BVIB 35

Chapter 35

Despite feeling the weight of countless eyes on her from all directions, Roselyn kept her focus solely on the man before her.

He was intrigued, certainly—but there was something dangerous about him too. If she took a single wrong step, she could tell this man would have no hesitation in crushing her like a wild beast.

Titles like “duchess” or “princess” meant little beyond the Empire’s borders. Especially here, among the Kaluta, foreign ranks carried no weight at all.

“I learned it long ago,” Roselyn replied calmly, “from a wandering bard who traveled from place to place.”

“A bard…?” the Khan echoed, clearly surprised.

“Yes,” Roselyn replied with a nod.

After leaving her family behind, there had been a time—about a month—when she’d taken in a wandering bard and given him shelter. It wasn’t something the old Roselyn would have done. Even now, she couldn’t quite explain why she’d made that choice. Perhaps it had simply felt like the right thing to do.

In return for her kindness, the bard had taught her Ruta, expressing his gratitude for her hospitality. He’d even promised that, should she ever need help, she could seek him out and he would repay her kindness. But afterward, the world had changed—war had broken out, everything had been upended, and the promise became little more than a memory.

Still, because the language was so unusual, she remembered every word vividly.

“…That’s odd,” the Khan murmured, his eyes lingering on her. “Most who know Ruta are already quite old. The only new learners would be the Khan’s closest advisors or the chieftains of each tribe.”

Roselyn watched the man, noting the way age had lightened the color of his hair. She didn’t bother responding to his musings.

“Do you know the name of that bard?” the Khan asked.

“Yes,” Roselyn replied.

“If you don’t mind, would you tell me?” the Khan asked.

Roselyn paused, considering. “If you can promise that he won’t be punished for teaching Ruta to an outsider.”

She wasn’t about to let anyone get into trouble on her account. The thought of someone suffering because of her was more trouble than it was worth—she certainly didn’t want to be burdened by guilt.

As Roselyn spoke in the ancient tongue, Prince Yuldian stared at her, mouth agape.

Since when could she speak so fluently? he wondered. Wasn’t she the same princess who could barely lift her head, who always walked around staring at the floor? He couldn’t begin to fathom how she could sit here, head held high, conversing so calmly with a king in the midst of this tense, intimidating atmosphere.

Father must have lost his mind, insisting we leave the negotiations to the princess and not meddle… Yuldian thought, watching Roselyn in awe. She was far bolder than he’d expected.

To be honest, ever since witnessing someone’s arm nearly ripped off barehanded, Yuldian had wanted nothing more than to return to the Empire. I wouldn’t even be here if not for her, he mused bitterly. He’d only come because he’d been singled out—perhaps as some form of retribution, he still wasn’t sure—and there was little choice but to follow.

Not that he’s any easier to understand, Yuldian thought, glancing sidelong at Arma. Yesterday, Arma had shown up in dark clothes, hair slicked back to expose his entire forehead. Today, he was back in his usual pristine white uniform, fringe falling naturally, a book—his constant trademark—tucked under his arm once more.

He must have thought that other look didn’t suit him, Yuldian scoffed inwardly.

No wonder he looked exhausted—anyone would be, wearing clothes that didn’t suit them.

But seriously, what on earth are they talking about? Yuldian wondered, glancing at the Khan, who was laughing boisterously. The whole conversation felt like watching a play in a language he didn’t know.

“I can’t decide if I should call you bold or warn you to be more careful,” the Khan said, still half-smiling.

“If I have a choice, I’d rather be called bold,” Roselyn answered, her voice light.

The two of them continued their exchange in that strange, foreign tongue, making Yuldian feel all the more left out. Do those people in the back understand a word of this? he wondered, looking at the Kaluta tribesmen standing silently behind the Khan, their expressions unreadable.

Suddenly, Narayan, standing just behind the Khan, caught Yuldian’s gaze and winked.

…I just want to go home, Yuldian thought, resisting the urge to sigh out loud.

Yuldian recoiled, shuddering in distaste. Even Arma seemed irritated, his expression more rigid than usual. Yuldian had been throwing pointed glances at Roselyn, silently begging her to turn around and explain things, but she hadn’t spared them so much as a glance. It was as if she’d forgotten they were even there.

“I promise,” the Khan said solemnly.

“Sansar,” Roselyn answered.

Several of the Kaluta tribesmen stiffened at the name, and the Khan’s eyes widened in shock. The mood in the tent shifted abruptly, the jovial air replaced by sudden tension. Roselyn, momentarily flustered, darted her gaze around.

Is that the name of a criminal or something? she wondered uneasily. That would be a problem.

“What was the name?” the Khan pressed, his voice hard.

“I said Sansar,” Roselyn repeated.

“And do you remember what he looked like?”

Roselyn hesitated, tilting her head as she tried to recall.

Roselyn felt uneasy, tempted for a moment to warn them again, but decided that would be overstepping her bounds. She simply shrugged and began to explain.

“Well… he had long, wavy silver hair, down to his waist, and striking green eyes. He was… beautiful,” she admitted, rubbing her cheek with the back of her hand before continuing, “A man.”

A heavy silence descended on the room.

“What now? Did you say something weird again?” Yuldian grumbled, frowning as he sensed the tension.

Roselyn just shrugged, not bothering to answer.

“Any other distinguishing features?” the Khan pressed.

“Let me think… He looked much like any other Kaluta tribesman otherwise…” she murmured, searching her memories. Then, she let out a soft, thoughtful sound. “Ah, his eye color would sometimes change—when he looked up at the sky or got lost in thought…”

Roselyn recalled the enigmatic bard from her memories—a man who was always shrouded in an air of mystery.

He’d been just a stranger—someone she’d found collapsed from hunger, clutching his empty stomach. She’d simply shared a piece of bread she happened to have with her, an act of charity done on a whim.

Despite his lighthearted manner and casual speech, there had been something inexplicably reassuring about him. She’d even invited him to stay until he found somewhere else to go—a strange decision, in hindsight. After all, he was a man, and she was a woman living alone. By all accounts, it should have been odd, maybe even reckless.

Looking back, it was a strange thing to do, she thought.

“Given that you learned Ruta from him, you must have spent quite a bit of time together…” the Khan said, breaking her reverie.

Pulled from her thoughts, Roselyn looked up to meet the Khan’s gaze and spoke again.

“I don’t mind telling you more about him,” Roselyn said, “but since I’ve been honest, I’d appreciate it if you could be honest with me too.”

The man frowned, clearly displeased. “What are you talking about now?”

Roselyn smiled, unbothered by his irritation. In the midst of their conversation, an old memory had surfaced—something Sansar had once told her.

Ah, Kaluta has an interesting secret. Want to hear it?

An interesting secret?

Yes. The Khan of Kaluta is…

She could barely recall his voice now, but the words had stuck with her all this time. Slowly, she parted her lips and spoke.

“If you want to hear more, then please—bring me the real Khan.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” the man asked, his face twisting in confusion.

Roselyn met his gaze calmly. “Only a woman can be Khan.”

A smile curved across Roselyn’s lips.

“The Khan of Kaluta can only be a woman, isn’t that right, Chieftain?”

The moment the words left her mouth, a heavy silence fell over the room.

The man across from her, who had been quietly watching, snapped his fingers. Instantly, the figures who had been standing protectively behind him vanished from sight.

“Hey, what are you—!” Yuldian started, but the Kaluta tribesmen stepped forward, blocking the view of anyone but Roselyn.

“What is the meaning of this?” Arma’s voice cut through the tension, cold and sharp.

Roselyn startled and turned toward him, seeing that his face, normally so composed, had hardened as he glared at the chieftain.

Or rather, to be precise, Arma wasn’t really staring at the chieftain at all—his gaze was locked on the beautiful woman behind him, someone who appeared to be little more than a dancer.

“One person leaving should be enough,” the man murmured.

“Hey! What are you doing?! Do you know who I am? I’m from the Dianitas Empire—!” Yuldian’s protest was cut short as he was dragged out, still shouting as they hauled him away.

The man stood up, and the alluring woman—who had seemed merely decorative until now—slipped into his seat, reclining with easy confidence. She rested her chin in her palm, elbow propped on the table.

“Well, bold child. How did you know?” she asked, smiling. Her striking red hair was swept up in a ponytail, and there was a glimmer of amusement in her eyes.