Chapter 71
The Tear of God
Bang!
“Your Majesty the Empress!”
Serben had arrived.
Swish!
Without hesitation, his sword moved.
“Your Majesty the Empress! Please step back! I will take care of this at once!”
Clang!
The intruder, who had been frozen in shock, glanced at the charging Serben and easily deflected his sword.
“…What?”
Serben gaped in disbelief.
“So easily…?”
While blocking Serben’s blade, the intruder turned his eyes to Rasilia.
“Please! Answer me! Are you truly Lady Rasilia? If you are, why are you here?”
She hadn’t misheard.
The unknown intruder knew her. And Serben realized it too. Because of Rescal’s command to find the body of the prophet once known as Rasilia.
“Sir Sigres.”
Rasilia gave Serben a glance—a sign to stop fighting.
“But Your Majesty the Empress. We can’t lower our guard without confirming this man’s identity.”
Serben hesitated. Meanwhile, the intruder looked even more startled.
“Your Majesty the Empress…? Then you’re not Lady Rasilia…?”
Clang!
Perhaps because he was distracted, Serben wrenched his sword free from their locked blades. The intruder quickly regained his stance.
“Stop.”
Rasilia stepped forward.
Immediately, both men withdrew their swords, fearing she might get hurt.
“It’s dangerous, Your Majesty.”
Serben spoke while scrutinizing the intruder, unable to believe that this man—an intruder—had been more concerned about Rasilia’s safety than anything else.
Thud!
The intruder turned his sword around and offered it to Rasilia.
“The one called Empress of the Empire may not be the Lady Rasilia of my kingdom… yet I cannot deny what my heart says. If you truly are Lady Rasilia, then please take my sword. By giving you my sword, I also place my life in your hands.”
“…”
As she looked at the intruder, she couldn’t shake the strange feeling that his eyes were familiar.
Large, clear, blue eyes.
She had known someone with similar eyes—a good man before illness weakened him. He had been a fine king, one whose death even God had lamented, giving her warning in advance.
Though she couldn’t prevent that death.
Those blue eyes… they were the eyes of the Delarta royal line.
“In that case.”
Rasilia extended her hand.
“Ah…!”
The intruder hastily dropped to one knee and offered the sword with both hands.
“Eselion Brunn Verhoet of Delarta greets the Representative of God.”
The late King Verhoet of Delarta had three sons; one survived the rebellion.
Rasilia lowered herself and placed a hand on Prince Eselion’s shoulder—conveying both apology and comfort.
“Ah, that…”
Serben looked extremely troubled as he saw the prince take her hand and kiss her palm.
He knew Delarta had different customs.
He could also tell that this swordmaster had a story, and that the name held meaning for the Empress, who had lived another life before this.
But he couldn’t stop worrying about Rescal, who became very narrow-minded when it came to the Empress.
‘If His Majesty learns of this later, he won’t like it one bit… But I can’t exactly stop them either.’
Perhaps he should risk being rude and intervene.
“I have so many questions, Lady Rasilia.”
Serben disliked the unnecessary tenderness in the man’s voice.
Why did every word sound like it carried a weighty backstory that others couldn’t intrude upon?
“How did you come to the Empire? In Delarta, rumors spread that you left the temple, and also that you had already been killed by traitors. I never wanted to believe either.”
“The answer to that will be long. If time allows, I will explain later… Ah, yes. It would be impolite to speak informally to a foreign prince. Please rise, Your Highness. There’s no need to kneel before me.”
From the word “Your Highness,” Serben guessed the man’s status.
‘Ugh, royalty? Then there’s no stopping this.’
When Rasilia adjusted her tone, Prince Eselion jerked his head up.
“What do you mean? A foreign prince?”
His fiery gaze turned on Serben.
“Did you seek refuge in the Empire? Or… if this is about your freedom to return, then…”
He seemed to be imagining some terrible scenario. The Prophet’s power was rare—enough for an empire to covet.
Faced with that murderous glare, Serben tightened his grip on his sword.
“What are you implying! I’m not here to keep Her Majesty under watch—I’m her guard. I serve Her Majesty the Empress with the same loyalty I serve His Imperial Majesty!”
Serben emphasized “His Majesty” deliberately.
Hopefully, this annoyingly pretty swordmaster wasn’t too stupid to grasp the meaning of the word “Empress.”
‘Our Empress, alright? A married woman. …Wait, are they even officially married? Ah, whatever. She’s the Empress.’
Eselion wasn’t quick to believe.
“Just one word is enough, Lady Rasilia. If this is against your will, I will take you beyond the Empire’s reach.”
Serben glared back as if to say, “Not on my watch.”
Eselion met that glare with one that said, “Very possible.”
Of course Rasilia noticed the tension crackling between them.
“That is not the case. …Sir Sigres, this conversation will be long. It’s best if you give us privacy.”
Serben looked ready to jump out of his skin.
“Your Majesty the Empress, with all due respect, I still don’t know this man’s… this person’s full identity. I must confirm your safety first.”
“You can see from the surrendered sword that His Highness Eselion of Delarta has no reason to harm me. Your concerns are unnecessary.”
“But Your Majesty, please remember I act under the Emperor’s command. I cannot, in good conscience, leave you alone with a stranger.”
Eselion rose silently and stood before Serben.
“Move your lips less.”
“…What did you just say?”
“Lady Rasilia is the mouth of God. Don’t make her speak more because of your loose tongue.”
“…Ha. I serve under the Emperor’s command. My actions are His Majesty’s will—none but him can restrain me.”
“Who considers human rank before God?”
“Well, forgive me, but our gods differ from yours.”
“Blasphemous. The Empire should teach its knights better.”
“Knights should learn with their swords, not their mouths. And I doubt words would help anyway.”
“Then I need not ask further. The Empire’s knightly training is substandard.”
“How can you judge so quickly?”
Serben’s hand unconsciously gripped his hilt.
Eselion’s unwavering eyes tracked the motion.
“Draw it. I’ll show you proper training.”
“And you’ll do that without a sword?”
“Both of you, enough.”
Finally, Rasilia intervened.
“Sir Sigres, you may stay, but send the other guards away. There must be no listening ears. And Your Highness Eselion, please sit. We have much to discuss—one matter at a time.”
She moved across the study to a sofa and tea table.
The two men, still glaring at each other awkwardly, followed her.
First, the guards were dismissed.
Prince Eselion had two companions—both formidable enough that the ducal residence remained noisy for a while.
While they were escorted to the drawing room under discreet watch, in the study, Rasilia and the prince began a long, tangled conversation.
“…I can hardly believe this.”
Eselion’s eyes brimmed with confusion. Each time he shook his head, his soft silver hair swayed wildly.
“How could something so… absurd happen? That Lady Rasilia is the consort of the Emperor of Elriad? I just can’t…”
His hands clenched tightly on his knees, trembling faintly.
“I haven’t fully accepted it either. I’m still adjusting.”
Rasilia looked at him with pity and reassurance.
“Is that… certain? Why must Lady Rasilia become the mate of a demon lord? There’s absolutely no reason for that!”
“Hah…”
Serben let out a dry breath.
No reason? There were far too many reasons. He wished this mistrustful prince could meet Rescal—that would make him understand in an instant why Rasilia could only be the destined mate.
“I’m still searching for that reason myself.”
“To say you’re still searching is no different from admitting there isn’t one. Have you considered that there might be none? That someone might be deceiving you?”
“Deceiving her? How dare you insult the Empire.”
Serben couldn’t hold back.
“Are you saying His Majesty the Emperor is deceiving Her Majesty? That he falsely claims fate binds them? Is that what you mean?”
Rasilia sighed softly.
She had expected the conversation to be difficult with Serben present.
“Sir Sigres. Give His Highness some time. Just as I needed time, so does he.”
“I’ll give him all the time he wants. But I can’t overlook remarks that sow discord between Their Majesties.”
“It’s my task to convince His Highness, not yours.”
“But Your Majesty—”
Rasilia raised her hand to stop him.
“Your Highness Eselion. I understand why you can’t believe it. But while I’m searching for reasons, I don’t doubt the truth that I am the Emperor’s mate. The fact that I returned to life through the Empress’s body—that alone may be the first reason.”
“…What?”
Eselion looked as though struck by lightning.
“Returned to life through the Empress’s body… what does that mean?”
Now Rasilia was the one confused.
“I don’t understand your question. Do you not know that the face you see now is that of the Empire’s Empress?”
Eselion clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles turned white.
“I saw Lady Rasilia’s face once—only once. But it was unforgettable. Especially those eyes… eyes the color of the jewel set in the center of the coronation crown—the one called the Tear of God.”
