Rise of the Unfavored Princess

174 Ch. 173: One Chaotic Day – The Afternoon

We sit in awkward silence, looking anywhere but at each other. My father’s eyes peer through the latticework, his expression unreadable. I fumble with my fingers.

“Are you mad I took too long in the restroom? I couldn’t find it,” I murmur sheepishly, breaking the silence first.

The pastries sit on the table forlorn.

“No,” he responds, curt as ever. “What is it you wished for me to see?”

It’s a well-timed change in subject and mood, and none too soon, as I see Lady Arabella garbed in black take the stand.

The crowd’s mutters reach my ears.

“All black? What bad luck,” someone tutted.

“The esteemed Lord Berrick can do better than this woman.” Titters followed the comment.

I wonder what my father thinks of their words. One unspoken part of being at the top position of running a nation is that at the end of the day, it’s all just a popularity contest. Often times in a presidential race, the better-looking and more charming candidate will win, even if they are running on a weaker campaign. An unpopular sovereign will be ousted by the revolutionary who people adore.

.....

Emperor Helio has clearly always understood this to some degree. Like royal families in the modern era, he has cultivated a certain celebrity around him, which is made far easier due to him being ridiculously good-looking and having a family that is just as comparable in looks. Empress Katya is a model to all women, both in appearance and comportment. Augustus and Julian are the teen heartthrobs of their generation. Even that hateful Julia got her fair dose of good looks and has the adorable face of an up-and-coming child star.

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As for myself? Not to brag or anything, but I’m also no slouch in the looks department. It’s called being self-aware; I’m definitely not one of those clueless female leads who have no idea that they possess jaw-dropping beauty. I still get surprised by the face of an angel that stares back at me every time I look in a damn mirror.

But regardless of how gorgeous I am, being royal is a house of cards that is only maintained by good public sentiment. The people don’t know about how the cold-blooded emperor murdered his entire family for the throne. They just know the seemingly humble emperor who has donated eye-wateringly large amounts of money to the refugees created by the recent war with the Sarsavalians. They know that he and his wife welcomed in his bastard child as if she were one of their own and as a result of their good deed, Helio revealed her to be the promised child with healing abilities. He even went so far as to take the name of Helio for himself, the god that a majority of the people in this empire worship fervently. My father should add the name, King of PR, to his list of many titles.

Having grown up in the modern world, I always wondered why the kings of old were so quick to eliminate good ministers and loyal generals who were popular amongst the people, even if those individuals didn’t show any dissent against the king. But the view from the Phoenix Throne is different when you are looking down from the top rather than gazing up from the bottom. At the top, everything looks like a threat. And the fast-rising Berrick family, which has the pedigree and the backing of one of the most powerful Houses in the Erudian Empire, most definitely qualifies as a threat against the crown my father bloodied himself to obtain.

“She was going to win the trial anyways, wasn’t she? Even without my interference?” I ask knowingly. Beyond our secret viewing screen, Arabella lifts her black veil, where her pretty, tan face looks paler than normal and pitiful.

I understand his desire to leave a black mark upon the good name of Lord Berrick. Even though I know him to be a psychotic, cruel, and pedophilic asshole, the rest of the empire only sees a valiant nobleman who has married the daughter of a beloved folk hero and also performed the rare feat of killing a dragon. If he lost this divorce trial, which is already in his favor as they are exceedingly difficult for women to win, people will still hail his good name.

But... in the same breath they bring up his impressive feat of slaying a near-mythical beast, they will also speak of how he mustn’t be a very good man with the way he treated his former wife, the precious sole child of the late Lord Westmont. They will now ponder his character. Did he slay the dragon to help the poor people in the Eastern provinces out of the goodness of his heart or just for the glory of being able to brag about his abilities?

And in this way, the emperor will remain the undisputed favorite amongst the people, with the crown prince in a close second.

“Yes,” my father answers after a long pause. “But I am still curious to see how your involvement will play out.”

“You aren’t mad I got involved?” I press. In front of us, the questioning from Lord Berrick’s lawyer becomes more intense and Lady Arabella quivers as if she is about to waver and break.

“No.”

“Good. I only intend to make the verdict far more convincing and acceptable for the people.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see him give me a strange look, but I’ve already settled down with my invisible popcorn, ready to enjoy what is to come next.

“Lady Berrick,” a lawyer begins to ask in disdain, with a particular emphasis on her married last name that she detested. “To be given a marriage by the mother of the empire is an honor very few people in this world receive. Do you look down on Her Majesty, and by extension, the imperial family who have molded this empire into a safe and prosperous land?”

He drags heavy charges into his question. If Lady Arabella doesn’t answer carefully, she could commit the crime of speaking ill against the imperial family. I can hear my father straighten in his seat from the question. It is clear he also didn’t expect Lord Berrick to obtain such a clever lawyer.

“No!” Lady Arabella quickly denies, the word coming out sharper than a knife. She doesn’t want to give the gossip rags even an ounce of hesitation.

“It was a great honor to receive the empress’ favor in the form of this marriage! When I filled out my marriage documents before the wedding, I was full of joy and pride, overflowing with gratefulness that my late father’s sacrifice had brought such a blessing to me in the wake of his absence.”

She pauses to wipe her eyes with a handkerchief, a faint smile hanging on her lips as if recalling a fond occasion.

“However, as well-intentioned as the empress and the imperial family were, the way people appear on the outside is not always the way they appear on the inside,” Lady Arabella continues ominously. “Few understand this better than myself. For as the most exclusive couturier in Radovalsk, I see sides to people that few others will ever bear witness to. Insecurities are laid bare before me and when I’m done, sometimes my clients don’t even recognize themselves.”

“Objection, your honor! My client’s wife is straying from the topic at hand! She seeks to defame my client’s honor!” The lawyer cuts in, not wanting Lady Arabella to cultivate an ounce of sympathy amongst the listeners beginning to get riveted by her words. The spell is broken and the cloud of disdain hanging over the courtroom returns.

“How shameful it is to go to the witness stand, swear upon Helio Almighty to tell the truth, and then proceed to tell a lie,” a woman in the audience titters behind a fan that matches her dress. I can’t help but roll my eyes. If my eyes aren’t deceiving me, she is wearing one of Arabella’s clothing designs. However, her words ignite a tide of discontent, one that the lawyer capitalizes on.

“Your Honor! Requesting that if the information Lady Arabella divulges are proven to be words of deceit, that this case is immediately dismissed from court!” he crows. Triumph already sits upon his heavy brow like a crown.

“Accepted!” the judge agrees, whacking his gavel to quiet the crowd.

Beyond our secret viewing space, the pale Lady Arabella presses her lips together, her face wan. It’s clear she is holding back some sort of information but from the perspective of the public viewing audience and gossip reporters, they just assume it is something incriminating with regards to herself rather than her husband. The disdain increases.

Lord Berrick just sits in his seat opposite the witness stand, his face unbothered as if he too were a member of the viewing audience rather than a direct participant in the trial. I grimace at the sight of his face, the anticipation of what is to come next filling me with dark glee. After all, even a force as great as a tide can change its direction without warning.

“Too afraid to speak, Lady Berrick?” the lawyer prods after Lady Arabella has sat quietly in her seat for a few seconds too long. In his victorious eyes, she is a cornered prey just moments away from showing him her belly in surrender.

She whispers something, too quiet for even the judge by her side to hear.

“Louder please, Lady Berrick!” the lawyer prods.

“Lord Berrick! Is! IMPOTENT!” she yells back, emphasizing every syllable so that her words are unmistakable.

Shocked scoffs echo through the crowd, along with the sound of people choking in the middle of spewing their vitriol. The corner of Lord Berrick’s mouth amidst his unbothered expression begins to melt into an ugly frown.

Rage burns within his eyes and from our unique vantage point, we can see his hands grab onto the table in front of him and squeeze until his knuckles turn white and the thick wood begins to buckle. Lord Berrick mutters something in the ear of his shell-shocked lawyer, prompting the man to awaken from his surprised stupor and jump to his feet.

“Your Honor! She slanders my client!” Then something seemed to occur to him, for he triumphantly stared Lady Arabella in the eye as he uttered, “If my client, the esteemed Lord Berrick, is impotent, how was her late child fathered? Could Lady Arabella have dallied outside the marriage? Has she sullied the Berrick family name?”

Lady Arabella slams her black handkerchief onto the stand in anger. “You dare to question my virtue?”

“Only in response to your own claims,” the lawyer shrugged.

Lady Arabella gave Lord Berrick a long hard look as if she were coming to terms with a difficult decision. Then she turned to the judge and spoke, although her voice could still be heard throughout the crowded room.

“I did not wish to say this in the presence of the good people of the empire, but Lord Berrick, cannot... naturally... partake in bedroom matters. He is aided with... substances that most would consider illegal. I was not an unfaithful wife, just a bitter one,” she admitted in a sorrowful tone.

The gasp that rings through the room is loud enough to wake the dead. Lady Arabella presses her advantage.

“There is a way to prove my claim, Your Honor. May I continue?” she asks in a demure tone as if she hasn’t just dropped a bomb on this deceptively simple divorce trial.

“Your Honor-!” the lawyer tries to jump in.

“Permitted.” The judge whacks his gavel again.

She clapped her hands together in satisfaction, looking very much like a housecat that had caught the mouse. Meanwhile, Lord Berrick is like a raging bull trapped in a cage, his fury so palpable that his formerly confident lawyer is too afraid to stand too close to his own client.

“He can prove his virility, or I suppose his lack thereof, before us all in court. Before your very eyes, Your Honor, just like the old ways permit.”