Blood and the Empire V
"Ah, Hawin. When on earth is Hawin returning?"
Princess Lobelia sighed deeply and muttered to herself.
Her complexion was pale, as if she were consumed by anxiety, and her fingers fidgeted restlessly.
Her attendant watched her with a deeply worried expression.
He seriously worried that she was ruining her brilliant youth, utterly bewitched by a man who wasn't even a noble.
He shook his head.
No, that can't be.
Grand Duke Roswell of the North was the one who truly occupied Princess Lobelia's heart.
The attendant firmly believed that in a few days, she would return to her usual, innocent self and start pining for Roswell again.
She had always been that way. After all, what did a man like Hawin even have to offer?
He wasn't particularly handsome, and his behavior was nothing short of frivolous.
...If His Majesty the Emperor were to see her like this, it would be disastrous.
The attendant decided to take drastic measures.
It was something he hadn't bothered to mention because the Imperial Palace had been so chaotic lately.
Bowing at the waist, he spoke.
"Your Highness, I have an urgent matter to report."
"Speak."
Lobelia glanced sideways at the attendant as she replied.
Her crimson eyes looked exhausted, worn down by the long wait.
Her very heart had likely withered to ash as well.
The attendant's heart ached even more.
That man, Hawin, was nothing but a gigolo.
"Grand Duke Roswell of the North has sent an invitation to you, Your Highness. It seems he is hosting a grand banquet to celebrate his successful subjugation of the northern savages."
"A banquet? It takes over five days just to travel to the North... Is Roswell seriously hosting a banquet in the midst of such a critical crisis?"
"...Ah."
As Lobelia snapped in irritation and waved her hand as if to dismiss the matter, the attendant's eyes went wide, and he gasped.
Of course, from Lobelia's perspective, she was simply annoyed that her supposed crush was throwing a party when the Empire could collapse at any moment.
But the attendant was too shocked to even hide his expression.
"It is Grand Duke Roswell, Your Highness. Grand Duke Roswell of the North."
"...And what of it? Every single second is precious right now. Am I, the Princess who must set an example, supposed to travel all that way just to attend a party?"
"..."
Lobelia crossed her arms and snorted in disbelief.
The attendant froze in sheer panic, completely at a loss for words.
Oh dear...
She really had been bewitched by that man named Hawin.
Being of noble birth himself, the attendant was all too familiar with such situations.
He had seen many a noblewoman ruin herself after falling for some mediocre scoundrel.
In that sense, the Princess was already halfway ruined.
Lobelia was the first to walk out of the garden.
Her steps were incredibly sharp, fueled by her mounting frustration.
"Tell Roswell this: I will not be attending the banquet. If he wishes to see me, tell him to come here himself."
Lobelia cast a cold glare at the letter held in the attendant's hand.
Her gaze carried a hint of disgust.
To Lobelia, this reaction was only natural.
As she had thought, if she were to leave the Imperial Capital when the Nine Kingdoms could invade at any moment...
And if she went to a banquet, what would the people think?
It would only bring disappointment to the Grand Marshal, the Minister of Security, the other knight commanders, and the public.
Lobelia's stance was that she had to resolve everything from within the Imperial Palace.
Besides, she had only come to the garden for a brief respite from gathering information.
The attendant stood there, dazed.
...We're doomed.
She was completely under that man's spell.
The attendant immediately sent an urgent distress call to the Grand Duke of the North.
There were only three men who could resolve this situation.
Hawin, Roswell, and His Majesty the Emperor.
Since Hawin had vanished to parts unknown, they couldn't interrogate or punish him.
And the Emperor remained bedridden.
Roswell was their last hope.
The attendant immediately dispatched a carrier pigeon.
Soon, a reassuring reply arrived.
Just a single sentence.
Ah, what a magnificent man.
The attendant shed tears of gratitude.
Grand Duke Roswell of the North was in the middle of savoring his wine.
Red wine swirled elegantly inside the crystal glass in his hand.
"Mmh..."
He had personally claimed the head of the barbarian chieftain—a feat that had eluded them for years.
Naturally, his pride was soaring through the heavens.
Wherever he went, the streets echoed with praise for Roswell.
Now, all that is left is to wed my fiancée...
It was then that a tapping sound echoed.
Roswell raised an eyebrow in curiosity and turned his gaze to find a strange bird pecking at the windowpane with its beak.
The bird was skeletal and gaunt, yet its eyes were as sharp as a beast of prey.
It was, quite literally, a monstrous bird.
The Imperial Family?
His bewildered gaze locked onto the letter tied to the creature's leg.
The imperial seal was stamped clearly upon it.
Furthermore, this undead bird was highly valuable as a messenger, meaning it could only belong to the imperial court.
"What is it?"
Screeech!
When he opened the window, the bird let out a sharp, shriek-like cry and dropped the letter onto his desk.
It then fluttered over to perch on the window frame, waiting for a reply.
"...What is this?"
Roswell stared at the bird, feeling a sudden wave of unease.
The bird tilted its head with a sharp squawk, as if asking what he was staring at.
"Sigh... and I am so busy."
Roswell sighed deeply and unfolded the letter.
It took only a few seconds for his indifferent expression to warp into utter shock.
My fiancée?
Bewitched by some lowborn scoundrel who isn't even a noble?
And she hasn't been able to sleep properly for days?
Roswell's face contorted with rage.
He quickly scribbled on a piece of paper.
He tied it to the bird's leg and sent it flying back.
"Tsk."
Roswell clicked his tongue in irritation and immediately prepared to depart.
To ensure he looked his absolute best, he bypassed the rugged furs symbolic of the North and donned a pristine white ceremonial uniform instead.
I must not lose her.
The North was a harsh, inhospitable land.
Consequently, its population was sparse, while monsters ran rampant.
It was far too cold for agriculture, and livestock farming was nearly impossible due to the sheer number of monsters in the far north.
This was precisely why Grand Duke Roswell constantly attended the banquets at the Imperial Palace.
If he could win the favor of the Princess or high-ranking noble ladies...
The North would secure the funding it needs.
It was a strategy made entirely possible by the fact that Roswell was far more handsome than his predecessors.
A single smile from him was enough to make women swoon and squeal.
By currying favor with them, he had secured vast amounts of aid for the North.
Even if others slandered him for living a dissolute lifestyle, it was all for the sake of the North.
Even Lobelia, though she rarely showed it, seemed to steal glances at him.
The way she would chuckle softly and fan her face was breathtakingly beautiful.
Both personally and politically, he had no choice but to pursue her.
And yet. And yet...
She was being seduced by some worthless nobody?
Roswell strode purposefully toward the Warp Gate.
His vassals tried to stop him.
"Your Grace, if you leave now, the backlogged work...! And the banquet cannot proceed without you!"
"Lord Roswell, the excitement of the barbarian subjugation has not yet cooled..."
"Step aside. I have urgent business."
At Roswell's cold command, everyone fell back.
Natural charisma. Striking looks.
These were the reasons the people of the North accepted him as their Grand Duke despite his youth.
The Warp Gate of the North.
Without a moment's hesitation, Roswell paid the exorbitant fee and stepped onto the Warp Gate bound for the Imperial Capital.
"Wait for me."
Of course, if Lobelia heard him now, she would have died of frustration.
But Roswell, convinced of his own coolness, repeated the words in his head and smiled with deep satisfaction.
"And I will crush that man. I will make him pay for daring to toy with my fiancée, the little sun of the Empire."
Boom—!
The Warp Gate activated.
In an instant, Roswell was transported to the outskirts of the Imperial Capital.
He mounted his horse and rode straight into the city.
The phrase "prince on a white horse" suited him perfectly.
Roswell headed directly to where Princess Lobelia was staying.
Upon seeing his face, the guards didn't even think to stop him.
Lobelia was tracing a piece of paper, her eyes clouded with worry.
"Hawin... please, just don't die..."
The moment he overheard those words, Roswell realized it.
The man who had boasted such silver-tongued eloquence back then...
He is indeed a gigolo.
He gritted his teeth.
"Hmm?"
At the sound, Lobelia looked up at Roswell with a puzzled expression.
Roswell delivered his finishing blow—a dazzling, charming smile.
"I dare to greet the little sun of the Empire—"
"Shouldn't you be busy with your banquet in the North, Roswell? What brings you here?"
Roswell's face froze instantly.
Lobelia responded with utter indifference, not even sparing him a glance.
In fact, she looked downright displeased that he, the great Grand Duke of the North, had even shown up.
Wait, what?
He was utterly flabbergasted.
Lobelia stole a glance at Roswell.
Barging into the Imperial Palace to seek her out without so much as an appointment.
To make matters worse, she had recently begun investigating the high nobility, which meant she was now fully aware of Roswell's dissolute lifestyle.
She stared at Roswell's face, which was twisted in a mixture of shock and bewilderment.
What is wrong with this idiot?
Lobelia muttered to herself, casting a thoroughly unimpressed look his way.