Chapter 7

Chapter 7

The heart of the Empire, the Chrysler Imperial Palace.

Among its many chambers, the reception room of Lucian Whissen Chrysler, the First Prince, was one of the places where the Imperial Family’s power was displayed most blatantly.

The ceiling was adorned with golden reliefs of dragons and the sun, while a tapestry depicting the first Emperor hung on the wall.

Beneath it, the First Prince sat reclining on a long sofa covered in red silk.

“So.”

Holding a wineglass in his hand, he asked,

“You’re saying Erich never made it to Oden Harbor.”

“Yes, Your Highness. After setting sail under His Majesty’s orders to inspect Oden Harbor, he failed to arrive at the appointed time… and his whereabouts remain unknown to this day.”

“His whereabouts remain unknown.”

Lucian repeated the words as though rolling them around in his mouth. His eyes twitched, and then he burst into laughter, as if he found the whole thing too amusing to bear.

The red liquid in his wineglass trembled.

“Hahahaha.”

Erich Whissen Chrysler, the Emperor’s second son and Second Prince, had gone missing.

His death had not yet been officially confirmed, but a ship disappearing in the Eryl Strait usually meant only one thing.

“How truly unfortunate.”

Lucian spoke, though his expression showed not the slightest trace of sorrow.

“His Majesty must be absolutely devastated. After all, that was his beloved second son.”

Mockery seeped into his lighthearted voice.

Across from Lucian, Duke Valtheon quietly set down his teacup.

Valtheon Kiseis.

The current Emperor’s maternal cousin, one of the Empire’s most prominent grand nobles, and a longtime supporter of the First Prince.

With his graying blond hair and composed gray eyes, he had been renowned since his youth for never revealing his true thoughts.

“His death has not yet been confirmed, Your Highness.”

“Duke.”

Lucian turned toward him, his face flushed with excitement.

“Do you not know what kind of place the Eryl Strait is? A ship disappeared there. And after a storm, no less. If he’s still alive, that would be a miracle.”

Lucian took a sip of wine and sneered.

“And miracles are rare.”

Duke Valtheon watched him for a moment.

Looking at the First Prince’s excessively bright eyes, he thought to himself,

‘This is hardly something to celebrate.’

Erich’s disappearance was undoubtedly an event that worked in the First Prince’s favor.

However, drawing on his long experience in politics, Duke Valtheon had a feeling that there was more to this incident than met the eye.

“Isn’t it amusing? That man, who always spoke to me with such a composed expression, as though looking down on me, might have ended up flailing about and begging for his life in tears.”

Everyone feared Lucian.

He was a violent and cruel man.

After remaining silent for a moment, Duke Valtheon offered his advice in a calm voice.

“There are many eyes watching us, so now is the time to mourn.”

“Duke, you’re terribly dull.”

“My apologies.”

“But you’re not wrong.”

Lucian rose from his seat and walked toward the window. The sky beyond the Imperial Palace gardens was clear. So clear that there was nothing to suggest what might have happened in the distant sea.

Lucian looked at his reflection in the window.

“That’s right. I should grieve.”

He murmured softly.

“Just like an older brother who has lost his poor younger brother.”

The First Prince’s shadow stretched long across the window. Standing beneath the sunlight, he looked like a man relieved to have finally plucked out a thorn in his side.

Yet to the Duke, he also looked like a beast that had grown far too excited at the disappearance of its enemy.

A beast may be strong, but it cannot see the trap.

***

Meanwhile, the forest path on the uninhabited island was sweltering.

The soil was still damp after the rain, making a sticky sound with every step.

Sunlight filtered through the tall trees in scattered fragments, while three members of the Tulip Knights cautiously made their way downhill beneath them.

Leonhardt led the way, followed by two other knights.

In their hands were crude baskets woven from vines.

Inside were leaves resembling the ones Isabel had drawn on the cave wall.

They were medicinal herbs the knights had spent a long time painstakingly gathering after climbing to the higher ground, drenched in sweat.

“Are we sure these are the right ones?”

One of the knights following behind muttered in dissatisfaction.

“The shape of the leaves looks similar.”

Another knight replied.

“But I’m not sure we can trust that woman’s word. Even if His Highness has vouched for her.”

At that, Leonhardt furrowed his brows and sharply cut him off.

“His Highness didn’t vouch for that woman. He simply chose the only means currently available to help the injured Count Francis.”

“…I see.”

He gazed beyond the forest path sloping downhill, toward the coastal cliffs where the cave was located.

As always, a relaxed smile rested on his lips, but his eyes were cold.

When they arrived at the cave, Francis was asleep, curled up in a blanket in the corner, while Celine was sorting through their clothes.

“You’re back?”

Celine was the first to look up, as though she’d been waiting anxiously for them.

Leonhardt approached her and politely offered the basket with both hands.

“These are the herbs Countess Chester mentioned. It’s not much, but there should be enough to last a few days.”

Celine practically snatched the basket from him. After smelling the herbs, her face brightened, and she immediately went looking for Isabel.

“Countess.”

Isabel, who had been sitting in one corner of the cave, raised her head.

“We brought them.”

At Celine’s excited voice, Isabel rose from her seat with a calm expression.

She promptly examined the leaves in the basket, then snapped off a stem and checked the white sap that oozed out.

“These are the right ones.”

“Thank goodness!”

Celine’s smile grew wider.

Isabel glanced around indifferently and said,

“Now we need to crush the leaves on a flat rock.”

Celine quickly moved to find a suitable stone.

“Here. Will this one do?”

When Isabel nodded, she placed the leaves, with their stems removed, on the rock and began crushing them with a smaller stone.

Leonhardt watched Celine concentrating on her task, then shifted his gaze to Isabel, who was moving farther away.

She seemed to consider her work finished and was now looking leisurely at the water bowl near the cave entrance.

The corners of Leonhardt’s mouth slowly twisted as he watched her.

There was absolutely no goodwill behind that smile.

He strode toward Isabel, and the two knights who had been watching him hesitantly followed.

“Wait.”

At the sound of Leonhardt’s voice, Isabel stopped just as she was about to reach for the water bowl.

He approached with a gentle smile, but his eyes weren’t smiling.

“Countess.”

Leonhardt asked in a tone of apparent curiosity,

“Would you like some water?”

“Yes. Well… I’m thirsty.”

After a few seconds of silence, Leonhardt parted his lips.

“Common sense from civilization doesn’t apply on this island. It took us a full three days to find this cave with its running water.”

A sardonic smile played at the corners of his lips.

Isabel looked at Leonhardt as though inviting him to continue.

She had clearly seen how his expression twisted the moment he heard the rumors about her mercenary days.

A woman who had killed her superior and been expelled from the mercenary corps.

A shameless woman who had seduced a count and become a countess despite such a past.

In the eyes of those proud men who had always walked the proper path as noble-born knights, she was undoubtedly someone to be despised.

“Are you saying I have to pay for the water?”

“Shouldn’t you at least show a little courtesy?”

“I believe I’ve shown enough courtesy by telling you about the herbs to treat Count Francis.”

“Who knows?”

Standing between Isabel and the water bowl, he slowly spread his legs apart.

“That is something we’ll decide after Count Francis has recovered.”

It was as though time had stopped inside the cave.

Leonhardt was still smiling.

“Crawl between my legs.”

At the voice laced with mockery and contempt, Isabel’s eyes narrowed and turned cold.

Of the two Tulip Knights standing behind Leonhardt, one wore a sneer, while the other looked slightly taken aback and glanced around.

Count Francis was asleep, and Celine was too focused on crushing the herbs, making a steady crack, crack sound, to notice what was happening.

More importantly, their master, Erich, had yet to return to the cave.

“Ha…”

Isabel looked at Leonhardt with icy eyes.

This was exactly why she hated dealing with knights.

“Isn’t that what a countess who killed her own superior for her personal gain would do? Surely you can endure a little humiliation like this just to quench your thirst.”