“Princess Lorelei will be stripped of her title and exiled to the far northeastern territory of Gentia. She will never be permitted to leave and if she steps beyond its borders, she is to be executed on sight.”

Just over a month after the scandal that shattered Princess Sylvia’s wedding, the Emperor finally made his decision.

Not only would Lorelei be expelled from the palace, but she would also be stripped of her imperial title. She would live out her days in quiet seclusion on a small estate on the furthest border of the empire.

Terrified of upsetting Princess Sylvia upon her return from her honeymoon, the nobles let out a collective sigh of relief.

Meanwhile, those who had secretly hoped for Lorelei’s reinstatement could do nothing but swallow their disappointment.

“Your Majesty! This punishment is far too severe! Princess Lorelei did not even attempt treason—how can her title be revoked?”

“Precisely, Your Majesty! At worst, she became entangled in an unfortunate affair. Yet you speak of deposition?”

Some of the nobles leapt to their feet in outrage.

Kieron listened to their objections, then let out a quiet, bitter laugh.

Was it really just an unfortunate affair?

Did the *buse of palace servants mean nothing?

Was her contempt for other nobles to be overlooked as well?

He swept his gaze across the chamber and met the Marquis of Peyton’s eyes.

The two of them exchanged a brief, wordless signal. The Emperor had wrestled with this decision for a very long time.

Both Kieron and the Marquis knew that, although some claimed the punishment was too severe, it was the best choice the Emperor could make. So they had quietly prepared ways to support his declaration from the shadows.

“These are the rumors Her Highness ordered the nobles to spread.”

“And she personally beat and expelled her attendants. Some even died at her hands.”

“She even tried to interfere with Ambrose’s Council of Elders. How can any of this be dismissed as a simple romantic quarrel?”

This alone constituted egregious overreach, an act of contempt toward the empire’s own people. It was more than enough to warrant judgment.

“Many were killed or injured because of the First Princess. We will compensate them fully, and for their sake, she must be removed.”

Armed with the evidence and testimonies presented by Kieron and the Marquis, the Emperor’s voice became steadier and stronger. He could not retreat now.

If he did, all the resolve he had managed to muster would crumble.

Kieron looked at the Emperor, hoping his conviction would not falter.

However, the nobles seemed completely indifferent to the Emperor’s anguish.

“Your Majesty! The punishment far outweighs the crime. If this becomes known, what citizen will believe you are just?”

“How dare you criticize His Majesty’s judgment!”

“This is not criticism! I am merely saying there must be limits!”

The council chamber descended into chaos almost instantly. Everyone was shouting, insisting that their opinion was the correct one.

Amidst that storm of selfish, clashing voices, Kieron felt nothing but disgust.

If he could have, he would have chosen a quiet life with Ariadne, far removed from all this.

Feeling weary, he shifted his gaze and found the Marquis of Peyton, who was calm and steady and enduring everything with eyes that mirrored his own.

The Marquis must have disliked many things about this situation as well. Yet he remained composed, lowering his gaze as if gathering his resolve, quietly withstanding whatever disturbed him.

Watching him, Kieron understood something.

It would have been easy to choose the path that would allow him and Ariadne to live peacefully together. But choosing the path that would protect her… that was difficult.

It required strength. Strength like the Marquis had built up over many years wasn’t forged by sitting silently in a chair.

Kieron glanced once more at the nobles still arguing amongst themselves, then slowly rose to his feet.

The movement was abrupt enough to make every head turn towards him. He normally despised this kind of attention, but today he knew he had to endure it.

If he wanted to achieve his goal, there was no other way.

With countless eyes fixed on him, Kieron bowed his head slightly towards the emperor.

“I will provide the soldiers to escort Princess Lorelei to the Gentia territory. At a time as turbulent as this, it would be dangerous for the Imperial Knight Order to leave the palace unmanned.”

Silence fell.

Kieron was one of the few nobles in the Empire authorized to maintain a private army.

Fewer than five people held that privilege, and one of them had just publicly endorsed the Emperor’s decision by offering his own soldiers.

Even the nobles who had been loudly objecting moments ago fell silent.

A few opened their mouths to speak, but after glancing around, fell silent.

The Emperor’s eyes warmed with gratitude as he looked at Kieron.

“Then, will the duke personally lead the escort?”

“I must decline that, Your Majesty. As you know, I am… involved in this matter to some extent.”

He offered to lend his soldiers to ensure the security of the imperial palace. However, as his own interests were linked to Lorelei’s downfall, he decided not to accompany the escort himself.

It was a rational argument. It would have been perfect, too, if not for one person who held a different opinion.

“Then Your Majesty, should we not decline the Duke of Ambrose’s assistance altogether? His knights cannot possibly be ignorant of what happened to him.”

The Duke of El was the only person to oppose him directly. He had loudly proclaimed his love for Princess Lorelei to anyone who would listen.

More than anyone, he wanted to block and overturn this outcome.

Kieron stared at the duke, wondering why he had bothered to attend today’s meeting just to oppose him.

Was he about to spout nonsense about taking Lorelei away himself…?

“I will supply the troops. I will also personally command them. If we must choose escorts, should we not pick someone unrelated to this affair?”

Contrary to Kieron’s expectations, the Duke of El made a surprisingly reasonable point. What if his soldiers decided to harm her because of the infamy she had brought upon herself?

It was a valid concern.

Kieron exhaled a quiet, mocking breath.

If we’re discussing who poses the greatest danger to her, isn’t it him?

The Duke of El was sitting there, puffed up with outrage. If anyone were likely to harm Lorelei, it would be him.

Kieron tilted his head slightly and answered in a cool, measured tone.

“In that case, can we truly say you are a trustworthy escort, Your Grace?”

“What did you say?”

“Everyone here knows how you feel about the princess. How can we be sure that you won’t take advantage of the situation?”

“You—how dare you run your mouth!”

The Duke of El exploded with fury at Kieron’s words. This was partly because of the unmistakable implication, but also because it struck close to home.

However, Kieron had not spoken thoughtlessly.

He watched the enraged duke quietly, his eyes sharpening.

“Your Majesty. Princess Lorelei inflicted considerable harm not only upon others, but upon me and my wife as well. Is it so strange for my men to escort her safely to her place of confinement?”

‘I am one of her victims. I have every right to ensure the offender is brought safely to exile.’

It was a suggestion no one could reasonably oppose, no one except the Duke of El, who was practically foaming at the mouth.

Kieron was on the verge of raising his voice when—

“In that case, why not allow the Duke of Ambrose to provide the soldiers, and have the Duke of El lead the escort?”

The Marquis of Peyton, who had remained silent until now, finally spoke, having not lent his support to either side.

‘If they both object, then accept both of their proposals — it’s a calm compromise.’

***

“So… how did it end up?”

That evening, Ariadne listened to him recount everything over dinner. When he returned home and told her Lorelei’s punishment had finally been decided, she had been eager to hear every detail.

“Overall, it ended well. They’re leaving tomorrow, so I just need to order my men to gather early and prepare.”

“But… it’s Gentia. The mountains there are steep. The path won’t be easy.”

“They’ve crossed worse mountain passes before.”

Seeing that Ariadne was worried, Kieron waved a hand to reassure her.

If they couldn’t manage this, what had all those brutal campaigns meant?

Besides which, since he wasn’t leading the escort, there was even less reason for concern.

“Wouldn’t it normally be better for a commander who’s familiar with the troops to lead them?”

“In war, what matters isn’t whether the commander is familiar. It’s whether the commander is competent.”

He said this calmly, dabbing his mouth with a napkin. In a place where people died every day, closeness meant nothing; only skill mattered.

Hearing this, Ariadne started to speak, then stopped. After all, she hadn’t experienced war, but he had. There was no point in arguing about something she knew nothing about. If he said it was true, then it was.

“Did the Duke of El agree to it? I thought he had feelings for Her Highness. How can someone escort the person they love into exile?”

It was a question that only Ariadne could ask — simple, sincere, and heartbreakingly naïve.

Kieron remembered the Duke of El that he had seen earlier that day.