Chapter 35
. The Knight by the Princess’s Side (1)
The one who most fiercely opposed the imperial marriage was the Sanghwang—the former emperor who had abdicated the throne to the crown prince. Neither the nobles nor the elders of the imperial family, who had once resisted him, could sway him—but his heart was not so easily changed.
At the time, the Empress was said to possess the beauty of a goddess incarnate. Even those who had opposed her marriage to the Emperor could hardly speak once they faced her in person. Yet it was said that even before such beauty, the Sanghwang did not so much as blink.
The reason for his fiery and unrelenting opposition, it was known, was that the Empress was a commoner with not even a nominal title to her name.
And yet, is it not always the case that it is the child who bends the will of the parent? In the end, the Sanghwang had no choice but to relent.
It is said that during the Empress’s all-too-brief married life, relations between her and her father-in-law, the Sanghwang, were never good. Yet, at her funeral, the grief he displayed was said to be unbearable to witness…
—Excerpt from Secret Imperial Document No. 3056, circulated clandestinely among palace scribes
“I’ve just thought of a brilliant idea!”
“Oh, really?”
Ilias burst through the door shouting, and Fernsiana, who had been diligently scrubbing the floor, replied in that way as she saw the bucket of mop water topple the very instant Ilias barged in.
Ilias was only able to explain his “brilliant idea” after he had cleaned up the spilled water as Fernsiana ordered, fetched fresh water, and taken the mop back into his hands.
“Ugh, I told you we don’t need to clean this place…”
“I can sleep in the grass, but not in a nest of dust and maggots. I was handling it just fine—you’re the one who messed it up!”
“All right, all right, I cleaned it up, didn’t I? Such a tiny thing, and yet so loud… Anyway, listen! Wigs!”
While he scrubbed furiously, almost out of breath, Ilias shouted. Fernsiana only stared blankly, clearly failing to grasp the point. Seeing this, Ilias casually set the mop down.
“I mean for when you go to the party. You should wear a wig. A different hair color.”
“You’ve been thinking about that?”
So this was the big idea he thought worthy of boasting about? Fernsiana shot him a sharp look, but Ilias rattled on without flinching.
“That way we won’t have to worry about that cursed Baron Demir’s posters!”
“Ah, those posters… But Ilias, how did he figure out it was me?”
“Huh? Well… you just looked exactly the same.”
Even Ilias realized his words made little sense, but unable to think of a better excuse, he pressed on. Fernsiana merely shrugged.
“So, Feirun, what color do you like?”
“For the wig? Any color?”
“If you tell me your favorite, I’ll take it into account.”
“Not choose based on it, just ‘take it into account’?”
“Well, what you like and what suits you aren’t always the same.”
“Aha. So you’ll dress up your girl however you please? I don’t like men like that.”
With a mischievous grin, Fernsiana teased him. In response, Ilias promptly messed up her hair.
“You little brat, making fun of me!”
“Really! As if everything isn’t messy enough already! Stop it!”
“We’ll go wig shopping this afternoon, so if you change your mind before then, let me know. Got it?”
“Tch. Yes, yes.”
Fernsiana muttered resentfully but nodded. Ilias rolled his eyes once, then bolted straight out the front door as though fleeing.
A beat later, Fernsiana shouted, “You promised you’d finish mopping before leaving!” But all she heard in reply was his laughter fading into the distance.
“Ah, damn, that startled me…”
Ilias stepped outside onto the first floor and stopped midway up the stairs to the second, trying to calm his breathing. His heart was pounding.
Not from running.
“That little brat, saying things like that…”
He scrubbed his face dry with both hands, then glanced down the stairwell. The place had been bare and lifeless when he offered it to her, but after Fernsiana swept and scrubbed it, it at least looked like a place people might come and go.
“What’s all this commotion?”
Just then, the second-floor office door opened. Luairi must have come out after hearing the noise outside mingled with Ilias’s voice.
Straightening, Ilias climbed the stairs and answered.
“Ah, I just stopped by the first floor and ended up getting in Feirun’s way while she was cleaning.”
“…”
“I’d prefer you not look at me like I’m human trash…”
“…So you’ve decided for certain that she’ll be your companion to the party?”
“Well, I don’t really have anyone else to ask. Works out, doesn’t it?”
Ilias dodged Luairi’s gaze, which seemed to say, You insane, lying bastard, and stepped into the office.
“Can you at least do something about the way you look at your boss? Huh?”
“Everyone else likes my gaze. It seems only you dislike it, sir.”
“That’s because I’m the only sane one here.”
Waving his hand as if swatting a fly, Ilias was ignored completely. Luairi instead strode over, pressuring Ilias into a chair before beginning his report.
“The Demir barony has ceased their search for that boy, deeming it pointless.”
“Ha! Only lunatics would turn a city upside down over a kid tossing an apple at their lord’s head. When the upper water’s filthy, of course the lower stream’s the same.”
“…Preparations for the Roide party appear to be progressing without issue. No additional guests have been added; the date remains as announced—ten days before the Festival of Rearchel.”
“And Curtis Altesha? What about his resignation?”
“Once again, His Majesty rejected it. The two are said to have shared a private conversation.”
“Hm… I truly thought he would retire this time.”
Ilias rolled a small ink bottle in his hand, pondering.
For over a decade, Curtis Altesha had persistently tried to resign from his post as Commander of the Aristide Knights, only for the Emperor to refuse him every time. It had become a ritual: Curtis submitted, the Emperor refused. Both men were equally stubborn, and so the cycle endured.
Just months earlier, Curtis had fallen gravely ill, confined to bed for days, after which he submitted yet another resignation. Remembering the seriousness of his condition, Ilias had thought this time the Emperor might finally accept it.
“The Feofan Knights are too devoted to the Sanghwang to be of use to the Crown Prince. The Kfir Knights are led by Deputy Commander Deniha Duhaini… Among them, the Aristide Knights are the most intact. The prevailing view at court is that His Majesty wishes to place them firmly under the Crown Prince’s command.”
“I see…”
Ilias stroked his chin. Until now, he had thought of Curtis Altesha merely as a man loyal to the Emperor. But now he had another piece of information.
Curtis Altesha knew about fae half-bloods. He himself was said to be closer to the fae than to humans.
“Does he have some other reason for serving the imperial family…?”
He stared down at the ink bottle. The liquid sloshed within.
“He began submitting resignations about sixteen years ago…”
Ilias straightened the bottle on the desk and looked at Luairi.
“Exactly when did Curtis Altesha first start resigning?”
“Let’s see… precisely sixteen years ago.”
“Sixteen years…”
Rolling the number on his tongue, Ilias pulled a file from the shelves and flipped quickly through it until he stopped. It contained records of major events for each year.
“That year there was a good harvest… One typhoon… Debate over Marquis Duha’s competence…? Prince Terenciana’s birth, and the death of Empress Arhid…”
“The prince was born and the empress died in the spring, so Sir Curtis must have begun submitting resignations afterward.”
Ilias traced his finger over the words “Death of Empress Arhid.”
“When was Curtis Altesha appointed Commander of the Knights?”
At his question, Luairi fetched a thick volume from another shelf—the record of annual government appointments. He turned the pages swiftly.
His finger stopped.
“Twenty-three years ago.”
“Twenty-three years ago…”
“There was a state marriage. The union of His Majesty and Empress Arhid.”
