TPOP 43

Chapter 43

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The Role of the Spy

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A week had passed since the Crown Prince had secluded himself with his maid in a hunting lodge.

The cook and servants, who left early every morning to tend to the hut, were silent about what they saw and heard, as if they had an unspoken agreement. But everyone could guess what a man and woman left there alone were doing.

Not only the servants, but also the guards visited the hut regularly. Felix's eyes and ears were hidden throughout the deserted hunting grounds. The number of knights, including Captain Arnold, was over twenty.

Their purpose, of course, was to eliminate unexpected intruders, but a recent order from the Crown Prince had changed the priorities of the mission.

"Be careful not to let the maid leave the forest. She is a woman with special abilities, so keep an eye on her at all times. If any impure ones approach her, deal with them as you see fit."

Were the knights more concerned with keeping the maid safe than with the safety of the Crown Prince? Arnold had many questions for his lord, but he obeyed his orders in silence.

Five more days passed like this. Arnold rode into the hunting grounds with news to report to the crown prince.

The moment he entered the lodge, a thick sense of familiarity hit him. The heavy, musky scent mingled with the fresh, fragrant scent of flesh. The faint scent of sweat mingled with the sweet, bittersweet scent of body fluids made Arnold instinctively tensed.

A straight-backed knight made his presence known at the foot of the stairs.

"Your body, it’s Arnold."

"Come up."

This room, absurdly small compared to the palace, had a staircase that led directly to the bedroom. Reaching the top of the stairs, Arnold quickly scanned his surroundings. The maid’s dress and headscarves, the man’s silk robes and pants, littered the room like discarded seashells. The bed was near the window, and when the curtains were drawn, moonlight poured in.

His lord lay on his stomach like a satiated lion under a brilliant half moon. The faint moonlight streamed over his naked, muscular body, which was proportioned and smooth, like a sculpture.

Arnold swallowed inwardly in awe.

The woman lay curled up on her side beside him. Judging by her complete immobility, she appeared to be deeply asleep, almost unconscious.

The Crown Prince rested his head in his palm and traced a line from her forehead to the bridge of her nose with his index finger. Without taking his eyes off the maid, he tilted his head slightly.

"Report."

"Duke Christine has sent word that he plans to visit the palace, and he wishes to discuss a few matters concerning a banquet scheduled for next week."

"Three days from now."

“…understood, I'll let him know to come to the palace in three days."

"What is the status of Prince Eisen's faction?"

"No public movements, but the iron ore trade in Espian, the Montagne family's estate, has increased 1.5 times previous years."

"If the trade records say one and a half times the usual, the actual volume must be closer to double."

The Crown Prince's hand moved to the maid's hair. He combed his fingers through the blond locks as if he were intent on his work, but his words were by no means idle.

"That's very likely, but we don't know where that much iron ore is being transported - the investigation is ongoing."

"There are only a limited number of places that would need such a large amount of iron."

In the Karman Empire, it was illegal for nobles to maintain private armies. If it was discovered that Count Montagne had been manufacturing weapons and armor away from imperial surveillance, he could have been brought to trial immediately.

Montagne was Prince Eisen’s sword and shield. They didn't have the centuries of history and honor of other high noble families, but endless wealth was their lifeline: officially, they made their fortune in loan sharking, but rumor had it that their real income came from their booming brothels.

Unsurprisingly, they didn't get along with Felix. Irritation flashed across Felix's noble face at the thought of his half-brother and his henchmen. To shake off those dirty thoughts, he began to stroke his maid's cheek.

"That is all I have to report. If Your Highness has any further instructions..."

"She’s beautiful, isn't she?"

The unexpected question was thrown at Arnold instead of a command.

When his master asked a question, he had to answer. Arnold suppressed his emotions and answered as objectively as he could.

"Miss Escalif is, without a doubt, a beauty."

"Yes. She is beautiful."

The Crown Prince's index finger brushed the maid's long lashes. The sleeping maid turned her head and buried her face in the quilt. Felix pressed her shoulder, turning her face back toward him.

"She’s the most beautiful woman I have ever seen."

In a crowd of ordinary-looking people, Diana stood out. It wasn't just her physical beauty; she had a unique aura that was indescribable.

It was an energy so primal that only the most sensitive could sense it. Felix caressed her cheeks and slender arms. Her warmth reminded him of the sunlit earth on a spring day.

When his hand touched the tip of her nose, her soft breath brushed his fingers. From the moisture in her mouth to the fountain between her legs, she was pure and refreshingly transparent.

Satisfaction washed over him as he removed the old clothes that were nothing compared to her beauty. Diana was no longer a maid, and she had no need to wear such shabby clothes.

A dress with a ridiculously puffed out hem? Something that made her shuffle around awkwardly? No. Something as soft as water that slid effortlessly through his fingers. Water... yes, water. Like blue silk...

"Beautiful."

Felix repeated the word with a satisfied smile.

"Too beautiful for a flat canvas."

"I've never heard that before."

Arnold watched in amazement.

It had been 15 years since Arnold had begun serving the Crown Prince. Formerly a knight in the Empress's guard, he was a talented man handpicked by the Empress's family, the Duke of Christine. Knighted at a young age, he was given the task of fiercely guarding young Felix in the Empress's court.

In some ways, the boy was admirably brilliant, but in others, he was surprisingly lacking: for all his talent, he was remarkably lacking in sensitivity. From the moment Felix showed an interest in brushes and paint, the Empress insisted that he devote himself exclusively to portraiture.

"The child must learn to observe and analyze people, and if he does not have the innate capacity to love others, he must at least learn to tolerate them. If he does not learn that now, I already fear the tyranny he will perpetrate when he becomes ruler of this country."

It was thought to be a premature concern, but the following year it was proven to be prescient.

The nine-year-old's first work was a corpse hanging from a gallows under a clear midday sky.

"The contrast is intense. Red and blue. Heaven and earth, life and death. Isn't it harmonious?"

"But, Felix. The condemned would have had a sack over their heads when they were executed, so why... why did you paint their faces?"

"I thought it’s better with their faces visible, why not?"

The Empress was astonished and scolded him fiercely; but the boy answered with a twinkle in his angelic eyes.

"Mother, it's just a painting, it's not real, and it doesn't matter what happens in the painting, does it?"

"Felix!"

"Besides, it's mine, and I'm the only one who can have it, it's mine."

"...Then your paintings should never be real."

"Hmm..."

"Your wishes, your desires, your thirsts, and your urges, all of them must remain on the canvas. They must never become real. Do you understand?"

Painting was Felix's way of owning something in his own way. He stopped painting for a while after he retreated to the secluded palace, but eventually he picked up his brush again; the meaning changed slightly, but his habit of painting whatever he wanted or saw remained unchanged.

This, too, was the Empress's foresight. By restricting her son, who was born with abnormal personality, from painting, she effectively integrated him into society.

From another perspective, however, Felix was so indifferent to those who were not worthy of being captured in his paintings that his demeanor was bordered on callousness.

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