Chapter 16
“A military campaign.”
Ejnar allowed a stiff, polite grin to touch his features.
“It is a suggestion worth considering.”
“Truly, Sire! We must demonstrate the might of Machi to those savages without delay!”
“Which explains why everyone has gathered,” Ejnar remarked, cutting through the nobleman’s fervor with a biting tone. “I assume you are all prepared to forfeit everything you own to fund this strike against Makaeri?”
The room fell into a confused silence. “Pardon?”
Ejnar let out a mocking huff at their bewilderment. “Is this a shock? Declaring war is a grave undertaking. It is doubly so when we must navigate the treacherous waters of the strait to strike at the heart of the Empire.”
He paused to let the weight of his words sink in.
“This will be a grueling, endless struggle. It will demand more than just soldiers; I will require every coin of tax revenue and every scrap of grain from your estates to stand a chance. Furthermore, your own sons will be expected to lead from the front lines.”
The nobles remained speechless.
“Naturally, the throne will contribute its full share,” Ejnar added, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the faces of the aristocrats filling the hall. “But I wonder about the rest of you.”
His icy gaze acted like a drenching of freezing water, instantly killing the rowdy energy that had filled the chamber. A heavy, breathless quiet took hold.
Ejnar exhaled softly before addressing the group with a measured voice.
“There is no question that these events are infuriating. The murder of Machi citizens on our own soil is an atrocity, and regardless of who pulled the blade, they must face the consequences.”
“Precisely, Your Majesty,” a noble chimed in. “This cannot be brushed aside.”
“Therefore, our first step is to inform Makaeri of the situation. We shall observe their reaction.”
“And if they provide a dismissive answer?”
“We shall see.”
Ejnar’s response was vague, yet his eyes betrayed a calculated intent. After a heartbeat of silence, he spoke with an unreadable expression.
“Should they fail to satisfy us, we might find ourselves forced to settle the scores left open five years ago.”
Returning to the Solar Palace after receiving medical care at the King’s residence, Elfreda noticed the atmosphere among the staff had turned even more frigid.
It was hardly surprising, given the circumstances.
The fleeting sense of acceptance she had felt from Ejnar’s earlier defense now seemed like a hallucination. In the eyes of these people, she remained the offspring of the very monsters who had slaughtered their previous monarch and heir.
She tried to push the resentment aside. Ejnar had told her that public opinion was out of her hands, and she intended to focus on her work. However, when she reached her private study and sat down, she realized the room was suspiciously vacant of her usual projects.
“Marchioness Magnum, where are the files I was working on?”
“Those documents are no longer your concern,” the older woman replied sharply.
Elfreda frowned. “I don’t follow. Why?”
“A diplomatic messenger has been dispatched to Makaeri regarding the recent bloodshed. Until a response arrives, you are to be excluded from all administrative duties.”
Before Elfreda could find her voice to protest, the Marchioness added a chilling postscript.
“Should your homeland fail to offer a suitable apology, this marriage pact becomes worthless. And if the pact is void, so is your presence here.”
Elfreda remained silent.
“Furthermore, the social gathering with the noblewomen for tomorrow is canceled indefinitely.”
Elfreda watched the Marchioness closely. Despite the tragedy that had struck the kingdom, there was a palpable sense of triumph in the woman’s voice. It was suffocating to realize how much the Duchess relished the opportunity to cast her out.
“…Very well. I understand,” Elfreda finally whispered.
She chose not to fight it. Logically, the Marchioness had a point. Elfreda had been queen for less than a month; she was still a stranger in a land that hated her. And yet…
A sharp throb pulsed behind her eyes. Elfreda stood, desperate for a moment of fresh air, but the Marchioness stepped into her path with a smug, blocking stance. Elfreda felt the air leave her lungs.
“What are you doing?”
“It would be prudent for you to remain confined within the Solar Palace for the duration.”
“Is stripping me of my work not sufficient?” Elfreda’s voice turned hard as she stood her ground. “I have committed no crime. I am the Queen of Machi.”
“A title that hangs by a very thin thread,” the Marchioness sneered.
“It is a title I hold today. Move.”
Startled by the Queen’s sudden steel, the Marchioness eventually stepped aside. Elfreda marched out of the room, her headache intensifying. She could feel the stares of the servants following her like a tightening noose.
The Marchioness’s suggestion of seclusion proved unavoidable. Elfreda spent her days trapped within the walls of the Solar Palace, her only reprieve being short walks through the gardens.
Even though her daily routine hadn’t changed much, the mounting dread of a war with Makaeri made every hour feel heavier.
While they waited for a reply from the Empire, Princess Serina was forbidden from leaving the capital.
Word spread through the halls that the Princess had expressed outrage over the fuss being made for a few mere peasants. This only deepened the palace’s hatred for her.
Elfreda found the comments revolting, but she stayed far away from Serina. She knew that any association with her kinswoman would only reinforce the idea that she was still a Makaeri agent. Besides, if war broke out, the Empire would surely abandon her. Helping Serina was a pointless risk.
She waited for news with a desperation that bordered on physical pain.
“A representative from Makaeri has arrived at the gates,” Marchioness Magnum informed her.
Elfreda’s heart hammered. “What is the mood of the delegation?”
“Difficult to say.”
The Marchioness was being intentionally unhelpful, so Elfreda stopped asking. She hadn’t expected transparency anyway.
She tried to find hope in the timing. If Makaeri intended to go to war immediately, they wouldn’t have bothered with an envoy so soon; they would have spent that time mobilizing.
“You seem distressed. Shall I call for tea?”
The Marchioness’s offer was hollow, and Elfreda ignored it. Just then, a servant leaned in to whisper something to the Marchioness, whose face instantly soured.
“What is happening?” Elfreda asked.
“It seems…”
The door opened before she could finish. A man with neatly trimmed reddish-brown hair, dressed in the livery of the Central Palace, stepped inside. He offered a deep bow.
“I am Robert, an aide to the King. His Majesty requests your presence in the grand audience chamber.”
“He wants to see me?” Elfreda asked, her confusion evident. “For what purpose?”
Robert paused, searching for the right phrasing. “It concerns the reception of the foreign envoys, Your Majesty.”
Though stunned, Elfreda gave a short nod. She followed Robert out, leaving a scowling Marchioness Magnum in her wake.
She spent the walk wondering why Ejnar would summon her after telling her to stay out of it. When she finally entered the throne room and saw the faint, knowing smile on Ejnar’s face, the truth clicked into place.
“Welcome, my Queen.”
She was a political shield.
Ejnar still didn’t trust her loyalty, and even if she was innocent in this matter, her presence served his agenda. By forcing a Makaeri princess to sit through the negotiations, he ensured the envoys couldn’t easily lie or dismiss the gravity of the situation.
The realization left a bitter tang in her mouth, but she maintained a graceful facade.
“…My greetings, Your Majesty.”
“Take your place beside me.”
Elfreda sat down in silence. She caught the eye of the envoy, who was dressed in the familiar silks of her homeland. He looked just as uncomfortable as she felt. The air in the room was thick with unspoken threats.
She kept her back straight, refusing to let her anxiety show.
“Now then,” Ejnar said, his voice cutting through the tension. “What is the Emperor’s official stance on this bloodshed?”
“His Imperial Majesty is deeply saddened by these tragic events,” the envoy replied, his tone rehearsed and somber. “He is quite worried that the peace we have cultivated through this marriage might be damaged by such an incident.”
“That sounds like he is prepared to offer significant reparations,” Ejnar observed.
“While the actions of a Makaeri warrior against a Machi citizen are indeed regrettable…” the diplomat began cautiously, “it would be overstepping to ask for a personal apology from the Emperor himself. Such a demand is quite extreme.”
“I agree. The Emperor did not swing the sword himself. We have no desire to extract an apology from him.”
Ejnar’s smile took on a predatory edge.
“An apology is only meaningful when it comes from the mouth of the murderer.”
