20.
Talia, overcome with a surge of indignation, raised her hand once more. A moment later, a sharp *slap* rang out, and a stinging pain bloomed across her palm.
Expecting to be restrained yet again, Talia reflexively flinched in anticipation. But the man she had struck remained entirely expressionless.
“I shall consider this the price for your indulgence in laying hands on me.”
He spoke while tapping his smooth cheek—where not even a trace of a handprint remained—with the armored fingertips of his gauntlet.
“However, I have no intention of indulging your childish whims any further. Please keep in mind that I am no longer your personal Knight.”
With that, he pulled himself out of the carriage and slammed the door shut.
Talia remained motionless, pressed against the back of the seat, before peering through the window.
Varkas was nowhere to be seen. Instead, all that met her eyes were the servants unloading crates from the baggage wagon and a dim-witted Knight urging them on.
She wanted to rush out and show those who ignored her commands exactly what she was capable of, but she knew Varkas would not sit idly by. He never tolerated cruelty toward those beneath them.
The memory of his ice-cold gaze on the day he had scalped a maid for merely burying her face in a coat he had cast aside made her fingers curl instinctively.
Talia drew the curtains with a jerk. She clutched her burning palm and curled her body into a ball on the seat.
How much time had passed? The sound of trumpets signaled the start of the journey, and the carriage began to roll. The nightmare of her life had truly begun.
After watching a single ray of light seep through the window, Talia pulled the curtains shut even more tightly. Buried in the dim darkness, she wondered how wonderful it would be if this procession led straight to hell.
If they could all just enter the grave together like this—if everything could just end—there would be no greater joy.
* * *
The imperial pilgrimage was scheduled to follow the Silviska River, winding from the north to the west and back again, tracing the footsteps of Darian, the first Emperor who founded the Roem Empire.
In the days when the continent was divided into ten kingdoms—Wedon, Dristan, Balto, Guin, Osiria, Libadon, Arex, Balis, Dumnoos, and Siorcan—Darian Roem Gwirta, a royal of the Guin kingdom, had migrated to the central region to escape the invasion of the Balto kingdom. He eventually became the adopted son of Lord Valender, the head of the Osirian people and his maternal uncle.
Later, having integrated the various tribes of Osiria, Darian gathered powerful supporters from each nation to launch a unification movement. Over the course of twenty years and dozens of wars, he achieved the monumental feat of forging the ten kingdoms into one massive empire.
The grand procession, starting from the Imperial Palace, was a sacred ritual tracing his path and an important event to cement the dignity of the Imperial family by presenting the descendants of the great Emperor to the citizens. Consequently, the scale of the procession was showy and magnificent.
Led by the Crown Prince, who sat atop a massive golden steed, over a hundred members of the Imperial Guard marched through the city, holding banners embroidered with the Imperial crest. They were followed by the carriage carrying the First Imperial Princess Aila Roem Gwirta and her own guard.
Citizens gathered on the streets to catch a glimpse of Darian’s descendants and erupted into enthusiastic cheers.
The Roem Knights, with their hundreds of years of tradition, led the procession with stern faces, wearing pure white battle uniforms over armor made of Orichalcum, the mineral of the gods. To their right, the infantry, carrying silver shields engraved with the Imperial crest, marched in rhythmic precision.
The soldiers’ disciplined movement ignited even greater excitement. Women gathered by the roadside scattered colorful flower petals toward the Knights, and bards sang songs blessing the descendants of Darian.
As if to reward their cheers, the First Imperial Princess opened her window and revealed herself. The people gasped in unison.
Could there be anyone in the world more suited for the position of Imperial Princess than Aila Roem Gwirta?
With a graceful, upright posture like a lily, skin with a soft, rosy tint, lustrous dark brownish-black hair, and large emerald eyes…
The people stretched their necks like turtles to catch a better view. Some followed the carriage as if possessed; had it not been for the encircling Knights, the Princess’s carriage would have been completely besieged.
Overcome with excitement, the people showered the lovely Imperial Princess with non-stop blessings.
However, as the jarringly gaudy carriage that followed her appeared, the festive atmosphere turned quiet, as if doused with cold water. The Knights looked around with tense eyes.
Those who had been cheering at the top of their lungs moments ago were now holding their breath and whispering. They had realized that the passenger was the notorious Second Imperial Princess.
The crowds began to edge backward, casting glances mixed with curiosity and hostility; some even made the sign of the cross or spat on the ground. The Knights let out bitter sighs. It was no wonder. There was not a single citizen in the capital who had not heard of Talia Roem Gwirta’s cruel nature.
The Emperor’s illegitimate child, who had made the Empire noisy since birth, continued to cause ghastly incidents even after becoming an official Imperial Princess, keeping the capital in a state of unrest.
There were more than a few servants who had been chased out of her Annex Palace in tatters, and some had even met a tragic end. Naturally, the citizens’ gaze toward the Second Imperial Princess remained cold.
“Would it not be better to draw the curtain and at least greet the people?”
Unable to watch any longer, the Knight Edrick Lubon approached the carriage and suggested cautiously. No response came from within.
He glared at the window covered by the thick curtain with displeasure.
Since the procession began, the Second Imperial Princess had remained holed up inside, refusing to show her face. It seemed she was sulking over the squabble with Lord Siorcan.
He swallowed a sigh.
*‘Her face is pretty enough; if she showed herself just a little, the people’s reactions would change…’*
In some ways, he thought, she was a woman with remarkably little tact.
If she acted just a bit more amiable, there would be no shortage of men willing to give her their hearts and souls, yet Talia Roem Gwirta seemed determined to be hated. She treated everyone around her with such sharp-edged hostility that even her exquisite beauty, inherited from her mother, seemed to fade.
How many Knights had quit because they couldn’t endure that temper? It made Lord Siorcan, who had guarded her for seven years, look like a saint.
*‘Though, it doesn’t seem like he’s been letting himself be pushed around lately, either…’*
Recalling his superior’s action of tossing the Second Imperial Princess into the carriage like a piece of luggage, Edrick turned his gaze forward. Amidst the orderly marching Knights, the figure of Varkas, who had his black hood pulled deep over his head, was vaguely visible.
It seemed he, too, was tired to death of Talia Roem Gwirta.
In some ways, it was surprising. Just how much havoc could she have wreaked for that upright man, usually bound by loyalty to the Imperial family, to take such extreme measures?
If he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he never would have believed it. Perhaps, he thought, the Second Imperial Princess possessed a natural talent for inciting hostility.