While Erdene and Sophia were pounding Bellen on a chopping board in the empty drill ground, Arkan was busy clicking his tongue in frustration in the room where Pellerhar was staying.

Perhaps feeling the aftermath of travel, Pellerhar, who was wrapped in sheets like a hopeless lazybones, threw a cushion and said:

“Please leave.”

However, Arkan dodged the cushion with irritating ease, then looked disapprovingly at the shelves full of all sorts of unsettling objects and clicked his tongue once more.

“Oh, please!”

Pellerhar was nearly going mad at how uncannily Arkan knew exactly when he was about to drift off to sleep, clicking his tongue each time.

Arkan held up one of the ornaments from the shelf towards Pellerhar, whose eyes had already become puffy. It was an unidentifiable stone.

“What on earth do you keep picking up every time you go out and come back? How can you make it like this in less than an hour after I cleaned it up neatly?”

As Arkan said, Pellerhar’s room looked not like any room in Betor Castle, but as if it had jumped to a different place, a different world.

The tapestries hanging here and there—which seemed to have been under people’s backsides for at least a hundred years—and the random clothes strewn about were the better parts.

Every shelf was lined with odds and ends, whether picked up or bought, and from the ceiling hung several mobiles, some made of stone, some of crystal, and others of smooth-edged colored glass.

Then there was a mottled doll hanging with an eerie expression embroidered on it.

Those stains looked suspiciously like dried blood.

Pellerhar, who had buried his face in the pillow, complained:

“Ah, who told you to clean it up? I’ve told you over and over not to touch my room.”

“So you want me to leave it like this all year round? Even a ghost couldn’t live here.”

“Argh, please! Let me sleep! Don’t you have anything to do today? Go read some erotic novels!”

Then a fluffy ball of cotton—once a sheep doll—flew towards Pellerhar.

Normally, Pellerhar wouldn’t have taken this lying down, but right now he was just so… sleepy.

Whether the cotton ball hit his crown or not, he just wished Arkan would get out of here.

Arkan said:

“Who reads erotic novels?”

“His Majesty Arkan, the prim and proper prude.”

Arkan turned his head back sharply.

“Platt, drag him out and throw him in jail.”

Platt bowed deeply and replied:

“There are no grounds for arrest, Your Majesty.”

“He’s lying about me reading erotic novels.”

“Your Majesty, if I may be so bold, ‘Cold Lover’ falls under the category of erotic novels.”

At Platt’s stubborn retort, Pellerhar burst into giggles, clutching his stomach. Arkan imagined kicking them both out the window.

In fact, there was a reason why Arkan was visiting Pellerhar’s room and persistently bothering the tired man.

After meeting Erdene, Pellerhar had deliberately stopped by Arkan’s office and said:

[She was quite a stunning woman. No wonder the Emperor of Hirschsten cherished her so. If I had been here when marriage talks were going on, I might have stepped in instead of you.]

I swear, Pellerhar hadn’t meant to deliberately irritate Arkan.

Rather, he had wanted to tell Arkan ‘how fortunate he was to bring such a stunning woman as his queen’, but for some reason, Arkan’s mood had soured at Pellerhar’s words.

While Arkan was looking at the bizarre ornaments on the shelf, Pellerhar had fallen asleep instantly with his face buried in the pillow.

Listening to the deep breathing, Arkan considered playing one more prank but decided against it and picked up a small dragon-shaped toy.

It felt smooth yet firm to the touch, and somewhat squishy.

Arkan’s eyes widened as he unconsciously squeezed the toy. The dragon’s eyes and tongue swelled up as if about to burst and popped out.

“This is disgustingly creepy.”

Arkan grumbled and squeezed the dragon again.

The poor rubber dragon was in danger of losing either its eyes or tongue to Arkan’s merciless grip.

“It’s disgustingly creepy. Don’t you think so, Platt?”

“I wonder why you keep squeezing it if it’s so disgusting.”

As Arkan gently squeezed the dragon once more, this time only its eyes popped out. It was still creepy anyway, but…

“I think the queen might like this.”

Hearing those words, Platt made a strange expression as if he had heard the most bizarre thing. He looked like he could blend in seamlessly among Pellerhar’s outlandish decorations.

Arkan was still muttering about how creepy it was while repeatedly squeezing the rubber dragon.

Platt, who had been staring blankly at the poor dragon with its swollen eyes, said:

“Your Majesty.”

“What?”

“If you really intend to give it to Her Majesty, the dragon’s eyes will all burst before you can present it.”

Squeezing the dragon hard one last time, Arkan tossed the toy to Platt.

“Go tell the servants to wrap it up nicely. I want to see her expression when she opens it.”

Platt had a lot he wanted to say but decided to hold his tongue.

It was when the two were leaving Pellerhar’s room. The far end of the corridor seemed noisy, and then several servants were seen running as if in a race.

It was Platt who got angry at this ill-mannered behavior before Arkan did.

“You rascals! How dare you run around so recklessly, stop right now!”

Unfortunately, the servant running at the very back was caught by Platt.

His face immediately turned pale upon seeing Arkan, but even then, he kept glancing anxiously in the direction his colleagues had run off to.

Platt said:

“What on earth is going on? Unless there’s a fire, what were you all doing?”

“Well, that…”

Just then, a group of servants appeared. This time, there were maids mixed in as well.

They rushed past quickly, murmuring among themselves, without even noticing Platt and Arkan.

Arkan looked down at the servant and asked:

“What’s all this about? Has there been an accident?”

“Ah, no. It’s not an accident, but… there, at the… drill ground.”

“Drill ground?”

For a moment, chills ran down Arkan’s spine. Why the drill ground all of a sudden, what could have happened there?

And why did Erdene’s face reflexively come to mind?

Platt urged in an angry voice:

“This concerns His Majesty’s safety. Speak properly! Has someone been injured at the drill ground? Or…”

“It’s, it’s not like that. It’s not that… um, they say Captain Wizard is sp-sparring with Her Majesty at the drill ground. Everyone’s going to watch that.”

Platt’s mouth gaped open like a nutcracker. Arkan furrowed his brow, groaned, and clutched his forehead.

“Damn, I forgot to put it in the marriage vows. I should have included a clause saying ‘You must not kill the knight captain I’ve just appointed.'”

[This is the timeline separator]

Because Arkan had forgotten to include a clause in the marriage vows, Bellen Wizard was nearly driven to the edge of a cliff.

He never realized he would experience so vividly the saying ‘not an inch to move.’

He didn’t even notice that people had gradually gathered, forming crowds as if watching a duck race on a festival day.

He had no time to be distracted by such things.

“Your movements are sluggish! I can see every move you’re about to make!”

Erdene’s exhilarated shout rang in his ears.

During the time it took her to say ‘Your movements are sluggish,’ the wooden sword had flown towards Bellen five times.

Erdene lightly deflected three strikes in quick succession, completely draining the strength from his wrists and arms, then immediately sidestepped to strike his side and lower back in succession.

“Agh! Your Majesty! Wait, please! Let me get into position…!”

“Would you say that on the battlefield too? Ask them to wait while you get into position? Only in fairy tales do enemies stupidly wait for you!”

Bellen was struck hard on his shoulders, arms, and thighs.

Erdene gave him a brief respite, but Bellen couldn’t regain his composure.

His skill was by no means poor.

The rumor that no one in the inland could match Bellen Wizard was not unfounded.

At first, Bellen’s initial charge was swift and impressive. Even to Erdene, who had seen countless imperial officers who claimed to be the best, it seemed quite capable.

Had he been an imperial officer, she would have trained him to the point of vomiting everything in his stomach, then considered entrusting him with a few soldiers.

Demonstrating such skill became a great misfortune for Bellen.

After all, he was just an inland youngster. Erdene had assumed he had only practiced swinging his sword prettily while laughing cheerfully, and considered him trivial. But when Bellen unexpectedly pressed forward strongly, she suddenly felt her blood boiling.

It was enjoyable… unbearably enjoyable!

How long had it been since she felt such joy? Counting even the stagnant war in Binotin, it had been more than a year.

At first, Erdene had been moving lazily, just intending to loosen up her stiff body. Her eyes changed when Bellen’s wooden sword grazed past the side of her neck.

Even if it had been a real battle, it wouldn’t have left a scratch, but there weren’t many officers even in Hirschsten who could aim for her neck with such skill.

‘Well, look at this one. Isn’t he quite excellent?’

A smile spread across Erdene’s lips.

She quietly switched the hand holding the wooden sword, and after that… a truly merciless attack followed.

At first, Bellen didn’t even realize he was being pummeled.

It was as if pain in the form of rain was suddenly pouring down from the sky.

“Your Majesty, wait! Ugh!”

Sophia, who was watching this scene, shook her head with folded arms and muttered:

“I prefer whole potatoes to mashed ones.”