‘She’s so quiet I can’t even make the first move.’
I couldn’t very well call over Alpheios, who was just sitting quietly, and ask what she was thinking.
Just then, the Crown Prince suddenly spoke.
“If it were me, I’d try to approach the lady.”
“From the Empire’s side?”
“Yes. No matter how you spin it, I doubt they’ll believe you’re truly in love with a slave.”
At those words, Theumesa’s shoulders flinched slightly. She had likely been thinking the same thing.
I looked between the two of them and asked,
“Do I really seem that emotionally detached?”
“To be honest, yes.”
“Yes.”
Both of them agreed without hesitation.
I let out a small snort.
Well.
Even before I realized I was in love, I was already capable of doing all this.
Maybe they just haven’t experienced the depth of my wretched boredom.
They don’t know how vital stimulation is when you’re plagued by this hereditary, almost pathological ennui.
Still, the suspicion that the Empire wouldn’t trust my statement did make sense.
Even just looking at my older and younger sisters, they weren’t the kind to throw away their status for love.
Let alone for someone from the lowest class—a foot-washing slave.
To form an attachment to such a person, to go as far as to make them a lover—my family would never understand that.
They’d see it as nothing more than playing with a toy.
The more I thought about it, the more convincing the Crown Prince’s words seemed.
“It might be good to loosen the guard a bit. Maybe reduce the number of maids by her side.”
“What about the opposite? It’s been a while since we hired new servants. This might be a good time to bring in some fresh ones.”
I nodded at Theumesa’s suggestion.
She’d handle that better than I could.
While the Crown Prince and Theumesa discussed another issue, I quietly stared down at the fiefdom left without its commander.
Even now, with Riorem absent due to military training, it was unbearably dull. What would it be like if he were to leave on a full-scale campaign?
Everyone would be against me following him, and honestly, it wasn’t a good idea.
Resting my chin in my hand with a sullen expression, I closed my eyes and recalled something I once said to Riorem.
“If only we could really just leave, the two of us. Go somewhere, anywhere but this boring place.”
The military training, originally scheduled for five days, ended a little over a week later.
The frontlines had pushed back more than expected, so reinforcements had to be sent in urgently.
As a result, many of the recruits had never even held a spear before.
Still, training the new recruits wasn’t too exhausting.
To them, Riorem Velic was more “Areté’s victorious general” than “a former slave.” So they obediently followed whatever he taught.
The real problem was with the knights.
Whether common-born or of noble birth, every single knight who had been granted a title harbored an inferiority complex toward Riorem.
The commoners resented that someone who should be beneath them had risen so high.
The nobles never saw a slave as human to begin with.
Still, under normal circumstances, Riorem might’ve been able to endure it.
The issue was that, for the past few months, Riorem had unconsciously been relieving his stress.
He hadn’t realized it, but sex had become a major outlet for his mental fatigue and pressure.
Especially with the woman he’d desired his entire life.
Even without penetration, he had come to rely heavily on his relationship with Chernea.
That absence, in just these past few days, had become painfully clear to him.
Riorem had never had a particularly stable mind.
He simply had high psychological walls.
When Chernea wasn’t around, he could pretend she didn’t exist.
But once he had her, and became deeply immersed in their relationship, those walls started to crumble.
The more sensitive he became, the greater the stress.
The only thing he could do was try his best to clear his mind—
By swinging his sword alone in the training ground at midnight, long after everyone else had gone.
And so, tonight too, Riorem swung his sword, desperately trying to empty his thoughts.
“I should get some sleep soon, or this’ll become a problem.”
Looking up at the sky, Riorem began walking back toward his tent.
But then he caught a strange scent.
It was odd—something pungent, as if another strong-smelling oil had been mixed in to mask it.
Riorem looked around, trying to locate the source of the smell.
It seemed to be coming from his own tent.
His brow twitched.
As soon as he lifted the flap and stepped inside—
There was a soft thud, the sound of something tipping over in the dark.
And then, in an instant, flames burst to life.
Before Riorem could even grasp the situation, the oily air ignited.
The tent, soaked in a resinous, pine-scented liquid, was engulfed in flames.
The rapidly spreading fire cut off his escape.
The stifling heat filled the tent in moments.
Riorem burst into laughter, suffocating under the choking blaze.
His calm demeanor was completely out of place amidst the raging fire, which devoured everything it could find.
‘They must be waiting outside too.’
Unless it was an explosion meant to kill instantly, something like a burning barrack couldn’t hold Riorem back.
The enemy must have predicted his escape and prepared accordingly.
Riorem rummaged through his belongings.
Most of what he owned was meaningless to him. If something burned, he could just buy a new one.
But the handkerchief Chernea had embroidered herself was different.
Perhaps because he had lived as a slave for so long, he wasn’t used to using handkerchiefs.
So after using it once to gag Chernea, he had simply kept it stored carefully.
It would likely never be used for its original purpose again.
And so… this was Riorem’s only luxury.
Fortunately, the handkerchief hadn’t been damaged.
He tucked it securely into his inner coat and picked up the real sword he had left beside the bed.
Then he slashed the burning tent flap vertically.
Air whooshed out instantly, and Riorem slipped through the gap.
As expected, it was quiet outside.
Even though the fire should have been visible despite the late hour, not a single sentry appeared.
This fire must have been set through the collaboration of multiple enemies, including an insider.
And the next attack would be no different.
Twang!
A taut string snapped with a sharp sound in the stillness of night.
Reflected in the flames, Riorem’s yellow eyes gleamed.
Rather than dodging the incoming arrow, he swung his sword and deflected it midair.
As he turned to look in the direction the attack had come from, Riorem thought deeply.
The sheer effort involved suggested this wasn’t the work of an ordinary man.
‘Too many enemies—I don’t even know which one it is.’
To understand their true goal, he would need to know who was behind this.
Perhaps someone trying to check the crown prince’s faction,
Or someone holding a personal grudge against Riorem Velic himself.
It could even be someone who wanted to eliminate him in advance, knowing he was a strong candidate to be appointed commander of a strategic military base.
Or perhaps…
‘Someone deluded enough to think they could have Chernea if I die.’
For now, he had located the archer.
Riorem kicked off the ground and sprang forward.
The distance between him and the assassin closed in an instant.
The startled man dropped his bow and raised a crossbow—but it was too late.
Slash!
A flash of light burst, and blood splattered.
After eliminating the assassin, Riorem scanned his surroundings.
Another arrow came flying from the darkness.
He leaned back and dodged it, then let out a snort.
Clearly, the enemy had no chance facing him directly and opted for long-range attacks.
Given the involvement of an insider, the mastermind was obvious.
‘Alpheios’s men.’
Alpheios knew full well that not even he could beat Riorem in sword combat.
He probably expected that assassins wouldn’t fare much better.
That’s why he resorted to this kind of annoying, long-distance assassination attempt.
As irritating as it was, such attacks weren’t difficult to deal with.
Alpheios was a capable commander in some ways—but also the worst kind.
He believed too strongly in the principle of battle: “If you kill them all, you win.”
He focused solely on literally killing everyone.
That brutality, when refined into tactics, could make him frighteningly effective.
Still—
‘He’s nothing more than a short-sighted, impulsive lunatic.’