IYTTEPAAK Chapter 17

Regen knew this smell well.

A battlefield stench. Or a crematory's.

That—in the palace? Why.

He understood the reason soon enough.

"Lord Regen, stay back. Don't step forward, no matter what."

Sasha gave the order the moment she spotted the noble approaching them from ahead. Regen had no choice but to lower the handkerchief.

His expectation that Sasha would retch was wrong. She kept her breathing shallow, held her spine straight, and received the approaching nobleman.

A man in his mid-thirties, his dull blond hair tied back, smiled with a dank warmth through eyes narrowed almost to nothing, and offered the proper courtesies.

"Jaken of House Osbond greets Her Imperial Highness, Princess of the Silver Bird."

Marquess Jaken Osbond.

His infamy rivaled the Mad Emperor's own. He was the one entrusted with supplying every manner of amusement and diversion needed to satisfy the emperor.

And that role consisted, more often than not, of executing loyal subjects with cruelty and toying with prisoners until they were reduced to something pitiable.

The most revolting, the most inhuman of the tyrant's collaborators. To keep her feelings from showing in front of a man like that, the way she was managing now, must have cost Sasha a great deal of effort.

"On your way to the main palace?"

"That's right."

"Ah, what a shame."

The Marquess of Osbond pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. In place of the eyes buried in that narrow slit, the lenses flashed cold instead.

"If only you'd come a little earlier. There was such an entertaining spectacle in the central courtyard just now. A display I put a full two weeks of care into arranging."

"What now."

"We purged the House of Viscount Belpha for their role in the treason."

"......"

House Belpha had been one of the empire's precious few remaining loyal noble families.

While Sasha secretly curled her hand into a fist, the Marquess of Osbond began chattering on about the spectacle she'd missed.

"Since crimes of treason must be governed by making an example, we made special use of the burning-iron ordeal."

The burning-iron ordeal referred to a cruel punishment employing red-hot iron.

"We built a long iron bridge and had them cross it barefoot. His Imperial Majesty, being a merciful man, promised that whoever made it all the way across would be pardoned. And do you know what happened then?"

"......"

"The viscount took what seemed to be a single step, then simply collapsed and lay flat. His wife stepped on her husband's back and lay down just beyond him. Next came the eldest daughter, then the second son, and then the third......"

Regen wanted to cover Sasha's ears even more than he had before.

"In the end the youngest daughter walked across on the bodies of her own parents and her siblings. Isn't that moving?"

"......"

"His Imperial Majesty was deeply moved as well. As you know, His Majesty does so love these humane little scenes, doesn't he?"

"......"

"And so the viscount's daughter received her pardon. Though I do believe she's lost her mind a bit."

"......"

To Sasha, standing straight-backed and enduring it, the Marquess of Osbond drew close and bent low at the waist.

A snake-like tongue slid a whisper into Sasha's ear.

"Are you afraid?"

"......"

"There's no need to worry. His Majesty cherishes his princesses the way he cherishes a beautiful work of art. A daughter this lovely—he would never do anything so dreadful as to leave a burn scar on her."

By the time he finished speaking, the Marquess of Osbond's gaze had drifted past her to Regen, who was radiating cold killing intent from behind Sasha's back. One more line was added, clearly meant to be overheard.

"Though not the slave knight, of course."

The Marquess of Osbond took a step back from Sasha.

"There will be a banquet before long, to celebrate the princesses' knight-vows. Do have yourself prepared."

The snake of a man passed Sasha by and receded into the distance.

"He's gone."

Sasha's chest heaved, breath breaking loose all at once, as though she'd been holding it the entire time.

Her hand, wandering through empty air, seemed to be searching for something to steady herself against so she wouldn't fall.

Regen caught her at once, letting her weight settle against him.

"The banquet."

Repeating the Marquess of Osbond's final words, Sasha could not hide her unease.

"The imperial palace is a place full of madness. The banquet won't be any different."

You'd best brace yourself, she murmured, and leaned her face into Regen's chest, nearly burying it there.

It was the one place she could escape the acrid stench still stinging the tip of her nose.

3. Vote of Favor

The imperial edict everyone had expected finally came down.

One week from now, a banquet would be held to present the princesses' knights.

Every noble of central rank residing in the capital was required to attend. Their number alone would run to several hundred at least, so the scale of the banquet was certain to be enormous.

One week was a punishingly short span in which to prepare for such an event. Demia, helping Hamel and running herself ragged, grumbled about it.

"All the ladies-in-waiting in the outer palace are near tears. They keep saying it's the princesses' first real moment to shine, and a week is far too rushed."

"You've all had it hard. I have dresses I had fitted last year—just take those in a bit and we'll manage."

"Your Highness......"

"Instead, put more of your attention toward Sir Regen. Strictly speaking, the true star of the banquet isn't the princess—it's her personal knight."

"Hnnng, yes ma'aa'am."

With two people to dress up instead of one, and no more hands than before, it was no wonder Hamel and Demia were run off their feet. I set down my teacup and made them a promise.

"I'll be bringing on a new lady-in-waiting soon. Can you two just hold out until after this banquet?"

"Really? You never take on new staff so easily."

"There's a noblewoman I've had my eye on."

"Wow, passing Your Highness's standards—that's really something. Who is she? What was it about her that caught your interest?"

"Hm......"

I searched my memory. A noblewoman, retching and sobbing in the acrid courtyard. The instant our eyes had met was still vivid.

"I liked the venom in her eyes."

"......"

Demia just stood there. Frozen, Hamel came quietly over and refilled my cup.

"Speaking of which, where's Sir Regen?"

"You called for me?"

A low, cavernous baritone rippled through the air of the dressing room. He came inside, taking Demia's load of items off her hands as he did.

"Come closer."

I called him over. Before he could kneel on one knee, I rose from my seat first.

"Are you keeping up with the treatment on your eye?"

"Yes."

He had said he'd manage the treatment himself, and I'd given him the potion for it, but I worried he might grow careless.

Sensing that I wanted to check on the state of his eye, Regen loosened the eyepatch himself and covered the other eye instead.

"How is it?"

"Blurred, but I can make out colors and shapes."

"I'm glad it's improving."

Since he still had light-sensitivity symptoms, I had him put the eyepatch back on.

Instead of letting him go, I reached toward his eyepatch and traced my thumb carefully along it. He flinched, and I pulled my fingers back at once.

"Does it hurt?"

"No."

It seemed we'd both startled each other for no reason, which left things awkward. And for some reason, off to the side, Hamel and Demia had stopped what they were doing and were staring fixedly in our direction.

I gave a small, deliberate cough, and the two ladies-in-waiting straightened up and went back to their work. I said to Regen,

"Wear a more elaborate eyepatch to the banquet. We'll need to dress up your injury a little more prettily, so the Emperor doesn't find fault with it."

"Understood."

Preparations moved forward steadily—my dress taken in, Regen's formal wear assembled—and a week passed.

And at last, the day of the banquet arrived.

The banquet itself would run from afternoon into night. But the preparations for it began well before dawn.

The work of dressing a person from head to toe—it wasn't simple grooming. It was closer to painstakingly crafting a work of art.

Since a master's splendor was also a servant's pride, the ladies-in-waiting of the outer palace grew fiercest and most competitive on the day of a banquet.

Regen's grooming finished a good two hours ahead of Sasha's. That was only possible because his base attire was a knight's uniform to begin with.

At a Magnalorde imperial banquet, a knight's formal dress was completed by draping every manner of ornament over the standard uniform.

He wore the ever-familiar black uniform, fastened tight. He draped the silver-gray half-cloak elegantly over one arm. He layered on thick, square-cut jewels, strung in a single line, doubled up across collar-tips and belt.

The back of the cloak, and the eyepatch over his right eye, had been delicately embroidered with the Silver Bird crest, Sasha's own emblem.

Since each princess had her own distinct crest and signature color, the nobles would be able to tell at a glance, from the silver-gray cloak alone, exactly whose personal knight Regen was.

So his handsome brow, half-revealed by hair styled to sit just so, wouldn't come undone, Regen sat in the drawing room in perfect, motionless posture, and waited.

'Banquet's about to start. Where's the princess got to?'