Suddenly, Erdene’s small body jumped up like a popping bean.

The sight of her quickly rising was just like that of a young girl without care, making her fearsome nicknames like “beast of the battlefield” or “bloodthirsty murderer” seem out of place.

Seemingly energized by Maura’s agreement, she spoke with sparkling eyes and even more excitement.

“Right? I really! I was about to kick him hard but felt sorry and left him alone!”

“My goodness, Your Majesty. How could you do that? If it were me, I would have scratched him. Husband or not.”

Erdene’s lips, pressed inward, wiggled slightly.

It had been so long since someone had unquestioningly taken her side.

Though it hadn’t even been a month since leaving the empire, it felt like a thousand years ago.

Sophia always took Erdene’s side too, but her reactions were calm and quiet.

For Erdene, who had spent her life surrounded by the boisterous knight commander and adjutants, she needed someone who would loudly take her side like this.

Of course, she was completely unaware of this fact, and occasionally when her adjutants got more excited about her affairs than their own, she would pinch their sides, telling them to stop being so silly.

“That’s why I called for you early.”

As Erdene’s tone returned to one befitting a queen’s dignity, Maura also resumed an attitude appropriate for a baroness.

“Yes, Your Majesty. Please tell me what it is, and I will help you to the best of my ability.”

Erdene’s pale blue eyes gleamed with a strange light.

“I need to take revenge.”

“Of course, you absolutely should. What?”

Maura felt cold sweat running down her back inside the new summer dress she had carefully put on.

She had felt a bit hot earlier from getting worked up, but now a chill came over her, instantly dissipating the heat.

Erdene spoke again. This time her voice was more resolute.

“Though I left my homeland, I was born a princess of Hirschsten, and today, no, yesterday I experienced the most insulting thing ever. I’m not one to sit idly after such an incident. If I were in the empire, I could have lined up some restless fellows and given them a good thrashing to vent my anger, but Betor is different. Just for hearing a few words, I can’t kill innocent people now that I’ve become the queen of this place, can I? Besides, the one who insulted me was that basta- I mean, His Majesty, my husband and the king of this country. If I were to vent my frustration on subordinates, wouldn’t it damage His Majesty’s honor? So what can I do? I have no choice but to show His Majesty directly how upset I was!”

Trying to understand Erdene’s rapidly spoken words without pause, Maura’s mind went blank.

In summary, her words meant this:

I’m furious because of my husband, but the Betorians are so weak that if I take it out on them, they’ll likely die. Moreover, if we consider it, Arkan is the one who did wrong, so I need to confront him directly to feel better!

‘And now… is she asking me to help with that? Oh God, mercy! How did it come to this!’

Maura’s face turned pale, not knowing what Erdene might ask of her.

Suddenly, those gruesome rumors she had heard, the chilling words describing Erdene, flashed through her mind…

“Um, Your… Your Majesty. Of course, His Majesty has done you very, very wrong! Indeed. He truly made a big mistake, but, but that…”

Erdene’s eyebrow quirked upward.

“But what?”

Maura tightly shut her eyes.

Her shoulders trembled once as if she was about to burst into tears, and she said,

“You, you, you mustn’t kill your husband! Oh my, goodness. Your Majesty, please calm down.”

Erdene stared down at Maura, who was on the verge of kneeling under the sofa, and snapped her fingers in front of her eyes.

“Baroness Weekes.”

“Oh my! Ah, yes. Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Maintain your composure. There are eyes watching.”

“Yes, I’m, I’m sorry.”

Only then did Maura, her face as red as a radish, clear her throat and straighten her dress.

Anne, who was as calm as Sophia in most matters and quick-witted, stood with her hands clasped, pretending not to have seen or heard anything, regardless of the baroness’s fuss.

Erdene, arms crossed, snorted with a rather displeased expression.

“If I were to behead people for every such incident, this palace would be empty before tomorrow’s sunset. Do you take me for a fool?”

Unsure whether to find the question ‘Do you dare take me for a fool?’ or the statement ‘The palace will be empty before tomorrow’s sunset’ more chilling, Maura simply shook her head first.

“No, no, Your Majesty, that’s not it. I spoke thoughtlessly, it was my mistake.”

“Hmm, if you understand, that’s fine. Anyway, I won’t kill him, so put that worry aside. However…”

“How, however?”

Erdene’s eyes flashed brightly.

It was completely different from when she had looked almost innocent with joy as Maura took her side.

“I’ll make his blood run cold.”

Maura’s complexion, which had just seemed to return, became pale again.

Though it was a common idiom, when she said it, it somehow didn’t sound like an empty threat.

At the very moment when Erdene was turning a broken table into firewood while summoning Baroness Maura Weekes,

Arkan had been holed up in his living room all morning, clutching his head as if suffering from a terrible hangover.

He even postponed attending the daily morning meeting, saying he had a headache, then that he felt stuffy, changing his words every time he turned around.

Thanks to that, Platt, who had written ‘It would be better if you yielded to Her Majesty’ until his wrist nearly broke as dawn broke this morning, was bustling about with bloodshot eyes.

“Your Majesty, I’ve brought tea that’s good for headaches.”

“That’s enough, just leave it and go.”

“If you could just take a sip…”

“I said that’s enough.”

Normally, Platt might have added a word or two more, but he withdrew immediately.

Lately, Arkan was a bit different from the Arkan he had known all his life. As he turned away after setting down the teacup, his swollen wrist stung anew.

‘What a mess, all because of choosing the wrong queen.’

Platt, who had spent his boyhood, youth, and middle age in the conservative and old-fashioned royal court of Betor, was already of a very stern disposition.

If the one sitting on the throne had been someone like Pellehar, his lips would have worn away from nagging.

‘Those Hirschsten Empire bastards won’t sit quietly forever, and with His Majesty changing like this…’

Feeling inexplicably angry, he unnecessarily vented his frustration on an apprentice servant who was minding his own business, scolding him for having dirty shoes.

Coincidentally, Pellehar witnessed this scene.

“Prince Pellehar.”

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Pardon?”

“You usually attend to Arkan indifferently and handle matters wisely, but you seem a bit tired lately. Why are you picking on the young lad like you’re catching a mouse just because there’s a little dirt on his shoes?”

“Prince Pellehar, you speak out of ignorance. It’s these small things that accumulate and affect the discipline of the royal court…”

“Platt.”

Pellehar’s voice lowered, as if dropping.

Platt, who had almost raised his voice in defiance, deeply bowed his head at the suddenly changed atmosphere.

“Your Highness, I apologize. I have committed a discourtesy.”

The crown of his bowed head showed patches of baldness here and there. It was natural hair loss due to aging.

By that age, more people wore wigs, but Platt, considering wigs a luxury of the young, merely trimmed his remaining hair as neatly as possible.

That stubborn personality sometimes served as a useful shield for Arkan, but from Pellehar’s perspective, it was often disagreeable.

He had grown up watching the previous king and queen control Arkan in much the same way as Platt.

‘If I get angry here, it will reflect poorly on Arkan.’

Taking a deep breath, Pellehar put on his usual leisurely, carefree smile.

“Your eyes look a bit red, didn’t you sleep well last night? I have some things to discuss with Arkan, so go and rest. I’ll call if I need you. Okay?”

“Ah, yes. I understand. Then…”

Platt turned away. His slumped shoulders showed clear signs of relief, as if he had been quite tense, fearing Pellehar’s anger.

Pellehar let out a short sigh, patted the shoulder of the scolded apprentice servant, and then entered the king’s quarters without a sound.

Seeing Arkan sitting there with a blank expression, he couldn’t help but chuckle and sigh.

Making a ‘thud’ sound with the heel of his shoe, Pellehar said,

“The Sun of Betor, His Majesty King Arkan. Duke of Sonetum, Pellehar, greets you.”

“Tell him my stomach is already churning, so he should either sit quietly or get out.”

“I don’t want to leave, so I’ll sit. Though I can’t promise to be quiet.”

Arkan slightly raised his eyes to glare at Pellehar.

Pellehar, who had pulled up any chair and sat down casually, looked at Arkan with a sly smile.

“What now? Why are you all riled up again? Her Majesty is quite something. My only cousin was so soft that I worried endlessly about how he would lead the nation in the future, but she’s turned him into a different person overnight. You’re like a porcupine now.”

Arkan’s head ached even more at Pellehar’s smooth-talking.

Pressing his temples firmly, a long sigh escaped his lips.