#34. Goodbye, Ophelia
That night, Idren left Ophelia alone and did not return for a long time. She went to bed without waiting for him.
When she woke up the next day, she found a new application of ointment on the wound on her leg. The injury had been dressed just as it had been the first time.
Still half-asleep and chewing on her breakfast in bed, she heard Idren, now neatly dressed, say,
“You’ll have to go to today’s appointment alone. I have something I must take care of.”
Ophelia nodded at the man who had changed his words so suddenly in just one day. Idren looked at her in silence for a moment and then added,
“It’s alright if you return late.”
Even if he hadn’t said so, she had no intention of rushing back. Still, Ophelia didn’t bother to correct him.
After breakfast, Idren waited until she was ready and saw her off himself. He helped her into the carriage and said,
“Have a safe trip.”
Ophelia realized he was being more attentive than usual. While he had always been the type to take care of things, today it felt a bit excessive.
But before she could say anything, Idren shut the carriage door.
From inside the slowly moving carriage, Ophelia watched the knights riding alongside. None of their faces were familiar.
She was to meet Netepel on a ship, so the carriage stopped at the docks. One of the knights assigned by Idren helped her down from the carriage.
At the docks was a boat sent by Netepel. Decorated with silk and flowers, it was the same one she’d seen the day before. A manservant stepped off the boat—it was the same one who had served Netepel.
“It is a pleasure to see you again, Your Highness.”
The servant moved to help her aboard. But before he could, the knight Idren had sent held out his hand to her.
He helped her onto the boat and then whispered quietly,
“My name is Hazel.”
When Ophelia turned at the sudden introduction, the knight winked with one eye—as if sharing a secret.
Ophelia turned her head away, feeling as though she had seen something she wasn’t supposed to.
The boat was small, so only a limited number of people could accompany her. If she took her handmaid, only two knights could board. Since Idren had sent six knights, the remaining four would have to stay behind.
Netepel’s servant told them that not all the knights could board and added,
“His Highness the Prince is very concerned for your safety, so there’s no need to worry.”
But Hazel remained firm.
“All of us must accompany her.”
“His Highness will ensure her safety.”
“Of course, the prince of Runtalis is a trustworthy man. But my master is the Grand Duke of Aglante.”
Then Hazel added sternly,
“Surely everyone knows that my master is betrothed to Her Highness, the Princess of Reden?”
Watching their exchange, Ophelia asked,
“Then couldn’t you simply request another boat?”
Hazel immediately lit up at her words. In contrast, Netepel’s servant looked displeased. Ophelia turned to him and asked,
“Surely it’s not difficult to bring out a second boat?”
“…No, there are plenty of boats. We’ll do as you command, Your Highness.”
He then ordered one of his aides to prepare another boat.
Watching all this, Ophelia made a mental note to tell Netepel that his servant seemed a little slow. If she could come up with a solution that he couldn’t, maybe he wasn’t very bright.
Before long, two boats began gliding across the water.
Hazel, who rode with her, smiled constantly. His grinning red-haired presence was a bit overwhelming, so Ophelia turned her face away.
It didn’t take long to reach the main ship.
When they reached the grand ship, also adorned in silk and flowers, a small ladder was lowered. It was decorated in vibrant colors as well. Ophelia stepped onto it.
Just as she was about to reach the top, a hand suddenly extended toward her. She took it, and it gripped her firmly in return.
The moment she realized it was Netepel’s hand, he pulled her up. As she was lifted and brought aboard in an instant, Ophelia saw a young man with golden hair.
Beneath the brilliant noon sunlight, the friend with red eyes and a beautiful face held her hand and beamed.
“Hello, Ophelia.”
* * *
Taeran Rohoz had nothing to fear in this world.
He was a powerful noble of the South. All the southern lords allied with and respected him.
And it wasn’t just other lords who bowed their heads. Even Prince Mahanas of Reden had borrowed money from him and called him a friend.
Taeran took great satisfaction in seeing that extravagant prince walk on eggshells around him. Royalty were always so proud, holding their noses in the air. Especially the royal families of Mebasa, Runtalis, and Sigrazil—they acted even more high and mighty, drunk on the belief that they were chosen.
But now, one of them—Mebasa—had bowed to him.
Taeran’s connections weren’t limited to Reden’s prince. He had also built rapport with Netepel, the second prince of Egelbamot.
Though unlike Prince Mahanas, Prince Netepel owed him no debt, being acquainted with royalty was prestigious enough.
Just as he knew how to handle debtors, Taeran knew how to treat royalty.
Despite his connections to Mebasa and Runtalis, ironically, the one connection he lacked was with his own kingdom’s royal family—Sigrazil.
He was a southern lord, while Aglante’s center of power was in the north, where the capital, Edegrun, was located.
And Edegrun was already densely filled with established powers.
The crown prince, destined to be the next king, had the support of both his mother’s homeland, Brinwell, and the capital’s council. To him, the southern nobles were unnecessary.
As such, Taeran had never been able to break into Edegrun’s high society.
Then the rebellion happened.
The youngest prince, who had been stationed near the border, marched south with his troops.
He hung his father and three older brothers and took the throne. Queen Isde, fleeing to her homeland of Brinwell with her grandson, died from shock after losing her sons.
The nobles of the capital, who had been the old powers, were outraged. They made no secret of their disdain for a “half-blood king.”
Taeran seized the opportunity. He had already seen Netepel’s rise.
Everyone knew Runtalis’s second prince had suffered much mistreatment in his youth. Yet once grown, he was still royalty. Even the nobles who once sneered at him now feared him.
Watching this, Taeran realized something: just as impure blood cannot be erased, royal blood also remains immutable and powerful.
So he supported the new young king during the turmoil of clashing with the capital’s nobles.
The council argued that the son of the exiled Prince Remetel, who had fled to Brinwell, should be crowned instead—but that was foolish.
That prince was not even five years old. Meanwhile, the rebel king was a young man in his twenties.
It was obvious who was closer to the throne.
The nobles of Edegrun may have hesitated, bound by ties to Brinwell. But Taeran, with no such ties, was free to act.
And his decision proved right. The new king solidified his throne before the boy prince could even reach Aglante’s ports.
Taeran finally felt he had entered the inner circle.
The king was grateful to him. And with a little manipulation, the twenty-something king would be in the palm of his hand.
Being of illegitimate birth, the king had no maternal relatives. With some effort, Taeran might seize power entirely.
As if the heavens were aiding him, the king’s new bride was from Reden—specifically, the younger sister of the very prince who owed him favors.
At last, other nobles began to envy him.
Taeran flaunted his closeness with the king. And the young king indeed treated him as important.
“Release the beasts brought from the southern islands! Prepare a game preserve!”
While ordering his servants around, Taeran recalled what the king had said at breakfast:
“I have a free day—let’s go hunting.”
The young man had smiled at him, and Taeran took that as a sign of camaraderie. Surely he meant to skip his engagement and go hunting with Taeran instead.
This hunting trip would solidify their bond.
As a soon-to-be husband, the king could use some advice on women and marriage. Taeran fancied himself a mentor to young men.
Despite his age, he maintained his body well and took pride in it.
The fact that his wife had fled with their daughter or that he preyed on children due to his failing virility—those were minor things.
What man didn’t have a few flaws? His wife and daughter were just too spoiled to appreciate what they had.
Watching the servants prepare the hunting grounds, Taeran was confident this would be his moment.
And he wasn’t wrong.
The king listened to him. As they rode together into the preserve, Taeran shared his wisdom.
“Women are cunning. Once you loosen the reins, they climb all over you. You must break them from the first night.”
The young king listened with a thoughtful expression. Taeran felt a flush of pride. To be acknowledged by such a handsome, high-born man—that was exhilarating.
He added,
“The prettier they are, the more spoiled. They must be tamed.”
“…Is that what you think?”
The king drew an arrow and polished the tip. Preparing for game, perhaps. Taeran offered more advice.
“And let me tell you—women are most charming when they don’t know their own worth. Only when they think they’re nothing are they truly obedient.”
Taeran believed the king had lucked out.
He had seen the princess of Reden at the banquet. She was stunning enough to arouse desire. Her appearance hadn’t changed much since childhood.
She had innocent eyes, delicate hands and feet, and skin as white and soft as porcelain.
Untouched, pure—and likely meek after years of obedience to her brother.
To defile such a woman… what a gift.
For a moment, he regretted not buying her virginity from the prince of Mahanas before the engagement.
But it was too late. And without realizing, he muttered honestly,
“Your Highness, you are truly lucky.”
The king nodded.
“Yes, you’re right.”
Only then did Taeran notice how far behind him the voice came.
A chilling creak rang out.
He turned.
The king was aiming his bow at him.
