The Trap - 1
The rebellion was crushed with almost embarrassing ease. It amounted to nothing more than peasants from five villages, cobbled together into an army in only two days. Once the Great Raven Battalion and the Royal Striped Otter Guard Battalion were deployed, the rebel force was shattered overnight, as if it had never existed.
“As expected, it pays to keep competent officials close.”
“……”
“Say something, Herbert.”
While Richelle had returned to the castle the previous night for a proper rest, Herbert and Prince Rion had enjoyed no such luxury. They had gone straight to the government offices, mobilized troops in her name, and the sudden nighttime invocation of the Royal Prerogative had thrown parliament into chaos. Richelle’s stomach still burned with acid. From early morning she had been forced to appear before the assembly to soothe the lawmakers’ outrage. The fatigue from the night before had not yet faded, and she had been required to dress in the elaborate, intricate attire of a noblewoman.
Of course, that was not the only reason.
There were potential traitors sitting in parliament. The mere thought that men linked to Malong—men willing to sell the throne—might be among them filled her with humiliation at having to explain why she had moved the army. Queen Richelle’s simple declaration that the revolts in villages such as Penhill had been incited by Count Raoul’s agents infiltrating the kingdom did not pass unchallenged. Some lawmakers even whispered that her bruised face and split lip were part of a conspiracy to justify suppressing parliament itself.
Only after Richelle wiped away her makeup and displayed the wounds before their eyes did those suspicions finally subside. Yet the parliamentarians were far less willing to overlook the fact that she had deployed not only militia but the Royal Guard battalions as well. Unlike the militia, which parliament or the city of Milehaven might still contest, the Royal Guard belonged solely to the queen—her personal soldiers.
When Richelle called Herbert a competent official, there was no trace of sarcasm in her words. She was genuinely grateful for his ability. In his address to parliament on her behalf, he had reminded the assembly that the heart of Zylan had been attacked when its queen was assaulted, emphasizing the urgency of the threat to the kingdom itself. He had also not-so-subtly warned that if Queen Richelle had truly intended to rule by terror, she would not have stopped at a single militia and guard battalion; she would have summoned all three guard battalions from Venterum Castle and every private army under direct royal control.
Thanks to Herbert, Richelle had reversed the hostile atmosphere that had nearly stripped her of the initiative and reaffirmed the supremacy of the crown before parliament. He truly lived up to his reputation as a scholar of the Eastern Empire.
She called his name again.
“Herbert?”
Even after she spoke, Herbert simply stared at her in a daze. Prince Rion, standing beside him, gave him a light nudge. Herbert startled as if waking from a dream.
“Forgive my rudeness, Your Majesty. I didn’t hear you.”
“……I was saying it is fortunate to have a capable subordinate like you.”
“Ah, thank you.”
Herbert offered a quick grin, then fell silent once more. Richelle studied him and, sure enough, found him staring fixedly at the Queen of Zylan’s face. She clapped her hands sharply right in front of his nose.
“Herbert!”
“Y-yes, Your Majesty!”
“I know you worked hard through the night. You may leave for the day.”
Richelle’s expression had soured into a deep frown. Herbert broke into a cold sweat.
“F-forgive my rudeness……”
“Enough.”
Richelle waved a dismissive hand.
“If you keep that up, I might really have you executed.”
“I apologize, Your Majesty. Please show mercy……”
“Pfft.”
The sudden burst of laughter drew every eye in the room—except its owner’s—to Marion. She cleared her throat and offered a polite apology.
“Ah, forgive me, Your Majesty, Your Highness, Your Eminence.”
“What exactly is so amusing, Countess Marion of Zad?”
Marion nearly laughed again but caught herself. She knew all too well what might happen if she did. Fighting to keep a straight face, she answered in a teasing drawl.
“It’s simply that Your Majesty can be rather dense.”
The words were new to both sets of memories—those of the woman who had once hated Richard and those of the man who now loved Richelle. Richelle tilted her head, puzzled.
“Dense? Me?”
Marion nodded.
“Yes.”
“Um, Your Majesty……”
Herbert glanced anxiously between them.
“I believe I should take my leave now……”
“May I ask what you mean by that, Lady Marion?”
“Hm? Doesn’t calling me ‘Lady’ Marion sound rather strange?”
“In what way?”
Richelle already suspected where this was going, but she asked anyway.
“Doesn’t it? Your Majesty now possesses the form of a beautiful young woman—or at least appears as one—so it may be acceptable for His Highness to call you ‘sister,’ or for His late Majesty Philip to call you ‘Richelle.’ But to call someone like me ‘Lady’?”
Indeed, Marion’s appearance made the title feel mismatched. Her features were refined and delicate for a northerner, yet they carried an unmistakably masculine edge. No matter how fine her face or slender her figure, a height of five feet eleven inches made “lady” or “countess” sit awkwardly on her.
She offered a delicate, distinctly feminine smile that clashed with her stature.
“Or is it possible that Your Majesty is behaving this way knowingly?”
“What exactly are you calling dense?”
At that moment Richelle would have liked nothing better than to accuse Marion of being the parliament’s secret traitor. Her gaze kept drifting toward the two longswords propped beside the desk. She made no effort to hide it, hoping the sight would intimidate Marion into silence. Instead, Marion met the look with open provocation.
“Do not assume everything can be solved by forcing your will upon others.”
“And you should not assume you can insult the sovereign and simply talk your way out of it, Countess of Zad.”
“How barbaric.”
Though Marion’s voice was soft, it carried clearly through the quiet office. Richelle rose and seized both swords. She tossed one to Marion. To her surprise, Marion caught it cleanly from the air despite a flicker of astonishment. The one truly rattled was Richelle. She tried to keep her face neutral, but the stiffness in her expression betrayed her.
Feigning composure, she said, “It seems your swordsmanship lesson will come a little early today. Follow me to the garden.”
She turned away, but Marion’s voice stopped her.
“There is something I have wanted to ask for some time, Your Majesty.”
“What is it?”
“Why does Your Majesty vent your anger on me with such outrageous behavior?”
“To purge the cowardice of the North from you and instill the proud conduct of a Zylan man in that body. I told you before. Has it been so long—less than a week—that northern women cannot even remember?”
The royal office was too large for only four people, yet it suddenly felt far too small to contain the clash of wills between Richelle and Marion.
“Um… Your Majesty the Queen? Your Highness the Prince Consort?”
The carefully chosen titles scraped at both their nerves. Richelle and Marion turned identical glares on Herbert.
“What?”
“Speak, Your Eminence.”
“I… I shall take my leave now.”
“Haah.”
Rion clutched his head. He could not fathom why crisis followed so relentlessly upon crisis. Worse, he knew the real crisis had not yet arrived.
Richelle dismissed Herbert with a curt wave and turned to Rion.
“Are you all right? You stayed up all night with the archbishop, didn’t you?”
“I-I’m fine. Rather— No, never mind, sister.”
“So you do feel some shame. Trying to send Prince Rion away like that.”
“What?”
Marion continued her smiling assault.
“You speak of removing my cowardice and teaching me manliness, yet Your Majesty’s own conduct hardly matches those standards. You are aware of how shameful that is, aren’t you?”
Rion could no longer stay silent.
“S-sister. Please endure it. You must endure.”
“I am enduring quite well.”
Rion forced a smile at his sister, then Richelle turned back to Marion.
“So you believe I am acting inconsistently?”
“Exactly. I’m glad you understand that much. But what of it? In the end you will simply beat me again under the ridiculous pretext of ‘education.’”
Richelle’s lips curled in a cold sneer.
“Yes. How amusing.”
“Sister……”
Rion clutched his head and shook it helplessly. He could no longer intervene. In his heart he offered a silent apology.
Unaware of his thoughts, Richelle continued, voice sharp with anger.
“So tell me, what exactly is so shameful? What conduct?”
“If Your Majesty wishes to instill manly behavior in me, then it is only logical that I should instill womanly behavior in you.”
“What?”
Only then could Rion give voice to the plea in his heart.
“Forgive me, sister. There was nothing I could do.”
“What are you saying? What on earth—”
While Richelle stood stunned by Rion’s words, Marion called out in a clear, carrying voice toward the door.
“Dame Virginia, all you maids. Her Majesty has given her permission. Please come in at once!”