Chapter 8: May I Be Allowed to Speak?
The Emperor stood firm at the center of the hall, and a heavy silence filled the room.
“This year again, roses bloom in my garden, beautiful and full. And tonight, they bloom here in this hall as well. Today is a glorious day when the young sons and daughters of the Empire come of age.”
The Emperor’s cloak was blood-red, matching the rose-themed banquet. In his hand, the golden scepter shone, reinforcing his authority.
“As always, I will honor the Rose Knight and the Rose Queen who will claim the crown.”
Since the founding of the Empire, the first to win the Crown of Roses had been a queen from another land. Later she became Empress, and in her memory, the winner of the crown was always called the “Rose Queen.”
Similarly, the most outstanding young man was chosen as the “Rose Knight,” a title taken from the founding tale where the first Emperor himself had been a great knight.
But unlike that story, at this banquet, it was the Queen who chose her Knight.
“Let the contest begin.”
The Emperor gave his command to the herald — but before the trumpets could sound, a voice cut through the silence.
“Forgive my boldness, Your Majesty.”
All eyes turned.
It was the black-haired woman — the one who had been the center of whispers all evening.
As she walked forward, countless eyes followed her every step. She placed a hand gracefully over her chest and bowed.
“May I be permitted to speak?”
The Emperor’s wise, seasoned gaze rested on her.
“At the sacred start of this festival, your interruption might be considered insolence… but I will show mercy and hear you. Speak.”
Gasps rippled through the nobles.
The Emperor was not a man who tolerated even the slightest offense to his authority.
And yet here he was, indulging her.
Her red shoes clicked against the marble as she stopped directly in front of him — in the most visible place in the hall.
“Thank you, Your Majesty. I am the master of the Phoebe Trading Company, daughter of the Viscount of Phoebe, a distant relative of the late Duchess Fleure.”
Murmurs spread.
Fleure? Wasn’t that the family of Duke Eugene Russell’s mother before her marriage?
That explained her connection to Duke Russell — but not how she had entered through the sacred west door.
She continued calmly:
“Your Majesty, as a child I suffered a terrible fever that left me mute. Though I miraculously recovered with a mysterious cure, by then I was already past the proper age for a coming-of-age ceremony.”
Her voice was elegant, but tinged with sorrow.
“Though I have since built and led Phoebe into one of the empire’s great trading houses, my heart has always carried one regret: that I was never able to attend the Rose Banquet.”
The Emperor narrowed his eyes.
“So what you desire is what I suspect, is it not?”
“I would not presume to guess Your Majesty’s thoughts… but yes.”
She lifted her head, a bewitching smile crossing her lips.
“I humbly request special permission to take part in this year’s Rose Banquet contest.”
The hall erupted.
The Emperor tapped his scepter sharply against the ground, silencing the noise.
“Interesting.”
His deep voice rolled through the tense silence.
“Your request will stir much debate — and resistance.”
“Yes. I am aware of that, Your Majesty.”
Her red eyes gleamed like the very rubies decorating the hall as she met his gaze unflinchingly.
“So I make this offer.”
Her tone was proud, confident.
“My Phoebe Trading Company is among the top three in the empire. Even now, ships are crossing the Tartaros Strait, soon to arrive with goods from the eastern continent. And as Your Majesty surely knows, we have secured the golden trade with the mines of the Zaden Kingdom.”
The hall stirred. The “gold trade” — monopolizing gold from the distant kingdom — was a staggering fortune.
“If Your Majesty grants me the right to participate in this contest… I will offer half of that shipment to the crown.”
Shock swept the room.
Was she serious? Half of the golden trade’s profits, given freely to the empire? All for the sake of joining a mere festival competition?
The Emperor’s eyes glinted with heat as he asked softly,
“Half… to me alone?”
“Yes. And of course, all gathered here will rejoice to see the gold and glory flow to the Empire’s sovereign.”
The Emperor burst into laughter, striking his scepter on the floor.
“Ha! Hahaha! Remarkable woman. Better than most men!”
His face was bright with delight.
“The only reason I tolerated your interruption tonight was because of Eugene’s word.”
“Yes. I personally begged His Grace, the Duke of Russell, for this chance.”
“But even he did not tell me what you would say.”
The Emperor’s expression was amused, his laughter booming once more.
“Very well. I grant your request.”
No one in the hall could oppose him. The Emperor’s will was law.
As jealousy, shock, and fascination rippled through the nobles, the woman stepped back with grace.
“And what is your name?” the Emperor asked slowly.
“I thought it unimportant and nearly forgot to say.”
She lifted her head. Black silk hair framed her face, her red eyes glowed with intelligence, and her rose-colored lips curved into a smile.
“I am Kiara. Kiara Anastasia Phoebe.”
“A fine name.”
The Emperor’s curiosity faded. He had only asked because she had delayed giving it.
But he never realized — even this was part of her plan.
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Kiara said softly.
Her heart thrilled with secret amusement. No one here would ever guess the hidden meaning:
- Kiara: black.
- Anastasia: rebirth.
Kiara Anastasia — the black one reborn.
“The Rose Banquet begins!” declared the Emperor.
The festival had only just begun.
***
While most of the hall buzzed with excitement, not everyone welcomed Kiara’s entrance.
Especially the mothers of this year’s debutantes.
“How outrageous! Some unknown viscount’s daughter is allowed to compete?”
“And she’s already past the proper age!”
The Rose Banquet was divided into two parts:
- The first half — the contest to decide the Rose Queen, chosen from the debutantes.
- The second half — the festivities led by the newly crowned Queen, who would select her Rose Knight.
“For years our daughters have trained and prepared for this!”
“Truly, she has no shame!”
Now that the Emperor had declared the contest open, the banquet began — but the hall was more unsettled than ever.
All attention was on the sudden “wild card” who had appeared: Kiara.
