Chapter 5 – An Unexpected Caller

“Who’s there?” Marie called out.

The door swung open, revealing a Perkan woman dressed in the attire of an attendant. Stepping forward, she introduced herself, “I am Emilla Hustler from Ravello Palace.”

Marie looked puzzled by their unexpected guest. Ravello was the crown prince’s palace and had no apparent connection to them. Marie began, “What brings you—”

“I’m not here for you. I’ve come for your master,” Emilla rudely interrupted, fixing a sharp gaze on Marie and haughtily brushing past her to enter the room.

The atmosphere grew tense instantly. Irene, who had been idly stirring her soup with a spoon, set it down and delicately wiped her lips with a napkin. She turned her gaze toward the unwelcome visitor and thought, She’s quite impolite.

“Nice to meet—”

“Before that, apologize,” Irene interjected, her tone icy.

“Pardon?”

“Because of you, my maid almost fell.”

The vacant look in Irene’s eyes transformed into a piercing glare, turning her from a docile figure into a formidable one. Marie secretly rejoiced, thinking, She hasn’t given up on everything just yet!

“Excuse me. The crown prince has summoned you. Come with me,” Emilla bristled, ignoring Irene’s demand for an apology.

It was an audacious attitude, but Irene reminded herself that she was in a foreign land, marked by the Perkan attire Emilla wore. Despite disliking Emilla’s demeanor, Irene decided to exercise restraint. Causing a scene here would achieve nothing, despite how Theorin had treated her.

Irene’s gaze shifted to a candle in the hallway, its flames casting dancing shadows on the wall. It was already dark enough for a candle to be lit, so if this conversation dragged on, she’d return late.

“Marie, I’ll be back. If I’m delayed, go to bed,” Irene instructed.

“Yes, my lady. Please take care.”

Irene followed Emilla to Ravello, but what awaited her there caused her to frown immediately. As she scooped rose petals from a tub of water, she asked, “What’s this?”

“This is a special summons. Unless you’re an idiot, you should know what it means.”

Irene felt her heart sink at her dismal fate. Whether this was an order from the empire or not, she had no obligation to comply. In a bitter tone, she said, “I have no obligation to obey his command.”

“Are you defying an order from the crown prince while you’re a hostage?” Emilla asked, looking visibly displeased.

Irene’s eyebrows twitched at Emilla’s harsh words. She had allowed herself to be vulnerable in front of Marie, but she wouldn’t let others see her weakness. Perching on the edge of the tub, Irene crossed her legs and fixed an arrogant gaze on the attendant. With an audible sigh of annoyance, she defiantly responded, “So what?”

Emilla appeared perplexed by Irene’s confidence and stammered, “Lady, you’re in the harem.”

Until a few decades ago, Atrichen Palace had served as the royal harem. While it was no longer used for that purpose, many still believed its original function remained. Princesses and young maidens sent as hostages from other countries generally had one goal: to win the favor of the young, single crown prince. Instead of attending an academy to learn about imperial culture, where they would face discrimination and contempt, entering Atrichen was a more pragmatic way to secure their future.

“And?” Irene challenged.

“Pardon?” Emilla replied, angered by Irene’s lukewarm response.

Who does she think she is? She may have been a knight, but she needs to know her place. This snobbish attitude can’t stand! She needs to be taught a lesson.

Emilla rolled her eyes and continued, “As I mentioned, the crown prince has chosen you, so you must—”

“Yes, I understand. As you pointed out, I’m a hostage who came here willingly. However, Atrichen is the royal harem, and the harem belongs to the emperor.”

“That…” Emilla began.

“I wish to return,” Irene declared as she stood up. She blinked slowly before locking eyes with Emilla, radiating an air of authority.

Emilla’s shoulders trembled slightly under Irene’s gaze. It wasn’t a murderous look, but it made her feel as though she were facing a formidable beast. Moreover, Irene had a valid point. Since the harem officially belonged to the emperor, even the crown prince couldn’t interfere without explicit permission.

“H-His Majesty, the emperor, has delegated his power to the crown prince. That means the crown prince also has authority over Atrichen,” Emilla stammered.

“Well, I’ve never heard of a monarch ceding control of the harem. Please, return once you’ve received confirmation.”

Without waiting for a response, Irene walked past Emilla with an indifferent expression. Her well-toned physique, honed by years of training, combined with her upright posture and confident stride, exuded an aura of elegance and authority reminiscent of royalty. She instantly captivated the maids waiting in the bathroom, who stared at her in awe.

Emilla clenched her teeth and exclaimed, “Your hasty actions could have profound consequences for the kingdom! Are you okay with that? Do you intend to challenge the emperor like this?”

“Consider the Empire’s commands as my own and act accordingly.” Emilla’s words reminded Irene of the kingdom’s orders Helink had delivered earlier that day. She thought she had abandoned her knightly duties and allegiance the moment she crossed the border, but it seemed that wasn’t the case. She realized that there were still remnants of her past life that bound her, and with gritted teeth and clenched fists, she resolved to maintain her self-esteem.

Was I always this emotional? I’ve wasted my energy for no reason, she thought, feeling her confidence waver once again.

“Sure, my body isn’t good for much else anyway. What do I need to do?” Irene replied in a detached tone as she relaxed her clenched fists.

She’s nothing. She was the ‘Goddess of War’? Just a war hostage, Emilla sneered inwardly.

She turned to the maids who were awaiting orders and began, “She’s from Theorin, where the people are known to be barbarians. Furthermore, she’s been on the battlefield surrounded only by men—”

Everything unfolded in an instant—Irene’s eyes flashed like a sharpened blade, and with swift strides, she had Emilla pressed against a wall. Her right arm tightened around the attendant’s throat while her left hand held a pair of nail trimming scissors dangerously close to Emilla’s neck. The tray that had held the scissors clattered loudly to the floor after slipping from the trembling handmaiden’s grasp. Emilla had made a grave error—insulting the people of Theorin was the one surefire way to provoke Irene’s rage.

“Say it again. What?” Irene growled.

“I-I am the crown prince’s… of the palace…”

For most in Atrichen, no matter their rank, Emilla’s words would have been a grave offense. But Irene was an exception.

“I told you to say it again! Say it!” Irene repeated.

“Ugh. They say people from Theorin… are barbarians. It makes sense. Did I say something wrong? Anyone would think the same if they heard a lone woman was on the battlefield with a group of men. Don’t think you’re any different,” Emilla choked out.

Though it wouldn’t have been surprising for her neck to have a puncture wound by now, she remained arrogantly defiant. Emilla seemed to mistakenly believe that the crown prince’s authority extended to her own.

“My soldiers entrusted their lives to me and went to war without fearing death! And you dare insult them?”

“E-even if the kingdom were to witness bloodshed, you dare…” Emilla’s threat trailed off, the unspoken part hanging heavily in the air. Irene, unwilling to back down even after Emilla had stressed her connection to the Ravello Palace, brought up the kingdom.

Curse it!

“Your actions will reflect on the kingdom.” Irene couldn’t shake the order that echoed in her mind, so she loosened her grip and stepped back. Her dignity, which her kingdom seemed to disregard, was now being trampled beneath her own feet. She tossed aside the scissors that could have taken Emilla’s life at any moment, and they clattered into a corner of the smooth marble floor.

“Fine. Do as you please. However, there must be laws here too, and I hold grudges,” Irene declared.

As soon as Irene released her, Emilla crumpled to the floor, coughing loudly. She clutched her throat and cursed inwardly, “She’s nothing but a hostage! An old virgin who can’t even compare to Lady Della! What’s the use of asking about the law? I’ll make her understand that life isn’t easy!”

Through gritted teeth, Emilla issued orders, and the trembling maids approached Irene to attend to her. They bathed her, inspected her mouth and nails, and then dressed her in lightweight pajamas and a gown.

“This way,” Emilla said after confirming everything was in order. Her neck still bore the red marks from Irene’s grip, and her anger simmered beneath the surface.

Irene followed Emilla out of the bathroom and down a long hallway. They ascended a few flights of stairs, navigated through another maze-like hallway, until they finally reached the innermost chamber of the crown prince’s palace. Mr. Jackley and Mrs. Jean Grendel, the grand chamberlain and head maid of the Ravello Palace, were waiting to receive them.

“From here on, I will guide you. Come this way,” Jean instructed. After opening the hefty door, they entered the prince’s chambers. “You can wait here.”

Irene nodded silently, took a seat on a bed, and patiently awaited Kael’s arrival.