Chapter 53
“Your Highness, Princess! Where are you?”
The moist sounds of secret breaths exchanged in the darkness were abruptly cut off by the desperate cries of a lady-in-waiting.
The hurried footsteps of maids echoed down the hallway.
“Oh no. Where in the world did she go?”
“I’ll look over this way.”
The voices of the maids rang noisily through what had been a quiet corridor, making Aaron furrow his brows.
The lips that had been locked together as if they would never part finally broke away with difficulty.
Delia’s lips were swollen, gleaming red.
Aaron gently brushed them with his thumb as he grumbled.
“You really don’t leave us a moment’s peace.”
Eyes blurred with heat, cheeks flushed like peaches, hair tousled by his touch—
And yet, he had to send this luscious princess back just like that.
Aaron pressed a kiss to Delia’s round forehead, full of unwillingness.
As he tidied up her disheveled clothing, he whispered in a low voice.
“I’ll handle the Council of Elders. Don’t worry about it.”
Aaron’s moist voice seeped into Delia’s ears, hazy with daze.
Something felt wrong, like she had missed something important.
Uneasy, Delia blinked and looked at Aaron.
“Commander.”
Aaron’s mischievous smile became clear in her slowly sharpening blue vision.
“Hm? Why?”
The moment she faced his smile, Delia realized her grave mistake.
She was worrying about the Supreme Commander who held all of Iorenti in his hands.
Like releasing a savage wolf into a sheep pen, only to fret about the wolf.
She had slipped, swayed by how uncharacteristically anxious Aaron looked today.
“Surely not…”
Delia asked in a trembling voice.
“You’re not planning to kill all the Council members, are you?”
Aaron had no mind to answer such a question.
He let her words slip past as unimportant while his hands moved quickly.
He was already under the Queen’s suspicion; he couldn’t let the princess walk out looking like this.
Aaron neatly fastened Delia’s loosened front and swiftly retied her undone ribbon.
“Commander. You’re not going to kill them, right?”
While straightening her crumpled skirt, he answered offhandedly.
“I won’t kill them.”
“You absolutely mustn’t, just because they don’t go along with you.”
Aaron brushed her messy hair smooth, muttering under his breath.
“Next time, I won’t touch the hair then.”
His muttering only deepened Delia’s unease. She whispered quickly.
“That’s not the point right now.”
“To me, the hair is the point.”
“Commander, you remember what I said? Don’t bring weapons into the council chamber. Don’t drag in soldiers.”
“What do you take me for? Don’t worry about that.”
But his whisper of reassurance only sent a tidal wave of greater worry crashing over her.
Delia, trembling under the weight of it, suddenly heard the Queen’s voice ring out nearby.
“Where has the princess gone? I told you not to let her out of your sight for even a moment.”
“It’s just—she moves so quickly, Your Majesty—”
“Find her at once.”
The Queen’s voice, usually gentle, was now edged with sharpness.
If they were caught like this, she would worry even more.
Startled, Delia hurriedly pushed Aaron away.
The arms that had held her so firmly opened without resistance.
“Mother.”
Delia stepped out of the stairwell’s shadow and into the light.
As she placed her foot on the step to ascend, she glanced back toward Aaron, standing in the darkness.
Leaning against the wall, Aaron’s eyes curved softly as he smiled.
Still gazing at her, he raised one straightened finger to his red lips.
As if sharing a secret, he whispered silently:
Shh.
“Delia.”
The Queen’s voice pierced into her ears as she gazed blankly at Aaron shining even in the dark.
“What are you doing there?”
Delia hastily tore her eyes away and climbed the stairs.
“Mother, it’s just—I dropped my brooch on the way back from the training yard.”
“Did you find it? If not, summon someone to—”
“No, I found it. Mother.”
“That’s a relief.”
“Yes, so let’s go back quickly.”
Delia tugged at the Queen’s arm while sneaking a glance downward.
Her lips still burned from the traces he left, but he had vanished somewhere.
Restless, Delia rubbed her lips with her fingers.
The staircase, witness to it all, stood in silence as if it knew nothing.
Soft light filled the space, dazzling in its glow.
At the heart of Iorenti Castle’s great council chamber stood a grand round table of solid wood—
A symbol of Iorenti, where open debate guided the governance of the realm.
Around it sat twelve chairs, belonging to the founding families of Iorenti.
It was the place for the heads of the eleven noble houses, along with the King.
Today, all had gathered save for Rivolant, absent due to illness.
And yet, strangely, the chamber felt empty.
Where normally spirited debate, raised voices, and arguments would resound, now heavy silence weighed upon the air.
The aftermath of war lingered oppressively over the council.
The King broke the silence to greet the gathered elders.
“Thank you for enduring the trouble to come here.”
At his words, the council members recalled the risk they had taken just to travel.
The castle was under Imperial occupation.
It had taken immense courage to set foot here.
Like walking into a lion’s open jaws.
Their families and retainers had wept, begging them not to go, as if they were marching to their deaths.
But as representatives of the founding houses, they could not ignore their King’s summons.
“As elders of Iorenti, it is only our duty.”
The youngest, Afran, spoke firmly.
The King nodded gravely and looked around the chamber.
His gaze drifted inevitably to the empty chair.
“But where is Lord Rivolant?”
“His lordship collapsed suddenly. He is in no condition to attend.”
The King groaned, troubled by the ominous news.
“Croce.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Send the royal physician to check on Lord Rivolant.”
“At once.”
After watching Croce depart to carry out the order, the King once again fixed his eyes on the center of the table.
This was their first council meeting since the Imperial army’s occupation.
Though not much time had passed, so much felt different.
He looked around at the ten remaining elders, and spoke heavily.
“As you all know, Iorenti has been defeated by the Empire of Shtilreitz.”
The chamber filled with heavy sighs.
They had known, but hearing it from the King’s own lips sank them further into despair.
“But the Imperial Commander has made a proposal. To preserve our current system, in exchange for serving as Regent himself.”
The council erupted.
Such an unexpected suggestion from the Empire stirred their debating instincts.
“Regent?!”
“That’s no different from surrendering autonomy.”
“Then Iorenti ceases to be Iorenti.”
“And what other choice do we have? They are the victors.”
“But we lost on the Kavatt Plains in such a disgraceful way! If we regroup and resist—”
“Lord Afran, are you still dreaming? After seeing their weapons and numbers, can you truly say that?”
“Look at Royeni and Kirens. Rash resistance only leads to ruin.”
In the midst of heated debate, an elder with gray hair raised a calm question.
“There is no peace without a price. Why would the victorious Empire make such a drastic offer? Your Majesty, do you know their reason?”
At Juliano’s composed inquiry, the King swallowed a bitter sigh.
“That is…”
Thud.
The chamber doors burst open with a bang before he could finish.
Every eye turned toward the entrance.
The heated atmosphere instantly froze to silver ice.
The Supreme Commander of the Empire had arrived.
“We greet the King of Iorenti.”
Aaron, Commander of the Shtilreitz Empire, inclined his head with his usual arrogant ease.
Then, with sharpened gray eyes, he scanned the councilors seated around the table.
Leisurely, yet piercingly.
“I am Aaron Bergen, Supreme Commander of the Empire. I’m a little late, as I first went to pay respects to Queen Eleanor.”
He smiled faintly, but no one returned it.
“My seat… yes, that one will do.”
Without hesitation, Aaron strode toward the vacant chair beside the King—the crown prince’s seat.
Behind him, Dyke and several subordinates entered.
The sound of boots clattering made Aaron stop.
“Wait.”
“What is it, Commander?”
Instead of answering, Aaron reached for his gun.
Slow but menacing, his hand drew all eyes.
To draw a weapon the instant he entered the council chamber—
Nervous councilors gulped audibly.
Aaron twirled the rifle lightly in his hand, then extended it grip-first toward Dyke.
Dyke flinched, startled to be handed his commander’s gun.
“Commander—”
“Take it.”
Unfazed, Aaron also unbuckled his sword and handed it over.
One by one, he stripped away the hidden weapons on his body, baring himself defenseless.
Yet his silver eyes, full of arrogance, dissected each elder at the table.
The Imperial Commander ostentatiously laid down every weapon.
Without a single threatening word.
It was, by Iorenti tradition, the proper thing to do.
So why did it feel so terrifying?
Shivers of inexplicable dread ran down the elders’ spines.
“Dyke. Take these outside.”
Aaron ordered with a fresh smile, light as spring.
“Commander…”
“This is a chamber for free debate. It makes no sense to bring lethal weapons inside.”
“But, Commander, dangers remain. We should at least station guards—”
“I promised the Princess. No soldiers, no weapons in the council chamber.”
Dyke’s eyes wavered at that.
Though peace negotiations loomed, tension still simmered between the nations.
And yet his commander intended to enter disarmed?
Dyke could not understand it.
“But still—”
Aaron lightly patted his shoulder.
“I’ll handle the chamber. Don’t worry. More importantly, there’s something I need you to do.”
“Just give the order.”
