The Queen’s Empty Throne
The queen must depart now, Your Majesty. His Majesty the King left just moments ago.
“He went straight to the triumphal square without stopping at the queen’s palace? Her Majesty has been waiting here for His Majesty all this time…”
Her husband had changed.
The moment she saw the disgust lurking in his indifferent gaze, she should have accepted the truth. Yet she had denied it until the very end, turning her eyes away.
“Enough. There is no more time to wait. Why linger for someone who will not come? I have no desire to waste any more time.”
His decisive actions made it clear he would no longer even pretend. The bitterness of it stung, but the hour had come. She had to move. Waiting any longer for a husband who would never arrive would only deepen her humiliation. Being stood up was bad enough; she could not afford to be late to the triumphal ceremony held to welcome the kingdom’s savior, not in front of the gathered crowd.
Lerusha left the queen’s palace and climbed into the waiting carriage. A bitter smile crossed her lips at the sight of the spacious carriage meant for both king and queen now occupied by her alone.
‘The queen being rejected by the king right before the triumphal ceremony. Quite the spectacle.’
To be treated with such contempt even at a vital state event like this. She felt their broken relationship hurtling toward catastrophe, yet that was all. This was no time to drown in sorrow and rage, searching desperately for reasons behind the man who had transformed after the coronation. Far heavier burdens awaited a queen who had lost her authority.
The nobles gathered at the triumphal square to watch the ceremony took their assigned seats on the raised platform one by one. All had received invitations bearing the royal crest; they were the capital’s central aristocracy.
Into their line of sight came the queen, arriving without the king.
“Oh dear, why is she alone…”
“Wasn’t this the expected outcome? Look at her. This is what happens when a lowly orphan with no proper background dares to sit on the queen’s throne.”
“It seems His Majesty has finally come to his senses. To begin with, making his own knight the queen just because he fancied her… If her bloodline had been decent, perhaps, but this?”
“She was one of those who contributed greatly when His Majesty, whose claim was rather weak, seized the throne. Though crowning her queen still seems strange even now. He could have simply granted her a suitable title and estate. Imagine the shock when he placed a lowborn knight on the queen’s seat. He created the very legitimacy problem that had plagued him his entire life.”
“He was simply blinded by a woman for a time.”
The noblewomen, who had once hidden their true feelings behind polite smiles out of courtesy, now openly wagged their tongues without restraint.
A queen who had been cast aside made for excellent entertainment to relieve their boredom. This was the miserable result of a queen of meager origin losing even her authority.
“She’ll be deposed soon.”
Lerusha, who had kept her posture perfectly straight while staring straight ahead, turned her head slightly. Her eyes met those of Countess Mutenberg, the woman who had spoken of deposition. The countess smiled. It was a provocative smile that seemed to say, What can someone like you possibly do?
“…Deposed.”
Lerusha repeated the word and let out a sorrowful laugh.
‘Yes. That is how I will be discarded.’
Just as they said, the only reason a woman with no powerful backing could rise to the position of queen was the overwhelming favor of the new “king” who had seized the throne, and the merit she had earned by helping place him there.
That was all. A position sustained solely by her husband’s affection. A position she could not protect with her own strength.
“His Majesty really is too much. No matter what, to treat Her Majesty this way even at an event like this. I wonder what she could have done to earn such hatred?”
“Oh my, didn’t you hear? The truth is, Her Majesty and Sir Mathias, who led the recent campaign…”
While everyone pretended to pity the abandoned queen while eagerly tearing her apart behind her back, the murmurs gradually died down until silence fell over the square.
“The august sun of Leveln, His Majesty the King, is entering!”
At the herald’s booming announcement, every gaze turned in one direction.
The young king who had taken the throne through rebellion. The tall, handsome man possessed refined, elegant features that seemed entirely at odds with the image of a cruel tyrant stained with his brothers’ blood. And he was not alone. At his side, in the place that should have belonged to Lerusha, stood a woman adorned as splendidly as a peacock.
The calm expression on Lerusha’s face shattered into despair.
‘…Countess Orldette von Grusewald.’
Orldette was the most beautiful noble lady in all of Leveln. Since her formal debut into high society, she had been famous for that very beauty.
Though some whispered that the Grusewald family were foreigners, the family’s ownership of the kingdom’s most fertile and prosperous lands meant her origins could not be held against her. If anything, she was called “queen material.”
With her dazzling, beautiful figure proudly displaying her presence to the crowd, she truly looked like the real queen.
“Your Majesty.”
Lerusha carefully smoothed her distorted expression and called out to him. He stopped and smiled at her. Even that was not a smile of welcome, but an utterly formal one.
“Forgive my lateness, wife.”
“It is nothing. I am fine.”
“You had better be. It is about time you grew accustomed to waiting.”
Instead of answering, Lerusha looked at Countess Orldette, who stood beside Joslyn.
When their eyes met, Orldette smiled sweetly and took a step back. Then she stood with perfect modesty. It was clearly she who had stepped aside, as was proper, yet somehow it appeared as though she were graciously yielding her place.
“The hero has yet to arrive, it seems.”
This triumphal ceremony had been arranged to honor the Royal Knight Order, which had led a mere thousand troops to annihilate roughly eight thousand independence fighters in the vassal state of Erbaden. It would be fair to say the event was held especially for Knight Commander Mathias, whose performance had been particularly remarkable.
“A hero who keeps the king waiting. Mathias has grown quite arrogant. Don’t you agree, wife?”
When Lerusha did not bother to reply, Joslyn clicked his tongue briefly.
“This is why education matters. A disciple naturally takes after his master.”
“Are you saying that I have grown arrogant?”
“Have you not?”
“I have not.”
“I see.”
At her calm reply, Joslyn let out a hollow laugh. At that moment, the true protagonist of today’s ceremony, Mathias, and the knight order he led entered the triumphal square.
The presence of the knight on horseback, the youngest ever to hold the title of knight commander, returning victorious after a single year of campaign, was truly overwhelming. It was not merely due to his solid, dominating physique forged on the battlefield. Having slaughtered thousands of enemies, he had already been famous before the campaign for his striking appearance and sculpted, muscular body.
“That pretty face remains unchanged. Not a single scratch despite fighting at the vanguard.”
Joslyn made no effort to hide his displeasure as he gestured toward Knight Commander Mathias.
“Knight Mathias, come forward!”
When Mathias dismounted and began moving his long legs, the noisy crowd fell utterly silent. Eyes filled with reverence and admiration poured over him. There was no one who could look away from the young, strong, and beautiful war hero’s dignity.
Thus, Mathias arrived at the platform amid the crowd’s praise and knelt before the throne.
When the young tyrant and the young hero faced each other, the contrast was striking. Both were young, beautiful, and strong, yet their appearances and auras were as opposite as light and shadow, making the difference all the more vivid.
No matter how imposing the tyrant who had seized the throne with bloodstained hands might appear, he looked endlessly small before the cold-blooded man known as the War Demon.
Lerusha could not tear her eyes from the tall knight commander, whose frame had grown even larger in the year since she last saw him. Joslyn, noticing this, rested his chin on his hand at an angle and sneered.
“It seems you cannot contain your joy that the disciple you personally trained has returned as Leveln’s hero, wife. To be so entranced even in front of your husband.”