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Chapter 20
Unable to contain the fury welling up inside me, I raised my hand ‌‌‌once more. The sharp ‌‌‌‌crack of the blow ‌‌‌echoed through the carriage, and a stinging pain bloomed across my palm.
I had fully expected ‌‌‌to be stopped, so I flinched and hunched my shoulders in surprise. Yet the one who had received the slap bore the incident with perfect composure.
"I shall consider this the price for laying hands upon Your ‌‌‌‌‌Highness without permission."
He tapped his smooth cheek—unmarred by even a handprint—with the ‌‌gauntleted tip ‌‌of his fingers as he spoke.
"However, I have ‌‌‌no intention of indulging your tantrums any further. Remember this: I am no longer your Guard ‌‌‌Knight."
With that, he withdrew from the carriage and ‌‌‌‌locked the door behind him.
I remained motionless against the seat back for a long while before peering out ‌‌through the window.
Barcas had already departed, his figure nowhere to be seen. Instead, my eyes fell upon servants unloading trunks from the supply wagon and a witless Guard Knight hurrying them along.
I longed to burst from the carriage and teach these insolent fools a lesson for ignoring my orders, but if I did, Barcas would not let ‌‌‌it pass. He never tolerated cruelty ‌‌toward those beneath us.
The memory of his glacial gaze when ‌‌‌I had torn at the Handmaid's hair as she buried her face in the coat he had removed—my fingers involuntarily curled inward. ‌‌‌‌
I irritably drew the curtains shut. Then, cradling my burning ‌‌palm, I curled myself into a tight ball upon the seat. ‌‌
How long I remained ‌‌thus, I cannot say, but with the trumpet fanfare announcing the journey's beginning, the carriage slowly lurched into motion. It seemed this expedition—destined to become a ‌lifelong nightmare—was finally commencing.
I gazed for a moment at the sliver of light filtering through the curtain gap, then drew the drapes even more carefully closed. Buried in the suffocating darkness, I found myself hoping that this procession might lead straight to hell itself.
If we could all simply descend into ‌‌‌‌the grave together, if everything could just end, there would be no greater joy than that....
* ‌* *
The imperial pilgrimage procession was to follow the footsteps of Darian, the founding Emperor of the Roem Empire, tracing the course of the Silviska River as it wound northward to ‌‌westward and back again.
In those days when this continent was divided into ten kingdoms—Wedon, Dristan, Balto, Guen, Osyria, Libadon, ‌‌Arex, Balis, Dumnos, and ‌‌Sierchan—Darian Roem Guerta, a prince of Guen, fled the invasion of the Balto Kingdom and migrated to the central regions, becoming the adopted son of Duke Valender, ‌‌‌‌the chieftain of the Osyrian people and his maternal uncle.
Thereafter, Darian unified the various Osyrian ‌‌‌tribes and gathered powerful supporters from each nation to launch a unification campaign. Over the course of twenty years and countless wars spanning decades, he achieved the great feat of consolidating the ten kingdoms into a single mighty empire.
The grand procession beginning from the Imperial Palace was a sacred ritual retracing his footsteps, and an important ceremony to demonstrate the majesty of the Imperial Family to the empire's people by presenting them with the descendants of the great Emperor. Thus, the scale of the procession was breathtakingly magnificent and grand.
Led by the Crown Prince mounted upon a great golden horse, over ‌one hundred members of the Imperial Guard Corps carried banners embroidered with the imperial seal as they marched powerfully through the ‌city streets, followed by the carriage bearing the First Princess Ayla Roem Guerta and her guard contingent.
Citizens gathered in the streets to witness the descendants of Darian erupted in fervent cheers.
The Roem Order, bearing centuries of history and tradition, marched at the procession's head in ‌‌‌pristine white battle garments embroidered with the imperial seal over ‌‌armor of orichalcum—the divine metal—their expressions grave. To their right, the infantry advanced in measured rhythm, bearing ‌‌‌‌silver shields emblazoned with the Royal Guard insignia upon their backs.
The disciplined march of the soldiers only intensified the crowd's excitement. Women lining the streets scattered colorful petals toward the knights, while bards sang songs blessing the descendants of Darian.
As if in answer to the citizens' acclaim, the First Princess opened her carriage window and revealed herself. The crowd gasped in unison.
Could there exist in this world another person more suited to the title of princess than Ayla Roem Guerta?
Elegant and upright ‌‌as ‌‌a lily, with skin suffused in a rosy glow, lustrous deep auburn hair, ‌‌‌and large emerald eyes....
People craned their necks like turtles to catch even the slightest glimpse of her lovely form. Some even followed the carriage as though entranced. Had the Guard Knights not surrounded it, the First Princess's carriage would have been completely engulfed by the enthusiastic throng.
Seized by fervent excitement, the crowd showered ‌‌‌‌blessings upon the beloved princess without pause.
Yet when an ostentatiously ornate carriage appeared in her wake, the festive atmosphere froze as though doused with ice water. The knights' eyes grew tense as they scanned their surroundings.
Those who had moments before been shouting themselves hoarse now fell silent, whispering furtively to ‌one another. They had evidently recognized that the carriage ‌‌‌contained the notorious Second Princess.
The crowds lining the avenue slowly retreated, their gazes mingling curiosity with hostility, while some made the sign of the cross or spat upon the ground. The knights exhaled weary sighs. Such reactions were hardly surprising. There was scarcely a citizen in the Capital City who had not heard tales of ‌‌‌‌Talia Roem Guerta's vicious nature.
The Emperor's illegitimate daughter, who had scandalized the ‌‌‌‌‌entire empire from birth, continued to stir up sinister incidents even after becoming an official princess, keeping the Capital ‌‌‌City in constant turmoil.
Servants ‌‌who had worked in her Secondary Palace and been driven out broken and battered were not few in number, and some had even met untimely deaths. Naturally, the empire's people could regard the Second Princess only with coldness.
"Would it not be wise for you ‌‌‌‌to draw back the curtains and offer the people a greeting?"
Unable to bear it any longer, Edrick Lubon, the Guard Knight, approached ‌‌‌‌the ‌‌carriage and made the suggestion carefully. Yet no response came from within.
He regarded the ‌‌thick curtains drawn across the window with displeasure.
Since the procession began, the Second Princess had remained shut away inside the carriage, not even showing her nose. It ‌‌‌‌‌seemed she was ‌‌‌‌thoroughly sulking over her quarrel with Sierchan.
He swallowed the sigh rising in his throat.
'If she would just show her face for a moment, her appearance might change the people's reaction, even if only slightly....' ‌‌‌‌
In some respects, I ‌‌‌found her to be a woman remarkably lacking in ‌‌tact.
Had she merely softened her approach even slightly, there would be no shortage of men willing to surrender their very livers and gallbladders to her. Yet Talia Roem Guerta conducted herself as though ‌‌she had made a deliberate pact ‌‌‌with disdain, her sharp demeanor so relentlessly antagonistic toward those around her that even her striking beauty—inherited so distinctly from her mother—seemed to lose its luster.
How many Guard Knights had abandoned their posts, unable to endure that insufferable temperament of hers? The fact that Duke Sierchan had remained at her side for seven years made him seem almost saintly.
'Though it hardly appears he suffered passively all ‌this time....'
Recalling the image of ‌‌his superior unceremoniously hurling the Second Princess into the carriage like cargo, Edrick Lubon turned his gaze forward. Among the orderly procession of knights, the faint silhouette of Barcas emerged, his black hood pulled low over his head.
That man, too, appeared thoroughly exhausted by Talia Roem Guerta.
In some ways, it was remarkable. ‌‌‌Just how much havoc must she have wreaked for that rigid, loyalty-bound man to resort to such extreme measures?
Had I not witnessed it with my own eyes, I would never have believed it. Perhaps the Second Princess possessed an innate talent for inciting hostility in others.

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