The banquet came to an end.Two carriages departed from the imperial palace.
Isolde stood alone atop the palace, watching the carriages grow ever more distant.
Tears streamed uncontrollably from the corners of her eyes.
The more she cried, the more convinced she became of the rightness of her decision.
It had only been a few days.How could this ill-fated creature already make her so reluctant to part?
If he were to grow arrogant from her favor in the future, wouldn't he bring ruin upon all of Aethelred?
Yet to simply have him killed—Would be far too lenient a fate for him!
Crouched on the rooftop, Isolde wept through the night before finally steeling her resolve.
She would focus her attention on reforming Aethelred!
…
Seated in the carriage, Sylas felt as though he were dreaming after escaping that devouring palace.
He was really out?
He had actually made it out?!
And he had managed to break free from Isolde's grasp.
It was utterly unbelievable!
But soon, despair washed over him once more.
His mother and sister had already been captured.Even if he were allowed to flee, he wouldn't dare.
The thought of having to serve his enemy made his heart ache with powerlessness.
"Young master, where have you been this past month? Page missed you dearly."
The page boy he hadn't seen in a month was also seated in the carriage.
He seemed quite happy to see Sylas.
Sylas was undemanding, making him exceptionally easy to serve.
One carriage, one coachman, and one page boy—this was the dowry Isolde had granted him.
Sylas had no answer.
He simply gazed at the night scenery outside the carriage window.
Lorynth was vibrant and splendid, its streets brightly lit even at night.
It was still relatively early, so quite a few people were out and about, most of them leisurely strolling.
Despite the bitterness in his heart, Sylas couldn't help but marvel at the prosperity of Aethelred.
In contrast, even Ravenhold, the capital of Lyonesse, would have its streets deserted by nightfall.
The carriage traveled swiftly, soon arriving at the residence of Marshal Victoria.
Sylas glanced at the placard: "Marquess Manor."
Victoria had been granted the title: "Marquess."
From the outside, the manor appeared magnificent and imposing.But upon entering, Sylas sensed something slightly amiss.
The manor was eerily quiet.It even felt less lively than the streets outside.
Victoria was unconventional and careless about daily life matters.
There were no strict household rules, and the servants often slacked off. Even the steward frequently embezzled funds.
She was aware but didn't care, as long as she had enough for food and drink.Thus, despite returning so late, not a single person came to receive them.
Left unattended, Victoria had stumbled and fallen several times while drunk.
To others, such a situation seemed almost absurd. Even ordinary households showed care and concern for one another.
How could the Marshal of a nation be so neglected?
But such was Victoria's reality.
Half-drunk, she stumbled out of the carriage and mumbled drowsily, "Thank you for Your Majesty's grace!"
Her coachman supported her, unsure of what to do.
Sylas stepped down from the carriage at that moment. Seeing Victoria's state, he remained silent but walked over and propped up her arm.
"Young master, I'll go tidy up the carriage," the coachman of Marquess Manor said, already slacking off and looking for an excuse to leave.
"Hey, you…" Page tried to interject.
Sylas said calmly, "Go ahead, you've worked hard."
With that, he supported the drunken Victoria as they made their way inside.
Page could only swallow his frustration and follow, hoping to help.
But he was too young to support Victoria properly, so he simply carried their belongings alongside them.
The layout of Marquess Manor was that of a typical estate.
Sylas asked Victoria for directions while carefully observing his surroundings. Before long, he had helped her to her bedchamber.
The courtyard was in disarray, and the water vats emitted a foul odor.
Sylas took note of everything, storing it in his memory.
After finally helping Victoria onto the bed, he said to Baishu, breathless, "I see there's another room in the courtyard. You can rest there. I can manage here."
Page looked concerned.
Sylas smiled and said, "Go on, go on. My mother used to get drunk too, and I always took care of her. Don't worry."
Young and inexperienced, Page naively took his leave.
The room fell silent.
Sylas looked at the snoring Victoria beside him, then at the messy room, and felt an unprecedented sense of relief.
At this moment, there was no pressure from Isolde, no moral coercion from Jade.
Only a drunken woman by his side.
A woman who paid little attention to details.
For over a month, his nerves had been stretched taut, constantly fearing Isolde's torment.
But worry had proven useless every time.
In the end, he had endured everything meant for him.
Now, he had finally left the palace.
What came next?
He glanced down at the servant's chain on his wrist, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts.
Suicide or escape seemed like viable options.
But what about his mother?
He decided to stop dwelling on it. He stood up and began tidying the room.
Victoria's room was a mess, as no one usually bothered to clean it.
She was accustomed to a slovenly life and didn't mind.
But Sylas couldn't abide it.
To clear his mind, he threw himself into organizing the room.
As order gradually returned to the space, his mood improved slightly.
Finally, hands on his hips, he looked at the now-clean room with a sense of accomplishment.
Next, he had to deal with Victoria on the bed.
From tonight onward, she would be his Lady Sovereign.
Sylas had been raised to regard his Lady Sovereign as his Mistress.
He had once fantasized about what his Mistress would be like.
Would she dote on me?
Would our marriage be harmonious?
Despite all his imaginings, he never expected it would be a drunkard seven years his senior.
A drunkard who had destroyed his nation.
Sylas smiled self-deprecatingly.
Seven years older wasn't so bad.
He had already endured Jade, who was fifteen years his senior.
If Victoria didn't complain, he had no right to be picky.
It was still better than serving Isolde, who devoured people without sparing their bones.
He approached Victoria and began undressing her.
"No need… I'm already asleep. Why undress? No need!" Victoria grumbled drunkenly.
"My Lady Sovereign, let's undress and sleep properly," Sylas said, still unaccustomed to addressing her as such.
He coaxed her gently.
To his surprise, Victoria calmed down and allowed him to remove her clothes.
A strong odor wafted into Sylas's nostrils.
The mix of alcohol and body odor was truly unpleasant!
He couldn't help but frown.
How long had it been since Victoria last bathed?
He sighed deeply and stood up to fetch some hot water.
Fortunately, there was a pot of lukewarm water in the main room, delivered by the water maid an hour ago.
The maid had long since left to drink.
Sylas fetched a copper basin, filled it with water, and found a towel to clean her.
As the towel touched Victoria's skin—
Cool and damp—
Victoria jolted awake.
She sat up abruptly, startling Sylas.
"What are you doing? Where is this?" Victoria clutched her head and asked.
"Your home. I'm cleaning you up," Sylas said calmly, kneeling by the bed.
"We're back?" Victoria turned to look at him.
Suddenly, she froze. She had assumed it was one of her servants.
But it was the haughty young master, Sylas.
Sylas stood up, preparing to take the basin away.
But as he turned, his arm was grabbed.
"Hey, the water will spill!" he exclaimed urgently.
Clang!
The copper basin fell to the floor.
He was pinned to the bed by Victoria.
Then, he found himself facing an exquisitely beautiful face.
Yet the face was contorted with intense anger and drunken confusion.
"You think I smell bad, don't you? You're… you're looking down on me!"