Previously
At a lavish banquet provided by the sycophantic Abbot, Theodore publicly shames the priest for serving such food while the village and the Princess starve.
How to Break Up with You Perfectly, Episode 10
To move between the stone-walled sections of the monastery, one had to traverse open corridors exposed on both sides. On ordinary days, it might have felt somewhat poetic, but in windy weather like this, it was undeniably the worst possible layout.
The wind whipping through the pillars was unusually fierce. Glancing upward, she saw the night sky heavy with dark storm clouds.
A downpour was imminent.
Sienna hunched her shoulders, regretting having left without a cloak. Even so, trudging back to her room after coming this far felt far too troublesome.
After all, it wasn't that far to the dining hall once she crossed this corridor; it would be better just to make a quick trip of it. With that thought, Sienna quickened her steps.
Passing through the corridor to reach the central building, she found only candles fluttering silently on the walls. The interior was quiet. It seemed her fear of running into someone had merely been groundless worry. Seeing the empty corridor eased her anxiety considerably.
Just as she stepped through the entrance with a lighter heart—
“Do you truly believe His Majesty will ever summon Her Highness back to the capital?”
The voice drifting from inside froze her in her tracks.
* * *
Though the monastery housed few residents, the building itself was vast.
That was because it had been built back when an emperor of old crammed people indiscriminately into this place, sized to accommodate them all. Even if half of them had perished, unable to adapt to the harsh conditions.
For that reason, besides the main building, two unused wings still remained, making it an ideal place to house and treat the wounded soldiers.
“Most of the treatments should be finished within a week.”
The medic reported to Declan, who had come to inspect the injured.
“Then when will they be able to move?”
“A full recovery will require at least two months of bed rest. However, rather than waiting here for them to heal completely, it would be better to administer basic emergency care and return to the capital for proper treatment.”
Even with healers at the monastery, they were few, and the conditions were poor. The care they could provide was bound to be extremely limited compared to what was available in the capital.
“Even so, departing immediately in this state could cause their stitched wounds to rupture, so it would be better to remain here for at least three weeks to monitor their progress.”
Declan nodded silently.
He had planned to stay for a month anyway, so the medic's words posed no problem. Furthermore, three weeks was more than enough time to scout an appropriate route for the journey from Lopawell to the capital. All that remained was selecting the right path.
They needed a place to confer, but the spaces provided by the monastery were already packed with soldiers. Though a few vacant rooms existed, they had been neglected for so long that they were unfit for use.
To ensure an orderly council, the Count had requested to borrow the entire dining hall from late night until dawn once mealtime ended, and the Abbot had agreed without complaint.
Considering how thoroughly humbled the man had been after the banquet, it might have been closer to resignation than agreement.
Regardless, the Count's choice was excellent. The wide dining tables offered ample room to spread out multiple maps, and the late hour meant no one would be wandering about long after the meal had ended.
“If we take the fastest route, we could arrive within a week.”
“It would be best to avoid rough terrain as much as possible. The medic said that without proper rest, stitched wounds could burst open.”
“Understood. I will inform Sir Gaius as well once dawn breaks.”
Nodding with a solemn expression, the Count’s gaze suddenly shifted toward Theo, who sat across from him. Watching him sit there blankly, as if the conversation had nothing to do with him, the Count knitted his brows.
“By the way, do you intend to remain here indefinitely?”
“As long as the Princess stays here, naturally.”
At the immediate answer that held not a shred of hesitation, the Count’s face fell further into dismay.
“Since you are still part of the Imperial Knights, returning to the capital to join His Majesty's Imperial Guard wouldn't be a bad idea. It would certainly be better for your future.”
At that, Theo scowled.
“Be reasonable. Her Highness is here; I can’t just return to the capital by myself.”
“I don't think Her Highness needs an escort as long as she stays here. It might even be better to bring in a low-ranking knight to replace you.”
Theo let out an incredulous scoff at the Count's words. Then, as if tattling, he turned to Declan.
“Your Grace. Do you think what he's saying makes any sense?”
“Well.”
Yet even Declan failed to meet his expectations. The voice that slowly drifted out was shockingly indifferent.
“As the Count says, I doubt wasting your time here will do anything for your future. It's a waste to let you rot in a place like this.”
“Rotting, you say? Once Her Highness returns to the capital, I'll rejoin the order as well. I only need to endure until then.”
Scanning the map, Declan let out a faint laugh.
“Do you truly believe His Majesty will ever summon Her Highness back to the capital?”
At those words, Theo was momentarily struck dumb.
Did he think the Emperor would summon her back? Well…
‘…Of course he won’t.’
Instead of voicing the answer that sprang to mind, Theo swallowed it down. Regardless of his opinion, that was the reality. Was there anyone who didn't know how thoroughly sick of the Princess the Emperor was?
Even if she were summoned back to the capital, it hardly seemed likely to bring good news.
Taking Theo's silence as an answer, Declan continued in a calm voice.
“If your ambitions lie with the knights, returning to the capital is better in every way. After all, isn't most of what you do here merely attending to Her Highness? It is clearly beneath the son of a count.”
Delivered in an elegant voice, his points were indisputable. The Count nodded repeatedly in thorough agreement.
Irritated by his brother's grating attitude, Theo glared at him for a moment before turning his gaze back to the Grand Duke.
“I cannot understand why you say such things. Earlier, Your Grace told the Abbot that the Princess being cast out of the capital was no reason to look down on her.”
Only then did the violet eyes fixed upon the map turn toward Theo.
“Her Highness may be your master, but the one holding your life in his hands is the Emperor.”
Whoever else might be ignorant, Declan knew that truth better than anyone.
Even if the child's death in his previous life had been an unfortunate accident, the one responsible for utterly destroying the Grand Ducal family was undeniably the Emperor.
When the Emperor framed his wife with absurd charges and demanded her execution without a fair trial, Declan—already living far removed from power—had collapsed helplessly.
At that time, there had been only one thing he could use: his own life.
“The Count goes without saying, and even the Princess is not free from that reality. His Majesty has always wanted Her Highness isolated, wishing for her to be forgotten by all, confined forever in this remote place. A variable like you was something he never anticipated.”
Theo knitted his brows in disagreement.
“The Your Grace I knew was never a man to treat loyalty so lightly.”
“Loyalty?”
Declan brushed his hair back with a low chuckle. The dry smile that rose upon his stern face looked as though he had just heard an ill-timed joke.
“It sounds pleasant enough, but it will not protect you.”
Beside him, the Count seemed equally caught off guard by the response, glancing at him with a look of mild surprise. As if there were no need to hear another word, Theo laid down his ultimatum.
“As long as Her Highness remains here, I have no intention of returning to the capital.”
Declan lowered his gaze back to the map and acquiesced without resistance.
“If that is your decision, I cannot force you.”
Since the Grand Duke had stepped down so readily, the Count had no choice but to hold his tongue. Instead of speaking further, he shot Theo a sharp glare. With a triumphant look, Theo ignored his brother's stare and changed the subject.
“In any case, by the time Your Grace arrives in the capital, social season will be in full swing.”
When the May roses were in full bloom was the liveliest time of year for high society.
Balls, garden parties, and countless gatherings offered an unmatched opportunity for young, unmarried men and women of age to seek out prospective spouses.
“I feel sorry for the men of the capital. Once Your Grace returns, you'll steal all their attention.”
When speaking of the Grand Duke, people whispered of his breathtaking looks just as often as his feats on the battlefield.
Wavy golden hair like spun gold and a face as beautiful as a sanctuary's statue were far removed from a soldier's mold. Indeed, his characteristic asceticism and emotionless air seemed far more suited to a monastery like this than a battlefield.
In fact, during their childhood, Theo had once seriously agonized over whether the young master of the Grand Ducal family was actually a girl.
Whatever the case, no one could dispute that the Grand Duke of Monferrato was the empire's greatest beauty, yet for some reason, he remained completely indifferent to women.
“Your Grace. This time, do consider finding a suitable match.”
Not to be outdone, the Count, who had been sitting with a sulky expression, chimed in.