Chapter 44
The day of the imperial studies exam.
Originally, Kartia was supposed to solve the exam in front of numerous nobles, with the grading to follow immediately.
But fortunately, the emperor, after glancing at the nobles’ exam proposal, frowned and said one thing:
“Are we here to watch a performing monkey?”
The noble in charge of the succession verification plan immediately bowed and revised the arrangements.
Ten nobles from each faction would now be selected to observe Kartia in a small examination room.
It didn’t matter to Kartia whether there were ten examiners or many more, but she agreed since Count Godia suggested it would be less irritating that way.
When she arrived at the exam room, the nobles were already there, seated in a horseshoe-shaped arrangement. In the center stood a small desk and chair.
“How is this any different from a monkey show?”
Kartia muttered in disbelief. Count Rondena, who was responsible for the exam, broke out into a nervous, awkward laugh despite sweating profusely.
“Your Highness, we just need to ensure there’s no possibility of cheating…”
“Daaaaad—!”
Kartia looked as though she’d storm out to find the Emperor, prompting Count Rondena to leap up in a panic.
Sticking her head out the door, Kartia waved her hand playfully and sat back down with a mischievous grin.
“Can we start now?”
As the exam paper was placed before her, Count Rondena spoke sternly, trying to restore his dignity.
“There are 40 questions, drawn from various disciplines required for imperial governance. There is no time limit, so please take your time.”
Kartia nodded and picked up her pen, briskly flipping the first page of the exam.
Rather than starting immediately, she skimmed through the entire test. At some point, her expression contorted in outrage and she clenched her teeth.
“All that studying… for questions like these?”
She muttered under her breath. The nobles couldn’t quite hear her, though they merely clicked their tongues, thinking the test might be too hard for a seven-year-old.
Though they had lowered the difficulty slightly due to rumors of the princess’s lacking intellect, they were still certain she would fail.
As Kartia trembled while holding the paper, a single tear rolled down her cheek.
“I won’t forgive you… Count Godia…”
Everyone knew that Count Godia had become Kartia’s imperial tutor.
As the head of an academy named after the empire itself, he was renowned as an educator, so people had assumed Kartia would’ve learned something under him.
But judging from her current state, that didn’t seem to be the case.
“Even so, blaming her teacher like that…”
One noble clicked his tongue upon hearing her curse Count Godia—until his eyes met Kartia’s.
Her crimson eyes burned with a fierce intensity. Startled, he quickly looked away.
Even if Count Godia was a famous teacher, a glare like that hinted there might be more to the story between them.
“We will now begin the test.”
With Count Rondena’s announcement, the door closed, and the exam began.
***
“Hehehe…”
A dark haze seemed to settle over Kartia’s room as her low laughter echoed within.
Fabia flinched and stepped back, while the twins, who had come to hear the test results, sat quietly on the sofa.
The curtains were tightly drawn, and only a few candles offered dim lighting, casting an eerie mood.
Rianus, who arrived a bit late, was about to greet Kartia but quietly sat across from the twins when he saw her rolling ice cubes in a yellow lemonade-filled glass.
“To be honest… I feel like grabbing Count Godia by the collar and shaking him.”
As her low voice drifted out, Rianus glanced around in confusion. His eyes met the twins’, but since they had never officially met, no greetings were exchanged.
“But now’s not the time. Never mind.”
Thankfully, Kartia continued, breaking the tension.
“Something bigger is coming, so I’ll deal with it later.”
She placed the lemonade on the table.
When she clapped her hands, Fabia, overjoyed that the strange atmosphere was lifting, opened the curtains.
Sunlight flooded the room, and Kartia looked around at the people seated before her.
“This operation is of utmost importance.”
Rianus couldn’t bring himself to ask what she meant, so he looked to the twins. But they, equally clueless, just shrugged.
“This isn’t just about some dumb successor exam. Do you understand?”
The three of them nodded.
“This is about someone’s entire future. So I need you to follow my instructions to the letter.”
“What kind of plan is this…?”
Unable to contain his curiosity, Rianus finally asked. Kartia grinned.
“We’re going to take one of the visiting princes from the diplomatic delegation… and keep him as a hostage in the Empire.”
Silence filled the room.
Only the sound of Fabia bumping her knee on the terrace door—while stumbling in shock—could be heard.
“The hostage will never return to the Kingdom of Kallan. Hehehe…”
They came hoping to hear about her test, only to stumble upon this wild plan.
No one even dared to ask how this scheme began.
In the stillness, someone swallowed hard.
***
“How much longer do we have to go?”
Even though all he had to do was sit in the carriage and ride along, Chetan was fuming with irritation, muttering one complaint after another.
“It’s already been a week of this. Can’t we go any faster?”
Though Chetan kept grumbling about regretting this trip, no one responded.
He had, after all, volunteered to join the diplomatic mission to gain leverage from the negotiations.
Although his maternal family held significant power, and he was the undisputed First Prince in terms of influence, he was lacking in physical ability.
He was sturdy, yes—but shorter than his brothers and lacking in both swordsmanship and hand-to-hand combat. In terms of raw ability and talent, he was weaker.
It wasn’t a huge gap, but it was his only major flaw, and he had a bit of an inferiority complex about it.
That was why he joined the diplomatic corps—to make up for what he lacked.
But now, his whining served no purpose.
“Damn it. Should’ve just sent Antcheni instead.”
No one replied to his complaint.
Even though the Third Prince, Antcheni, supported Chetan, he was still a rival in the succession race.
If Antcheni returned from the mission with successful results, the King would view it as his achievement, regardless of loyalties.
Chetan knew this better than anyone. Which is why his grumbling was just that—grumbling.
“Herdin—!”
When no one responded to his tantrum, Chetan looked for another target to vent his frustration on.
Herdin, who had been resting quietly in the cargo carriage used by the attendants, furrowed his brow at the shout.
Though Chetan’s tantrums were frequent, he’d grown especially impatient in recent days. And Herdin was the one who suffered most because of it.
Sighing inwardly, he got up and approached.
The moment he did, Chetan let loose:
“You’re fast when it comes to fighting, but where the hell have you been lazing around now?”
Even as Chetan scolded him harshly, Herdin merely bowed his head in silence.
“What exactly do you do, huh? If the schedule’s this long, you should’ve been prepared!”
Chetan’s rants made no sense, but Herdin endured them.
He wasn’t some jester. Was he expected to prepare entertainment during rest stops?
If he ever tried something like that, in Kallan where martial strength is everything, he would be treated as less than a servant.
“Forget it. Expecting anything from you is foolish. Whatever. Just get ready—we’re almost at the city.”
Herdin clenched his teeth but swallowed his irritation.
He already knew what kind of “preparations” Chetan was referring to.
In Kallan, it wasn’t shameful for powerful men to indulge in drink, pleasure, and women. And Chetan planned to do just that during the trip.
The problem was that they were now in the Empire.
With the capital just ahead, this was a time for caution—but Chetan didn’t care.
Suppressing a sigh, Herdin simply replied in a low voice:
“Understood.”
Because that was all he could say.
“Make sure it’s done right.”
With that, Chetan turned and stormed back into his carriage.
Left behind, Herdin pressed his throbbing temples and quietly returned to the cargo wagon.
