TGW Chapter 32 Part 3

 

Sienna sat alone in the parlor, sipping her tea. The tea, sweetened with sugar, had a pleasant taste.

"Walter... was it?"

She recalled hearing that a single butler handled all the affairs of the Marquis' household. He was a meticulous person. It was from her second visit, she thought, that he began serving tea that perfectly suited her tastes.

She glanced around the room. Starting with her third visit, she had been guided to this particular space—not the usual guest parlor but a private room connected to Kuhn’s bedroom.

'This feels a bit awkward.'

Even for lovers, sharing one’s bedroom wasn’t typically the norm. Yet, the butler seemed to consider their relationship close enough for such familiarity.

Sienna had been sending her servant, Ben, to the Marquis' estate every four or five days. Kuhn would hand over some appropriate documents for Ben to take back to the Red Palace. On the days Ben went to the estate, Sienna herself would also go out.

Her first visit had required some resolve, even though she had a clear reason: delivering important information. But after that, it became easier. Today marked her sixth visit to the Marquis' estate, and by now, she didn’t even bother to come up with excuses.

She gazed down at her half-full cup of tea.

'He should be here by now.'

Sure enough, she soon heard the door swing open with a familiar thud. She quickly put her teacup down. There had been several occasions when he had rushed over and hugged her so suddenly that she’d spilled her tea. As she looked up, Kuhn was already striding toward her.

"Sienna," he called.

As soon as he sat beside her, he embraced her tightly. After holding her for a moment, he began peppering her face with small kisses—on her lips, her cheeks, even the bridge of her nose.

"Stop it," she said, gently pushing his face away.

His welcome had grown longer and more enthusiastic with each visit. When her hand blocked his lips, he started kissing her palm instead. Sienna couldn't help but laugh. At this point, she felt she would miss his noisy, over-the-top greetings if they ever stopped.

 

***

 

Late at night, Ben once again carried an envelope from the Marquis Raad to the Red Palace. The envelope was always sealed tightly with wax. Ben never thought to open it, nor was he curious about its contents.

Patricia took the envelope from Ben and handed it to a maid.

“The wax seal and the shape of the stamp have changed again,” Patricia muttered in annoyance, clicking her tongue.

“That fox… I see. Take your time, but don’t make any mistakes,” she warned.

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Before breaking the seal, the maid would create an exact impression of it and prepare matching wax for resealing. However, whenever the seal’s design changed, it took extra time and care to make the mold. Patricia had no choice but to wait patiently, even though it frustrated her.

Everything about Marquis Raad annoyed her. His attention to detail made her greet her teeth, but at the same time, she trusted that any document he sent with such meticulous care must contain valuable information.

Ben glanced at the maid as she worked carefully. Though he didn’t show it, he found the entire process amusing. He knew there was nothing important inside that envelope.

“Has the Silver King noticed anything unusual? Or tried to test you in any way?” Patricia asked.

“When I deliver documents to him from the Marquis, His Majesty doesn’t say much, nor does he ask any questions.”

Patricia nodded thoughtfully.

‘Of course, with the Silver King's temperament, if he were suspicious, he’d confront you directly and cast you out immediately.’

“Has he ever discussed the contents of the documents with you?” she pressed.

“His Majesty never opens the envelope in front of me,” Ben replied.

“Hmm…” Patricia mused. ‘So, the Silver King trusts him, but not completely.’

“Do the others in the palace find your frequent trips outside suspicious?” she asked.

“I’ve told them I need to leave regularly due to family matters, and they don’t seem to question it. The palace maids also leave occasionally, with His Majesty’s permission.”

Patricia clicked her tongue again.

“Servants become arrogant when given too much freedom. I worry that the Silver King’s leniency may be taken advantage of.”

Throughout the conversation, Ben kept his eyes lowered, maintaining a posture of subservience. But this also allowed him to conceal his true feelings. If Patricia had looked him in the eye, she might have noticed a subtle change—faint resentment and a hint of mockery flickering in his gaze.

Patricia had always spoken to Ben in a condescending tone, treating him like a slave. Ben didn’t think it unfair since, in reality, that was essentially his status. But lately, it had begun to bother him.

The Silver King, even after learning of Ben’s true identity, had never treated him with contempt. He always referred to Ben as “Sir,” acknowledging him as a knight. At first, this had made Ben feel guilty and embarrassed, wishing the Silver King would instead insult him or show disdain. But over time, Ben realized something.

The difference in how Patricia and the Silver King regarded him directly impacted their behavior. To Patricia, Ben was just a lowly slave from the slums.

Once, Ben had believed that if he humbled himself enough, Patricia would one day recognize his worth. He had groveled at her feet like a dog. How foolish he had been. Oddly enough, the overwhelming sense of inferiority he once felt around her had started to fade. Now, it was the Silver King whose presence filled him with awe and respect.

‘I finally have a master worthy of my loyalty,’ Ben thought, feeling a sense of pride. For the first time, he felt like a true knight.

“I hear the Silver King has recently taken to riding,” Patricia said suddenly.

“Yes, he’s grown quite fond of the gift from Marquis Raad,” Ben replied.

Patricia scoffed. She had heard that the Marquis had gifted the Silver King a prized horse, though she hadn’t yet seen it herself.

Since the day she had been humiliated in front of the Silver Palace, Patricia’s relationship with her daughter had grown cold. Every time the Silver King visited, she intended to reconcile, but he only sent formal greetings through messengers.

‘Once he sets his mind on something, he never wavers,’ she thought, worried that her relationship with the Silver King might remain distant forever.

Ben glanced sideways at the maid, who was working intently. Her skill in removing the wax without damaging the paper was impressive.

‘I wonder what that is,’ he thought, noticing a blue liquid in a dish beside her. She applied small amounts of the liquid to the wax as she worked.

‘I remember telling the Silver King about this wax-removal process. He found it fascinating. He does seem to have an interest in such things, especially medicinal substances,’ Ben mused, recalling the many times he’d seen Patricia handling strange herbs and potions.

Wanting to please his new master, Ben turned to Patricia and made a suggestion.

“Your Highness, how about I earn the Silver King’s trust by showing him an unusual skill or talent?”

“What kind of skill?” Patricia asked, intrigued.

“His Majesty values those with unique abilities. If a knight possesses talents beyond just combat, it might pique his interest and draw him closer.”

“For example?” she asked.

“Medical knowledge wouldn’t seem far-fetched. With how often knights are injured in training, it’s believable that I could have learned about herbs and remedies. What if I showed expertise in handling medicinal plants?”

“Hmm…” Patricia pondered.

“The Silver King holds his captain of the guard, Gilbert, in high esteem. That man is simple-minded and focuses solely on swordsmanship. If I demonstrate an additional skill, I could be seen as equally valuable without being compared unfavorably.”

Patricia nodded, sizing Ben up with a look of approval.

“You’re finally showing some usefulness. Very well. I have knowledge of some unique herbal mixtures. I’ll teach you, but it’s up to you to find a way to capture the Silver King’s interest.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

 

***

 

The bedroom, lit only by a small lamp, was enveloped in darkness. The only sound was their soft murmurs as they lay together on the bed. Kuhn was reclining, half-leaning against a pile of pillows, while Sienna rested comfortably against him, using his body as both a couch and a bed.

The room was filled with a sweet, languid air following their passionate lovemaking. They were both naked, their bodies entwined beneath a thin blanket that covered them from the waist down.

“Am I bothering you by coming over without notice and interrupting your work?” Sienna asked, her voice soft.

Kuhn’s hand gently slid up her smooth skin, tracing the curve of her thigh, across her plump hips, and up her back. The thought of the interrupted meeting briefly crossed his mind, but he justified it by telling himself that the important parts had already been discussed.

“You always come late, so you don’t interrupt my work,” he said.

His hand traveled to the nape of her neck, threading through her disheveled hair. Gently tugging her head back, he leaned in to kiss the top of her head.

“You can come whenever you want.”

Kuhn savored these peaceful moments with her—the chance to touch her, kiss her, and listen to her melodic voice. It felt like a dream. He now understood why people sometimes lose themselves in moments of fleeting sweetness, making foolish decisions without regard for the consequences.

Even though the mercenary group Kaligo had a fearsome reputation, there were still those who foolishly tried to betray them for a large sum of money. Kaligo never forgot a favor or a grudge, and no one escaped their unbreakable rules. Kuhn couldn’t comprehend the greed of those willing to risk their lives for riches.

Now, he realized he was no different. He was just as lost in the moment, unable to think about anything else. Even if a brutal battle were happening outside the door, it wouldn’t matter right now.

“What did you give Sir Stus today?” Sienna asked, lifting her chin to rest it on his chest.

“News from the Duchy of Rimone,” Kuhn replied. “I took out the more crucial details but left in just enough useful information.”

Doug was still stuck in the duchy, unable to return to the capital because of a revolt. To the northwest of the Rimone Duchy lay the old Acheron Duchy, and further northwest, the Duchy of Bless. The old Acheron lands, now unclaimed, had been under the care of the Rimone family. However, their exploitation had reached unbearable levels, and the people of Acheron finally revolted.

They had allied with rebel factions, turning into a band of marauders who exclusively targeted the Rimone lands. According to the intelligence Kuhn had received from the clan’s information division, Doug was struggling against them.

‘It’s not normal for rebels to gain the upper hand against well-trained soldiers and knights. This isn’t just a ragtag group. There’s someone behind them,’ Kuhn thought. He was digging deeper into the situation, suspecting a key player behind the scenes.

‘Is this the emperor acting alone, or a collaboration with Jeffrey Acheron?’

Whichever it was, one thing was certain: the emperor was involved.

‘I hope she won’t be too shocked.’

Kuhn worried for Sienna. The emperor was attacking her maternal family. If he found undeniable evidence, he would have to tell her.

Her mother, the Red King, was consumed with ambition, using her daughter for power. Her maternal family was in league with the Red King, and the emperor was stirring up trouble under the guise of old grievances.

Kuhn felt sorry for Sienna and wanted to be there for her, to be the support she needed.

“The people rose up against tyranny. The Duke of Rimone should be ashamed,” Sienna muttered, letting out a small sigh.

“How are things going with you?” Kuhn asked.

“With me?” Sienna blinked. “The Acheron inspector…”

“Ah…”

Kuhn’s suspicions were correct. Jeffrey Acheron hadn’t acknowledged that Dian was his niece; in fact, he distanced himself from her, behaving like a complete stranger. He had been tirelessly meeting people day and night, and even if Dian hadn’t asked, Kuhn would have investigated his actions. Everything he found, he shared with her.

“There’s nothing major on my end.”

Sienna looked up at him, her expression showing she had more to say.

“...Did I hear something wrong, or…”

“What?” Kuhn asked, intrigued.

“I heard that the power within the Inspectorate is divided between you and Acheron.”

“Hmm.” Kuhn raised an eyebrow. That was news to him. He hadn’t even seen Jeffrey recently, as he hardly came to the Inspectorate anymore.

“You’re the senior officer. If His Majesty hasn’t formally stated otherwise, shouldn’t Jeffrey show you more respect?”

Kuhn grinned as he watched Sienna’s face, now pouting in frustration.

“Did it upset you to hear that I’m being pushed aside?” he teased.

Sienna turned her head away with a pout, and Kuhn laughed, pulling her into a tight embrace. Her display of affection was making him fall even more in love with her.

“Would you be disappointed if I were outdone?” he asked playfully.

“Not really,” she mumbled, resting her head back on his chest.

“Just don’t lose.”

Kuhn burst out laughing. “Don’t you trust me?”

Sienna scoffed lightly. “You sound like a con artist.”

“That’s harsh. Can’t you give me a little boost sometimes?”

With that, Kuhn sat up, lifting her with him and flipping her onto her back in one swift movement. He now hovered over her, pinning her to the bed.

“I’ll make sure you’re never embarrassed to be seen with me.”

“That’s not what I—” Sienna began, but her words were cut off as Kuhn pressed his lips firmly to hers. After a brief but lingering kiss, he leaned in closer and whispered softly, “Just tell me what you want. I’ll do anything for you.”

Sienna smiled, wrapping her arms around his neck. His bold promises didn’t sound empty or exaggerated. It felt as if, no matter what impossible request she made, he would somehow make it happen.

Their lips met again, and soon the room was filled with the sound of deep kisses and soft moans as the passion between them reignited, enveloping the room in heated desire.

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