Episode 7
There was a knock. Lentia pulled the cord connected to the door, ringing the bell to indicate it was okay to come in. The door opened, and a woman entered.
“Your Majesty, it is already very late. How about taking a rest?”
It was the escort knight Verita.
Along with the chief maid, Elise, she was one of the Empress’s closest confidants—almost the only person who could come in unbidden and suggest rest without being scolded for presumption.
“Well, I still have a ton of work to do… but yes. If I rest today, I’ll be able to work tomorrow too.”
Considering the efficiency of her work, Lentia accepted Verita’s request.
Verita showed a faintly regretful expression but held her tongue, respecting the decision.
After organizing her documents, Lentia stood from her desk. Verita and Elise, who had been waiting outside, escorted her back to her chambers. Elise led the way, holding a candle, while Verita followed closely, with a sword in her hand.
Upon returning to her room, Lentia washed her hands, feet, and face with the water the maids had prepared and changed into clean pajamas. In the still-chilly early spring, the maids had warmed her bed with a brazier to keep the cold at bay.
Once Lentia lay down, the maids blew out the candles and left the room. Her body, buried in the soft blankets, quickly succumbed to fatigue, but her mind remained restless.
…I wonder if he escaped successfully. Is he taking care of the palace maids who went with him? Or is he ignoring them, trying to survive on his own?
No matter how hard she tried, Lentia couldn’t stop thinking about the Emperor, though she desperately wished she could. This chronic preoccupation—an addiction to worry and responsibility—was an ever-present weight.
Everything must end well. We need to restore the areas damaged by the war, support the refugees who wish to return home, and draft a peace treaty…
Peace. Yes, peace had to be restored.
Revenge on the barbarian hordes for trampling imperial lands was not an option. Instead, the empire needed to establish diplomatic relations with them.
If the invaders were truly savages who only sought murder and pillage, Lentia would have had no qualms about raising an army. But those she had seen were different. They were willing to talk.
With the empire’s finances already stretched thin by an incompetent ruler, war was a luxury they couldn’t afford. Even if others clamored for vengeance, Lentia knew she had to dissuade them.
As Empress, it was her responsibility to preserve as many lives as
possible.
At least I can communicate with him… Kirta…
It wasn’t just that he spoke the Imperial tongue fluently. A shared language doesn’t always guarantee mutual understanding.
The Emperor came to mind, his elegant courtly speech laced with vulgar sarcasm. Compared to him, even a stranger from the northeast seemed more trustworthy.
Though she had met Kirta only once, her impression was positive.
At least he doesn’t seem cruel.
Kirta was dangerous, certainly, and someone to be guarded against. But he hadn’t disappointed her.
Even if she couldn’t fully trust him, she could at least talk to him.
Strangely, Lentia was grateful that the Emperor wasn’t in the capital. If he had stayed, she would have had to navigate his mood constantly.
He would have accused me of overstepping my authority or of undermining his position. I couldn’t have focused on negotiations with him looming over me.
Thinking about the Emperor soured her mood. The thought of his mistress, who had fled with him, made her feel even worse.
Lentia shuddered with disgust at the memory of being left behind while her husband selfishly took his lover with him. If Kirta had been truly barbaric, Lentia might have been killed for her efforts to stop him.
Her thoughts became darker as she recalled the Emperor’s selfishness. Lentia tried to suppress the rising tide of hatred and force herself to sleep. She needed rest to face the challenges of the next day.
But her dreams were tumultuous.
They blurred lines between fantasy and reality, pulling her into vivid, primal sensations.
In her dream, a man touched her in ways she had never experienced, ways that made her whole body quiver with pleasure.
She couldn’t see his face at first, but his actions were intoxicating. His fingers moved with a skilled precision, coaxing sensations she had never thought possible.
This isn’t right…
But it was a dream, and Lentia surrendered to the warmth spreading through her body. The man’s mouth replaced his fingers, and she felt an unfamiliar, breathtaking pleasure as he kissed her in her most intimate place.
“Ah… slower, please…” she whispered, her voice trembling.
Though it was only a dream, it awakened a hunger within her—a longing for something that she had denied.
The man finally raised his head, his lips glistening. His smile was seductive, and as Lentia looked closer, she realized the man in her dream had a face.
It was Kirta.
The recognition jolted her awake. Her heart raced, her cheeks burned, and she felt utterly overwhelmed.
What in the world…?
But the remnants of the dream lingered, leaving Lentia confused and restless as the night stretched on.
