Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

Debela did not directly meet the gaze of the Secretary of State. Instead, he stared at the dramatic scene unfolding on the other side of the hall and spoke in double entendre: "I wonder if you can keep your promise."

"Simple." Lionel remained composed, his reply cold: "We'll know within a matter of days."

Meanwhile, on the other side of the hall, Siegfried—the blonde military attendant of the Prince—had already grown weary of the "performance" before him.

Absolute power brings absolute status. Every glance, every smile, every movement of the Prince was infinitely magnified and scrutinized by the onlookers. Thus, public interactions between the Royal Family and nobles were governed by a complex set of protocols, designed to avoid conveying incorrect messages.

This labyrinth of rituals might have its purposes, but Siegfried, who had seen it play out countless times in the palace, had not anticipated encountering it again on the southern rebels' territory. He found it tiresome.

Richard quickly noticed the shift in Siegfried's mood—after all, before Siegfried and the other orphans were sent to the military academy, they had been his childhood playmates.

He was well aware that the fiercely prideful Siegfried had loathed ceremonial formalities from a young age, and the Emperor's esteem and indulgence for Siegfried had only nurtured this disposition further.

After dismissing yet another minor noble, Richard turned, smiling as he asked Siegfried, "[Old tongue] Still sulking about His Majesty stripping you of your command?"

"[Old tongue] I have never harbored any discontent toward His Majesty, and I never will," Siegfried answered solemnly. "[Old tongue] Your Highness."

"[Old tongue] You've always lacked a sense of humor, and it seems that hasn't changed," Richard replied lightly. "[Old tongue] The Castilians are clinging to you and won't let go. Temporarily taking you off the frontlines is both to protect you and to deny those Castilian brutes an excuse to stir up trouble. Stop looking so grim. How about finding some amusement for yourself?"

Siegfried frowned. "[Old tongue] I don't think there's anything amusing to be found here, Your Highness."

"[Old tongue] Isn't chasing ladies amusing enough? I've noticed quite a few madams and young ladies can't take their eyes off you."

"[Old tongue] I'm not interested in them."

"[Old tongue] Then what interests you?" Richard asked with a smile.

Siegfried answered earnestly: "[Old tongue] Since I'm rare to come south, I'd like to observe the rebel army, understand their organization and tactics, and, ideally, witness their battles up close... That might be the only thing remotely interesting in this land."

"[Old tongue] In Varn, that's unlikely," Richard chuckled, almost in disbelief. "[Old tongue] Go chase the ladies. Sow the seeds, water the fertile land. Don't worry about me."

Siegfried was about to say something but glanced at the other attendants of the Prince. The icy expression on his face softened slightly.

He bowed to the Prince, and after receiving a response, Siegfried walked toward the edge of the hall.

...

At the edge of the hall stood a long table laid with drinks and food.

From the moment Richard entered the banquet hall with his attendants, Aaron's behavior had turned suddenly strange.

While others craned their necks, eager for a glimpse of the Prince, Aaron seemed almost ready to crawl under the table, like a rabbit avoiding a hunter.

But Aaron quickly realized, to his despair, that despite his best efforts to avoid attention, the tall, blonde figure was walking straight toward him.

With nowhere to hide, Aaron dove directly beneath the dining table. Using the tablecloth as cover, he scrambled on all fours to the opposite end of the table.

Just as he cautiously poked his head out, he was abruptly lifted by the collar of his shirt with a great force from behind.

It was Siegfried.

Though Siegfried kept his face impassive, the corner of his eye twitched uncontrollably. "[Old tongue] What are you doing here?"

Having been caught, Aaron—or rather, Princess Elizabeth—gave up entirely. No longer bothering to disguise her voice, she plastered on her most radiant smile and waved. "Good evening, Count Harlan. Isn't it rather rude to carry me like this?"

"What's wrong with your voice?" Siegfried asked coldly.

"Oh!" Elizabeth answered proudly. "I went through a lot of trouble to make my voice hoarse. Don't worry, it'll get better after a while."

Siegfried's tone didn't waver: "Does His Majesty know you're here?"

"I… I didn't exactly tell Father…" Elizabeth reflexively shivered and then stubbornly argued, "But! There's nothing in the Eternal City that escapes Father's notice! Since…since I haven't been dragged back, that means Father tacitly allows it…"

At that moment, Marvey approached with a wine bottle in hand, cheerfully asking Siegfried, "You two know each other?"

Elizabeth's eyes went wide in disbelief as she looked back and forth between Marvey and Siegfried. "You two know each other?"

Siegfried ignored Elizabeth and looked at Marvey. "I suppose you're here too."

"Where there's free wine," Marvey raised both hands in a gesture of triumph, "there I will be."

Annoyed at being ignored, Elizabeth squirmed to break free from Siegfried's grip, but his hand on her collar didn't budge an inch.

She reluctantly gave up for the moment and puffed her cheeks in frustration. "You've known each other for a long time?"

"Of course," Marvey nodded matter-of-factly. Gesturing toward Siegfried with his thumb, he said with a smirk, "I rode into Varn on his carriage. If not for Siegfried, I might've already been killed by some clumsy swordsman in an alley of the Imperial Capital."