Arkan unconsciously glanced at Erdene.
She had already handed the soldier the bow and quiver and took out a handkerchief to wipe the sweat from Arkan’s forehead. Of course...
“...You just hit me.”
Arkan’s head was pushed back because she had pressed too hard, and he grumbled.
Erdene rubbed his face, ignoring his accustomed grumbling.
“The skin is peeling off.”
“Are I some kind of roasted chicken? The skin is peeling off after rubbing it this much. That’s enough. Now when I pass people in the hallway, I won’t look like a dirty kid playing in the dirt.”
Erdene said as Arkan’s lips moved.
“There’s no time to grumble, Your Majesty.”
“Yes, I get it. I want to stay with you a little longer.”
Plat, who had been listening to this conversation, turned around and made a strange expression, but fortunately, Arkan did not see it.
Again, Plat had decided many times to cherish his wrist.
The court painter looked slightly nervous when he saw Erdene coming in with Arkan.
It was not only him, but many people in the palace—including the officials—still avoided looking Erdene in the face.
Many people were disguising their discomfort as discomfort because she could not express it openly, but many seemed to believe that they would turn to stone if they made eye contact with her.
Arkan glanced at the court painter, who was so nervous that he was starting to hiccup, and said calmly,
“Open it up.”
The painter carefully unfolded the rolled-up painting on the table and stepped back.
Erdene’s first impression upon seeing the portrait was that it looked like a ‘rat’.
It looked even more so because of the chin that jutted out and the slick-looking eyes.
To borrow the expression of the rough soldiers who roll around on the battlefield every day...
“He’s a tough guy.”
The painter’s eyes widened at Erdene’s blunt assessment, and Plat kept his expression indifferent but unconsciously bit the inside of his cheek.
However, Arkan simply looked at Erdene with a bewildered expression for a moment and did not bother to nag at her vulgar expression.
“He is definitely Count Trivi, the Minister of Foreign Affairs of Kensilom.”
This time, Erdene was surprised by Arkan’s words.
“Is it true, Your Majesty? Are you sure?”
Arkan nodded.
“I am sure. The impression is a bit different in detail, but... it’s just a very minor difference. It must be him.”
As if he had never expected it. Arkan clenched his teeth and narrowed his brows.
It was unimaginable to him that someone as the Minister of Foreign Affairs, let alone someone else, would be using smugglers.
However, Erdene had a slightly different idea than Arkan.
Whether he was the Minister of Foreign Affairs or the King, anyone could act like a sly rat in front of the gold in front of them.
What could he do when he was born that way?
'Then... '
Erdene slowly swept her tongue over the inside of her mouth and tapped the table.
"It's time to use the Prince of Kensilom now."
The wrinkles between Arkan's eyebrows deepened. It wasn't because Erdene was upset. It was just that when he thought of Damon, who had just arrived in Vetor and looked like he was about to pass out, and his desperate expression, he felt upset.
"Plat."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"Tell Prince Damon that I will be watching him quietly. Call him to the reception room in the annex, and try not to let anyone see him. Take this portrait with you.”
“Very well.”
After Plat left, Arkan soon sent the painter away.
He groaned softly as he tapped the table repeatedly with his fingertips.
“I wish King Kensilom was in front of me.”
Erdene bit her lips tightly and held back her laughter.
“Why?”
“I’ll pluck out all that hair you have.”
Erdene, who finally lost her patience at the unexpected answer, held her stomach and laughed.
Arkan took a short breath, looking arrogant as if he was about to sneeze.
“Still, I thought he was a man of discernment once.”
“Who? King Grax of Kensilom, you mean?”
Arkan nodded.
“Until a few years ago, he seemed to be in good shape. He was quite a dignified person. He didn’t hide his self-interest and was somewhat self-righteous, but I didn’t know he would be this much. The Minister of Foreign Affairs is inevitably close to the King. He was doing this, and they didn’t even notice.”
“Maybe that’s why it’s a good thing.”
Arkan looked at Erdene with a puzzled look as if he was wondering what she meant. She smiled smugly as if she was plotting a wicked scheme.
“We’re using Prince Damon to the fullest.”
“I thought about that too, but there’s no evidence...”
At that moment, Arkan suddenly remembered what Rusmov and Bewls had said before and trailed off.
They had said that they had tried a new bargain when they met Count Trivi.
Watching Erdene’s expression, he acted as if he would hide under the table if necessary...
[I beg your pardon for daring to use Your Majesty as an excuse, but they took the bait. They will definitely contact you to sell you fake Salgal.]
Erdene scoffed at Rusmov’s words but did not brush him off.
It was quite clever for something he had come up with in such a short and dangerous moment.
[You acted with guts and helped Vetor, so I will let it slide once. But remember, there will be no second time.]
When Erdene spoke with a deliberately growling tone, Rusmov made a gesture of prostrating himself.
The reserved Bewls did not look that upset, but judging from the color returning to his pale face, he must have been just as nervous as Rusmov.
She had already handed the soldier the bow and quiver and took out a handkerchief to wipe the sweat from Arkan’s forehead. Of course...
“...You just hit me.”
Arkan’s head was pushed back because she had pressed too hard, and he grumbled.
Erdene rubbed his face, ignoring his accustomed grumbling.
“The skin is peeling off.”
“Are I some kind of roasted chicken? The skin is peeling off after rubbing it this much. That’s enough. Now when I pass people in the hallway, I won’t look like a dirty kid playing in the dirt.”
Erdene said as Arkan’s lips moved.
“There’s no time to grumble, Your Majesty.”
“Yes, I get it. I want to stay with you a little longer.”
Plat, who had been listening to this conversation, turned around and made a strange expression, but fortunately, Arkan did not see it.
Again, Plat had decided many times to cherish his wrist.
The court painter looked slightly nervous when he saw Erdene coming in with Arkan.
It was not only him, but many people in the palace—including the officials—still avoided looking Erdene in the face.
Many people were disguising their discomfort as discomfort because she could not express it openly, but many seemed to believe that they would turn to stone if they made eye contact with her.
Arkan glanced at the court painter, who was so nervous that he was starting to hiccup, and said calmly,
“Open it up.”
The painter carefully unfolded the rolled-up painting on the table and stepped back.
Erdene’s first impression upon seeing the portrait was that it looked like a ‘rat’.
It looked even more so because of the chin that jutted out and the slick-looking eyes.
To borrow the expression of the rough soldiers who roll around on the battlefield every day...
“He’s a tough guy.”
The painter’s eyes widened at Erdene’s blunt assessment, and Plat kept his expression indifferent but unconsciously bit the inside of his cheek.
However, Arkan simply looked at Erdene with a bewildered expression for a moment and did not bother to nag at her vulgar expression.
“He is definitely Count Trivi, the Minister of Foreign Affairs of Kensilom.”
This time, Erdene was surprised by Arkan’s words.
“Is it true, Your Majesty? Are you sure?”
Arkan nodded.
“I am sure. The impression is a bit different in detail, but... it’s just a very minor difference. It must be him.”
As if he had never expected it. Arkan clenched his teeth and narrowed his brows.
It was unimaginable to him that someone as the Minister of Foreign Affairs, let alone someone else, would be using smugglers.
However, Erdene had a slightly different idea than Arkan.
Whether he was the Minister of Foreign Affairs or the King, anyone could act like a sly rat in front of the gold in front of them.
What could he do when he was born that way?
'Then... '
Erdene slowly swept her tongue over the inside of her mouth and tapped the table.
"It's time to use the Prince of Kensilom now."
The wrinkles between Arkan's eyebrows deepened. It wasn't because Erdene was upset. It was just that when he thought of Damon, who had just arrived in Vetor and looked like he was about to pass out, and his desperate expression, he felt upset.
"Plat."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"Tell Prince Damon that I will be watching him quietly. Call him to the reception room in the annex, and try not to let anyone see him. Take this portrait with you.”
“Very well.”
After Plat left, Arkan soon sent the painter away.
He groaned softly as he tapped the table repeatedly with his fingertips.
“I wish King Kensilom was in front of me.”
Erdene bit her lips tightly and held back her laughter.
“Why?”
“I’ll pluck out all that hair you have.”
Erdene, who finally lost her patience at the unexpected answer, held her stomach and laughed.
Arkan took a short breath, looking arrogant as if he was about to sneeze.
“Still, I thought he was a man of discernment once.”
“Who? King Grax of Kensilom, you mean?”
Arkan nodded.
“Until a few years ago, he seemed to be in good shape. He was quite a dignified person. He didn’t hide his self-interest and was somewhat self-righteous, but I didn’t know he would be this much. The Minister of Foreign Affairs is inevitably close to the King. He was doing this, and they didn’t even notice.”
“Maybe that’s why it’s a good thing.”
Arkan looked at Erdene with a puzzled look as if he was wondering what she meant. She smiled smugly as if she was plotting a wicked scheme.
“We’re using Prince Damon to the fullest.”
“I thought about that too, but there’s no evidence...”
At that moment, Arkan suddenly remembered what Rusmov and Bewls had said before and trailed off.
They had said that they had tried a new bargain when they met Count Trivi.
Watching Erdene’s expression, he acted as if he would hide under the table if necessary...
[I beg your pardon for daring to use Your Majesty as an excuse, but they took the bait. They will definitely contact you to sell you fake Salgal.]
Erdene scoffed at Rusmov’s words but did not brush him off.
It was quite clever for something he had come up with in such a short and dangerous moment.
[You acted with guts and helped Vetor, so I will let it slide once. But remember, there will be no second time.]
When Erdene spoke with a deliberately growling tone, Rusmov made a gesture of prostrating himself.
The reserved Bewls did not look that upset, but judging from the color returning to his pale face, he must have been just as nervous as Rusmov.
“Salgal sword,” said Arkan.
"Vice-Commander Rusmov used that as an excuse to lure the smugglers.”
“Yes, Your Majesty. I have already told you about Salgal. It is a great coincidence, but it is a golden opportunity for us.”
“But what are you going to do? They won’t come to the palace with that fake sword. You heard that too. The meeting place is not too far from where the smugglers used to meet.”
“It won’t take too long to get there. With Rusmov and Vice-Commander Bewls running here on foot, how could I not take this route?”
Arkan blinked, trying to gauge her intentions for a moment, and then his lips parted. If he hadn’t been in such an urgent and serious situation, Erdene would have teased him, saying, “You’ll end up with a bug in your mouth.”
Arkan sighed, rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, and shook his head.
“No.”
“What is it?”
Arkan frowned as if asking because he didn’t know.
“You’re saying you’re going there yourself. You’re going there to pretend to negotiate with them yourself. No?”
“No, Your Majesty. That’s correct.”
“That’s why I’m saying you can’t.”
Erdene immediately retorted.
“There’s absolutely no reason not to. As I’ve told Your Majesty before, Salgal is a legendary sword. No one would think that someone like me would hear rumors of such a famous sword and quietly sit in the palace, stomping my feet, waiting.”
“You never know how many people will flock there. Twenty? Maybe thirty? That could happen. What if Count Trivi’s secretly raised private soldiers to come?”
There was a brief silence.
Arkan realized how ridiculous his worries were... but he couldn’t help it.
Erdene, who had been staring at him blankly, laughed, making a sound similar to a hiccup like the court painter earlier.
“Are you worried about me now?”
Arkan stared at her with a displeased expression.
“Then wouldn’t you be worried? If you were me, wouldn’t you be worried?”
“Of course, I would be worried if you were going to a place like that without an escort or reliable soldiers. But, Your Majesty.”
Erdene approached Arkan silently, walking more smoothly than a skilled assassin, and gently caressed his chin with her fingertips.
“I was held in your arms for a while, so you shouldn’t forget who I was.”
Arkan suddenly felt a chill down his spine at her coldly lowered voice, still wearing a familiar smile.
It had nothing to do with his affection or trust for Erdene, but it was an internal defense mechanism that all living things naturally possess.
It's the kind of defense mechanism that makes you tense up without knowing it when you come across a beast that's more dangerous and powerful than you.
Since waking up from the fall, Erdene has never shown such murderous intent in front of Arkan.
She didn't act viciously, and she didn't attack him every now and then as if she wanted to fight him.
So it was only after hearing those words that Arkan finally realized... that he had forgotten a very important part of her. Even if there were twenty or thirty smugglers, or even if Count Trivi's secretly raised private soldiers were swarming... it wasn't Erdene's safety that he had to worry about.
It was the international conflict that would break out if she killed them all.
"Vice-Commander Rusmov used that as an excuse to lure the smugglers.”
“Yes, Your Majesty. I have already told you about Salgal. It is a great coincidence, but it is a golden opportunity for us.”
“But what are you going to do? They won’t come to the palace with that fake sword. You heard that too. The meeting place is not too far from where the smugglers used to meet.”
“It won’t take too long to get there. With Rusmov and Vice-Commander Bewls running here on foot, how could I not take this route?”
Arkan blinked, trying to gauge her intentions for a moment, and then his lips parted. If he hadn’t been in such an urgent and serious situation, Erdene would have teased him, saying, “You’ll end up with a bug in your mouth.”
Arkan sighed, rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, and shook his head.
“No.”
“What is it?”
Arkan frowned as if asking because he didn’t know.
“You’re saying you’re going there yourself. You’re going there to pretend to negotiate with them yourself. No?”
“No, Your Majesty. That’s correct.”
“That’s why I’m saying you can’t.”
Erdene immediately retorted.
“There’s absolutely no reason not to. As I’ve told Your Majesty before, Salgal is a legendary sword. No one would think that someone like me would hear rumors of such a famous sword and quietly sit in the palace, stomping my feet, waiting.”
“You never know how many people will flock there. Twenty? Maybe thirty? That could happen. What if Count Trivi’s secretly raised private soldiers to come?”
There was a brief silence.
Arkan realized how ridiculous his worries were... but he couldn’t help it.
Erdene, who had been staring at him blankly, laughed, making a sound similar to a hiccup like the court painter earlier.
“Are you worried about me now?”
Arkan stared at her with a displeased expression.
“Then wouldn’t you be worried? If you were me, wouldn’t you be worried?”
“Of course, I would be worried if you were going to a place like that without an escort or reliable soldiers. But, Your Majesty.”
Erdene approached Arkan silently, walking more smoothly than a skilled assassin, and gently caressed his chin with her fingertips.
“I was held in your arms for a while, so you shouldn’t forget who I was.”
Arkan suddenly felt a chill down his spine at her coldly lowered voice, still wearing a familiar smile.
It had nothing to do with his affection or trust for Erdene, but it was an internal defense mechanism that all living things naturally possess.
It's the kind of defense mechanism that makes you tense up without knowing it when you come across a beast that's more dangerous and powerful than you.
Since waking up from the fall, Erdene has never shown such murderous intent in front of Arkan.
She didn't act viciously, and she didn't attack him every now and then as if she wanted to fight him.
So it was only after hearing those words that Arkan finally realized... that he had forgotten a very important part of her. Even if there were twenty or thirty smugglers, or even if Count Trivi's secretly raised private soldiers were swarming... it wasn't Erdene's safety that he had to worry about.
It was the international conflict that would break out if she killed them all.
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