He was dressed in an extremely well-fitted silver robe, his hair styled into that distinctive loop. The man was handsome, his aura cold and aloof.
In the afternoon, Isolde had finally allowed him to bathe, preparing to give away her silver carp.
Now, a trace of sorrow still lingered on his face. It seemed he wasn't very happy.
But what did it matter if he was unhappy? He still had to play the role of the court entertainer.
Seeing this, Victoria felt inexplicably flustered.
The opponent I once respected has been reduced to this state. Even she found it hard to accept.
The Empress's methods are truly formidable. To have tempered such an unattainable, cold flower into this...
Sylas had resigned himself to his fate. He carried the wine jug to stand between the two women.
Protocol demanded he serve Isolde first; she was the monarch, her status supreme. He bent his slender waist, holding the jade jug, resembling a silver ornament.
A pair of pale, delicate wrists emerged from his sleeves, contrasting beautifully with the white-green jade.
Victoria, watching the beauty before her and catching a faint, clean scent from him, immediately turned her head away, pretending to watch the song and dance performance.
Isolde chided playfully, "Are you blind? Pour for my sister! Don't you know the rules?"
She seemed somewhat drunk, her behavior becoming increasingly outrageous. She reached out and slapped Sylas's backside.
Thump...
Sylas's clothing wasn't thin, so it was just a jolt. It didn't hurt, but the shame and anger were unbearable.
In front of so many people...
Swallowing his humiliation, he turned to pour wine for Victoria.
"Thank you ..." Victoria merely glanced at him, then nervously clutched her wine cup, unsure what to say.
Sylas kept his head down and tried to retreat.
The pouring is done. Hopefully, they won't torment me further.
But Isolde yelled again, "Come here! Sit here! Don't you know your purpose?" She was shouting loudly, like a drunkard. Not a trace of her imperial demeanor remained.
Sylas's breathing quickened. He moved to sit between them, where an attendant had already placed a small stool.
The three of them sitting at one table, their relationships intricate and complicated, was pure agony.
Sylas understood. Isolde wanted him to be the entertainment.
He took a deep breath, telling himself, It's alright. Just endure a little longer. Just endure, and you can leave with this woman who smells of sweat.
"Sister Victoria, you wanted to meet the male strategist of Lyonesse, didn't you? Well, here he is. Not bad looking, and quite resilient when played with." Isolde reached out, grabbed Sylas's right hand, and began rubbing it back and forth, her movements exaggerated.
Her voice was also slightly sharp, making it hard to tell if it was praise or mockery.
Victoria swallowed. Holding her cup, she smiled and said, "Lord Sylas? I've long heard of you."
Sylas offered a bitter smile.
My former enemy is sitting beside me, and I have to serve her wine.
He could only nod and say softly, "The Marshal's fame thunders in my ears."
"Just an empty reputation. For a man to be so strategically brilliant... I truly admire it. This cup, I toast to you." Victoria drank the fine wine neatly.
Compared to talking to a man, drinking was as easy as drinking water.
Sylas moved to pour more wine, but his hand was held by Isolde. He could only glance tentatively at the Empress.
Sure enough, the conflicted Empress was glaring at him with murderous intent.
Oh? She toasts you, and you drink? Why don't you drink with me?
Sylas sighed lightly. "Your Majesty, Marshal Victoria toasted me. I must return the gesture. So, could I..." He saw the cup of wine still in front of Isolde and mustered his courage, ingratiatingly, "...drink from Your Majesty's cup?"
The murderous look in Isolde's eyes instantly diminished. She wasn't truly drunk, just using the alcohol to act out.
Seeing Sylas was being somewhat sensible, she said evenly, "Fine. Drink, you wretch. Don't forget how dirty you are. I can always get a new cup."
"Thank you, Your Majesty..." Sylas quickly picked up Isolde's cup and raised it in respect to Victoria.
The fine wine burned his throat. Aethelred's wine was purer than Lyonesse's, and it went straight to his head.
Almost immediately, a faint flush appeared on his cheeks, making him look even more... delectable.
Isolde slowly released his hand, her heart a mix of emotions.
Irritably, she said, "Go on. Serve my sister properly. If she's unhappy, watch out for your family!"
Sylas trembled at the words. The taste of being blackmailed was excruciating. He had no experience as an entertainer and didn't know how to please a woman.
He could only turn slightly sideways, bow his head, and say softly, "Lord Victoria, I..." As he spoke, he reached his arm out, cautiously looping it through Victoria's, the most proactive thing he could bring himself to do.
He trembled incessantly.
Victoria was also terribly nervous. She never imagined the once noble and aloof Sylas would initiate holding her arm.
For a moment, she didn't know where to put her hands.
Isolde spoke again, "Are you mourning someone? If you keep that long face, I'll give you a real reason to cry!"
"No, no..." Sylas hurriedly forced a smile. He actively took Victoria's hand and poured her more wine with his other hand. "My Lord, please drink."
"Good, good..." Victoria replied bashfully. Sylas's fingers were slender and cool, feeling like soft jade in her hand.
Victoria had a high alcohol tolerance, but now she felt almost intoxicated.
Isolde grew even angrier.
Are you two putting on some kind of pure love act in front of me? Victoria has never been with a man; she doesn't know better.
But you, Sylas, you wretch, still pretending to be cold and aloof? Start acting wanton!
She swayed to her feet, grabbed the loop of hair on Sylas's head, and gave it a sharp tug. Sylas immediately cried out in pain.
Victoria hurriedly tried to intervene, "Your Majesty, it's fine, really, there's no need..."
"Sister Victoria, you don't understand. This man is a master of disguise. Think of all the losses he caused us!
Even now, don't be fooled by this pitiful act. He's single-mindedly plotting to kill me.
You can't show him any kindness! The harsher you are, the more obedient he becomes!" Isolde said venomously.
She looked at Sylas's face, suddenly pulled his head close, and kissed him fiercely, heedless of their surroundings.
Victoria, witnessing this, felt her heart pound. She quickly turned her head away.
Then she heard Isolde order, "Go on. Kiss her like that. Put any less force into it, and you'll regret it!"
Hearing this, Victoria's heart skipped a beat.
Would he come over and kiss me like that? Should I refuse?
She stole a glance at the man out of the corner of her eye.
Sylas, however, was overcome with grief. He couldn't bear this torture of being treated like a plaything any longer.
He slowly wiped his mouth and finally cried out in grief and indignation, "Isolde... may you die a wretched death!"
"..."
The lively sounds in the hall vanished instantly. The singers and dancers look at him in terror, not daring to utter a word.
In all of Aethelred, no one dared insult the Empress to her face. This powerful Empress, who looked young and beautiful, was known for her ruthlessness.
This one sentence could unleash untold calamity, could cost countless heads.
Even Victoria was shocked. She said gravely, "Your Majesty, Lord Sylas is drunk..."
Isolde looked at Sylas in her arms. Her breathing grew faster and faster. She seemed on the verge of exploding.
Suddenly, she laughed. She laughed uproariously. The laughter sounded dry, devoid of real mirth.
This is more like it. If Sylas could hold it in, he wouldn't be Sylas. Well cursed. Now that you've cursed me, I have a reason to punish you properly!
She released Sylas and pointed at Victoria. "My Marshal, see? He's a spicy little thing. I bestow him upon you.
You must tame him! Don't let him insult his sovereign again and bring trouble upon yourself!"
"Thank you for your reward, Your Majesty!"