CHAPTER 31
Madam Charlet, who was always outspoken, often expressed her desire to be the host of every gathering.
So this time, too, she didn’t hesitate to show her displeasure toward Everett.
“But I’ve already won the tug-of-war with you.”
If she hadn’t liked Everett’s suggestion, she simply wouldn’t have come.
Everett had asked her to arrive a bit earlier than the other members—and, as expected, she had hurried over to the salon.
Everett greeted her with a soft smile of victory.
“Madam Charlet, please think of this place as your own glass garden.”
“My glass garden?”
“As you know, I’m always busy. And more importantly…”
Everett trailed off, deliberately fiddling with the poorly hung, cheap curtain.
“I still don’t know the ladies’ tastes well. I have enough money to make it more lavish than the imperial palace, but no time or aesthetic sense…”
As Everett let out a short sigh, Madam Charlet clasped her hand tightly.
“If that’s the case, leave it to me. I thought you didn’t need me anymore.”
“Madam Charlet, how could that be? You’re the one who helped me open this salon.”
Her eyes sparkled as she quickly scanned the salon’s interior.
“Don’t worry, Madam Naz. I’ll decorate it more beautifully than even the Empress’s reception hall.”
“As expected, the Queen of Wands is an indispensable business partner.”
Everett squeezed her hand and expressed her thanks.
Shortly after, the first salon members began arriving on schedule.
They were mostly women and young ladies close to Everett, known for being well-informed.
Though they knew each other well, they acted as if meeting strangers and strictly followed etiquette.
As light conversation flowed, Daisy entered the salon holding a dazzling gold tray.
On the glittering tray were many small pewter cups.
Everyone’s eyes turned to the tray.
“These aren’t the cups I heard about. Weren’t they supposed to be big and heavy?”
“Exactly! I was worried about how we’d drink from large cups… But these are adorable.”
The pewter cups, the size of teacups, were beautifully adorned with ornate rose patterns.
To someone unfamiliar, they would’ve seemed like simple silver teacups.
“As expected, Lady Naz’s sense and thoughtfulness are unmatched.”
Madam Charlet raised her voice to compliment Everett.
Everyone nodded elegantly, though their eyes never left the cups.
“Please try it. This is the Ice Kuna you’ve only heard about in rumors.”
With Masha’s help, the alcohol content had been lowered slightly, and floral notes were added.
Even women with low tolerance could enjoy a pleasant buzz.
“And over here is the original Ice Kuna served at taverns. I thought some of you might want to try it.”
As the ladies exchanged glances, Madam Charlet’s plump arm shot out first.
“We should try the original, of course.”
Following her lead, everyone picked the cup they wanted.
And soon—
“Only men have been drinking this all along? How unfair.”
The women couldn’t stop marveling.
As their drinking pace quickened, Daisy became busier going back and forth between the salon and the bar.
Slightly tipsy, the ladies sank deeper into the plush sofas.
“They say a Saintess has arrived at the temple.”
At a young lady’s remark, all eyes turned to her.
“A Saintess?”
No one seemed to know.
Realizing she held exclusive information, the young lady smirked.
A Saintess?
Everett turned toward her as well.
The girl, who had casually mentioned it earlier, straightened her back as Naz showed interest.
“A few days ago, our butler visited the temple. He said he saw the Saintess.”
“How does he know she was the Saintess? Couldn’t she just be another noble lady?”
Another young lady asked, but she slowly shook her head.
“She was praying in front of Goddess Anish. Even from behind, she gave off a distinct aura. When he asked a priest, they said… she was the Saintess.”
Some were skeptical, while others gasped in surprise.
“A Saintess… Does that mean she’s another reincarnation of Goddess Anish like before?”
“I don’t think so. If she were, the priests wouldn’t have revealed she’s a Saintess.”
The goddess of prophecy, Anish, had died not long after the Barthman Empire was founded.
After her death, people all over the continent claimed to be possessed by her spirit.
Anish was a famed prophet and lover of Emperor Rubert of Barthman.
Foolish crowds, unable to forget her, worshipped these impostors, who were eventually executed.
At the time, someone once asked the emperor:
What if one of them really is Anish?
Since then, the emperor personally verified them—before executing them.
“So that’s what happened…”
Stories of Anish had been passed down not through records, but by word of mouth.
“Yes. Even after Emperor Rubert’s death, some women claimed to be Anish reborn.”
“How strange. Do they really think that would work? Reincarnation… is that even possible?”
The conversation about the Saintess eventually turned into a discussion about Anish.
“If a priest confirmed it, then she’s a real Saintess this time. Did you hear what kind of divine power she has?”
“Oh, right, divine power… It’s a little odd.”
“What do you mean?”
“The priest said she has the gift of foresight, like Anish. But no one’s actually seen her make a prophecy yet.”
Foresight…
Everett felt a chill crawl down her spine.
The Saintess is Angelus.
Kyle’s return from the north had come earlier than expected.
If the timeline was shifting accordingly, the Saintess’s appearance made sense.
Was I the variable?
Madam Charlet, tipsy, looked at the pensive Everett.
“Foresight, huh… Could she match our Lady Naz’s own gift?”
“I wonder about that too. I’m guessing she’ll reveal herself at the temple soon.”
“I’m thinking of visiting when she does. Oh, but I don’t mean I won’t visit Lady Naz anymore!”
The young lady stuck her tongue out and smiled playfully.
“As if I could ever compare to the Saintess. If you go, please tell us what she’s like. I’m really curious.”
Spring had barely begun when Kyle returned to the capital, carried on the northern chill.
“It’s Grand Duke Kyle!”
“Where? Where?”
The plaza was packed with people waiting for his return.
At the mention of his name, all heads turned in one direction.
From afar, the banner of the Red Hawk Subjugation Squad he led became visible.
“Wow!!”
Cheers erupted.
It was incomparable to the quiet farewell a year ago when he had left for the north.
“Didn’t they call him the Red Hawk in the north? So cool.”
“Grand Duke Kyle grew up in the knighthood. He doesn’t flaunt it, but they say his swordsmanship is the best in the Empire.”
“Of course. He was trained by Sir Alfred Kiyor, former captain of the enemy knight order.”
“If Kiyor raised him like his own, how could he not be great?”
Kyle’s deeds in the northern mountains had spread across the continent.
The Red Hawk Subjugation Squad had slain countless monsters and sealed off their passageways.
As their fame grew, the image of “pitiful Kyle” began to fade.
Scarlet monsters’ blood pouring over his fiery red hair—
Kyle’s presence reminded people of Rubert Sau Barthman, the Lion King.
Behind the banner bearer appeared a massive northern wild horse, famous for its size and strength.
At the sight of a horse unlike any they’d seen before, the crowd’s excitement swelled.
And finally, they saw Kyle astride the beast.
“It’s Lord Kyle!”
A deafening roar rose from the plaza.
Windows in nearby buildings flew open.
All eyes were now on Kyle.
His long-neglected red hair blew in the spring wind.
His face, slightly thinner than before, gave him a sharper jawline and deeper eyes.
“Lord Kyle, are you nervous to return after a year?”
Kyle had been staring at the spire of the temple the whole time.
Seeing him look slightly tense, Alfred asked with a faint smile.
“Nervous? Don’t be ridiculous…”
Kyle scoffed dismissively.
“Right? There’s no way you’d be nervous, my lord.”
Alfred nodded slowly.
A year…
It may have been short, but to Kyle, it was a year of immense transformation.
“Your Grace! Lord Kyle!”
“Please look over here, Your Grace!”
No more were there pitying glances or clucking tongues.
Now, people shouted for his attention, trying to be noticed.
Feeling the shift in energy, Kyle’s nervousness melted away, replaced by his usual irresistible confidence.
Seeing that, Alfred let out a relieved sigh.
“Were you worried, Sir Kiyor?”
Harpa Olbreno, the nobleman walking beside him, asked.
“Worried? Not at all.”
Alfred waved his hand, and Harpa smiled faintly.
“The two of you really are alike.”
Harpa took a deep breath.
“The air here in the capital is different already. The north still demands thick coats, but here, it’s spring.”
