Chapter 29
Knock. Knock.
Hearing the sound of someone knocking, Queen Louise, who was sitting at her dressing table removing her earrings, paused and turned her head.
“What is it?”
“Your Majesty, the prince has arrived.”
The voice of the head maid came from outside the door.
“Albrecht? Understood.”
Queen Louise immediately rose. By now, her earrings were back in place. It was her long-standing habit to always present a perfect appearance, no matter the moment or situation. Even if it meant ignoring her own bloodline.
“Albrecht.”
Passing through the small door next to the bedroom, Queen Louise addressed Albrecht, who had arrived before her.
“What brings you here at this hour?”
Albrecht’s gaze was full of discontent.
“When will this situation finally be resolved? I can’t bear seeing that Cremhilt fellow strutting around any longer!”
Even as Albrecht burst out in frustration, Queen Louise regarded him with a disapproving look.
“Albrecht, haven’t I told you not to act rashly?”
Albrecht pressed his lips together in silence at his mother’s scolding.
“Be patient a little longer.”
“How much longer am I supposed to wait? Hah… if I had known, I would’ve dealt with Arnulf myself…”
“Albrecht!”
Before he could finish, Queen Louise sharply interrupted. Albrecht slumped into the chair with a twitch of his lips, clearly still dissatisfied. Seeing her son’s expression and eyes full of lingering discontent, Queen Louise laid a hand on her forehead.
If only he had inherited half of my younger brother’s temperament…
Albrecht had no ability to hide his emotions; he showed everything plainly. She had hoped that at least he would match his father’s appearance with a controlled temperament, but as he grew older, her disappointment only grew. Had it been Arnulf instead, things might not feel so frustrating. But now, Albrecht was all she had left.
“Everything will be resolved before this year ends. So, have a little more patience.”
Queen Louise exhaled heavily, speaking in a soothing tone.
“Patience… patience! How long? Do you have any idea how many years I’ve been hearing that?”
Yet again, Albrecht vented his frustration openly. It was natural; he had always expected to ascend the throne, and now that his goal was in sight, seeing his mother hesitate made him impatient.
It’s all because of that fool. Who would have thought he’d die so pointlessly!
Albrecht stamped his foot nervously. Even though the man had been a thorn in his side, he had still been useful. Who could have expected such a death?
Though Queen Louise disliked Albrecht’s disgruntled attitude, she chose not to scold him further.
“How about Duke Waldeck? Once he comes to our side, it’s practically certain.”
“Not yet.”
The Waldeck family was among Hesse’s most prestigious, historically loyal to the crown, yet they remained strictly neutral. Securing their support would make victory almost certain. But still, the duke had shown no movement, remaining silent.
“Do not act recklessly.”
Queen Louise spoke, seemingly anticipating Albrecht’s thoughts.
“Yes, Mother.”
Albrecht answered obediently. Complaining or insisting on doing things his way would only earn him a scolding; his mother tended to underestimate him. In his mind, he was already planning how to approach Duke Waldeck. Then he thought of Sigmund, the loyal knight left alone after losing Arnulf.
Hmm… yes. Perhaps he’s better than the duke in this case.
As soon as he regained consciousness, Arnulf first felt as though he were submerged in water—his body heavy and limp.
What… what’s happening?
Confused by his own condition, Arnulf slowly lifted his eyelids, only to frown and shut them again. A sudden pain, like a dagger pressed into his temple, struck.
“Ugh…”
A groan escaped him involuntarily. Arnulf tried to raise his arms to touch his throbbing forehead but found he couldn’t move.
What… ugh!
Before he could ask what had happened, a sharp sting in his throat prevented him from speaking. His hoarse voice was almost a groan.
Then, a gentle and familiar voice spoke.
“Are you all right?”
Arnulf tried to shake his head but could barely move. A warm touch touched his forehead—it was someone’s hand. Though it did nothing to ease the pain, it was enough to rouse him.
Turning his head with effort, he saw a familiar face.
“Si… Sigmund.”
His rough, hoarse voice called out. Sigmund looked down at the groaning Arnulf and silently smiled. Seeing a man who was usually strong and composed in such a vulnerable state was surprisingly pleasing.
“Do not strain yourself.”
Sigmund’s hand moved from Arnulf’s forehead, pressing gently along the temple, brushing past his ear and earlobe. Arnulf shivered from the strange ticklish sensation. Even after Sigmund’s hand withdrew, the tingling remained.
“Here.”
Something cold and solid touched Arnulf’s lips. Flinching, he looked down to see a glass of water.
“Th… thank you.”
Seeing the water made him instantly thirsty. He tried to reach for it, but it felt as heavy as a rock. Trembling, he doubted he could lift it.
“Hold on.”
Before he could move further, Sigmund had already placed his arm under Arnulf’s back, lifting him upright. The sudden motion left Arnulf dumbfounded. He tried to protest, but the glass pressed against his lips, preventing him from speaking.
“Drink.”
Sigmund encouraged, still smiling. It was clearly intentional. Reluctantly, Arnulf sipped the water. With Sigmund adjusting the angle, he managed to drink it all without spilling.
“What… what happened?”
His raspy throat was slightly better after drinking, though still hoarse. More pressing was the fact that he had no memory of how he ended up like this—or why Sigmund was there.
“That’s what I want to ask. What happened yesterday?”
“Excuse me?”
“Why did you act so recklessly, unlike yourself?”
Arnulf stared blankly at Sigmund, whose expression was unusually stern. He couldn’t even comprehend why Sigmund would scold him like that.
“Don’t you remember yesterday?”
Sigmund asked again. Arnulf frowned, faintly recalling the events of the previous night.
Arnulf had gone to meet Baron Preang at their usual meeting place. The room was filled with thick, stale air, carrying a sweet and strange scent. Hesitant at first, Arnulf entered, sensing that Baron Preang seemed to have known he was coming. As he stepped inside, his vision gradually blurred.
Finally, Baron Preang greeted him lazily.
“What brings you here?”
Arnulf appeared ready to leave, which creased Preang’s brow.
“You’re still arrogant. Sit down for a moment.”
Even his previously polite tone was gone, replaced by outright rudeness. Arnulf didn’t mind; he understood him better this way. After all, they had a history of fights and insults, even at large social gatherings. It was strange for Preang to act formally now, as if nothing had happened.
As Arnulf slowly sat on the sofa, Preang placed a tall glass in front of him, filled with deep purple wine.
“Here, drink. It’s rare wine from my homeland.”
Arnulf barely glanced at the glass and spoke shortly.
“The reason for the invitation?”
Like Preang, Arnulf kept his words brief.
“Do you really have amnesia?”
Preang ignored his tone and studied his face carefully. Sigmund had claimed that Joseph Pomozein had lost his memory. Unsure of its truth, Arnulf went to the royal hospital.
Upon explaining he came under Queen Louise’s orders, the doctor revealed that Joseph, who had been unconscious for a long time, had shown strange behavior upon waking—acting as if he were someone else and repeatedly questioning whether he was really Joseph.
“Yes. Well, if you don’t believe it, that’s up to you.”
Preang spoke indifferently, expressionless, as if it didn’t matter what Arnulf thought. Watching this, Preang frowned again.
