Chapter 3
When Isabel was ordered to prepare for immediate departure, she obeyed without protest and returned to her room.
The sisters followed her, anxious and confused.
“What on earth just happened?”
Isabel smiled as brightly as she could manage.
“Rejoice, everyone. For now, the Chardonnay Convent won’t have to pay taxes to the Empire.”
The sisters gasped. It was almost too good to believe.
“And that’s not all — His Highness promised protection and support as well. Life should become much easier. Since it’s a direct promise from the prince himself, I’m sure he’ll keep his word.”
“Wait, that’s not the issue here. Isabel, where are you going right now?”
“To His Highness. In exchange for the exemption, I’m to give him sermons.”
She spoke nothing but the truth, yet Sister Helen burst into tears and grabbed her arm. Helen was the one closest to Isabel in the convent.
“Don’t lie! You… you took a knife and—put it to your neck! What did that mad prince really order you to do?!”
Isabel gave a bitter smile.
“Don’t worry, Helen. The prince told me himself — that I beat him twice.”
“…What?”
“So I’ll go and win again. All right?”
Helen, knowing Isabel’s quiet strength, could only stare and nod blankly.
After calming the sisters, Isabel packed what little she needed: her scriptures and her habit.
How long can I last…?
Though she’d said she’d “win,” she had no confidence at all.
Their difference in status was beyond measure, and Lionel’s intentions were anything but kind. His desire to keep her close only to trample her was clear as day.
But to protect the convent, Isabel had no other choice — nor the strength to resist.
When she stepped outside with her small bundle, Lionel and his knights were already mounted and ready.
“Mount up,” Lionel said, pointing to a horse — the one that had belonged to the late Martin.
Once Isabel was seated, Lionel gave a crisp order.
“Return to camp.”
The knights immediately took the lead. None of them bothered to check if Isabel followed — they knew she wouldn’t dare run.
A hollow laugh escaped her lips.
She had never imagined she’d understand how livestock felt walking into a slaughterhouse.
After two hours of travel, the Imperial encampment came into view — grand, disciplined, and formidable. Soldiers rushed out to greet the prince.
Lionel dismounted and spoke sharply.
“I’ll convene a meeting. Summon all my officers — we’ll discuss what I’ve seen during the inspection.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“And clear a small tent for the nun to rest in. The meeting should take around three hours.”
The last line seemed directed at Isabel, though he never looked her way.
Giving his orders, Lionel left with his men.
A soldier approached her politely.
“Sister, this way, please.”
Isabel nodded and followed him to a spacious tent.
“You may rest here. Would you like some food brought to you?”
“No, thank you.”
“Then I’ll fetch a few more blankets — it’s cold tonight. Don’t worry, they’re clean!”
His cheerful smile drew a small one from Isabel.
“Thank you…”
The soldier hesitated a moment before bowing and stepping out.
Left alone, Isabel wrapped her robe tighter.
I never thought I’d see the Alevan Empire’s army like this…
She pulled her hands free from her sleeves and looked down at them.
Had her hand not been crippled, perhaps she would have joined this war as a knight herself.
Maybe she would have met Lionel not in a convent courtyard, but on the battlefield.
Reality, however, was merciless.
“Now I’m neither a knight nor a nun… just a plaything.”
Lionel had asked for sermons, but Isabel knew what would follow them — cruelty disguised as curiosity.
She stared at her fingers.
“I wonder if he’ll take the rest of them next.”
She wasn’t afraid of dying — only of what kind of pain or humiliation might come first.
There was no hope for mercy from a man who had once ordered her to kill herself.
She wanted to endure, but deep down she knew her limits.
“I should sleep…”
When she was awake, her mind was filled with horrors.
Curling up on her side, Isabel closed her eyes.
She had gone without rest for so long that sleep took her instantly.
It didn’t matter that she was in the middle of an enemy camp.
If anyone was reckless enough to touch the prince’s nun, it would simply mean there’d be one more soul — or two — to follow her to the afterlife.
That thought, oddly comforting, lulled her into deeper sleep.
When Isabel awoke, warmth surrounded her.
As she stirred, she saw two blankets draped over her.
She remembered, belatedly, that a soldier had promised to bring them — and felt a little embarrassed.
“I can’t believe I fell asleep like—”
“Like what?”
“?!”
Startled, she looked up — Lionel sat across the tent, resting his chin on his hand, watching her.
Isabel scrambled to gather the blankets.
“Y-Your Highness… what brings you here?”
“Three hours have passed.”
“Pardon?”
“I said you’d have about three hours to rest. Did you not understand that? I thought your grasp of Imperial was better.”
Still half-asleep, Isabel could only bow her head and apologize.
“Forgive my disheveled appearance.”
“No need. It was rather amusing.”
When she looked up in confusion, Lionel smirked.
“You fell sound asleep before the same man who ordered you to die a few hours ago. How could that not be amusing?”
“…”
“You seem to have quite the nerves. I hope you’ll continue to meet my expectations.”
Leaving her unsure whether he was threatening or teasing her, Lionel turned and left the tent.
Isabel sighed and ran a hand through her hair.
“Ha…”
She forced herself to think positively. Showing him she could sleep soundly, instead of crying or trembling, was perhaps the better choice.
And after a little sleep, her despair had dulled — replaced by a spark of stubbornness.
Meet his expectations, huh?
Did he mean to see how long she could endure before breaking?
As she pondered his words with a clearer head, a soldier entered with a tray of bread and milk.
“My apologies, Sister — it’s before the regular meal, so this is all we can offer.”
“This is more than enough. Thank you.”
“Once you’ve finished, please prepare to depart.”
“Depart?”
“His Highness’s orders.”
So they were leaving again.
Isabel nodded silently.
Though she had little appetite, she forced herself to eat — strength was survival.
Discipline from years as a nun guided her hands.
“Lord, grant me the grace not to lose myself…”
After finishing her prayer, Isabel stepped outside.
Finding Lionel was easy — the black eagle banner marked his command tent.
The sight of a nun walking through the center of a military encampment was strange, but no one dared stop her.
“You’re here,” Lionel said.
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“Mount up. We’re heading to the fortress.”
She didn’t ask which fortress — she simply obeyed.
The prince’s entourage had grown larger, joined by knights and attendants as they rode east.
The journey wasn’t harsh; though their pace was brisk, they rested every two hours, and each time the attendants looked after her needs.
After several such stops, as the sun sank behind them, a massive castle appeared in the distance — glowing red in the sunset.
Isabel couldn’t help but stare.
So this is the Empire’s power…
Her training in military science told her immediately — this was a fortress built for war, impregnable and unyielding.
A place easy to enter, but almost impossible to leave.
“May my soul not fade in this place…”
Whispering under her breath, Isabel tried to shake off the tightening fear in her chest.
By the time they reached the gates, night had fallen. Torches were lit as people hurried to and fro.
“Anything to report while I was away?” Lionel asked, still on horseback.
After a quick report, he began issuing orders one after another — efficient, precise, commanding.
Then, as if remembering her, he added:
“Prepare a room for my teacher. Treat her well.”
“T-Teacher, Your Highness?”
The officer who received the command looked stunned, but Lionel only nodded.
“Of course. She’s my preacher — what else would she be?”
And just like that, he defined her position without hesitation.
Then he strode into the fortress, leaving Isabel bewildered in his wake.
The attendants led her to her assigned quarters — a fine room, with a proper bed and even a writing desk.
Why… why acknowledge me as his preacher for real?
She had thought he’d toy with her, perhaps kill her upon arrival.
This treatment was entirely unexpected.
She tried to stay alert, but the softness of the bed was overwhelming.
Before long, her mind went blank, and she drifted into sleep — escaping, if only for a while, from reality.
Her faint hope — that perhaps she could reason with him — shattered the next morning.
“Do you truly think I gave up my precious time to listen to scripture?” Lionel said coldly.
“But, Your Highness…”
“Don’t pretend to be a humble nun now. Preach — with your whole life on the line.”
The trial had only just begun.
Isabel had no idea what this mad prince wanted from her — or how to possibly give it to him.
