Chapter 28

The three imperial princesses each had their own palaces as their bases, a privilege possible only because the current Emperor had eradicated other branches of the royal family during his ascension.

The palace attendants in each of the three palaces served only their respective mistresses, working like devoted limbs.

This was no different even in Minster Palace, where Anais resided.

“You could help me make some money.”

“…”

“Think about it. The product is called ‘Mrs. Chandler’s Health Syrup.’ Wouldn’t it be great if the real Mrs. Chandler herself endorsed it?”

Anais’ suggestion made the old housekeeper standing before her, hands neatly clasped, look increasingly troubled.

This housekeeper’s name was Dorothy Chandler. Dorothy had served multiple members of the royal family for forty years, regardless of whether they were direct or collateral relatives.

When she was younger, she handled cleaning, laundry, and sewing. For the past decade, she had been in charge of supervising the other housemaids as the head housekeeper.

Her reputation was exceptional, and she was well-loved by many, including noble-born ladies-in-waiting who dared not treat her carelessly.

‘She’s still the best fit.’

Anais looked at Mrs. Chandler up and down with a narrow gaze. With her basket in hand, she had the kindly appearance of someone who might receive assistance rather than harm while walking through the slums. Her expression radiated the gentle eyes of someone who likely had never spoken harsh words in her lifetime, dressed modestly though comfortably.

But despite her kind exterior, she was sharp-witted, enough to have supported her illiterate husband until his retirement as a sergeant from the cavalry.

‘There’s no one better for the job.’

“Of course, there are plenty of servants I could mobilize, but they seem too rigid. They just stand awkwardly by the stalls.”

“Your Highness, I’ve spent my entire life working in the palace.”

“You can do it. Just think of it as scolding your children or grandchildren.”

“I want you to take the lead until we’ve established the brand… You know, Mrs. Chandler, didn’t your sister succeed with the morphine business? It’s not just about the money—it’s about the support from many people. That’s what I need right now.”

“But I’m no apothecary.”

“A career can always be fabricated, can’t it?”

Despite Anais’ pressure, Mrs. Chandler gave no explicit answer, only a faint smile, showing no signs of intimidation.

She would follow orders even if pressured, but Anais wanted more.

She needed someone to rally the dozens of servants and housemaids mobilized as salespeople and boost the health syrup sales significantly—at least until the syrup became a hit.

‘She’s not really taking to it.’

Of course not. No one would want to be suddenly asked to sell medicine.

So Anais decided to provide incentive.

“Come to think of it, Mrs. Chandler, I borrowed your name without permission.”

“That’s perfectly fine. Please don’t worry about it…”

“No, I do worry about it. I want to compensate you somehow… Ah, how about this? If the health syrup becomes a hit, I’ll make sure you’re well compensated. As a token of encouragement, how about I give you 50,000 talers?”

This proposition made Mrs. Chandler’s eyes light up.

No matter how kind a person might be, no one is entirely free from material desires, especially an elderly housemaid nearing retirement.

‘This is the best approach.’

This was a method Anais had learned from Siena.

Siena promised monetary compensation when assigning difficult tasks to her inner circle.

One notable example of this was Alan Medoff. Watching him strut around as a businessman while being paid to do someone’s dirty work made Anais feel exasperated.

Though mimicking Siena’s cold tactics didn’t appeal to Anais, she knew compromises were necessary to combat such ruthless individuals.

“I’ll give it a try if you give me some preparation time.”

Finally, Mrs. Chandler seemed to have taken an interest.

After forty years of service, where she had seen and experienced it all, she was about to launch herself into the world of syrup sales.

And her performance surpassed Anais’ expectations.

—

Sunday. A crowd of about fifty people hovered around a health syrup stall set up in front of a general store.

Mrs. Chandler stood in front of them with a gentle smile and began to speak.

“I actually received nursing education in my younger years. I briefly worked at a hospital before taking employment in the palace. And even after becoming a housemaid, I continued putting my acquired knowledge to use, making and serving syrup to my fellow workers.”

“Can a housemaid really create medicine?”

“I am the head housekeeper of Minster Palace. I’ve served four members of the royal family over forty years.”

“Oh?”

The crowd’s attention began to focus.

“Until recently, I had been making this syrup just to help acquaintances. It was out of compassion for the younger ones who often fell ill with colds each season. However, your Highness Anais accidentally learned of these syrups and suggested that they be shared beyond our palace. She thought they shouldn’t merely be distributed among palace attendants.”

“Her Highness Princess Anais…!?”

“She supported me in setting up this small business, inspired perhaps by the success of morphine, which was invested in by your Highness Siena. The benefits it provides to soldiers, she thought, could also apply here.”

“But morphine is incredibly expensive.”

“This syrup isn’t expensive. And it’s not exclusively made for soldiers.”

As Mrs. Chandler lifted the syrup bottle with both hands, everyone’s attention was drawn to the small, ordinary-looking bottle of syrup costing 79 talers per bottle.

At this price, it was more expensive compared to syrups of the same volume, but it wasn’t overly exorbitant when considering it was a ‘medicine.’ That’s when Mrs. Chandler added another sentence.

“Just a couple of teaspoons will suffice. One bottle can sustain a whole family for days. Wouldn’t it make an excellent stock?”

“Ah…”

At this, people started pulling out their purses, encouraged further by a timely cough in the crowd.

—

**

Health Syrup.

Siena tried to dismiss her half-sister’s antics as trivial.

It wasn’t hard to disregard them. After all, it was just cheap syrup being sold at makeshift roadside stalls. Furthermore, the price was low, with the probable manufacturing cost leaving minimal profit—a loss even, perhaps.

Compared to the overwhelming profitability of morphine, the syrup barely registered.

‘Yet, my mind isn’t at peace.’

Siena felt uneasy, a lingering belief that ignoring Anais’ schemes might lead to future troubles.

The idea of mixing drugs into syrup and employing a trustworthy elderly figure to sell it seemed simple but somehow effective.

Siena herself had considered a similar tactic not long ago—just two months prior.

She had planned to infuse port wine with opium to present to Empress Lianhua, believing the sweetness of the wine would mask the unpleasant taste of the opium. Only Alan’s suggestion had deterred her, but at the time, she’d been confident in its success.

By contrast, syrup was sweeter than wine. The combination of a pleasant taste with the promise of pain relief made rejection unlikely.

‘Leaving it alone isn’t an option.’

If this syrup could harm the morphine enterprise, even slightly, she had to stop it. Though she also enjoyed the idea of thwarting Anais’ ambitions.

First, Siena needed to learn more about the health syrup.

With its sales just starting, gathering information wouldn’t be easy, but it was doable. Siena could track down people who had tried the syrup, procure it, and analyze its effects.

She ordered an informant to look into its efficacy.

This thought, however, was paused when an unexpected visitor walked into her audience chamber—a knight in uniform.

Only one knight could so boldly interrupt her: Alan.

His ash-gray hair and slightly nervous expression were the same as always, but Siena hesitated as she noticed a bottle of syrup in his hand.

“Could that be the health syrup? Anais’ concoction?”

“Yes. I investigated personally.”

This was a level of enthusiasm Alan rarely displayed, even after rising to prominence through the morphine business.

Why the strong reaction to the syrup?

“Alan? What’s the matter?”

“We need to investigate further… I’ve ordered Jacob to track down customers who’ve repeatedly purchased this syrup. They will be the ones who’ve already experienced and been captivated by its effects.”

“The herb shop supplying the raw materials must have been questioned, with such thorough effort, right?”

“Yes, naturally.”

Given Alan’s unusual involvement, she decided to hear him out.

“The syrup contains three additives. Opium, poisonous herb root extract, and an herb that varies in name depending on the supplier. Even the merchant supplying to Anais’ company is unclear about its full effects.”

“Is the third herb what has you on edge?”

“Tension… Yes, it might be. If it had just been opium and poisonous herbs, the syrup would simply serve as a painkiller with sedative effects, so much so that overuse could render someone completely inert.”

“…”

“But people who tried the syrup reported a racing heartbeat. Their high fever, which had them drenched in cold sweat, subsided overnight. This is undoubtedly due to the third ingredient.”

“Do you know what it is?”

“I’ve found out… now.”

At this, Alan stopped talking, and Siena refrained from pushing further.

She was curious, of course, since this was the first time Alan had shown such concern and willingness to share information. But his demeanor suggested he needed time to consolidate his thoughts. Waiting was the right call.

After a brief silence, the explanation came:

“It’s called Ma Huang. Likely widely used as an herb in the East.”

Siena didn’t know what Ma Huang was, but she could easily read the emotion in Alan’s expression.

“This health syrup is going to sell like wildfire.”

It wasn’t a guess—it was a certainty.

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