Edge
"Loyalty given once can be spent only once—if your master lets you live that long."
"I appreciate the gesture. But I won’t have people saying the Princess of Valdina was dressed on Façade’s charity."
"The Katzen nobles aren’t like Valdinians, Princess. The more modestly you appear, the more they’ll look down on you."
Katzen reveled in pleasure and excess, sustained by a powerful and fertile empire.
At the same time, the least deviation from fashion or etiquette was seized upon and torn apart.
"Don’t worry. I know them at least as well as you do."
Medea had endured too much in her previous life not to.
"They’re more worldly than anyone, yet they kneel easily to strength. In some ways, they’re easier to handle than Valdinians—who don’t bend even in death."
In her last life, when Jason seized the throne, the people of Katzen had accepted their new Emperor without resistance.
Of course, by then every rival capable of leading a rebellion was already dead.
Medea stopped speaking.
She’d noticed his gaze fixed intently on her.
"I was under the impression the Princess has never left Valdina… yet you seem to know the Empire extremely well."
It was a question she’d expected.
"That’s why people invented writing—and news sheets, Acares. I imagine you’ve been too busy erasing my tracks and hiding your identity to keep up with the reading."
Her tone was generously instructive, like a mistress correcting a new maid.
"..."
"If you like, I’ll send you a list of recommended books."
Cesare caught the faint curve at the corner of her otherwise expressionless mouth and laughed aloud.
If Gallo saw this, he’d be ranting about why I didn’t throw a dagger instead.
"In any case, I didn’t come only to tease you. I brought something to give you."
Cesare started toward her, then halted.
It was late. They were alone in a bedroom.
To him, she was just a small, sharp-tongued princess—but others would not see her that way.
For a young woman of her rank, nothing was more protected than chastity. It occurred to him that she was taking this all too lightly.
Medea had long since burned out whatever fluttering expectations might have existed between man and woman. That part of her heart had died with her children.
"..."
Cesare was jolted from his thoughts by green eyes staring up at him, as if asking silently:
Why did you stop?
The stern-faced Princess remained perfectly calm. It was Cesare who felt like an awkward boy.
Regaining his composure, he drew something from his coat and set it gently in her palm.
A cat-shaped brooch. An emerald glittered where its eye should be.
"Press here."
When his thick finger pressed the tail, the cat’s tiny mouth snapped open, revealing a needle-like fang.
An elegant, lethal trinket.
"It fires a dart—coated with a powerful paralytic. Even a glancing hit will put someone down for three days."
"Perfect. I can use it on rude people like you."
Despite the barb, she couldn’t take her eyes off the brooch.
"Are you going to refuse this gift as well?"
"..."
Medea didn’t answer.
A soft chuckle slipped from beneath the mask.
"I thought you wouldn’t."
"I never said I liked—"
She cut herself off, annoyed at how exposed she suddenly felt, as if her inner workings had been laid bare without consent.
"Until later, Princess."
And just like that, Cesare vanished as swiftly as he’d arrived.
Medea rose and gripped the window frame. The cold night wind surged in.
"You really are insufferable."
He came like a gust and left like a storm; if she didn’t brace herself, she’d be swept away.
Her muttered complaint—half sigh, half admission—fell across the brooch’s gleaming emerald eye.
In the administrative palace, dawn’s first light crept over stacks of reports.
"Prime Minister? Already at work…? Wait—you never left the palace?"
An aide, arriving early, found Sissair still in his office.
Maps lay spread across the table, scattered with annotated scraps from his network at the front.
"Did Your Excellency enjoy your visit to the Princess’s palace? Oh—what is this?"
"Ten days ago, the Rasai supply convoy bound for the front was burned."
The aide frowned at the letter and charred remnant of an orange flag.
"Surely Her Highness didn’t…?"
"Tell Peleus not to waste this chance."
"Send this to His Majesty’s war camp. It’s urgent—make sure it leaves immediately."
"Yes, Prime Minister."
As the aide hurried out, Sissair stared down at the evidence.
Instead of wielding Valdina’s own forces, the Princess had relied on an outside strike to cut through Rasai’s supply lines.
Mercenaries… has she hired them?
If they can do this in such a short time, against the Rasai of all people—and leave no trace until now…
"Could it be… Façade?"
A low breath of disbelief escaped him.
A cluster of royal maids emerged from the Katzen delegation’s wing, voices hushed but animated.
"I’d only heard the stories, but the Fourth Princess truly is something. ‘I don’t like this, I don’t like that’—how do her attendants ever please her?"
"Exactly. She just sent the Count out again to fetch imperial décor because ‘the accommodations are shabby.’"
They clicked their tongues in unison.
"Tsk, tsk… Where is he supposed to find those items at this hour? Poor man. Even an Imperial Count is helpless in front of royalty."
Kensington, in the midst of yet another errand run for the Princess, stopped in the shadowed corridor of the royal castle, where all the shops sat dark and shuttered.
A familiar silver seal caught his eye.
"What is the Princess of Valdina doing here at this hour?"
"Count Kensington. Walk with me."
He fell into step at her side, but his gaze held a guarded wariness.
I came here to probe the Red Foxes, and was still wondering how to approach their master…
Yet the Princess of Valdina came to me first.
"I had my doubts about whether Umberto would deliver my message properly. I thought a few lines on paper would suffice. I never imagined you’d come in person."
"...The situation warranted it."
"Are you worried your agents planted in Valdina will be rooted out and hunted down? Rest easy. I didn’t come to interrogate you about that."
"And if I am worried?"
Unlike the courteous girl who’d led the delegation through the palace earlier, the Medea who faced him now wore no smile at all.
The Kensington I know is arrogant, cautious, and hypersensitive.
"I came to warn you."
"I’m sure I’ll be offended, but I fail to see why the princess of a small kingdom believes she has advice for a subject of Katzen."
Kensington’s tone carried a thin layer of provocation. He wanted to see how she’d react.
"Tell me, what would you do if I exposed your true role to the royal family this instant?"
His voice held a faint threat.
He sounded every inch the shadowy operator who managed a continent-spanning network.
"In the end, appearance is only that. You look the perfect diplomat, but in truth you run the Red Foxes, don’t you—a web of eyes stretching across the continent?"
Kensington’s steps slowed.
"Count, only a fool makes threats when he has something to lose. Even if you did, who would believe you?"
Medea’s lips curved faintly.
"In other words, no one knows what passed between you and me—except the two of us."
To reveal her involvement, he’d first have to admit he’d placed spies inside Valdina’s Ministry and meddled in their internal affairs.
Both of them knew Kensington would never take that risk.
"Brilliant Count Kensington, dispatching agents across the continent, leveraging their intelligence for preemptive strikes."
Her eyes were steady, her tone sincere.
"I know the Emperor sits safely on that throne because of a loyal hound named Kensington hiding in the shadows."
"..."
"But now you’re in danger. The Red Foxes—your greatest asset—are about to tighten around your own neck."
Medea halted and turned. Vivid green eyes met his unflinchingly.
"Because the Emperor of Katzen will betray you."
The evening air felt suddenly frigid.
"Princess, take care. Spreading such slander could have grave consequences."
"I respect you, Count. Truly. Especially your loyalty and sacrifices—across generations."
For a brief moment, genuine admiration softened her young face.
"But has the Emperor of Katzen truly rewarded you as you deserve? Can a relationship between sovereign and vassal survive on one-sided devotion?"
"You deserve a better master than one who will discard you when you’ve outlived your usefulness."
Kensington’s eyes burned.
He lifted his chin, heels pressing firmly against the stone beneath him.
"Your Highness, you’re not the first foreigner to try to win me over. My answer then, as now, is the same: Kensington’s loyalty belongs to His Majesty the Emperor. No one else."
Medea inclined her head slightly, as though she’d expected nothing less.
"I respect conviction. I only wished to warn you. You’re too valuable to be thrown away for someone else’s greed."
Even after the Princess departed, Kensington remained rooted to the spot.
For a long moment, he didn’t trust himself to move—he could barely control his own expression.
Anger boiled within him, but beneath it lay something far worse: the knowledge that he couldn’t entirely refute her words.
Now that Perdiccas sits on the throne…
It’s only a matter of time before he casts me aside as well.
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