Episode 3
“Ah, haha, my goodness… he ran away? He really ran away? The Emperor’s wife is still in the capital and sent you to me to ask for forgiveness?”
“Yes, Lord Kirta,” Lucnell replied steadily.
“Oh, this is something I never imagined. Your Empress is similar to a woman of our people, but your Emperor seems completely different from a man of the plains.”
Lucnell had a vague idea of what Kirta meant by this light-hearted remark.
The nomads of the steppes raised all their children, boys and girls alike, as warriors. To them, fleeing was the greatest disgrace, and cowardice was the gravest sin.
“If you, who have come this far, were not a man, I might have thought all the men of this country were as cowardly as your Emperor. Thanks to you, I will not make that mistake.”
Kirta’s calm words ignited a burning anger in Lucnell.
Who dares call anyone a coward when so many Imperial men have already taken up arms and fallen trying to stop this invader?
Lucnell fought to remind himself of his sister’s repeated warnings: This war began because of the Empire’s fault.
Even so, his anger remained. Yet he managed to maintain enough self-control to not to lose his temper and rush at the enemy commander.
“Then rise, Herald of the Empire. We will all head to the capital together.”
“Yes, Kirta.”
It was fortunate Lucnell had laid down his sword earlier. If a weapon had been within his reach, he might have succumbed to the temptation to strike Kirta then and there.
But what mattered now was returning to the capital alive and aiding his sister in protecting the Empire.
If Lucnell allowed his anger to ruin everything, he would never forgive himself, even in his death.
—
Eventually, they entered the capital without further bloodshed.
The lords, having heard rumors of the invaders’ brutality, had fled with their families instead of resisting. Most of the citizens had hidden well, and Kirta’s army, showing restraint, made no effort to hunt them down.
Thus, on a bright spring day, the Empress of Leceon met the young monarch of the steppes.
Lentia personally guided Kirta to the palace. The proud Imperial Guards that usually stood at every gate were absent by her command.
Kirta and his men entered the enemy’s heart fully armed, but Lentia received them with nothing but her maid at her side and with no escorts.
Kirta was intrigued. He admired the Empress’s deliberate effort of not provoking the enemy—a curious gesture that bordered on goodwill.
“Your husband fled, abandoning his people, but you are truly brave. Aren’t you afraid to be so close to me?” Kirta asked slyly, observing the woman walking a step ahead of him with calm poise.
“How could I not be afraid?” Lentia replied without hesitation. “It’s just that my trust in Kirta is greater than my fear. You’ve
harmed no one since receiving my message and arriving at the capital, so I trust you’ll continue to be courteous here.”
Her accent was soft, yet her enunciation was sharp and precise. Each word resonated clearly, unshaken by fear.
The Empress didn’t tremble. Her round shoulders and straight neck reflected unwavering composure, a rare courage in the face of invaders whose path was drenched in blood.
Even her maid, walking beside her, showed no fear.
Kirta observed the red-haired young woman and wondered, Are the women of Leceon stronger than rumored? Or is it just this Empress and her people?
The nomads had their own prejudices. To them, the women of the Empire seemed powerless, confined to corsets and narrow chambers. They paled in comparison to the warrior women of the steppes.
But Kirta was willing to reconsider.
—
When they reached a grand door, Lentia stopped. Silent servants opened it, revealing a large conference room.
“This is the conference room,” Lentia said, her tone steady. “I would like us to sit down and calmly discuss on how we can work together to achieve harmony between our nations.”
“What do you mean by ‘we’?”
“It means you and me, Kirta,” Lentia answered directly.
Kirta’s lips curved into a cheerful smirk, but he was not mocking her.
The Emperor has certainly abandoned his country, Kirta thought.
The way Lentia handled the situation—standing alone to negotiate without the Emperor—made it clear who the true ruler was.
Kirta’s curiosity grew. Did the Empress’s strength overshadow the Emperor? Or was he a weakling from the beginning, leaving her to bear the weight of the nation?
Without letting his thoughts distract him, Kirta followed Lentia into the room.
“That’s why our people try to talk before drawing swords,” Kirta said as he entered, glancing back at Lentia with a faint smile.
His words were laced with pointed sarcasm. The Empire hadn’t extended the same courtesy when the nomads had sent their delegation.
Lentia maintained her composure and led Kirta to the long table at the room’s center. She stood beside it and looked at him expectantly.
Kirta recognized the gesture. In both the Empire and the plains, the highest-ranking individual is seated first.
The Empress’s deference was deliberate.
Kirta couldn’t help but smile. The more Lentia lowered herself now, the more unpredictable her counterattack would be later.
Remaining cautious, Kirta took his seat. Lentia then sat gracefully across from him, her maid standing silently by her side.
“First, as the Empress of Leceon, I formally apologize,” Lentia began, her eyes meeting Kirta’s directly. “I ask for your forgiveness for the unjust losses your people have suffered.”
Kirta didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he weighed her words carefully.
What if I refuse forgiveness here?
If he denied her apology, his army would annihilate everyone in the palace. The Empress herself would likely to be the first to die.
The thought twisted his stomach unpleasantly. Kirta dismissed the feeling and replied solemnly.
“I accept your apology. We’ve already avenged ourselves more than enough. There’s no need to sharpen the sword of resentment further.”
A favor repaid sevenfold. An enemy twelvefold. And vengeance for betrayal twentyfold.
The nomads’ revenge had far exceeded those calculations.
“Then please return with your army,” Lentia said. Her tone was soft, but her sky-blue eyes gleamed with unyielding resolve.
“You came here to avenge yourselves. Now that your purpose is achieved, there’s no reason for you to remain in this land.”
Kirta met her gaze, recognizing her strength.
You love your homeland as much as I love mine, he thought. You suffer because of the pain your people have endured.
