—All right. I understand, so go back now.”
In the end, after his persistent persuasion, even the Grand Duke took a step back. Knights were not toys that could be bought and sold at will.
Just as knights devote their loyalty to their lord, the one who receives that loyalty must also respect them. Forcing them into positions against their will was a betrayal of the loyalty they had shown thus far.
“Are you Sir Higeon of Alkestra?”
“—I pay my respects to Your Highness the Crown Prince.”
“Ah, that’s enough. We’ll be seeing each other often from now on—there’s no need to kneel.”
And then, a few days later, when Higeon thought the matter was finally settled, Robert came to see him. At the time, Robert was still a prince, but with a nine-year age gap between him and the only rival, the princess, and enjoying the emperor’s deep trust, he was all but certain to become crown prince.
Higeon, merely a common knight, felt burdened by the visit. He could more or less guess what the prince was going to say.
“I hear Seri—no, the princess—wanted you as her escort knight… I’m sorry about that. That child doesn’t yet understand how the world works. She’s still a baby, you see. So, would double your current salary be enough to satisfy you?”
Robert was, by nature, a man who was kind—or at least appeared kind—to everyone. For someone standing at the pinnacle of the empire as royalty, he was remarkably generous even to those beneath him.
But whenever the matter concerned Princess Seribis, he became a different person. He was excessively obsessed with his younger sister.
Robert granted Seribis anything she wanted. If she desired something, he put it in her arms; if she wanted to eat something, he fed it to her himself. Regardless of right or wrong, he was the sort of man who would somehow make her wishes come true.
What was chilling was that this obsession looked perfectly normal on the surface. Wearing the mask of a brother who simply doted on his sister, he pushed away men who tried to court Seribis and dealt, on his own terms, with the so-called “friends” who sought to use her.
Higeon came to realize Robert’s true nature when he saw how enthusiastically the prince helped with Seribis’s favorite pastime—“getting back at Karia”—without ever once trying to stop her.
“Your Highness, I believe you are misunderstanding something. This is not a matter of money. I am already sworn to follow the Grand Duke’s daughter. A knight is not an accessory—how could I simply replace my loyalty because someone else catches your eye?”
“Splendid! Yes, that’s how a knight should be. But… I hear you are caring for your ailing widowed mother here in the capital?”
With a genial smile, Robert rested a hand on Higeon’s shoulder. And Higeon froze on the spot, as if turned to ice.
“In a few days, we plan to send a delegation to the Bismarck Empire as a gesture of goodwill. Well, calling them an ‘empire’ is a bit much, but the war ended quite some time ago… and isn’t it about time we started thinking about the future?”
“—What is it you wish to say, Your Highness?”
“I’ve been put in charge of the delegation. My uncle has also agreed to provide knights. I was wondering whether, for the sake of his dear niece traveling abroad, he might spare one or two knights she desires. What do you think?”
Being sent abroad as part of a delegation—especially one escorting a prince—was not something a knight could refuse. Unlike a simple reassignment, once selected, compliance was mandatory.
In other words, if Higeon did not become the princess’s escort, he would have to leave the empire with the prince. That was what Robert was saying.
“We may be staying for at least half a year, perhaps as long as a full year. I should travel as much as possible before becoming crown prince. But I do wonder whether your ailing mother would be able to wait a whole year.”
Higeon clenched his teeth. Ever since his father’s death, his mother’s health had steadily declined, and recently she had been confined almost entirely to her bed.
The physician had said she might have at most half a year left. Though it depended on the patient’s will, if Higeon were to leave her all alone—with no other family or relatives—she would surely lose what little strength she had left.
How could someone even think of bargaining with another person’s sick mother, all just to indulge his sister’s whim?
Higeon knew that royalty could be ruthless, but he could no longer see Robert as human.
“Don’t make such a face. Anyone would think I’m bullying you.”
“Your Highness!”
“Why struggle so much over this? I’ve already gone this far—why not give in gracefully? What’s the problem? If you become Seri’s man, a path to advancement opens up for you. Honestly, Karia is… well, I shouldn’t say this as her cousin, but she’s not very practical, is she? Always wearing such a gloomy expression—hardly any fun.”
“Is it truly acceptable for a member of the imperial family—who should be a model for others—to use power so privately for such a matter?”
Higeon could not bear to hear Karia’s name come from Robert’s mouth. Every time she came to the palace with that stiff expression, it was because he had tormented her—and yet he spoke so shamelessly.
An urge surged within him to grab Robert by the collar and strike him. But the cursed weight of his status restrained him. If he lost his reason now, both his mother and Karia would be devastated.
“Don’t misunderstand—I’m not forcing you. I’m simply… asking you to think it over carefully one more time.”
Not forcing him? It was a laughable joke. With a mere gesture, this man could have his head cut off at any moment.
For Higeon, there was only one possible choice—to accept the option he was given.
He chose his mother. And since he could not speak of the prince’s coercion, he resolved to become the villain himself. At least that way, Karia could curse his ingratitude—abandon him sooner, and stand back up on her own as quickly as possible.
“So, in short, the one I should take revenge on isn’t you, but the crown prince, is that it?”
“I’m not trying to shift all the blame onto His Highness. In the end, the choice was mine.”
“Then what—are you asking me to consider your crime forgiven?”
As she listened to his long explanation, Karia’s face remained thoroughly sullen. Though there was a chair before him, Higeon stubbornly knelt instead.
They were in Karia’s private chamber—the same place where she had once spoken face-to-face at length with Seribis.
All attendants and guards had been dismissed, leaving them alone, yet the air was not awkward. After all, they had spent five full years together.
Still, what the past had been like was no longer important now.
“I wanted to tell you that the things I said back then were not my true feelings.”
He raised his bowed head and slowly looked up at Karia.
She now bore the appearance of a mature woman, quite different from before, yet her red eyes, slender cheeks, and graceful neckline—seen hundreds, thousands of times—were unmistakably hers.
“It was wrong that you were insulted as a bastard, as a stain upon the imperial family. The anger held by those who hate you is misdirected, and all blame and accusation should fall not on you, but on His Grace the Grand Duke. I believe you are a far better person than you think yourself to be. So…”
“So?”
“If my words wounded you, I wanted to tell you to be angry with me—that you were never at fault.”
Higeon’s voice trembled slightly as emotion surged within him. Yet despite his heartfelt confession, Karia’s expression did not change. There was not the slightest ripple of emotion.
She merely gazed down at him for a long moment with her narrow red eyes, then spoke calmly.
“How is your mother?”
“She passed away at the end of that year.”
“How do I look to you now? Do I appear to you as the powerless, insignificant little girl—hurt and blaming herself because of what you said back then?”
Her voice was flat as she asked. Higeon bit his lower lip, then slowly shook his head.
Indeed—whether standing before the emperor in the grand hall or now—she was dignified. So much so that it almost felt arrogant, overflowing with composure and authority.
She did not seem to need his belated, presumptuous consolation. No—she truly did not need it. All of this had merely been his own stubbornness.
“Then why confess something so long past now? You could have come the year my mother died.”
“That’s because… at the time, you had married Duke Pandeon…”
“And what does me being married have to do with an apology?”
Once again, Higeon fell silent. To be honest, he himself had not understood his own heart—but under Karia’s penetrating gaze, he realized it at last.
The apology had only been an excuse. A wish. A selfish desire to stand before her once more as her knight, if only once.
He wanted to draw close to her again, to be by her side, to have her need him once more.
“I love you. I have, for a long time—ever since long ago.”
“……”
“And so I wanted to return to your side. I ask for nothing more. I just want to be near you, like before.”
“You were asking me to take your head earlier, and now your demands keep growing.”
With a sharp sneer, Karia leaned back against her chair. Looking into his eyes, she could tell his feelings were sincere. She also remembered how he had looked like a dead man while serving at the princess’s side.
But was it truly right to forgive him just like this?
Even if circumstances had forced him to turn away from the princess, in the end it was his selfish desire to play the villain that had wounded her heart.
And if that selfishness had sprung from loving her as a woman, then it meant there was every chance he would act just as rashly again in the future.
‘Still… it would be a waste to reject him outright.’
To receive goodwill from another without giving anything in return—to secure absolute advantage—was not something that happened often.
Karia gazed silently at Higeon, who looked like a condemned man awaiting his sentence. Then, more lightly than expected, she reached her conclusion.
In short, she could make use of him—just not keep him close.
