Chapter 52

A Death in Purple



The promised day had finally arrived. Palpable tension was floating among the nobles who were brimming with excitement. Would they be able to witness the tragic downfall of the esteemed princess?



For days on end, the newspapers had been fussing about that very prospect. They revealed, after extensive research, how young ladies from emerging noble families had been dying one after the other. And while some articles did side with Llewelyn, stating that her suspicions were legitimate, many others ridiculed her by claiming she had fallen into delusions, mentioning the rumors surrounding her to support their case.



Reporters began to minutely transcribe Llewelyn's every move in the press. All the while, Brigent’s royal family remained quiet, not willing to adjudicate on the content of these articles and the news they brought of Llewelyn’s endeavors. They needn’t concern themselves with the ridiculous behavior of an unfilial royal. The common folk, however, didn’t need to be asked twice to start gossiping about the princess.



One of the main focuses of these articles was the fact that Princess Llewelyn was not shying away from using force against those who refused to cooperate with the investigation. Journalists related how the Red Knights had gotten into several altercations with the bereaved families in the process. Readers were particularly enthused about those passages, as they were testaments to how anxious the princess must be for her to be acting so frantically.



On the other hand, aristocrats didn't seem to care whether they’d get to witness Llewelyn's downfall, although it sure would be interesting to see her come up with a plausible explanation. How exhilarating would it be for Llewelyn to deliver a blow to the supercilious Pamela. To them, the derelict princess’ antics were just another form of entertainment.



Llewelyn entered the throne room, a hundred pairs of eyes fixating on her.



She appeared before the crowd, wearing a purple gown that nicely complemented her skin tone. This marvelous mauve dress was clearly intended to be worn at a banquet. The garment, however, must have been quite worn-out as few patches were visible on its sleeves, where the dress had been previously mended.



The vivid purple hue only succeeded in making Llewelyn's skin look even whiter. Her half-tied hair, adorned with pearls, reached down to her waist, and although she was wearing an old dress, the rich color made her quite the sight to behold.



The princess the nobles were used to seeing always seemed disheartened and sported a look of constant vexation on her face. She usually looked as if she had given up all hope, resigned to silently endure her plight. But now, she had a doughty air about her, and although they’d be hard pressed to pinpoint exactly what had changed, these people could vaguely sense that the princess was different from her usual self.



Llewelyn held onto the hem of her skirt as she curtsied before Bastian and Pamela. They were already sitting on the dais as she greeted them gracefully, her attitude the epitome of collectedness. Pamela interjected with a smile,



“Enough with the formalities. Tell me, did you find out anything?”



"I did, Your Majesty."



Bastian looked back and forth between Llewelyn and his mother, an uneasy expression on his face. Pamela, maintaining her dulcet smile, stared at her as if prompting her to elaborate.



“There was no culprit. These ladies all died by accident” explained Llewelyn, calmly.



Pamela's eyes widened at the words, then proceeded to burst into a delightful laugh. She never expected Llewelyn to admit so candidly to her failure, more so in front of everyone.



“By accident you said? Good Lord, Llewelyn. Surely you didn’t really mean that. Am I to understand that not only did you aggrieve mourning families, but that you also disrupted the eternal sleep of these poor girls, and that, only to reach such conclusion?”



“…”



“Answer me!”



Llewelyn lowered her head as the Queen’s shrilling voice urged her to reply. Pamela was so elated she could barely contain herself. For Llewelyn to admit herself that the deaths had been accidental! What could be more amusing than this? Pamela merrily asked,



“If that's the case Llewelyn, you must stay true to your words. I trust you haven’t forgotten your promise to prostrate yourself in front of our subjects?”



“…”



“Was that the reason you came dressed so comely today?”



Pamela looked at the nobles as if asking for their concurrence. Except for the pale Countess Rocher, they all burst into laughter at Pamela's words, meanwhile Llewelyn retained her serene expression.



“Do forgive me Mother for I will not kneel.”



Pamela's face hardened at Llewelyn's words.



“And why is that?!”



“Although I did say it was an accident, I never stated that there was no one behind it.”



“…”



“Indeed, those deaths may have been accidental, nevertheless, they did not come about by chance.”



Llewelyn looked down at the dress she was wearing and lifted its hem, her gestures ever so graceful.



“As you probably know, silk from Thessaly is characterized by its beautiful color and its equally pleasing luster.”



Pamela looked properly perplexed as she listened to Llewelyn's exposé. What did precious Thessalian taffeta have to do with anything?



“However, diplomatic relations with Thessaly were severed five years ago, therefore this specific kind of silk is not being imported at the moment.”



“What on earth are you alluding to?”



Paying no heed to Pamela's question, Llewelyn moved effortlessly around the room, as if waltzing among the attendees. The swinging movements caused the flounces of her beautiful purple dress to sway like feathers.



“The gown I am wearing is also made from Thessalian silk. Even after we ended all kinds of trades with Thessaly, tailors continued to make clothes out of the fabric that still remained within our country. But now, Thessalian silk has completely disappeared from our shelves and has thus become a rare and valuable material. One that can only be obtained through the black market.”



“I asked you to go straight to the point!”



Llewelyn, with her gloved hand, retrieved something from her pocket. Displayed for everyone to see, the purple handkerchief glimmered in the muted ray of the sconces, giving off a vibrant light.



“Do you happen to know how this cloth was dyed?”



"Gasp!"



Countess Rocher, who was the one who had just squeaked, covered her mouth in dismay. Llewelyn narrowed her eyes at her, causing Countess Rocher's face to blanch with fear. Llewelyn continued her explanation,



“This is an object that used to belong to Miss Ratan, one of the deceased. It is said that she always carried this purple handkerchief on her person. However, it was not dyed in Thessaly.”



Llewelyn picked up the handkerchief and handed it to Tristan, who placed it inside a flower pot a servant had prepared in advance. He then proceeded to pour water on top of it, filling the vase to the rim. There was a suffocating silence as the people in the room held their breath. To everyone’s surprise, the flowers instantly withered.



“The tint used to dye this was Arsenic.”



“Arsenic?”



“It gives off this beautiful purple hue.”



Llewelyn waved a glass bottle in her hand. The purple liquid inside it glowed brightly.



"However, it is also a highly toxic substance, used as a herbicide.”



People gasped as they looked at each other, aghast. Some of them were dressed in purple.



“If I remember correctly, you wore a purple dress to the previous spring banquet, isn’t it right Mother? Your exquisite appearance is still etched in my mind.”



All eyes turned to Pamela, as Llewelyn continued her soliloquy.



“The queen, naturally, is a lodestar to these noble young ladies. No doubt that an imperial elder looking so beautiful must have left quite the impression on them.”



It sounded like a compliment but surely didn’t feel like one. Pamela scowled as she looked at Llewelyn.



“Mother must have seemed like a living goddess, especially to young ladies who had freshly entered high society. And so, full of admiration and wishing they could look like Your Majesty, they tried hard to imitate you.”



Llewelyn pointed to the purple handkerchief. People looked at the flower-killing fabric as if it were a monster.



“As you may know, purple dye is extremely hard to come by and the demand for it has soared after the wave of plaudits Mother's dress spurred. And so one day, purple dye that originally could only be found in Thessaly, started to spread throughout the capital.”



The flower had completely shriveled and the blackened petals were now falling off.



“The scale of this trend was unprecedented. It didn’t stop at a few dresses, no. After that, some decided to paint their walls purple, while others carried purple-dyed handkerchiefs. Purple fans came into fashion, as well as purple scarves, ribbons, dresses…”



“…”



“If you were to ask why the victims were all young women, then I would answer this : Older ladies tend to abstain from following trends, and even if they were to wear purple outfits, they probably wouldn’t do so on more than a few occasions.”



“…”



“All the clothes found on the deceased had been dyed with arsenic.”



At Llewelyn's words, someone suddenly began to wail. It was one of the nobles who had lost their daughter. They fell to their knees and screamed.



“Aagh! Glanda! I’m the reason you died! I killed you!”



The sobbing began to ripple through the crowd. What they had purchased for their children, in the hope of making them happy, had ultimately caused their death.



“Then tell me Princess, how come this trend didn't kill any of the aristocrats? Why were only the new noble ladies affected?”



It was Celine who had spoken, sounding as if she was truly puzzled.



Of course, she had purposely asked this question. When Llewelyn glared coldly at her, Celine sheepishly averted her gaze. Llewelyn, turning her attention back to the nobles, replied,



“That is because those specific clothes were solely supplied to the new nobles.”



“…”



“Isn’t that right, Countess Rocher?”



Countess Rocher, who had been designated by Llewelyn, opened her eyes in shock. She shook her head as everyone’s eyes turned to her.



“W-what are you suggesting, Your Highness?”



“I was able to trace back the confection process all the way to where this fabric originated from. And as you all may know, the speciality of Countess Rocher's territory is silk. Besides, didn’t your husband use to have a business consisting of importing and selling Thessalian silk?”



“What is the meaning of this!”, shouted Pamela, seeing her faithful underling suddenly under fire. The Countess was trembling.





“Princess, how could I manage to do what you’re accusing me of? To supply the toxic silk to the emerging nobles while at the same time saving the silk from Thessaly for the higher nobles? How could I succeed in making that happen?”



“Come on, is there anyone here who doesn’t know that the clothing stores visited by well established noble houses and the ones used by the new nobles are different?” scathingly retorted Llewelyn.



Looking at her stern expression, Countess Rocher realized that Llewelyn had already concluded her investigation.



During those ten days, Llewelyn had managed to acquire a thorough understanding of the situation. People's eyes turned to Countess Rocher. The outburst of criticism was instantaneous.



“You devil!”



“How could you sell these dresses?!”



Countess Rocher made a desperate attempt to try and justify herself.



“Hold on, I couldn’t possibly know that it would turn out like this! That dye...!”



Llewelyn shook her head to gainsay her claims. With a slight signal of her head, the door to the throne room opened, as boys and girls entered the room and came forward to kneel before her.



People frowned, perplexed. At first glance, the appearance of those children was nothing out of the ordinary. Their faces were indeed pale and dark shadows stained the skin below their eyes, but what truly made them furrow their brows, was the fact that their hands were marred with what looked like purple bruises.



“They are the children who were tasked with dyeing the silk at the Rocher’s estate.”



“…”



“I don’t know about other colors, but they claim this happened while they were working with purple dye.” continued Llewelyn.





“I heard that after your employees started dying mysteriously one after the other, you decided to replace them with orphans. Meaning you already knew about its toxicity.” spat out Llewelyn.



Pamela was glaring at Countess Rocher, trying to figure out what she was thinking.



“Princess, I assure you, it wasn’t like that!”



Countess Rocher, who used to look down on Llewelyn, frantically shook her head as if to insist she could never do such a thing. Llewelyn glanced sideways to where Pamela was standing, catching the Queen’s cold eyes.



She knew. She knew that this act of defiance would be considered as a direct attack to Pamela’s authority. But she was a princess of the Empire, therefore, who would bear the onus of those unfortunate deaths if not herself?



If she were to just let it go and bury the matter, more victims may ensue. Besides, upon looking more closely, the accounts of victims didn’t stop at the new nobility. Esteemed ladies from the old aristocracy, who were said to have died of old age, but also the seamstresses who had tailored dresses with this fabric, and dyers were all victims as well.



Llewelyn, as a member of the royal family, had learned to appreciate how precious life was. Because of that, she valued those around her and had even personally knelt down for the sake of one of her maids.



It wasn’t that she was particularly afflicted by those deaths. But a life was still a life, and it was only fair that their deaths be considered with mindfulness. Therefore, taking other people’s lives lightly or using them as a means to satisfy one’s own avidity was unacceptable.



Especially when having the ability to stop it yourself.



This was a belief that Llewelyn, who had been raised to become the next ruler, could not disallow.



The forsaken princess, who had once stood at the top, had since then fallen into despair. Not only had she lost her mother, but she had also been trampled on and people had tried to crush her spirit. And yet, she was now confronting her stepmother, the very same who had bullied her for her paltry beliefs during all these years.



Even if this whole situation had started against her will and she had had no say in the matter, her convictions mattered more to her, and she was now resolute to right this wrong.



Akin to a golden raven soaring, looking as if she had returned to those olden days, Llewelyn proclaimed once more,



“Your Majesty, this was no accident, but a deliberate mistake caused by human greed. Because of this, I cannot kneel.”



At that very moment, the sun came in through the windows of the audience room. The blazing sunlight completely eclipsed the dim flames of the chandeliers, and proceeded to paint Llewelyn’s hair red. The amber of her eyes fiercely twinkled.



“Consequently, the culprit behind this tragic incident, Countess Rocher, must be punished.”



“…”



“Because it is our duty towards the nobles, who have pledged loyalty to the royal family.”



Even though Llewelyn stood below the royal family, she had an august air about her. Just like that time, during the ritual ceremony, when she had seemed to be shrouded by a golden halo. No, even more so!



The nobles, who had relentlessly ridiculed her, were well aware of the fact that the princess had nothing to benefit from this situation.



Nevertheless, by committing to unveil the truth, Llewelyn had undeniably put herself at odds with Pamela.



This accomplishment alone was noteworthy. And if they were being honest with themselves, even regal.



Bastian’s eyes widened in shock as he looked down at Llewelyn, his lips parting slightly. The sight of Llewelyn's old self, that fire he had yearned to see again for so long, had left him awestruck.



Among the throng and in the raptures of happiness, Almandite, who had quietly led public opinion for years, was also looking at Llewelyn. His turquoise eyes couldn't contain his overwhelming emotion.



He knew that Llewellyn hadn’t made up her mind to fight back all of a sudden. Nonetheless, she had decided to do the right thing by her subjects. She had not turned away from morality and justice, principles that were still buried deep inside her.



'There she is.'



His queen. The woman he loved.



The man tried hard to suppress the crushing ecstasy that threatened to overcome his being.



Meanwhile the high priest, who had been watching this tumultuous scene from afar, was biting his lip. He thought she seemed to have much spirit for someone supposed to have given up on life. She sure was a living oxymoron.



Even so, the contradiction was endearing and Ernel realized why he had started to feel attracted to Llewelyn.



This mettle right there. Even though Llewellyn had given up on everything and resigned herself to accept her fate, she hadn’t lost that spark. That’s what made her so enchanting.



The knight standing by her side, who served and guarded her, was also unsurprisingly captivated. This Llewelyn looked far from the meek and melancholic girl he had always observed until now. This woman next to him looked confident, upright and composed.







‘Who could not fall for that woman?’ thought the four men.
TL/N : four? incest much?



Is that how a blind man would feel if he were to suddenly open his eyes and see an iridescent field of flowers? They shudder at the thought.



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Hey everyone !! Sorry it took so long, work has been crazy lately...I hope you still remember what's going on in this story ^^". Enjoy !

Chapter end