divided amongst dukes and lords and viscounts who run it as they see fit, so long as they pay taxes on time and provide soldiers when needed. Here’s an easy question for you,” I begin, tossing a carrot at a surprised Augustus. I jerk my head at Devil, who’s been rubbing his head on Augustus’ leg for the past few minutes and motion for him to feed my baby.

“Pop quiz!” I yell, surprising Augustus nearly enough to drop the carrot. “When one owns enough land in a certain territory or province, what rights are they granted?”

His head of shiny black hair jerks up with immediate understanding. “Those who own a large enough portion of the land are allowed to join the council of the noble who owns the territory and cast their vote in territory-related matters.”

“Bingo!” I cheer. I spot Angel about to pee on the carpet and scoop her up, placing her on the litter box I had specially made for such matters. “Not on the fancy carpet, sweetie. I don’t want my room smelling like piss.”

“In order to maintain our tenuous balance with the Houses and extended nobility, imperial family members without a claim to that specific territory through marriage or land ownership aren’t allowed to interfere in their matters. Even Father’s hands would be tied if he went to the Mulworth duchy for example and started implementing smaller-scale laws for that region. But if the imperial family were to temporarily own enough land in a certain province or territory...” Augustus trails off, already picking up what I’m putting down.

“By law, and believe me I checked to make sure, we could interfere in their matters in a way we have never been able to before.” I finish his sentence with a devious grin.

“As you are well aware, Augustus, the imperial family has lost a lot of its political sway in key territories due to the loss in our numbers.” Oftentimes, the territories that princes and princesses inherited or married into became allied with the imperial family, allowing for the crown to build a faction of its own. “This is a way to make up for it.”

“That’s brilliant!” Augustus yells, overenthusiastically shoving a piece of carrot into Devil’s mouth and making him squeak. “Sorry, little fellow. But still, Lady Arabella and Lord Berrick do not reside at the Westmont property. They live at the Berrick Manor on Mistway Avenue.” He names a popular street for noble homes in East Bend famed for its cherry blossoms in spring.

I nod in agreement before serenely pulling out my final card. “As you know, on a government-issued marriage license, you must list where your marital property resides. Lady Arabella was the one who formally filled out the form on the day of their marriage. What address do you think she put down?”

If this were a game of poker, I just slapped down an ace and completed a royal flush, pun intended.

“But by that same logic, she could also be accused of deserting the marital home. Doesn’t she live in the Berrick Manor with Lord Berrick?” Augustus is quick to think through potential obstacles and problems.

“After a... difficult experience Lady Westmont recently had, she left in the dead of night a fortnight ago to return to the Westmont home.” I keep my response vague and short.

“What sort of experience?”

“Must you be so nosey?” I snap. “Just know that it wasn’t the pleasant sort any woman would ever wish to experience within the confines of a marriage.”

“You don’t seem at all enthralled with the idea of marriage,” Augustus muses with a thoughtful look. There is no judgment in his gaze, not that I had expected any. In the webnovel, Augustus was famously anti-marriage until he fell in love with the female lead, Clara, while investigating my death.

“I know it’s a duty for this family,” I sigh. “But frankly, I’m not certain I’ll live long enough to experience it. And even if I do, it could be a political, loveless match, like Father and Mother. Which actually doesn’t bother me. What would bother me is if I lose my power and independence through it. I cherish both of those more than life itself.”

I would greet an early death at age 16 with a smile on my face over the possibility of spending decades with someone who would treat me the way Lord Berrick treats Lady Arabella.

“Speaking of death so often is ill luck for someone as young as yourself,” the crown prince warns, a frown tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Well, I uttered no falsehoods. I could come down with a bad case of the bloody flux. Do you know how many of those cases I’ve cured? Terrible disease. Hacking up bits and pieces of your lungs until you drown in your own blood. I’ve felt it. Or I could be forcibly separated from my life,” I grimly point out.

“Assassinated,” Augustus corrects concisely. “You are neither the emperor nor are you the crown prince. You are not even the next in line after that. There is little for you to fear.”

The several attempts on my life would beg to differ, but I don’t tell him that. I don’t tell him many things, only that which he must know.

In the brief lull of conversation, I think back on my old foe, Peppermint. Although I’ve “taken” my fate in my own hands by tying myself inextricably to this world with the threads of gold only Aria can see, I still fear that I am now a puppet on strings, bound to whatever maniacal fate Peppermint has set up long before me. Justifiable paranoia has found a home in my sleepless thoughts every night as I go through inconsistencies and peculiar instances I’ve encountered.

The empress’ hatred of me is both understandable and inexplicable. If I were a prince, it would be justifiable, but sometimes her motives feel like overkill for a bastard princess like me. Then of course, way I’ve had to fight tooth and nail just for a bit of respect and an honorable place in this imperial family. If a twist of fate hadn’t granted me healing powers, the grass over my grave would be up to my hip by now. It’s as if even without Peppermint’s direct interference this new world was already set to hard mode from the start. And any gamer knows that hard mode rarely has a happy ending.

“It could be fate. It could be manmade. Either way, I have never been destined to enjoy good things for long before they’re taken from me. But I hope I can see you vanquish your enemies and build up your strength before I go.” It goes without saying who his enemies are. We largely share the same ones.

“Is someone after you? Have you made an enemy of someone you shouldn’t?” There is a tender care in his matching golden gaze that I’m unaccustomed to, making me want to leap off the sofa and run out of the room. Life in this cruel world has almost convinced me that I don’t need any sweetness, even as a part of me eagerly laps up the crumbs of genuine concern I’m being shown.

I look away silently, knowing there is no way I can explain my circumstances without being beheaded and burned at the stake. The real curse of being a Traveler is never being able to open your heart to others and be honest.

“Don’t worry about me. Worry about yourself,” I mumble, too embarrassed to keep looking him in the eye. “You said so yourself. You’re the crown prince. Many people will always be after you.”

Having finished feeding Devil, Augustus plays with his sword, the phoenix sigil of our family carved into the hilt.

“What happened to House Steinway anyways? I know they weren’t one of the major houses, but they did manage to have a chancellor in their family lineage,” he comments. He traces the phoenix’s beak with a finger, before wrapping his hand around the hilt and taking a swing at an invisible enemy.

I grimly recall what I read in my books, his crisp strikes and parries almost poetic when accompanied by my next words. “They’re dead, Augustus. Every one of them.”

“How?” His sword stops mid-swing and he looks back at me.

“You would be better off asking Mother about that,” I sarcastically reply in a flat tone.

The mood is dismal and unresolved, but I feel closer to Augustus than ever before as he teases Devil and we can spend time together like ordinary siblings. And in this strange yet hopeful way, our brief argument comes to an end and the trial begins.