Chapter 95: The Queen’s Imperious Decree [2]

Chapter 95

It was a quiet, unusually calm afternoon in the North. High up in the heavy stone towers of the ducal fortress, Sigrid stood before her window, gazing out over the endless blanket of frost that wrapped the vast landscape. Despite the tranquil atmosphere, her mind remained caught in a strange, lingering trance. Unconsciously, her thoughts drifted back to the quiet words Soren had spoken to her in their bedchambers a week prior. Every time that memory resurfaced, a sharp, suffocating tightness gripped her chest. Shaking her head to dispel the unsettling sensation, she took a slow breath and forced herself to return to the present moment, smoothing the fine silk of her sleeves.

A soft knock rattled against the heavy wooden door, and a young maid stepped into the bedchamber with a quiet curtsy. "My Lady, you have a visitor awaiting you in the lower parlour," the maid announced softly. Sigrid raised an eyebrow, wondering who could possibly have traveled all the way to the frozen reaches of the North without advance notice, though a subtle suspicion quickly formed in her mind.

Sigrid descended the grand stone staircase and made her way toward the grand parlour. The moment she crossed the threshold, she was greeted by the sight of Lady Beatrice, who was practically bouncing on her heels with an energetic, beaming smile that radiated pure gossip.

"Welcome, my lady," Sigrid spoke softly, stepping into the room with measured grace. "You did not inform me of your impending arrival, otherwise I would have ensured a proper reception was prepared for your very first visit to the North."

Beatrice let out a bright laugh and immediately stepped forward, pulling Sigrid into a warm, enthusiastic embrace. "You should not worry yourself in the slightest, Sigrid! I require no lavish welcome. Though I must say, the cold in this region is truly vicious! How on earth do you survive in such a place?"

Sigrid chuckled softly at her friend’s dramatic sigh. "You speak the absolute truth, but one gradually adapts to the chill over time. Besides, the interior of the fortress is kept thoroughly warm." She gestured toward the velvet armchairs near the roaring hearth. "Please, do sit."

Beatrice sank into the cushion with a satisfied hum, smoothing her vibrant skirts. "I told my father I was traveling north to see you, and he sternly warned me not to anger the Duke, lest I have my head chopped off right on the spot! HAHAHA" She said laughing.

Sigrid’s expression instantly hardened into a cold, serious frown. She knew Beatrice was merely uttering a lighthearted, foolish joke, but it pained her deeply to hear anyone carelessly tossing around such spiteful remarks—words that undoubtedly fueled the tragic, bitter perception Soren held of himself.

"Lady Beatrice," Sigrid cut in, her voice dripping with absolute gravity. "Please do not make such disrespectful jokes regarding my husband."

Beatrice’s eyes widened in sheer surprise. Realizing she had crossed an unspoken boundary, she scrambled out of her seat immediately and offered a low, trembling bow. "I apologize most sincerely, Duchess! It was never my intention to cause you distress or insult His Grace. I foolishly allowed myself to become overly familiar with those hurtful rumors..."

Sigrid’s face softened at the genuine remorse in the young noblewoman’s tone. "As long as you understand," she murmured quietly, motioning for her guest to resume her seat.

Beatrice sat back down, taking a small, relieved breath. "You need not fret over my father’s opinion, Sigrid. My father is actually quite fond of the Duke. He was praising His Grace’s name only recently, though he expressed deep pity that despite being our realm’s true savior, the kingdom has foolishly turned him into a self-projected monster. In fact, my father specifically instructed me to convey his warmest wishes for a long and lovely marriage to you both."

Sigrid recalled that the Duke of Beatrice’s house was indeed one of the very few high noblemen Soren ever deigned to speak with during courtly assemblies. "I appreciate his kind words," Sigrid answered quietly.

"Now then, enough of this gloomy talk about men!" Beatrice declared, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she reached into her travel satchel. "Did you receive the latest gazette from the capital?"

Sigrid shook her head slightly. "The North is far too distant from the central territories, so news takes a considerable amount of time to reach our gates."

"Then you are exceptionally fortunate to have me!" Beatrice squealed triumphantly, producing a freshly printed parchment scroll and handing it across the table. "I brought the latest article directly from the capital!"

Sigrid took the scroll and unrolled it, her crimson eyes scanning the sharp ink. A subtle, dangerous curve formed on her lips as she read the lead headline. ♡Union of The realm. The Queen’s imperious decree.♡

So, Queen Evelyn followed through with her declaration after all, Sigrid thought internally, a dark satisfaction blooming within her chest. She ultimately prioritized the royal family’s public reputation above all else, just as I calculated she would. The article detailed the accelerated ceremonial timeline, announcing the grand wedding of Crown Prince Ragnar and Maria Vesper, alongside Maria’s rapid ascension to Crown Princess in a mere two weeks.

Sigrid’s smile widened with genuine excitement. That was the exact reason she had forced the Queen into a corner, making her shorten the timeframe for Maria’s ascension. She wanted Maria elevated to the highest peak of royalty as quickly as possible so that her eventual, catastrophic downfall would burn like absolute hell. Sigrid would personally ensure that Maria’s long-sought life as Crown Princess turned out to be utterly worthless, agonizing, and devoid of the glorious fantasy she had envisioned before she ascended to Queen.

However, as Sigrid’s eyes wandered down toward the bottom pages of the gazette, her smile faded slightly. A few bold journalists had implicitly hinted at the ominous dark clouds gathering on the horizon—war with Engrosia was looming near. The capital would soon be turned upside down in sheer panic, and the terrified populace would desperately turn toward the imperial family, seeking comfort from their beloved ’Saint’ Maria and their golden prince Ragnar. Yet Sigrid resolved that she would throw every single effort into making certain everything collapsed into utter disarray around them.

Sigrid handed the gazette back to Beatrice, whose face was flushed with intense curiosity. "Will the Crown Prince be joining the frontlines when the war officially breaks out?" Beatrice asked eagerly.

Sigrid let out a short, humorless chuckle. "That is entirely impossible. The Queen would never permit such a thing. Under normal circumstances, Crown Princes are expected to march alongside the army to bolster the troops’ morale, but given the sudden wedding and the Queen’s suffocating hold over him, he will remain safely tucked away within the palace walls."

Internally, Sigrid sneered at the pathetic reality of the royal court. Queen Evelyn has never allowed Ragnar to step foot near a real battlefield or dangerous conflict, she reflected bitter truth. That overprotective shielding is precisely what cultivated his festering inferiority complex toward Soren even more. Soren constantly returned from the frontlines bathed in glory and absolute victory, while Ragnar was forced to sit uselessly on his velvet throne, nursing his fragile ego.

Beatrice let out a dramatically heavy sigh, leaning back against her chair. "I still cannot wrap my head around it! A Crown Princess being officially crowned in less than a month of her formal engagement? Custom demands a mandatory six-month observation period! I truly wonder why the Queen acted with such unprecedented haste..."

"It must surely be the Prince’s overwhelming, divine love for Maria," Sigrid replied, her tone so profoundly cynical and drenched in sarcasm that Beatrice blinked in surprise. "The Queen was undoubtedly so enlightened by their pure romance that she shortened the period, refusing to deprive the two tragic lovers of their immediate union."

Beatrice stood up and began pacing around the cozy parlour, wringing her hands with a worried pout. "Which means an immediate selection process of unmarried noble maidens will be established across the territory to form a proper retinue for the future Queen... Oh, I desperately hope I am not chosen!"

Sigrid tilted her head slightly, amusement flickering in her eyes. "And why is that? Is it not the dream of every noble lady to serve in the Crown Princess’s inner circle?"

Beatrice made a deadpan, deeply disturbed face. "I was once invited to a tea party hosted by future Crown Princess Maria. But the moment I laid eyes on her, her sweet smile felt so utterly fake that it gave me the absolute creeps!"

Sigrid burst into a melodious, ringing laugh. "You dislike her simply because her smile feels fake?"

"Of course!" Beatrice insisted deadpanly, crossing her arms over her chest.

Sigrid stood up from her chair, a lopsided, wickedly charming grin spreading across her face. She stepped closer to Beatrice, reaching out with slender fingers to gently twirl a stray strand of Beatrice’s hair. "My smiles are completely fake too, if you were not aware," Sigrid whispered softly, her crimson eyes gleaming with dark playfulness.

Beatrice’s cheeks instantly flushed a bright, burning crimson at the proximity, making Sigrid blink in quiet confusion. "B-But yours are entirely different!" Beatrice stammered shyly, ducking her head. "You do not bother hiding the fact that your smiles are merely for formal politeness and courtly duty! You look unbelievably cool, charming, and regal when you do it... she just looks terrifyingly deceitful!"

Sigrid’s eyes widened slightly before a genuine, lighthearted smile broke across her face. "You truly possess a remarkably weird perception of things, Beatrice."

Beatrice looked up, her expression turning somewhat somber as she looked at her host. "Sigrid... do you feel any lingering hurt or resentment regarding their grand engagement?"

Sigrid turned her gaze back toward the frost-covered window, her tone calm. "Why would I feel hurt?"

"Because of the bitter relationship you share with them," Beatrice murmured softly. "It was hardly a secret that during the grand imperial ball, you openly declared you wanted nothing more to do with your former family."

Sigrid turned back to face Beatrice, her red eyes suddenly igniting with a manic, radiant delight. She clasped her hands together in front of her chest, a breathtakingly dangerous smile lighting up her features. "I feel nothing but absolute, overwhelming happiness that their grand alliance has been solidified," she declared softly, already visualizing the sweet, agonizing vengeance she would exact upon their hollow union.

Yet, as the silence settled over the room, a sharp frown slowly replaced her triumphant smile. Still, a troubling thought remains, Sigrid mused silently, her stomach twisting with subtle apprehension. Soren will inevitably be forced to march to the frontlines once the war erupts, leaving the North behind. While he is away on the battlefield, Maria will hold far greater central authority than I do. Coupled with her knowledge of future events through her visions... Sigrid began pacing slowly across the rug, her fingers tapping rhythmically against her arm. I may face far greater difficulties and unexpected traps than I initially calculated.

A heavy sigh escaped her lips as she stopped pacing and sat back down in her armchair. Just then, Lilith entered the parlour carrying a silver tray adorned with steaming cups of fresh herbal tea. Worrying endlessly over future variables will do me no good right now, Sigrid told herself, regaining her icy composure as the rich aroma of tea filled the room.

Beatrice sat down opposite her, taking a warm cup into her hands with a bright smile. Sigrid took a slow sip, her crimson eyes staring deep into the amber liquid as a cold, unyielding resolve settled in her heart. I eagerly await your grand games, Maria.