The Marchioness Lacey Fiddlers had three strange habits.
One of them was that when she saw something she really liked but couldn't have—like when it belonged to someone she didn't dare say she wanted—she would unconsciously pinch her side.
The funny thing is, at that moment, she didn't even know that she was abusing herself. She was just overflowing with desire for that 'something'... Later, when she looked at her side, which was sore, there would be a blackened bruise.
The second was that when she heard something very unpleasant or very pleasant in front of her, she would comically flare her little nostrils.
One day, her second daughter burst into laughter at that sight, and she learned of the habit, that day, she was so angry that she locked herself in her room and lay down for half a day. She was shocked that no one had ever told her about this before! Thinking about how many people had laughed at her behind her back, her blood ran cold as if she had fallen into a frozen river.
These two habits were unknown to Arkan—he had never paid that much attention to the Marchioness—but they were not the last.
Arkan knew the most important of her habits.
When she lied, she would unconsciously purse her lips...
‘Like a squeegee...’
Arkan, who had been thinking about squeezing whipped cream out of the corner of the mouth of the Marchioness Fiddler’s, who had shrunk, coughed in disgust at the thought that had occurred to him.
“That’s right.”
Arkan said in a grave voice, and the Marchioness’ lips pursed even tighter.
They were on the verge of disappearing, but if they had, Arkan would have been able to greet a more refreshing morning starting tomorrow.
Unfortunately, that didn’t happen.
“Yes, Your Majesty. It is a fact that is not a single bit false. How could you accept such a frivolous person as your Queen? Your Majesty, you should reconsider this matter. Never...”
“Isn’t it because she is sensitive due to the unfamiliar environment?”
Marchioness Fiddler’s words were cut off again.
She hated being interrupted the most in the world, but she couldn’t even show her displeasure when the other person was the King, and Arkan at that.
What could she do other than stamp her feet?
“Your Majesty, I sincerely serve Your Majesty...”
“I know your loyalty well. However, aren’t you older than the Princess? So please understand and let this pass. I will make sure to convey your grievances to the Princess when I have the chance.”
Of course, Arkan would never tell Erdene what Marchioness Fiddler said.
However, it was also clear that the Marchioness would never show her generosity as an elder, so he didn’t feel particularly guilty.
“Your Majesty...”
“Let’s go. You look tired. I think it would be best to go back to the mansion and rest. If there’s anything you want to discuss, send me a letter and I don’t mind not coming to the palace for a few days.”
As the conversation flowed, even the stubborn and stiff Marchioness had no choice but to step aside.
She bowed to Arkan in a posture that was almost creepy and perfect and left the King’s quarters with her shoulders slightly slumped.
“My goodness. Why would she have to fight the Marchioness of Fiddlers right after she got here? Don’t you think so, Plat?”
Plat, who had been standing there without making a sound while the two talked, cleverly hid himself and glanced in the direction the Marchioness had left and shrugged his shoulders.
“Wasn’t this expected to some extent, Your Majesty?”
“If so, why didn’t you at least tell me. So that I could prepare myself mentally.”
Arkan’s palm clapped on his forehead with a thud.
As soon as the Marchioness disappeared, he fell back onto the sofa in a slovenly posture, closing his eyes and letting out a long sigh.
It was expected.
Arkan chuckled as he chewed on Plat’s indifferent answer. Of course, that was true.
He had never expected the infamous Princess to come here, so depressed and sorrowful...
‘I sent Belen in disguise, in case she killed the coachman and ran away. Surprisingly, that didn’t happen.’
Erdene didn’t know this at all, but the coachman of the large carriage that brought her to the border of Vetor was actually a man named Belen Wiziard, the first-ranking knight commander of Vetor and the leader of Arkan’s closest guard. The inland allies, who were often beaten here and there by Hirschsten, worshipped Belen as a God of war for the sake of their own pride.
It was because of their firm belief that his martial arts skills would be more than enough to subdue Princess Erdene Badd, but Belen's own opinion was the complete opposite.
[Yes? Are you telling me to bring Princess Erdene Badd? She might run away after cutting off the coachman’s neck, so you’re telling me to go, Your Majesty. Even though my neck isn’t made of iron.]
So Arkan had no choice but to pull out his last card to persuade him.
[Very well, Belen. If you, the greatest warrior in all of Vetor and all of the inland kingdoms, refuse... Well, there’s no choice. I will entrust this important mission to the naive Bert, who only knows how to use a chicken slaughtering knife. Oh, don’t worry. Bert has no family. When he dies, I will take responsibility for his funeral and make it grand...]
[Oh, why don’t you go! I will go! No, but will you hold my funeral?]
Bert was the oldest among the coachmen employed by the Vetor royal castle.
Not only did he not know when the Princess would come out with her sword drawn, but he also didn’t know if a passing deer would even swing its antlers, which would cause a heart attack...
Arkan, who had been lost in his petty thoughts, let out a sigh once more.
“Plat, have you checked the food and support policy going to the Empire?”
Plat nodded once while holding his hand behind his back.
“I have checked it exactly, Your Majesty.”
“I am worried whether they will keep their promise.”
The ‘they’ that Arkhan was talking about were of course the Hirschsten Empire.
Especially the newly enthroned Emperor Tenek.
The previous Emperor was belligerent and waged war as if it were nothing, but he was still a man of some political note. He was someone who knew how to hit and run.
‘But his son didn’t seem to be one of them...’
Plat, noticing Arkhan’s worries, said absentmindedly.
“Even if something were to happen, we would already have the Princess on our side.”
Arkan scolded Plat with a slightly unpleasant expression.
“We did not take the Princess as a hostage.”
“Your Majesty is right, but I am telling you this under the assumption that there will be a chance. I want to ease your worries.”
Far from alleviating his worries, he only added to them, but Plat had no way of knowing. He must really be thinking of Erdene as a hostage in case of an emergency...
No law says it can’t happen. Arkan thought.
If Emperor Tenek did not keep his promise, the officials of Vetor could use Erdene as a hostage to suppress them.
It was doubtful whether they would be captured even if they wanted to take her as a hostage.
Arkan imagined Erdene’s face in his mind while sitting on his cooling teacup. He had received a portrait of her from Emperor Tenek in advance, but wasn’t it the norm for portraits to beautify them as much as possible?
The Erdene in the painting was an incredibly fierce woman.
Although she had a beautiful appearance, looking at her eyes painted in bright blue gave him the chills.
After finishing the portrait, he wondered if the artist had survived.
[This is the first time I’ve seen a portrait with such an expression. I think she must have eaten the artist.]
When the portrait of Erdene Badd arrived from the empire, one of the officials who had seen the painting with Arkan clicked his tongue and expressed his disgust.
That’s why Arkan had given up on Erdene early on.
However, the Erdene he actually saw was a completely different woman from what he had imagined.
Erdene had startlingly bright blue and pale eyes, mysterious eyes that only those among the Hirschsten royal family with the thickest ancestral blood could possess.
The snow-white skin is typical of the northerners—what on earth could it be that they only go to battlefields every day?—and the pitch-black hair fluttering in the wind was enough to leave him speechless for a moment.
Of course, when she uttered her first words and met his gaze glaring at him, he was speechless for another reason.
That fierce gaze. He wouldn’t have been surprised if she had tried to stab him with a dagger.
‘Hmm, the painter who painted the portrait must be dead,’
Arkan thought absentmindedly.
Then Plat asked.
“With all due respect, how did Your Majesty see the Princess, no, Her Highness the Princess?”
“How did I see her?”
“I’m curious to know if she was close to Your Majesty’s ideal type. Even before Your Majesty ascended to the throne, when You were young, You weren’t interested in such stories at all.”
Ideal type. Arkan pondered Erdene’s face again.
If he thinks about it, it was a first meeting that taught him something, considering that it made him realize for the first time that people can make such a life-threatening expression.
But my ideal type...
“I’m not the type of person to fall in love with a woman of fantasy, Flat. I thought you knew that much, but I’m disappointed.”
One of them was that when she saw something she really liked but couldn't have—like when it belonged to someone she didn't dare say she wanted—she would unconsciously pinch her side.
The funny thing is, at that moment, she didn't even know that she was abusing herself. She was just overflowing with desire for that 'something'... Later, when she looked at her side, which was sore, there would be a blackened bruise.
The second was that when she heard something very unpleasant or very pleasant in front of her, she would comically flare her little nostrils.
One day, her second daughter burst into laughter at that sight, and she learned of the habit, that day, she was so angry that she locked herself in her room and lay down for half a day. She was shocked that no one had ever told her about this before! Thinking about how many people had laughed at her behind her back, her blood ran cold as if she had fallen into a frozen river.
These two habits were unknown to Arkan—he had never paid that much attention to the Marchioness—but they were not the last.
Arkan knew the most important of her habits.
When she lied, she would unconsciously purse her lips...
‘Like a squeegee...’
Arkan, who had been thinking about squeezing whipped cream out of the corner of the mouth of the Marchioness Fiddler’s, who had shrunk, coughed in disgust at the thought that had occurred to him.
“That’s right.”
Arkan said in a grave voice, and the Marchioness’ lips pursed even tighter.
They were on the verge of disappearing, but if they had, Arkan would have been able to greet a more refreshing morning starting tomorrow.
Unfortunately, that didn’t happen.
“Yes, Your Majesty. It is a fact that is not a single bit false. How could you accept such a frivolous person as your Queen? Your Majesty, you should reconsider this matter. Never...”
“Isn’t it because she is sensitive due to the unfamiliar environment?”
Marchioness Fiddler’s words were cut off again.
She hated being interrupted the most in the world, but she couldn’t even show her displeasure when the other person was the King, and Arkan at that.
What could she do other than stamp her feet?
“Your Majesty, I sincerely serve Your Majesty...”
“I know your loyalty well. However, aren’t you older than the Princess? So please understand and let this pass. I will make sure to convey your grievances to the Princess when I have the chance.”
Of course, Arkan would never tell Erdene what Marchioness Fiddler said.
However, it was also clear that the Marchioness would never show her generosity as an elder, so he didn’t feel particularly guilty.
“Your Majesty...”
“Let’s go. You look tired. I think it would be best to go back to the mansion and rest. If there’s anything you want to discuss, send me a letter and I don’t mind not coming to the palace for a few days.”
As the conversation flowed, even the stubborn and stiff Marchioness had no choice but to step aside.
She bowed to Arkan in a posture that was almost creepy and perfect and left the King’s quarters with her shoulders slightly slumped.
“My goodness. Why would she have to fight the Marchioness of Fiddlers right after she got here? Don’t you think so, Plat?”
Plat, who had been standing there without making a sound while the two talked, cleverly hid himself and glanced in the direction the Marchioness had left and shrugged his shoulders.
“Wasn’t this expected to some extent, Your Majesty?”
“If so, why didn’t you at least tell me. So that I could prepare myself mentally.”
Arkan’s palm clapped on his forehead with a thud.
As soon as the Marchioness disappeared, he fell back onto the sofa in a slovenly posture, closing his eyes and letting out a long sigh.
It was expected.
Arkan chuckled as he chewed on Plat’s indifferent answer. Of course, that was true.
He had never expected the infamous Princess to come here, so depressed and sorrowful...
‘I sent Belen in disguise, in case she killed the coachman and ran away. Surprisingly, that didn’t happen.’
Erdene didn’t know this at all, but the coachman of the large carriage that brought her to the border of Vetor was actually a man named Belen Wiziard, the first-ranking knight commander of Vetor and the leader of Arkan’s closest guard. The inland allies, who were often beaten here and there by Hirschsten, worshipped Belen as a God of war for the sake of their own pride.
It was because of their firm belief that his martial arts skills would be more than enough to subdue Princess Erdene Badd, but Belen's own opinion was the complete opposite.
[Yes? Are you telling me to bring Princess Erdene Badd? She might run away after cutting off the coachman’s neck, so you’re telling me to go, Your Majesty. Even though my neck isn’t made of iron.]
So Arkan had no choice but to pull out his last card to persuade him.
[Very well, Belen. If you, the greatest warrior in all of Vetor and all of the inland kingdoms, refuse... Well, there’s no choice. I will entrust this important mission to the naive Bert, who only knows how to use a chicken slaughtering knife. Oh, don’t worry. Bert has no family. When he dies, I will take responsibility for his funeral and make it grand...]
[Oh, why don’t you go! I will go! No, but will you hold my funeral?]
Bert was the oldest among the coachmen employed by the Vetor royal castle.
Not only did he not know when the Princess would come out with her sword drawn, but he also didn’t know if a passing deer would even swing its antlers, which would cause a heart attack...
Arkan, who had been lost in his petty thoughts, let out a sigh once more.
“Plat, have you checked the food and support policy going to the Empire?”
Plat nodded once while holding his hand behind his back.
“I have checked it exactly, Your Majesty.”
“I am worried whether they will keep their promise.”
The ‘they’ that Arkhan was talking about were of course the Hirschsten Empire.
Especially the newly enthroned Emperor Tenek.
The previous Emperor was belligerent and waged war as if it were nothing, but he was still a man of some political note. He was someone who knew how to hit and run.
‘But his son didn’t seem to be one of them...’
Plat, noticing Arkhan’s worries, said absentmindedly.
“Even if something were to happen, we would already have the Princess on our side.”
Arkan scolded Plat with a slightly unpleasant expression.
“We did not take the Princess as a hostage.”
“Your Majesty is right, but I am telling you this under the assumption that there will be a chance. I want to ease your worries.”
Far from alleviating his worries, he only added to them, but Plat had no way of knowing. He must really be thinking of Erdene as a hostage in case of an emergency...
No law says it can’t happen. Arkan thought.
If Emperor Tenek did not keep his promise, the officials of Vetor could use Erdene as a hostage to suppress them.
It was doubtful whether they would be captured even if they wanted to take her as a hostage.
Arkan imagined Erdene’s face in his mind while sitting on his cooling teacup. He had received a portrait of her from Emperor Tenek in advance, but wasn’t it the norm for portraits to beautify them as much as possible?
The Erdene in the painting was an incredibly fierce woman.
Although she had a beautiful appearance, looking at her eyes painted in bright blue gave him the chills.
After finishing the portrait, he wondered if the artist had survived.
[This is the first time I’ve seen a portrait with such an expression. I think she must have eaten the artist.]
When the portrait of Erdene Badd arrived from the empire, one of the officials who had seen the painting with Arkan clicked his tongue and expressed his disgust.
That’s why Arkan had given up on Erdene early on.
However, the Erdene he actually saw was a completely different woman from what he had imagined.
Erdene had startlingly bright blue and pale eyes, mysterious eyes that only those among the Hirschsten royal family with the thickest ancestral blood could possess.
The snow-white skin is typical of the northerners—what on earth could it be that they only go to battlefields every day?—and the pitch-black hair fluttering in the wind was enough to leave him speechless for a moment.
Of course, when she uttered her first words and met his gaze glaring at him, he was speechless for another reason.
That fierce gaze. He wouldn’t have been surprised if she had tried to stab him with a dagger.
‘Hmm, the painter who painted the portrait must be dead,’
Arkan thought absentmindedly.
Then Plat asked.
“With all due respect, how did Your Majesty see the Princess, no, Her Highness the Princess?”
“How did I see her?”
“I’m curious to know if she was close to Your Majesty’s ideal type. Even before Your Majesty ascended to the throne, when You were young, You weren’t interested in such stories at all.”
Ideal type. Arkan pondered Erdene’s face again.
If he thinks about it, it was a first meeting that taught him something, considering that it made him realize for the first time that people can make such a life-threatening expression.
But my ideal type...
“I’m not the type of person to fall in love with a woman of fantasy, Flat. I thought you knew that much, but I’m disappointed.”
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