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A massacre in the square.
Perhaps because I had experienced it a couple of times, the expression no longer felt particularly shocking. It seemed Tatyana was worried about a terrorist attack by the rebels during the public prayer service.
“What Libertan desires is not treason or a physical overthrow of the regime, but to oust the current Imperial Family by gaining the support of the empire's citizens.”
Ah, the person Tatyana was speaking with was Vasily. No sooner had I realized this than a third voice joined in.
“Ah... Brother is right. That man would never threaten or terrorize unspecified crowds in a large city like Makhachkala. It’s a matter of conviction. Those who follow Libertan are fascinated by that very conviction. It makes them feel as if he will take back the things that were originally theirs and return them...”
Even Ivan is here?
‘What, are they all gathered here cozily without me?’
And at this late hour, past midnight? While I was pouting in disappointment, the brothers' conversation continued.
“Even though it’s all nothing more than a deception. After all, any necessary massacres were erased under the guise of a justification. Should I call it an obsession? That man is obsessed with packaging himself as the backbone of the revolution or the origin of a new era. A man who uses even his own children to seize power, yet uses liberty and fraternity... he reeks of a con artist...”
“Libertan’s children?”
Tatyana, cutting Ivan off, asked with a smirk.
“Who on earth? Surely you aren't talking about you, my brother, Ivan?”
At that, I turned my head and slowly scanned the three sitting across from each other on the sofa inside the bedroom.
Tatyana was exhaling cigar smoke with a deeply displeased expression. The smoke, spreading like a mist under the dim light, touched the bridge of Ivan's nose.
‘Tatyana knows too.’
Ivan, waving his hand lightly to disperse the smoke, gave a small, self-deprecating laugh.
“Well, there could be several others besides me. Father was quite fond of women. He probably doesn't even know who his sons' biological mothers are. Just like me.”
“Stop that nauseating nonsense right there.”
“....”
“Your point is... yes, that Libertan’s hypocrisy actually guarantees the security of the public prayer service. I understand, but that’s as far as it goes.”
The answer came from Vasily, the man sitting with his back to me.
“You know as well, Tanya, that Valentin’s judgment has never been wrong.”
“Brother, do you truly not know what I am worried about? Too many lives are at stake to simply trust and follow his judgment! No matter how high the odds of a gamble are, the possibility of failure always exists. But if you don't bet money, even that possibility is excluded, right? That is my answer. Exclusion.”
“....”
“What if, in the worst-case scenario, there is a Cardinal who follows Libertan’s convictions? What if the anger of the gabrielism followers turns toward us because he detonates himself while clutching the Pope?”
Faced with such an uncompromising reaction, Vasily quietly tilted his wine glass.
“Do you remember that the rebels' stronghold is located in Makhachkala, Tanya?”
Tatyana let out a sigh and pointed with the thumb holding her cigar toward Ivan on her right.
“Of course. Isn't that the fact this idiot revealed while suddenly criticizing my frequent outings? I remember him getting flared up, telling me not to let his ears rot with my stupid arguments, claiming he couldn't be wrong since he belongs to Horgan.”
“Flared up? How many times do I have to tell you that I intended to reveal it from the start before that narcissist's brain folds recognize it?”
“I'll worry about my own brain folds. You worry about your own mental age.”
The two continued to exchange insults out of habit, their voices soon dropping. When their gazes finally turned toward Vasily, his low and calm voice filled the room.
“Horgan will soon occupy the rebels' stronghold and capture Libertan alive. However, according to Valentin’s warning, the moment the stronghold is occupied, the rebels will distribute subversive propaganda leaflets.”
“...What are they promoting?”
“The births of Father and Ivan.”
Hah. The corners of Tatyana's mouth twisted sharply. She had a fierce look on her face, as if she would strangle Libertan on the spot if he were before her. While Ivan closed his eyes with his hand on his forehead, she spat out a scathing curse, saying, ‘Our uncle has truly gone too far.’
‘But what about Father’s birth?’
Was there another secret I didn't know, other than Ivan being Libertan’s legitimate son?
[You might not have known... but some nobles have been complicit in his treason. Their own justifications are quite plausible.]
[Justifications?]
[At first, they questioned Father's origins, and later, they doubted the qualities of the successors.]
I had heard something similar back then.
‘What could it be. Hmm... could Father also be a nephew rather than a biological child of Grandfather, just like Ivan?’
And that's why Libertan, as the legitimate heir of the Imperial Family, planned treason because his father—a collateral relative—took the throne?
‘Ah. That’s actually quite plausible. It also explains why he insisted on putting Ivan on the throne.’
Because it would create a picture of restoring the lost throne to his son.
My god, am I... a genius? No, wait. It's true that I've been incomparably smarter than my peers since childhood, so, well, yes, am I still a genius? To understand ten things after hearing one. It's no wonder Libertan finds me eyesore.
“We will try to stop it, but we won't be able to block it completely. That is why Valentin insists on proceeding with the public prayer service.”
“Aha. What grand plan has the great Count Nariyan cooked up this time?”
“A prophecy.”
Oh, dear. A prophecy from Valentin following the news of Father's birth?
‘What? Eavesdropping on these three is incredibly informative.’
I should come and eavesdrop more often. Perhaps because I'm in a position where I'll be stuck in the Imperial Palace on the day of the public prayer service, the current situation felt even more intriguing.
“It will be the first public prophecy in four years. Since it is a prophecy announced at a large-scale event—a prayer service presided over by the Pope in Makhachkala, rather than at an Imperial Palace banquet—the impact will be even greater.”
The power of prophecy is immense.
Of course, the prophecy being praised here is Valentin's. His prophecies have saved tens of thousands of lives thus far. Because his words carried such weight, Valentin's influence was effectively not that of a messenger of God, but God himself.
Nevertheless, Valentin claimed to be a prophet of gabrielism and bowed his head to the Holy See and the Novarov Imperial Family. He did not expand his estates using the power of his family or the fame of his name, he did not make mistakes by indulging in wine and women, and he did not increase his enemies by lusting after power.
People regarded such a Valentin as a blessing from God and the true apostle of this era. Even if, to Valentin, this world was a curse.
“...Fine.”
“....”
“Haa... fine, it's fine. Everything is fine. I can't keep ignoring him when he's prepared this thoroughly to persuade me. I won't interfere any further, nor will I send a petition to Father.”
Extinguishing her cigar, Tatyana walked toward the drawer on the left side of the bed and added her final words.
“Instead, I have a condition.”
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