---------------
Brought to you by Valir Scans! To support our team and enjoy the latest releases, please read directly on our official site: valirscans.org
---------------

Chapter 25
"I have always held Your Highness in my thoughts."
Barcas spoke in a tone ‌‌‌‌so impeccably courteous that it left no room for complaint.
"The Imperial Princess is resting comfortably, so my words were merely meant to assure you not to worry. Please do not take offense."
He glared at Barcas with irritation before striding into the expansive Grand Hall. There was no point in losing my composure with this stone of a man—it would only make me look foolish.
He clicked his tongue lightly and crossed the Grand ‌‌‌Hall, which was decorated no ‌‌less lavishly than any noble's banquet venue.
"Thank you for gracing us with your presence, Your Highness the Crown Prince."
As he approached the long table draped in pristine white linen, the Abbot rose abruptly to receive him.
"Please, do sit here."
Gareth took his seat in the chair the Abbot had vacated and surveyed the table. The Abbot clearly harbored not the slightest intention of feigning ascetic simplicity. The expansive table overflowed with silver utensils, golden goblets, and sumptuous dishes seasoned with exotic spices.
Gareth swept his satisfied gaze across all of it, then nodded to the dozen or so Priests seated around the table.
"I appreciate such a warm welcome. Come, be seated."
Before his words had even finished, the Monks pulled back their chairs in unison and sat. ‌Only Barcas, present as his ‌‌‌‌escort, remained standing silently like a shadow behind him.
Curious glances flew toward him—clearly the Monks ‌‌‌‌were taken aback by the striking appearance ‌‌of the Imperial Guard commander.
Gareth's brow furrowed slightly.
Barcas always drew more attention than necessary; it was hardly unusual. Yet despite this, I felt a flicker of irritation that the Monks seemed to regard him with greater interest than myself.
It was a tiresome occurrence whenever I had ‌‌‌this ‌‌man in my company, but the displeasure refused to fade.
He raised his goblet high, striving not to betray his discontent.
"Let us offer our gratitude to the Abbot for arranging such a delightful gathering."
The Priests' attention returned to him. Savoring this, Gareth paused for a moment before continuing deliberately.
"I hope this occasion holds profound meaning for us all...."
Just as he was about to conclude his toast with a flourish, a golden phantom abruptly invaded ‌‌his field of vision. Gareth froze, staring blankly toward the entrance of the Grand Hall.
For an instant, he thought that nightmare of a woman—Senebier—had appeared.
He gripped the goblet with crude force, scrutinizing his half-sister from head to toe. Apparently she did not know the basic propriety that one should dress simply in a Monastery, for Talia Roem Guerta was adorned in a gown so resplendent it would turn heads even in the Imperial Banquet Hall. And it was utterly vulgar and tasteless at that.
He clenched his teeth in contempt. Through the thin fabric of her dress, Talia's still-unripened, tender curves were laid bare for all to see as she walked slowly toward the table.
The Monks looked as though they might faint on the spot. Some had even gone slack-jawed, their wits completely scattered. Gareth could not contain his fury and shot to his ‌‌‌feet.
"How dare you... What do you think this place is, appearing in such a state!"
He slammed down his wine ‌‌‌‌glass with a crash, and wine spilled over the rim. He did not even bother wiping his damp hand before pointing accusingly.
"Did you not hear my warning to stay out of my sight?"
"Oh, of course I did."
The woman pulled out ‌‌‌‌‌the chair beside him as though it ‌‌were the most natural thing in the world, a coquettish smile playing at her lips.
"But how could I possibly sit idle when my elder brother wishes to see me? Unable to resist the earnest plea of the great Crown Prince, I took great care with my appearance."
She then deliberately smoothed her skirt with one hand. He stared at his half-sister with an expression of utter disbelief.
"What nonsense is this...."
"Surely you are not unaware of my stubborn nature. The fact that ‌‌‌you ‌‌‌sent the Imperial Guard commander himself to convey ‌‌such a message—was that not ‌‌a sign that you were desperate to see your younger sister?"
Her eyes, a pure cobalt blue unmarred by any impurity, narrowed ‌‌‌with sly cunning.
"Since the Crown Prince has made such an earnest request, it is only proper that I fulfill your expectations as your sister."
He had to summon every last shred of restraint to keep from striking her across the face. As if to provoke him ‌‌‌further, Talia continued slowly.
"Ah, how wonderful to see my elder brother's ‌face. Are you enjoying yourself as well?"
"...I was enjoying myself until you appeared."
With a grinding sound, as though gnashing his teeth, Gareth spat out his words, and Talia burst into laughter.
"Then it was worth the effort of traveling with such a weary body."
Gareth clenched his jaw ‌‌so hard it ‌‌‌seemed his ‌‌chin might shatter. Each time this woman laughed in that manner, he ‌‌‌found it nearly unbearable—the impulse to mar that bizarrely beautiful face ‌of hers. His shoulders trembling with barely ‌‌‌‌contained violence, Gareth twisted his fists and spoke through gritted teeth, each word bitten off with precision.
"How much longer do you intend to provoke me? Are you testing to see just how far I can tolerate you?"
"What a disheartening thing to say..."
The woman leaned forward, ‌‌propping her elbows upon the table. Chandelier light cascaded down upon ‌‌her pitifully slender shoulders and protruding shoulder blades. The Monks' gazes, too, poured forth toward her exquisitely crafted form—as though carved from ivory.
A serpent of a woman. He was engulfed in intense revulsion, breathing harshly through his teeth. Sensing his fury mounting to ‌its limit, Talia's lips curved upward in a sharp smile.
"I merely accepted your invitation. I cannot fathom why you are so indignant. ‌‌‌Surely you do not think it excessive to ‌‌treat such a beloved youngest sibling this way...?"
The woman ‌‌‌turned her head toward the Abbot seated across from her, as though seeking his agreement. The Monk's face stiffened in bewilderment at the ‌‌sudden question. Finding his innocent reaction amusing, the woman's eyes curved with a seductive gleam. The sight of her coquetry—like that of a courtesan—made bile rise in his throat. He seized her forearm roughly.
"It seems you are in heat. If you require a bedmate, choose from ‌‌‌among your own attendants. Do not toy with the Monks. Should you tarnish the Imperial Family's name with sordid scandal, I will ensure that pretty face of yours never sees daylight again."
At that lethal threat, the woman's pupils flashed.
"What ‌‌‌exactly will you do?"
Talia thrust her head forward as though spoiling for a fight, her words fierce and ‌‌‌defiant.
"Now that my brother has said such a thing, ‌‌I am dying to live up to his expectations."
I could endure no longer. I reached out to twist that slender neck of hers.
In that ‌‌‌instant, a ‌‌‌‌heavy hand descended upon my shoulder.
"Your Highness."
I flinched and lifted my ‌head. Barcas Laedgo Sierchan was gazing down at me with an expressionless face.
It was the same ‌‌emotionless ‌‌‌‌‌visage I had grown weary of seeing countless times—devoid of any trace of feeling. Yet in that moment, I felt threatened. Impossible though ‌‌it was.
"Everyone awaits your toast, Your Highness." ‌
He pressed down firmly upon my shoulder, as though warning me not to be ‌‌drawn into Talia's provocation.
I shook off his hand somewhat roughly. ‌‌My fingertips trembled with the unresolved desire for violence.
Concealing it by clenching my fist, I glared at the woman's insolent face.
Talia Roem Guerta was deliberately scratching at me. I must not be swept away by it. Repeating this to myself, I suppressed the roiling anger and released the woman's arm. Then I picked up my goblet once more and cried out in exaggerated tones, as though performing a play.
"We have wasted time with pointless bickering. Come now, let us partake of the meal. In gratitude once more to the Abbot for arranging such ‌‌‌‌a fine ‌‌‌gathering... I wish that today becomes a meaningful day for all present."
The Monks, their faces ‌‌‌frozen, alternated their gazes between the ‌‌‌‌‌Crown Prince, the illegitimate Imperial Princess, and ‌‌the Commander of the Imperial ‌‌Guard standing behind him, then hesitantly raised their goblets. Only Talia Roem Guerta stood with arms crossed, watching the scene with a mocking smile.
Just as my temper threatened to flare again at her defiant attitude, Barcas bent down over Talia's head.
"As a guest, you might observe basic courtesy, Imperial Princess."
He then gently uncurled her hand and placed a silver goblet into it. Talia, startled by the sudden contact, stiffened, then ‌shot him a venomous glare.
I thought she would hurl the goblet at him immediately. Perhaps because they had clashed since childhood, ‌‌‌Talia seemed ‌‌particularly unable to stomach Barcas.
Yet contrary to my expectation, Talia—her eyes wide like an enraged cat—straightened herself. I narrowed my eyes. It was unlike Talia Roem Guerta to yield to such a warning. ‌‌‌She was the woman who always raged without restraint. For her to meekly submit to Barcas's pressure, rather than to foam at the mouth and attack him—that would have been her true nature.
'What scheme is she plotting?'

---------------
Brought to you by Valir Scans! To support our team and enjoy the latest releases, please read directly ‌on our official site: valirscans.org
---------------