Chapter 145

The Stablemaster and the Princess

Ferda asked William again.

“Do you mean they reduced it by three percent, or that they gave her three percent in total?”

—The latter. Three percent. Even after I explained it, it was difficult to believe.

By any objective assessment, Olivia’s contribution had amounted to a staggering forty-five percent.

Even if they had deliberately tried to undervalue her achievements, she still deserved at least thirty percent.

Ferda asked William how such a miraculous figure could possibly have been reached.

To sum up the reason in a single sentence, everything had come down to a fortunate convergence of circumstances.

The problem, according to the Empire, was that Olivia had only received the education expected of an imperial princess. She had never been properly trained in personnel management or military tactics.

Therefore, even if her judgments had been well founded, allowing someone without formal tactical training to command troops could have placed the army in danger. They claimed she should consider herself fortunate that she had not been held accountable for it.

They had even added that, midway through the campaign, she had recklessly ordered the formation of a pursuit battalion and endangered the army.

Thus, while they acknowledged that she had distinguished herself as chief of staff, they argued that most of the credit should be awarded to those who had carried out her plans in practice.

The reason Alexander had personally welcomed and praised each of them had also been entirely because of Olivia.

“I gave you a set of documents. Didn’t you see how they used them?”

—I did. They used the materials you provided to argue that Her Highness’s actions were justified, but their influence was limited.

“Why?”

—Most importantly, the young lord of House Lutenia remained silent.

The young lord of Lutenia had served as chief of staff and the second-highest-ranking figure in the temporary alliance.

His recognized contribution was fifteen percent, the highest after Olivia’s.

“What percentage did they give him?”

—Thirty percent.

No wonder he had kept his mouth shut.

He had boldly taken a third of Olivia’s achievements for himself.

Naturally, the highest decoration that should have gone to Olivia would now have gone to him instead.

Ferda could picture exactly how the matter had been handled.

They had turned it into a zero-sum game.

They had enticed numerous young nobles and knights with the idea that increasing their own slice of the pie meant reducing someone else’s.

To enlarge their shares and claim greater merit, someone had to be sacrificed.

That someone was Olivia, who had originally accounted for nearly half of the overall contribution by herself.

For those whose achievements were too minor even to have their names recorded, it was a perfect opportunity to claim even a single percent.

They had no reason to refuse.

Sacrifice one person and make the majority happy.

It had been astonishingly easy for them to abandon a noble’s duty and a knight’s honor.

The princess was too beautiful.

She was so beautiful that she was beyond their reach.

They knew they could never have her.

So instead of flattering a dazzling but unattainable prize, it was more practical and rational in the long term to choose tangible benefits.

‘Disgusting bastards.’

Even so, Ferda could not suppress his revulsion.

They had called her the Flower of the Empire and followed at her heels, only to sell her out the moment a reward was dangled before them.

—There were some who refused, saying they could not abandon the spirit of knighthood.

“I hope you were among them.”

—Of course. Even if I received recognition, my own contribution would have been enough. I could not accept an inflated share...

“What percentage did they offer you?”

—They said ten percent.

Ferda casually flipped through the copy Mori had organized.

William’s actual contribution had been five percent.

They had offered him exactly twice what he deserved.

Since they had already tried to lure Burnell away right in front of him, Ferda asked what sort of proposal William had received.

—I was offered the position of Guardian Knight in the Imperial Guard.

Guardian Knight.

It was one of the highest titles a knight could hold, and only those directly serving the imperial family could bear it.

The intent was obvious.

They wanted him to abandon the Valdrova Principality and come to the Empire.

“And did you accept?”

—Only as an honorary title.

In other words, it was an impressive title in name only, without even a formal investiture ceremony.

For a knight to phrase it that way was a tactful declaration that he already had a lord whom he served.

A Guardian Knight held a position comparable to that of an ordinary count.

Seeing William reject such an offer filled Ferda with an inexplicable sense of satisfaction.

“When will you return?”

—I had planned to depart tomorrow morning, but I intend to leave immediately. They said they would provide teleportation magic...

“You needn’t rush.”

—Should I not fulfill my duty as captain of the constabulary?

How diligent.

“Very well. Come to the castle as soon as you arrive. We will hold the bonus-awarding ceremony and banquet the moment you return.”

—Yes, sir! I will return as quickly as possible!

After William returned through teleportation magic, Ferda awarded bonuses to the tactical infantrymen who had participated in the campaign and sponsored a celebration.

It was not difficult, since they still had enough banquet supplies for what had originally been planned as a two-day feast.

Ferda was able to use up the surplus provisions that might otherwise have gone to waste, while the infantrymen were treated as proper veterans by being given the opportunity to experience noble cuisine they had never tasted before.

Just when it seemed everything would pass without incident, Ferda’s communication crystal began flashing blue.

He placed his hand on it and established the connection.

—Greetings, Regent! My name is Joseph, and I am an imperial liaison officer!

The fact that an imperial liaison officer was contacting him so late at night meant that something serious had happened.

—I apologize for troubling you, but I wished to ask whether Her Highness the Princess has visited Valdrova Castle.

Ferda instinctively frowned.

“Why are you asking me that?”

—I sincerely apologize for asking such an offensive question. However, this is a matter that must be resolved quietly and swiftly within the Empire, so I have contacted you despite the discourtesy.

Ferda understood immediately.

Olivia had run away.

“My answer is that I do not know. Has something happened to the princess?”

—I cannot disclose any information regarding that matter.

Oh, really?

“You have already said enough. Do you think you can simply say you cannot tell me and end the conversation there? I have several theories of my own. What do you think will happen if I spread those theories far and wide? By then, it may no longer be a secret.”

Faced with such an open threat, the liaison officer repeatedly let out troubled breaths before finally answering.

—As you have surmised, Princess Arken is currently missing. The imperial palace and the rest of the Empire are being searched thoroughly to locate her.

“So now you are investigating even those who have crossed the barrier?”

—Yes. We are comparing all entry and departure records to determine her whereabouts. Since your captain of the constabulary departed around this evening, he was included among those being investigated.

“Understood. Should I receive any information on this end, I will notify you immediately.”

—Yes. Thank you!

The liaison officer repeatedly begged him to keep the matter secret before ending the communication.

“She ran away...”

Honestly, Ferda could understand why.

Her forty-five percent contribution had been reduced to three percent, and her attempt to enter politics had been crushed.

It was similar to what Ferda had experienced when he had been denied recognition as a mage and turned into a public enemy.

‘Back then, I never wanted to hate them.’

But the world had wanted Ferda to hate it.

Otherwise, there was no explanation for why such malice had descended upon him.

Even now, thinking about what had happened made his blood boil.

Erdes... that damned woman.

Grinding out her name under his breath, Ferda returned to the matter at hand.

Princess Olivia has disappeared.

How had she escaped?

She, too, possessed a Red Circle and could wield light magic, but escaping with teleportation magic was impossible.

To slip out of a place with such overwhelming security, she would have needed an accomplice—and that accomplice would have had to shoulder a risk great enough to lose their head.

Even nobles were no exception.

And what would anyone gain from doing that?

Most people would have dismissed it as nothing more than an emotional outburst from a vulnerable young woman.

But Ferda's instincts told him otherwise.

He believed Olivia was plotting something.

He simply could not picture her rebelling like a child throwing a tantrum.

She intended to gain something through this disappearance.

At the same time, another image surfaced in his mind.

Not of the present, but of the distant future, when she had been consumed by hatred.

She had become the enchantress who nearly brought down the Empire, standing atop the palace balcony.

For some reason, Ferda had always thought she resembled him.

She had suffered because of her family.

She had hated them.

She had wanted to kill every last one of them.

In that regard, they were exactly alike.

The difference was that Ferda had embraced hatred as the means of his revenge, while Olivia had hidden herself behind a mask.

Ferda had succeeded.

Olivia had failed.

She had cast everything aside and launched a coup.

The princes and princesses had died, yet the Emperor had remained alive.

In the end, she was only human.

No matter how firmly one armed oneself with reason and conviction, emotions could wash them away like a wall of salt beneath the rain.

Even the strongest person could collapse.

That was why Ferda decided he could not remain idle.

He had to find her before anyone else did.

***

Ferda left the castle and headed into the forest.

As always, it was overgrown and untended.

More precisely, he stopped just beyond the patrol range of the Iorga dragon-spawn.

It was the middle of the night beneath a waning crescent moon.

Standing beneath the shadow of the trees, he closed his eyes.

The moment he consciously abandoned one of his senses, all the others sharpened dramatically.

Even the chirping of insects vanished from his awareness.

When the faint scent of sulfur drifted through the darkness—

Ferda quietly spoke a single name.

"Sitri."

A sticky sensation wrapped itself around him from behind.

"You called, big brother?"

She appeared behind him, her serpent-like lower body coiling around him before sliding into view.

It was an attempt to make him uncomfortable.

Ferda showed no reaction.

"Where is she?"

"Who?"

"Olivia. If anyone knows where she is, it would be you."

"Hmm? Aren't you jumping to conclusions? Do you think I spend all day spying on an imperial princess?"

"You, of all people, couldn't possibly not know."

Ferda knew.

Whenever the Great Demon Sitri seduced humans, she assumed the most alluring appearance possible.

One of her favorite forms—

was Olivia.

Eight times out of ten, she lured people while wearing Olivia Arken's face.

It simply worked the best.

Even knowing it was merely a demon's imitation, hundreds had gladly thrown away their lives for the chance to embrace the princess.

To Sitri, Olivia was an incredibly valuable pet.

No—

something even more precious than that.

If she desired such a prize, she would naturally keep an eye on her.

Which meant that if anyone knew where Olivia had fled, Sitri was the likeliest candidate.

"Let's say I do know..."

She smiled.

"Why do you need her? Weren't you completely devoted to Princeps Valdrova?"

"I simply need her."

"Oho? So beneath it all, you're still just a man?"

"You keep trying to make a dog's barking sound like human speech."

Ferda grimaced in disgust.

Sitri's smile never changed.

"Then let's make a deal, big brother."

"I'll spend three minutes trying to seduce you while wearing this face."

Her figure shimmered in the darkness.

The demon's appearance gradually shifted until she became Olivia.

Her eyelashes.

Her lips.

Her fingers.

Everything was nearly identical.

Speaking with Olivia's voice, she smiled.

"If you can endure three minutes... I'll tell you where she is."

A floating hourglass appeared in midair.

Just like her.

Petty and vulgar.

"Do as you please."

Ferda answered without interest.

Sitri grinned triumphantly.

"How foolish. No matter how faithful you claim to be, you're still a man."

She pressed herself boldly against him.

The curves he had only ever seen from afar now pressed clearly against his body.

She breathed softly against his neck, teasing him without pause.

Ferda did not resist.

He simply let her continue.

Each passing second was marked by her deliberately suggestive whispers and movements.

Inside, he counted roughly three minutes.

Yet the sand in the hourglass was nowhere near finished.

She's cheating.

It wasn't an official wager.

She had never actually said the hourglass measured exactly three minutes.

From the beginning, her goal had simply been to embarrass and provoke him.

"It's over."

"What? Already?"

Ferda nodded toward the hourglass.

Every grain of sand had fallen long ago.

Sitri blinked in disbelief.

"Just to be safe, I secretly swapped it for a four-minute hourglass..."

"You're telling me I couldn't seduce a single man in four whole minutes?"

Still wearing Olivia's face, she glared at him.

"Big brother... are you impotent?"

"No."

Ferda could answer confidently.

He had already confirmed that much himself.

More importantly—

he knew the real Olivia.

If she ever behaved this crudely, revulsion would come long before temptation.

"Regardless, I won."

"Hmph... You really never lose. How annoying."

Pouting with disappointment, Sitri nevertheless smiled.

She didn't seem entirely unhappy.

"Do you remember that old story?"

"No more riddles—"

"Hear me out."

"You've heard the tale of the princess who fled the castle with the stablemaster, haven't you?"

"...I have."

It was a classic story of a commoner rising in status.

Ferda knew it so well he could still recite parts of it from memory.

"The answer you're looking for is hidden in that story."

At those words, Ferda closed his eyes and followed her train of thought.

He realized what she was implying.

...Surely not.

No.

That couldn't be true.

The harder he tried to reject the idea, the wider Sitri's smile became.

"Sweet dreams, big brother."

When Ferda opened his eyes again—

Sitri had already vanished.

He remained standing alone in the forest.

Was she lying?

It hadn't been an official wager.

She had never been obligated to tell the truth.

But what would she gain by lying?

Her leash was in Ferda's hands.

If her words meant what he feared they meant...

Then there was only one person who could possibly be the stablemaster.

William.

Captain of the constabulary.

The sword that protected the common people.

The conclusion was obvious, yet Ferda desperately wanted to deny it.

William was one of the very few knights Ferda truly respected.

He could not believe that such a man would secretly spirit the princess away.

But nothing is absolute.

After all, the reason William had first come to this land had been to save ordinary people.

Someone who had crossed one line once was not guaranteed never to cross another.

It also explained why he had insisted on returning that very evening instead of waiting until the following day.

Ferda still didn't know what to believe.

If I don't know...

Then I'll see it with my own eyes.

Even if the truth proves painful.