Chapter 12

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Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 12
Chapter Title: A Bloody Celebration
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A slender woman walked with brisk steps. Her long hair was braided and neatly pinned up, and she wore a dark navy uniform, her chest covered in medals.
The woman was Michele, one of the Grand Duke's personal knights.
Michele was a name usually given to men. Those who knew only her name were often startled upon meeting her. It was a relief if they merely marveled at how a woman could become one of the Grand Duke's personal knights. More often than not, they were openly dismissive.
However, Michele paid little mind to how others saw her. She believed her skills only needed to be acknowledged by her master. Besides, the loudmouths always fell silent the moment they saw her handle a gun.
Yet, even Michele, indifferent as she was to the opinions of others, had people she wanted to impress and be acknowledged by.
The first, of course, was her master, and the second was none other than Aileen Elorde.
Michele first met Aileen back when she was working as a maid in Cesare's palace. The tiny, ten-year-old lady was so precious and cute, it was as if her little footsteps made a soft, pattering sound.
She had watched the child who shyly offered her a ring of wildflowers grow into a young woman. Having witnessed everything she went through, it was only natural to develop a deep affection for her.
To her, Aileen was a daughter she had raised in her heart and a younger sister. It wasn't just Michele; the Grand Duke's other knights and soldiers felt the same. They all adored Aileen as if she were their own child or sister.
“Where is Lady Aileen?”
Michele, who had all but burst into the banquet hall, spotted Rotan and Diego and immediately asked for Aileen's whereabouts. She had heard Aileen would be attending the banquet tonight and had hurried as much as she could, but she was too late.
Diego grinned slyly at Michele, who was anxiously tapping her foot as she looked for Aileen. Rotan, too, seemed stern at first glance, but a closer look revealed the corners of his mouth were relaxed.
“I asked where Lady Aileen is. Don't tell me you guys…”
Michele pressed them again, her tone incredulous.
“Asked her to dance? Without me?”
Diego crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows smugly.
“Well, you should've gotten here sooner.”
“…Ah, fuck. You bastards.”
Contrary to her harsh curse, Michele's shoulders slumped. The freckles dotting the bridge of her nose twitched as her face crumpled into a frown. She spoke in a near-whimpering tone.
“You disloyal pricks. I told you to save a spot for me.”
“How were we supposed to stop our hardworking men from asking the young lady for a dance?”
“You should've taken your name off the list and put mine on!”
“Oh, please. Have some conscience.”
While Diego and Michele bickered, Rotan glanced at the wall clock. It was about time for them to return from the greenhouse, but they were running later than expected. The Emperor would be arriving soon, so any further delay would be problematic.
*Just five more minutes.* Setting a mental deadline, Rotan separated the snarling Diego and Michele and asked.
“Where's Senon?”
“Not here yet. Doesn't look like he'll finish today.”
Michele replied with a pout. Knowing she was late because of work, Diego comforted her in a slightly softer voice.
“Hey, you worked hard.”
“Fuck off.”
“……”
His attempt at kindness rebuffed, Diego shot Rotan an aggrieved look. But Rotan couldn't take Diego's side, as he himself had proudly secured the third dance.
Rotan cleared his throat unnecessarily and was just about to suggest they all visit Lady Aileen's house soon to lighten the mood when—
*CRASH!* A dull thud split the air of the banquet hall.
The hall, which had been filled with peaceful music and the gentle hum of conversation, stirred at the sudden roar. Then, those who spotted the source of the noise shrieked in terror.
The one who had thrown the banquet hall doors open so violently was the man of the hour, Cesare.
Covered head to toe in blood, he strode into the hall, soiling the pristine marble floor. *Drip, drip.* Blood fell in his wake.
His red eyes gleamed under the light of the chandeliers. They were eyes that revealed the raw excitement of slaughter.
The capital's nobles, whose hunting experience amounted to little more than chasing small animals in the woods, were so crushed by Cesare's aura that they could barely breathe. Only then did they realize he was not alone.
Cesare was escorting a young lady whose face was deathly pale, holding her by the hand. It looked less like an escort and more like he was marching her off to be arrested, but his posture, at least, remained courteous.
The young lady held by Cesare was dressed in a rather peculiar fashion. Her dress was elegant and stylish, following the latest trends. But the face above that dress was the epitome of frumpiness, the likes of which hadn't been seen in a decade.
Bangs that obscured her eyes, glasses, a face devoid of makeup, and hair tied back in a clumsy knot.
Inwardly surprised, the guests recalled that she was the young lady who had been surrounded by the Grand Duke's soldiers earlier.
But they could no longer wag their tongues freely about her as they had before. They were afraid of the Grand Duke holding her hand.
Cesare led the young lady to the center of the banquet hall and stopped. He scanned the room for a moment without a word.
His crimson gaze fell upon the nobles of the council. Those who met his eyes became statues of stone. Cesare began to speak, his voice like a sigh.
“I understand the sentiment behind celebrating my victory, but…”
He asked, sweeping back his blood-soaked hair.
“Isn't this a bit much?”
No one answered. The hall was so quiet one could almost hear the sound of cold sweat trickling down. After enjoying the chilling silence for a time, Cesare smiled faintly.
“I am well aware of your heartfelt sentiments, so I shall be sure to repay you soon.”
He declared coldly, a brilliant smile on his face.
“You can look forward to it.”
Cesare turned and walked out slowly. At the same time, the Grand Duke's soldiers in the hall followed their master in unison.
Long after all those in uniform had departed, the banquet hall remained shrouded in silence.
***
This happened when Aileen was eleven and Cesare was eighteen.
That day, Aileen was having tea with Cesare in the prince's palace garden, chattering away about her thoughts on the *Great Encyclopedia of Plants* he had bought for her.
Just as she was in the middle of explaining gymnosperms and angiosperms, a servant brought out a second pot of tea. It was a floral tea made from dried marigolds.
Aileen clutched the teacup filled with flowers and eagerly explained to Cesare that marigolds were good for the eyes and could also be used to treat wounds. She was just about to take her first sip.
“Aileen.”
Cesare called her name, gently taking her by the wrist. He had her set the teacup down.
Aileen, who had been eager to try the pretty floral tea, tilted her head in confusion. Cesare handed Aileen a cookie, then held the teacup out to the servant and commanded.
“Drink it.”
The servant's face instantly turned ashen. He began to tremble as if struck by a chill, then suddenly dropped to his knees.
“Your Highness…!”
The servant begged for his life. Cesare smiled as he gazed down at the man groveling and pleading.
“I told you to drink the tea.”
Cesare said, his face still smiling.
“I don't recall asking you to beg for forgiveness.”
The servant's eyes filled with despair. When he continued to resist, Cesare's knights forced the tea down his throat.
As the servant began to seize, foaming at the mouth with his eyes rolling back, Cesare ordered him to be removed. After the servant was dragged out of the garden, he turned back to Aileen as if nothing had happened.
“It seems we can't have any more tea. Shall we have some cookies instead?”
Aileen sat stunned, the cookie still in her hand. She wanted to act composed, but the scene had been too much for the young girl to handle. Even as Cesare waited for an answer, she could only stare blankly with her mouth agape…
“*Hic, sob…!*”
Eventually, tears began to stream down her face. Cesare, greatly flustered, spent a long time trying to soothe and comfort her. It was a disaster born from not yet knowing each other well.