“Your Majesty, where are you going?”

They were just about to step out into the street to find a place to talk when Deputy-Commander Liton, standing firm like a gatekeeper, blocked Ailie and Ricciardo’s path.

Come to think of it, he was always supposed to remain by the Empress’s side outside the residence. By the Emperor’s orders.

Still, she hadn’t expected him to be waiting at the door from early morning.

“Just outside for a moment. We’ll talk and come right back.”

“Then I must accompany you.”

“It won’t take long. And the young lord of Alvaro will be with me—surely that’s enough?”

She had only intended to have a quick chat before going back, but Liton resolutely shook his head.

Of course, she understood his concern. If anything were to happen to the Empress after she stepped out without an escort, even briefly, he would be held entirely responsible.

However, today was their last day of rest in Erdei, and Liton knew that Ricciardo could be trusted.

Ricciardo opened his mouth too, trying to persuade Liton.

“Sir Liton, we have something important to discuss. Just this once—please.”

“I cannot disobey His Majesty’s command.”

It was clear he had no intention of giving in. Liton didn’t even blink as he repeated the same words.

Then did they have no choice but to talk in the garden? It was early, so the family was unlikely to come out.

“Ric, should we talk in the garden, then?”

“The maids will be coming and going there to prepare for the farewell party. It feels wrong to ask them to clear out just so we can talk, especially when they’re busy.”

“Well, that’s true, but…”

At this point, surely Liton would relent and let them go.

Holding onto that faint hope, she looked up at him but only met those unwavering dark brown eyes, steady and unmoved.

“If I accompany you, the matter will be resolved quite simply. I’ll stand there like a wall, so speak at ease.”

Only then did Ailie understand why Benate had gone to the trouble of assigning her a deputy commander. The man was inflexibly thorough and there wasn’t an ounce of leniency in him.

She had thought he might have softened during their time in Erdei, but perhaps that had been wishful thinking.

Ailie and Ricciardo let out long sighs at the same time.

“…Very well.”

Ultimately, it was Ricciardo who gave in. With resignation clear in his tone, he murmured something under his breath and looked at Ailie.

With no other option, Ailie nodded back. Whatever it was that Ricciardo intended to say, it didn’t seem to be something that Liton absolutely could not hear — unless Ricciardo was planning to beat about the bush.

Either way, they needed to talk before the party began. There was no time to waste.

“All right, then. Sir Liton, come with us.”

The three of them left the residence and headed towards a quiet plaza. There were a few stalls, but they were still being set up and there were hardly any passers-by. A bench stood some distance away from the stalls.

It was the perfect place to talk.

Ailie sat on the bench with Ricciardo while Liton stood a short distance away with his back against a tree.

“About what we talked about last time.”

Ricciardo spoke slowly.

Ailie nodded, her gaze fixed on her friend’s pitch-black eyes.

“I thought about it a lot. About what I could do for you—and for myself.”

His voice was steady, free of hesitation.

“And this is the conclusion I reached. There isn’t… a better alternative.”

“……”

“So trust me.”

Ricciardo took a familiar box out of his coat.

It was a flat, elongated case wrapped in velvet.

She knew exactly what had once been inside it: the certificate of completion from the Brice Swordsmanship Academy and the letter appointing him as an instructor.

It was the Empire’s most prestigious academy, located on the eastern frontier. Far from the imperial capital…

“Don’t worry. I’ll be there. Whenever you want.”

That day, Ricciardo had said those words.

“Ailie, I—”

“……”

“I’m going to join the Imperial Knights.”

Allie could only stare at him, her eyes wide and her mouth agape.

What was she supposed to say? What kind of reaction should she show?

Should she stop him? Or should she tell him that she believed in him, just as he had believed in her, and that her belief in him was unchanged and unwavering?

All she had ever wanted from Ricciardo was his trust. Nothing more. If he had simply believed in her before these feelings festered beyond repair, it would have been enough to prevent this life from being ruined by regret.

She had never dared to wish for anything more.

From now on, he would prepare. He would do everything he could to ensure he was never too late. So—

“Trust me.”

The words slipped from Ailie’s lips before her friend could beg her to trust him again or ask her to have faith in him after he had made such a monumental decision on her behalf.

Her heart was far from calm. Recognizing the amount of thought that Ricciardo must have put into this decision, she felt a pang of guilt.

And yet, she was grateful.

When she had revealed the Emperor’s infidelity, she had longed for trust. Even as she spoke, the words ‘trust me’ felt shameful, unbecoming and ugly enough to make her want to hide.

Then Ricciardo said this: “Trust me.”

How much that single answer had softened wounds she thought would never fade.

“…Thank you for trusting me.”

Ricciardo said that and smiled with a boyish innocence. Perhaps because he had been so tense and was finally able to relax, a faint sheen of moisture clung to his pitch-black eyes.

Then, all of a sudden, he took out the instructor appointment letter from the box.

“Ric?”

Without a moment’s hesitation, he gripped the top with both hands—

—rip!

Just as he was about to tear it apart—

“…And what confidence is that supposed to be?”

Liton approached and stood right in front of Ricciardo without anyone noticing, striking his hand aside.

The appointment letter fell to the ground with a soft thud. Thankfully, it was only slightly crumpled and not torn. Ailie quickly picked it up and returned it to the box.

Had he been about to tear it up because he was afraid his decision might waver? If he cut off every other path, then he wouldn’t be able to falter again.

‘But that’s…’

Wasn’t that too much of a waste?

This, too, was something Ricciardo had achieved through his own effort.

Liton must have thought the same.

Ricciardo pressed his lips together tightly and looked away.

“Prince Álvaro, the Imperial Knights are not a charity that takes in just anyone and nurtures them.”

“……”

“I apologize for overhearing, but if you say you’ll begin preparing now, then as a Brice graduate… it would take, what, about five years.”

“……”

“But if you were appointed as an instructor immediately after graduation, it’s a different story.”

At those words, Ricciardo lifted his head and met Liton’s gaze.

“I have no desire to watch a rare talent rot away for five years simply because they haven’t yet been given the chance to prove their worth.”

“Sir Liton, are you saying that—”

“Tomorrow at dawn, a carriage bound for the imperial capital will depart. Get on.”

“…What?”

“Of course, there will be a basic examination and the commander’s approval to obtain. Even with my recommendation.”

Those pitch-black eyes widened.

Ailie stared at Liton and blinked slowly. He didn’t look as though he were joking.

She had thought him nothing but inflexible, never imagined he would be this decisive.

“So… will you do it, Prince Alvaro?”

Ricciardo sprang to his feet.

The faint hesitation that had lingered on his face was already gone without a trace.

“I look forward to working with you, Deputy-Commander.”

***

“How much longer do we have?”

Emperor Benate Seraulte Renov asked as he gazed out at the scenery passing beyond the carriage window.

It seemed snow had fallen in the area not long ago. Outside, everything was dyed a pure, unbroken white.

At his short exhale, white breath scattered into the air.

“I asked the coachman—he says we’ll arrive in two days, Your Majesty.”

“…I see.”

Although he had asked the question himself, he replied slowly, as though his mind had wandered elsewhere.

After a while, Benate took his gaze off the window and looked inside the carriage. Then, as if speaking to himself, he murmured in a flat tone.

“It won’t be cold, will it? It’s one of the warmer regions within the Empire.”

He had been referring to the county of Erdei.

Uncertain whether the remark was intended for him, the Knight Commander hesitated. After a brief pause, he finally spoke.

“Yes, it’s warm enough there at this time of year for it to rain instead of snow, so Her Majesty the Empress will be very comfortable.”

He hadn’t even mentioned the place, yet the conversation had naturally drifted back to the empress. That was only to be expected. During the three weeks that Benate had spent in the Kingdom of Essini attending the international conference, the Empress had scarcely left his thoughts.

Was she doing well?

Was the weather too cold for her?

Was her family treating her kindly?

Had anything unexpected happened?

And, however slightly, was she happier there than she had been in the imperial palace?

A faint, self-mocking smile touched his lips. Benate found his own timidity almost ridiculous.

After all, it was he who had urged her to take time away to recuperate. Yet, all this time, he had been fighting the impulse to abandon the wretched conference altogether and rush after her to Erdei.

‘How absurd. An emperor of the Empire, reduced to this.’

But what would he have done if he had chased after her?

After all, he had suggested recuperation in the first place because it hurt him to see Ailie trembling in his presence.

“Yes. Thank you for easing my worries.”

Finally, Benate replied, turning his cold gaze back towards the window. His pale, gaunt face, worn down by exhaustion and worry, appeared almost hollow.

The outcome of the international conference was disappointing, to say the least.

Even after ten long years, no clear conclusion had been reached on how to address the unknown lands at the far edges of the continent. A few kingdoms had shown signs of forming alliances to claim ownership of the territory, but fortunately, none of these had come to fruition.

For nearly two weeks, the leaders of each nation had gone round in circles, proposing and rejecting the same arguments.

In the end, with no answer in sight, they once again chose to postpone making a decision about the land.

It was safe.

But it was also painfully anticlimactic.

The only thing he could truly call a ‘gain’ from the long journey was a portrait of him prepared by the King of Essini.

‘…Can that even be called a gain?’

Benate hadn’t refused the gift.

A portrait terrifyingly beautiful—so vivid it felt as though it truly existed, despite never having been seen in reality.

It depicted a young Ailie and himself, smiling brightly together.

In truth, he hadn’t been able to refuse it.

Even knowing it was a fabrication, the mere thought of leaving Ailie behind in Essini made it impossible for him to take another step.

It was a ridiculous devotion—no, a painfully foolish, one-sided love.