Chapter : 18
The noon sun poured gently over the garden. In the center stood a table.
A luxurious tablecloth, decorated with white lace, fluttered lightly in the breeze.
On it were a teapot and teacups, alongside carefully prepared pastries and sweets. At first glance, it looked like any ordinary tea party.
Yet everyone present remained silent. Even though they were all daughters of familiar noble families, not a word was spoken.
“Everyone has arrived.”
Casielope greeted them flatly and took the seat of honor. All eyes turned to her.
A tense atmosphere settled over the gathering.
Every young lady present understood what being invited to this tea party truly meant.
“Please, help yourselves to the refreshments.”
Although they nodded in acknowledgment, none of the ladies touched the food. They only exchanged cautious glances.
“Help yourselves,” she said. Impossible. Coming from the very person who made this gathering anything but comfortable, the words were empty.
“All… seem to be familiar faces.”
Casielope turned the teacup in her hand and sipped her tea.
Even drinking tea followed perfect royal etiquette.
The young ladies had been raised from birth among nobles, just like her, yet none dared make a premature move. Sharp gazes seemed to judge them even at this moment.
“Seren Lotes, young lady. How is your elder brother?”
“…Yes? He is well… but why do you ask about my brother…?”
At the next question, Casielope set her teacup down and let out a small laugh.
“Oh, it’s nothing serious.”
“…”
“I told your father to have the eldest son of the Lotes family serve personally as my guard and enter the palace. Yet I have yet to see your brother.”
“Ah…”
“I thought perhaps he had died somewhere quietly without anyone noticing.”
Seren Lotes’ face turned pale. She had never heard such a story from her father. The Lotes family’s signature golden eyes trembled violently.
“You didn’t know, it seems.”
“I-I apologize, Your Majesty.”
“Since the young lady doesn’t know, it seems your father didn’t pass this on to the family, correct?”
“I don’t think it was intentional. Perhaps my father simply forgot….”
Seren Lotes’ eyes rolled as she tried to explain, flustered. Unaware that her fumbling excuse only gave Casielope an opening.
“Y-Young lady.”
A young lady from the Florence family sitting beside her urgently called to Seren, but she didn’t hear.
“P-please forgive me…!”
Seren suddenly stood and bowed deeply. Her face was pale, lips trembling.
“You have forgotten my order.”
“Ah…”
“How dare a mere marquis?”
“I-I… apologize.”
“And it has already been over a month, hardly just a brief moment.”
“I apologize, Your Majesty… Please, have mercy…”
“How about this? There is a region in the southwest still in conflict. Since you evidently value your eldest son, the marquis can personally go to war and beg my forgiveness.”
Casielope fixed her gaze on Seren as she spoke.
Seren’s face had gone completely white. She opened her mouth but could only gurgle, unsure of what to say.
“Th-that is…”
“Well, you are the head of a noble family, so perhaps direct participation is somewhat unreasonable?”
As if seeking agreement, all the young ladies nodded simultaneously, wary that they could be next.
“Then, will the young lady go herself?”
“…Excuse me?”
“After all, it is only ‘brief,’ isn’t it?”
It had already been a month. Hardly brief.
For Seren, who had never learned swordsmanship and had no physical strength, being sent to the battlefield for a month was essentially a death sentence.
The young lady from the Yurtina family, listening beside her, finally spoke up.
“Your Majesty, asking the young lady to go herself is excessive. To send a lady who has never held a sword into battle is…”
Suddenly, Casielope grabbed Seren’s hand.
It was delicate, soft, and pale—hands that had never wielded a sword or done laborious work.
In contrast, Casielope’s hand, touching Seren’s, bore countless scars.
Hardened calluses stood like part of the hand itself.
These were the hands of a noble, of a royal.
Hands that should have been more precious were covered in marks from hard-won experience.
“A sword can be wielded on the battlefield. I did it myself; why can’t a young lady?”
“…”
“Well, if lucky, you might even awaken your aura, like I did.”
Every word was true. Casielope had gone to battle much younger than Seren is now. Such excuses were meaningless.
“The choice is yours. You may go yourself or have your father go. It is entirely up to you.”
“Y-Your Majesty, please… mercy…”
“You are not asking for leniency for defying the royal command merely because you are a marquis’ daughter, correct? What kind of mercy are you hoping for?”
“…”
“Would this not be a generous mercy? I recently heard that a servant from the Lotes household lost a leg for spilling food on the young lady’s dress?”
“Th-How…!”
“For just spilling food on a dress, a leg was cut off. So what punishment should befit defying a royal command, young lady Lotes?”
“…Your Majesty.”
“According to your family’s rules, at least amputation of limbs would be appropriate. This is a generous mercy. If you wish, this method is also an option.”
Seren looked desperately at the other young ladies, but they coldly avoided her gaze.
Entanglement is dangerous. They instinctively knew.
“You have until tomorrow to decide.”
The chilling declaration left Seren’s face crumpled as if on the verge of tears.
“You may return to your mansion now, Seren Lotes, as you have a grave decision to make. You may stay if you wish.”
The gentle tone masked the command, and no one could fail to recognize it.
Even if not, the choice was clear: either she or her father must go to the battlefield. No one would willingly stay beside Casielope.
“…I will leave first, Your Majesty.”
“Do as you wish.”
Casielope calmly observed Seren hurriedly leaving.
Her cheeks were flushed, her breath uneven.
What Seren felt was not shame or contempt. It was unlike the pride and arrogance that nobles usually showed when crushed.
It was raw, instinctive terror—fear engraved in her from the certainty that Casielope Clemens could truly enforce her words.
“Is the tea not to your liking?”
Even though no blade hung over them, all the young ladies trembled.
The only one unshaken was the Empress of the Empire, Casielope Clemens.
‘M-my breath…!’
The Florence young lady’s breathing grew rapid. Her eyes wandered helplessly to Casielope.
‘What kind of overwhelming presence is this…?’
No sword had been drawn. No aura intentionally radiated.
All Casielope had done was point out the marquis’ error and demand accountability.
Yet that alone was enough.
‘I can’t stop trembling…’
Who could ever look down on this woman?
With Regis Euriel’s betrayal, Casielope had no allies but herself.
‘We shouldn’t have come.’
All the young ladies regretted attending the tea party.
It had nothing to do with noble pride or status.
As small prey naturally fears a predator, so too was their position relative to the Empress.
A cornered rat fights back.
Only when there is an escape or as a final measure does struggle make sense. Otherwise, it only increases the cost of return.
They blamed their fathers for sending them here.
Had they known, they would never have come.
