Vol.4 Ch.233 Don’t Cross the Duchess.

Vol.4 Ch.233 Don’t Cross the Duchess.

Duval rushed into the grand Parliamentary Chamber, a sense of urgency propelling his steps across the polished marble floor. The air was thick with tension as a small assembly of Major Nobles gathered, their expressions a tempest of disbelief and simmering anger.

"Prime Minister, what is the meaning of this!? Why did the Alliance suddenly show up and force their way into the Palace!?" Baron Thaddeus Windermere’s voice rang out, sharp and accusatory, as he fixed Duval with an intense gaze that demanded an explanation.

Raising a hand to quell the rising murmurs, Duval surveyed the room, his eyes darting over the five Lords present, their regal robes contrasting sharply with their furrowed brows. Duke Alaric, the last of their number, was slowly making his way to the West Wing, the sound of his heavy footsteps echoing in the background as he seemed lost in thought. The atmosphere was charged, each noble waiting with bated breath for a response that could shift the balance of power.

Duval let out a weary sigh, casting a glance around the room filled with his fellow Major Nobles. “It’s all just a formality, my friends. Trust me, it’s under control,” the Prime Minister insisted, though his words were met with skeptical frowns and low murmurs of discontent from those gathered. The tension in the air was palpable, and doubt hung over the group like a dark cloud, threatening to unleash a storm of dissent.

"Enough of this nonsense, Prime Minister! If this is truly just a formality, then why on earth was the Royal Guard summoned to secure the Palace grounds? And what justification is there for allowing the Divine Three inside the Palace? Why are they being kept in the shadows?" Earl Nathaniel Valerian's voice thundered through the Chamber, his frustration palpable.

"That is quite enough! If any of you dare to mention the Dark Elf in front of—"

*SLAM!*

The heavy doors of the Chamber swung open with a force that silenced the room. In strode three formidable figures of the Holy Alliance: Prince Terenthiel, the young Prince Zane, and their Paladin, Sir Darius. Each step they took echoed with authority, drawing every eye as tension thickened in the air.

"Why are you speaking in hushed tones, Duval?" Terenthiel's voice cut through the air, sharp with annoyance. Duval's expression shifted to one of palpable anxiety.

“Y-your Highness, we were just discussing some recent events and whether they might reveal any state secrets in front of foreign guests... If so, there could be consequences,” Duval stammered, glancing around the room.

Terenthiel remained silent, his gaze sweeping over the other lords, who instinctively bowed their heads in deference to their foreign guests, sensing the tension.

“Where is the Crown Prince?” he asked, his tone shifting to one of impatience.

“I’m not certain... He should have arrived by now. But you know how princes can be,” Duval replied, managing a shaky chuckle that barely concealed his anxiety.

Terenthiel raised an eyebrow, "Is that so?... Well, I think it's time we all have a discussion," the Prince said.

"A-After we finish drafting up a decree for our emergency session... The details need to be finalized by present Nobles before the full session can happen in four days from now. Once this is done, then we can deal with the peace treaty, Your Highness," Duval said, which got the other lords interested.

"Emergency session? What do you mean?" Viscount William Lysander asked with a smirk. He hated the Prime Minister almost as much as his friend Alaric. And he wanted to see how Duval was going to worm his way out of this.

Count Sebastian Ingham, along with the rest of Duval's coalition, remained tight-lipped, fearful of revealing their deliberations to the Divine Three. They were set to vote on a decree that would bar a dark elf from entering the Fiafyr Kingdom, a foreign entity wandering perilously close to the capital alongside the absent Crown Prince. The consequences of their decision weighed heavily on them.

Duval could feel the sweat trickling down his brow as he hastily dabbed it away with a handkerchief, anxiety thrumming in his veins. The pressure was mounting, and with it, the stakes had never been higher. He needed to fabricate a different reason for ordering the Emergency Meeting.

"Yes... as we speak, a shadow looms over the Kingdom—a mysterious magical anomaly and time is of the essence. Our fears suggest it may be some sort of magical beast, and we must act swiftly before it escalates into a catastrophe. If only the King were present, we could convene with the available council and devise a plan, but for now, all we have is the Crown Prince," Duval declared, concealing the true motive behind this urgent meeting.

Prince Zane and his Paladin exchanged skeptical glances, their sharp gazes fixed on the Prime Minister, while Terenthiel maintained an inscrutable expression.

"The inner workings of your kingdom are of no concern to me. As long as you deliver what we desire, your worries are misplaced," Terenthiel announced with a cold confidence. The other nobles glanced uneasily at one another, then redirected their attention to Duval.

"Hah! Of course... If you prefer, you and your entourage can take a seat in the lobby—"

"Absolutely not! We will remain here in this chamber," Prince Terenthiel asserted resolutely. Duval and his allies exchanged looks of astonishment, grappling with the prince's unexpected defiance.

“Your Highness, this isn’t appropriate,” Count Sebastian Ingham interjected, his voice steady but edged with tension. He fixed a stern gaze on Terenthiel, whose defiance radiated from across the room.

"I will not be sidelined for another moment... And I thought your kingdom was in peril? That's why you called for an emergency session. To deal with state affairs, yes? If it is too much for you people to handle, then maybe we could step in to deal with your threat," Terenthiel countered, and Duval and his allies all stiffened up.

'Dammit, Terenthiel! You’re making my life more difficult than it needs to be!' Duval seethed inwardly as he faced the royal figure before him.

"We will allow you to join us after we've spoken to the Crown Prince. It’s crucial that he isn’t caught off guard by the presence of our esteemed guests—and his future bride," Duval stated firmly, hoping to maintain some semblance of order.

Terenthiel crossed his arms defiantly, a storm brewing in his eyes. "I refuse to linger in the hallway like some commoner until you grant us your permission. I have as much stake in this as anyone!"

"Right away," Count Sebastian Ingham said and turned to the rest of the nobles and started instructing them as they opened the double doors to the Parliamentary Chamber and entered the chamber.

"Well, well, well... This should be interesting," Viscount William Lysander sneered at the Prime Minister and followed the others into the room.

"Enough of your games! If you complicate this process for me, you'll regret it!" Duval spat, his frustration bubbling to the surface.

William merely grinned wider, stealing a look back at the Duke, who was barely suppressing his amusement at William's bravado. Just then, young Lord Johan Dule stepped into the west wing, catching sight of the commotion.

"Well, look who's here—the Baron's son, stepping in for his esteemed father. Are you prepared for some spectacular drama? I have a feeling we’re in for quite the performance," Duke Alaric laughed heartily, his eyes glinting with mischief. Panic flickered across Duval's face as he realized that a split vote could shatter his carefully laid plans, the stakes rising with every moment.

Duchess Leandra was taken aback for a second but recovered quickly.

"Who do you think you are to tell me where I can or cannot go!? Don't you know who I am?" Duchess Leandra asked in an angry tone.

"You're a woman... I don't answer to anyone but Prince Terenthiel. Now back away, peasant," The White Knight commanded, and Leandra was shocked that this bastard didn't know who she was and dared to call her a peasant.

'This cretin thinks he's better than me! Who the hell does he think he is?' Duchess Leandra thought and had the urge to slap the white knight across the face. But she refrained from slapping him and smiled at him while pulling out a bottle of perfume from her purse. She spritzed in the air in front of her face and his face.

The white knight kept a stoic face as he stared her down. Leandra sighed and put away her perfume.

"Listen here, knight... And listen well... I'm Duchess Leandra Revelia... And no one of lesser status can disrespect me and get away with it... You will be on your knees begging for my forgiveness... And I will revel in your demise," Duchess Leandra threatened and then turned to leave, but the white knight grabbed her arm, and she glared at him.

"If I were you, I would leave before I'm forced to break a noblewoman's arm," The White Knight stated coldly.

The Duchess smiled once more, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she gently wrenched her arm free from his grasp.

"Very well, young knight... I shall leave... for now," Duchess Leandra said and turned to walk towards the door.

The tension in the lobby was palpable as the Royal Guards exchanged bewildered glances. They felt the urgency to intervene when the Duchess was suddenly halted, her graceful stride disrupted by the firm grip of the White Knight. Conflicted, they debated stepping in to escort her to safety, but their resolve crumbled as they watched her regain her composure and stride out unhindered.

“Hey, Zealot! If you dare cross that line again, I’ll have no choice but to report you to the General!” one of the guards barked, his words laced with bravado.

Yet the White Knight remained unfazed, his steely gaze locked on the Princess, unwavering in his duty as a protector. The atmosphere thickened with a silent challenge, leaving the Royal Guards in a state of uncertainty.

“Are you alright?” one of the Royal Guards inquired, concern etched across his face.

*BELCH!*

“Uh, I’m perfectly fine,” the White Knight replied, though his strained voice suggested otherwise. “But if I were to... need a toilet, where would one be located?'

The four guards exchanged puzzled glances, shrugging their shoulders in unison.

“There’s one just two hallways down to your right,” one of them eventually replied, his tone hinting at amusement.

“Much appreciated,” the White Knight replied, his voice strained as he shuffled awkwardly down the corridor. The guards exchanged amused glances, stifling their laughter as they watched the spectacle unfold.

With each step, his movements seemed more labored, deep breaths escaping his lips in slow, heavy gasps. “Is he sick?” one guard whispered, leaning closer to get a better look.

“Probably not,” another guard chimed in, smirking. “But I’d bet my sword it was something he ate.”

In an instant, the princess found herself alone in the lobby, the echoes of chaos still hanging in the air like the last notes of a lingering melody.

“Huh?” Hilda said, blinking in confusion as she realized no one was watching her anymore. Without a moment’s hesitation, she sprang to her feet and darted out of the lobby, heading for the door on the far side.

‘I don’t know what I’m doing,’ she thought, her heart pounding, ‘but I have to get out of here... or I’ll surely lose my mind.’

As Hilda rushed through a series of twisting hallways, a stunning sight caught her eye: a sprawling garden, lush and alive.

‘Wow, I had no idea this place had a garden this grand,’ she marveled, stepping closer to the entrance. Her breath caught in her throat as she took in the vibrant blooms and verdant foliage, an unexpected oasis that brought a moment of wonder amidst her turmoil.

Hilda paused, a serene smile spreading across her face as she basked in the beauty around her. The garden was a riot of colors, each flower unfurling its petals like a delicate whisper. Inhaling the sweet fragrance, she was instantly transported back to her cherished garden at home—the one sanctuary where her stepmother and half-sister's nagging voices faded into the background. It was a place woven with memories, laughter, and the purest joy.

She could have lost herself in that moment, surrounded by nature's beauty, if not for the sudden sound of footsteps approaching behind her. Her heart raced as panic surged through her. “Gah! Run! You have to run!”

Without a second thought, Hilda dashed into the winding pathways of the maze-like garden, her feet flying over the vibrant earth. The thrill of the chase pushed her forward, a mix of fear and exhilaration propelling her deeper into the enchanting shadows of blooming life.

'Damn! That was close... And I'm tired... I-I just need to find a place to rest,' Hilda thought as she caught her breath and continued walking through the maze.

After wandering through the winding paths of the maze for what felt like ages, she finally stumbled upon a sunlit clearing, where a sparkling water fountain danced merrily at its center.

'Wow! It’s absolutely stunning...'

She couldn’t help but smile as she approached. Finding a sturdy wooden bench, she sank down and leaned back, soaking in the serene atmosphere.

'It’s such a perfect day...'

Hilda closed her eyes, letting the warm sun kiss her skin while a gentle breeze whispered through the trees, wrapping around her like a soft, comforting blanket. The world around her faded, leaving just the sounds of the fountain and the rustling leaves—a moment of pure bliss.

***

Back by the lobby in the West Wing of the palace. Duchess Leandra was waiting in the hallway outside of the lobby where Hilda was supposed to be.

'I wonder how long it will take before that insignificant little worm beings to puke his guts out?... Hehe! I made sure to spray an extra amount of my Vertigo Essence Perfume on him. I hope the poor fool has a bad reaction... Heh!' Duchess Leandra thought with an evil smirk on her face.

As she was lost in her thoughts, the door to the lobby opened abruptly, and four guards carried the white knight down the hallway towards the nearest restroom.

"Oooh-BLECH-UGH!" The white knight moaned.

"Don't you dare puke on this floor, you arrogant ass!" One of the Royal Guards growled.

"Yeah! Or we'll feed you your own vomit!" Another guard warned.

*URP!*

"Damn it! He's not going to make it! Hurry!"

"Ugh!"

The duchess looked at her own handy work with a pleased smile on her face.

'Good! He's going to regret the day he ever crossed paths with me... Serves you right, insolent fool!' Duchess Leandra thought and chuckled as the royal guards yelled and shouted at each other until they were out of sight.

"Well, that's enough fun for one day... Now it's time to work my magic on that girl... hehe," Duchess Leandra murmured with a playful smirk as she rounded the corner, striding confidently toward the lobby entrance.

As she stepped into the room, however, a wave of surprise washed over her— it was utterly deserted, not a soul in sight. 'Huh? Where did that little brat go!?... Did she run? No! This is unacceptable! I need to find her!'

"Goddess be damned!" Duchess Leandra fumed quietly as she paced the empty lobby, her eyes darting around in search of Hilda. Frustration swirled within her—no sign of the elusive brat. With a resigned sigh, she decided it was time to pivot.

"Haah... all right, Plan B it is," she murmured to herself, a sly smile creeping across her lips. "And if I happen to cross paths with that troublesome girl, well, I can always revert to my original scheme." Determination fueled her steps as she made her way toward her sister-in-law's room, a glint of mischief in her eyes. She envisioned the glittering jewels and exquisite silverware waiting to be liberated—just a few petty crimes to satisfy her craving for a little chaos.

The Duchess gracefully left the lavish lobby, her footsteps echoing softly against the polished marble floor. She began her journey down the long, ornate corridor adorned with intricate tapestries and glimmering sconces that cast a warm, inviting glow. Each step took her deeper into the heart of the palace, heading towards Rianna's room, which rested at the far end of the eastern wing, a realm that felt almost like a hidden sanctuary within the grand estate. The air was thick with the scent of delicate blossoms from nearby gardens, blending with the history that surrounded her as she ventured forth.