There was just a quiet, lonely, and solitary room. But now, it’s no longer like that.
The once-empty room is now filled with luxurious furniture, and a dazzling chandelier hangs from the ceiling. It would have been better to just move to a new room rather than renovate this small one, but Ardein had grown attached to this humble space. She no longer wanted to leave.
Of course, this was because she had shaken off her illness and regained her former status. Memories of hardship become nostalgic after success, but if you fail, they remain bitter reminders of the past.
“You’ve truly returned, Your Highness.”
Karneil, a knight of the imperial tomb, had heard rumors of her lord’s return and requested an audience. However, upon facing Ardein, she realized she had little to say.
After exchanging congratulations and admiration, there was nothing left to say. Ardein felt the same. What could she possibly say to this knight now? Years had passed without a single letter exchanged between them, so it would have been more surprising if they had anything to talk about beyond greetings and old stories.
‘Did she come here, bowing her head, fearing I might seek revenge?’
Truly, she felt nothing. No resentment, no gratitude. That was the extent of their relationship.
Karneil was neither a great loyalist nor a great traitor. Like monkeys fleeing a falling tree, she was just one bird that flew away when Ardein’s tree began to tilt.
Still, it was commendable that she didn’t flatter the woodcutters after fleeing. Ardein found that somewhat pleasing.
So even if Karneil whispered about wanting to nestle close again, Ardein had no intention of being lenient. Of course, she didn’t angrily drive her former subordinate away either.
It wasn’t that big of a deal, and Ardein needed to rebuild her influence. While Karneil was a traitor, she was still a former subordinate who could be somewhat excused. There was no need to create unnecessary rumors by treating her harshly.
“For now, focus on fulfilling your current duties. Good things will come soon.”
If good things didn’t happen, would Karneil dare to protest? Knowing her place, she wouldn’t dare, so Ardein sent her away with empty words.
Though it was just a verbal promise, Karneil repeatedly expressed her gratitude and left.
Ardein’s gaze wasn’t kind, but the knight never realized it and left filled with gratitude.
“You’ve been receiving many guests lately, Your Highness.”
Maien, the maid—now a lady-in-waiting—hesitated before speaking. The first thing Ardein did upon her return was to promote the two maids who had stayed loyal to her to ladies-in-waiting.
From mere servants doing odd jobs, they suddenly found themselves in positions akin to aides. It took only a night to feel the change.
Tasks like cleaning and laundry were handed over to other maids in the palace, and the head maid, who once demanded bows, now greeted them with friendly smiles and inquired about their well-being.
The two maids, who had always lived with their heads bowed, found this change unfamiliar. Above all, they were shocked to realize they had become nobles.
-It’s just a baronetcy. No need to be so grateful. I’m sorry I couldn’t grant you a higher title.
Of course, commoners like them couldn’t just be given a baronetcy without merit. With the rise of the Citadel Republic and the changing times, the empire’s nobility no longer held as much power as before. It had always been that way, and now even more so.
The gap between commoners and nobles wasn’t as wide as one might think, especially for those who trained their magical power to reach higher levels.
In fact, it was because of this that nobles clung to their status, desperate to emphasize their specialness. They disliked and rejected commoners crossing their thresholds, but it wasn’t a problem because commoners had no reason to cross them in the first place.
Did Leyman seek a title? Did Geher wish to become a noble?
Influential figures of common birth could wield power and authority without titles. Even without them, nobles respected and honored them, so there was no need to clash with the nobility over titles. Thus, even Ardein couldn’t grant her maids a baronetcy.
She could force it, but the established noble families would never accept these two new baronesses. Those who had lost real power clung to their identity.
The risk of ridicule and scorn was high, so she compromised with a baronetcy. A baronet is a noble, but not quite. It’s more of a title than a rank, with no real power or inheritance.
Still, the symbolic meaning was significant. Legally, they were nobles, so Meavil and Maien now had the qualifications to be Ardein’s ladies-in-waiting.
“It’s only natural. When a tree grows, people gather under its shade.”
The princess nodded and fell into thought. Many guests came to see her, and she had many people to visit. She was constantly busy these days. However, no matter how busy she was, she had to make time when someone requested an audience.
Meavil, the lady-in-waiting, applied a cosmetic called Dragon’s Blood to Ardein’s face and smirked mischievously. It was a gift from the Alchemy Guild, and of course, it wasn’t real dragon blood—just a cosmetic with the name.
“I’ve never seen you use something like this before. Who are you trying to impress with this makeup?”
Ardein gave a wry smile. Indeed.
There was no one who would notice her wearing makeup, so why go through the trouble? Was it because she wanted to look her best for her benefactor? Even she found that answer lacking.
The two ladies-in-waiting’s eyes sparkled. There’s nothing more entertaining than a love story.
The palace maids, burdened with chores, often gathered to share such stories to ease their fatigue.
Rumors of all kinds circulated in the palace. Most were false, but some turned out to be true.
Sometimes, the subjects of these rumors were high-ranking individuals. They had the power to turn truth into lies, so the truth was often shared only through the whispers of maids.
For example, who would dare openly say that the Third Prince Edmund and his knight had a certain kind of relationship? Everyone only speculated why he remained unmarried.
Rumors even claimed they had a child together, but it was just that—rumors. No one dared to uncover the truth.
“Do you have someone special in mind, Your Highness?”
“Nonsense! It’s not like that… It’s just…”
“Just?”
Seeing Ardein flustered was rare, and the two ladies-in-waiting smiled.
Of course, the royal family is the most noble bloodline. But that’s precisely why their love stories are even more fascinating. The two maids, almost like sisters to Ardein, seized the opportunity and looked at their mistress with sparkling eyes.
“It’s just a desire to express gratitude. Don’t get any strange ideas.”
The more you tell someone not to think about something, the more they want to. As Ardein waved her hands in denial, the two ladies-in-waiting smiled. Even before her illness, Ardein had been far from love.
She had received many proposals and marriage talks, but she had no interest in such matters. Ardein only desired two things: power and authority, with the latter being her greater pursuit. For her, power was a tool for authority.
Those who truly seek power don’t crave authority. If they do, they use it solely as a tool to accumulate power. Those in power see such individuals as swords they can wield, but it’s among these people that the ultimate masters are sometimes born.
Grimudo of the Arctic. Master Heron from five hundred years ago. Moonlight Teresa, the Grand Master from an era before Heron. And now, Leyman and Geher.
There’s a place only those who don’t focus on power can reach.
Ardein wasn’t one of them. Roka was much closer to that type.
And yet, such a woman.
Seeing their mistress blush like a woman in love, the ladies-in-waiting sincerely hoped her feelings would come to light. Honestly, their mistress was long past the age for marriage.
If she could meet a good person and settle down quickly, it would be a dream come true for them.
“That’s the one.”
“Indeed…”
The two women murmured as they saw the guest who had arrived. Despite being a princess, Ardein personally went out to greet him, which only confirmed their suspicions.
The man, dressed in simple black clothes that hid stains and wear, wasn’t as flamboyant as the noble sons who had once courted Ardein. He didn’t adorn himself with gold or silver, and his attire was neat but lacked formality.
Yet, as he approached, a warm, comforting aura reached even the two ladies-in-waiting who kept their distance. Unconsciously, they took a step forward, like people drawn to sunlight.
He was a man with an inexplicable warmth. Their mistress must have melted in that warmth without realizing it.
Indeed, Ardein’s gaze as she looked at Priest Kyle was consistently warm. Finally, spring had come for their mistress, and the two ladies-in-waiting whispered to each other, smiling contentedly.
“Your Highness, I have something important to say.”
The man spoke in a serious tone. The two ladies-in-waiting covered their mouths with their hands, exchanging glances. If this were a third-rate romance novel, they could easily guess what was coming next.
A woman weary and exhausted from the affairs of the Citadel Republic and other major events.
If a man she had unknowingly grown fond of came to her at such a time, what else could he possibly say? A confession. It had to be. They barely contained their excitement. And they were glad they did.
“Please, speak, Saint. What is it you wish to tell me…?”
“I must go to the Citadel Republic.”
It wasn’t a confession—it was more like a declaration of farewell.
“I’ve been grateful for everything, but I can no longer stay by your side.”
