TSMT 110

Chapter 110

Suspicious Carriage

Thanks to Diana’s plea on behalf of her maid, the king lifted the charges against the House of de Levian. Some thought that the de Levians had been falsely accused, but most nobles assumed the family was involved behind the scenes.

In any case, the queen publicly defended her maid, and the charges were dropped. No one could deny that a one-year ban from social events was a relatively light punishment. Some even finger-pointed at Lady de Levian, saying that a ban from the royal palace would have been justifiable.

Those with keen insight could easily guess Lady de Levian’s ambitions. Even those who knew Diana were aware that she had shown mercy to Lady de Levian.

No one blamed Diana. On the contrary, her composure and restraint—avoiding unnecessary conflict while abroad—earned the respect of all.

It had only been a month since the gargoyle capital invasion. Diana had tirelessly protected the capital in the king’s absence. Some nobles still remembered seeing Diana return to the palace in tatters. After all, Rodbrock was a kingdom of knights, a country that valued gratitude, and everyone’s hearts leaned toward the devoted queen.

They sent her gifts and messages of support. Some even openly criticized Lady de Levian, calling her shameful. The main criticism was how cunning she was, trying to ensnare the queen using the same Panborough nobles.

Lady de Levian had always played the role of the victim. Small in stature, with rabbit-like eyes, a gentle voice, and a kind personality, people instinctively sided with her. But this incident shattered her reputation.

The nobles did not resist when Giscart announced he would invite Panborough’s nobles to the palace for the ailing queen’s sake.

Despite her recovery, Diana could not rise from bed. The physician insisted she rest until the medicine fully left her system. Perhaps sensing her impatience, Mable had applied herself, and Diana found comfort in the spacious room with its large windows, believing she could finally rest freely.

But that expectation was quickly shattered.

Diana frowned at Giscart, who was blowing on potato soup beside her. She tried to understand him, telling herself he wanted to appear like a kind husband.

But this had been going on for three days. Unable to bear it, Diana asked:

“Why are you doing this to me?”

“You need to eat.”

Seeing his expression, Diana briefly thought she had done something wrong. Giscart was simply caring for her, as naturally as breathing.

“We agreed to have one meal together each day.”

“Then we could eat together—why are you feeding me?”

The maids behind them covered their mouths and quietly left, clearly finding the scene like a newlywed couple. Diana’s ears flushed red. Whether he noticed or not, Giscart responded with an unreadable expression.

“You’re not comfortable.”

“I can eat. And I’m already well.”

“You must follow the doctor’s orders.”

Diana felt like she was losing her mind. She stared at the potato soup in front of her, eventually deciding to change her approach.

“One day is fine, but who knows what the fault-finding people will say?”

“They’ll say what?”

“They’ll claim I’m acting like a slave.”

This had happened in her previous life as well. Occasionally, Giscart showed small acts of care—supporting her if she seemed about to fall, offering her food, or helping her on horseback.

Though they appeared to be a happy couple, the people of Rodbrock always criticized Diana.

The queen was still rumored to treat her king like a slave, and Giscart hated that rumor. He even cut the throats of those who dared speak it aloud. The word slave was a wound and a red line for him.

“Then I’ll just cut their throat.”

Hearing the same words as before, Diana let out a small laugh. Did he understand the meaning of her smile? A faint smile also appeared on Giscart’s face, a subtle tension between them softened by differing emotions.

When Diana accepted the spoon, satisfaction flickered across his face. He stirred the soup and said:

“And this is fine, of course.”

“What do you mean?”

Before she could ask, he held the spoon out again. Diana ate it. Outside, birds sang in spring, and she accepted the man’s kindness—a peaceful moment.

His eyes relaxed.

“I honestly didn’t mind.”

“This time you didn’t?” Diana asked, uncertain if he referred to the past.

“What are you talking about?”

Seeing Giscart’s calm face, Diana felt uneasy. Peacefulness did not suit them—they were enemies, thanks to her father’s actions toward Giscart’s mother. They were not supposed to be sharing soup.

“This is strange, really.”

“…”

“Giscart, you are a little strange.”

A small laugh escaped his throat, softening the atmosphere, perhaps aided by the spring breeze carrying the scent of flowers.

“You are no less strange yourself,” Giscart said, cooling the soup with a puff of air as he spoke.

“I still don’t understand why you showed mercy to that lady,” he continued.

Diana sighed. She had requested Giscart to release Lady de Levian from prison.

“You could execute any noble who harms the royal family.”

Oddly, Giscart, who usually nodded to her every wish, became angry when she asked him to release Lady de Levian.

“I could have executed it under my authority, or yours—it didn’t matter.”

Seeing his cold expression, Diana shook her head.

“There will be a next time.”

She tried to soothe his frustration.

“Besides, I now know you consider me your wife. It’s good to know I also have the right to execute. I’ll use it wisely next time.”

Diana smirked, glancing at Giscart, whose expression was a mix of exasperation and disbelief.

“All this talk you’ve been giving me… what?”

His increasingly harsh tone eventually softened.

“What do you mean by using it wisely—do you have someone you want dead?”

Diana nodded. In her previous life, she had never used her queenly rights. She thought she should ask that damned Libius about the proper limits of her authority.

“Why, do you have someone you want dead?”

Diana stared into his eyes, her violet pupils shining brilliantly in sunlight. She wanted to hide what had happened after Giscart left; this was the one thing she could conceal from him.

“I understand,” she said.

“Huh?”

“Even without saying it, I understand.”

Perhaps he misinterpreted her hesitant gaze, for Giscart remained silent for some time.

“I’ve never wanted to kill Your Majesty,” she said.

“Lies.”

His answer was immediate. Of course, in the past, she had wanted to kill him out of resentment, hate, and vengeance.

“I have thoughts too.”

“…”

“I destroyed your country, killed your family, ruined your house.”

“…”

“And I captured you to make you my wife.”

Diana was slightly surprised—he seemed aware. Somehow, he and the earlier version of Diana felt similar. The mood became heavy, and Diana lowered her gaze.

“I consider this my sentence.”

“…”

“…Three years as queen—isn’t that a luxurious prison?”

She spoke with her own reasoning. Considering her father’s crimes, it was only natural for Giscart. Yet he looked at her as though he had done something terribly wrong.

He stared at Diana with an urgent expression, wanting to say something, but did not.

“Wha—what!?”

Emil screamed upon hearing that Mirva had been captured.

“That stupid woman!”

Once a grand manor, the Briand estate had shrunk to a small house. Giscart, having crushed Panborough, had killed the head of the Briand family but spared his son.

Emil Briand had survived but lived a life worse than death.

Grabbing his own neck and screaming, Emil recalled Giscart’s calm instruction to get treatment. That was how he survived, but he was isolated.

All nobles criticized the Briand family. They were the cause of the Panborough War. It was a house destined to fall.

The remaining Duke of Briand, Emil Briand, felt he might go mad. Blood doesn’t lie, and he resented the weakest target.

“Diana Briand!”

Even in sleep, the name grated on him. If not for her, none of this would have happened. She had freed Giscart, causing all this, and even escaped!

“Aaah, Father!”

He screamed, thinking of his dead father. Though once distant, his father had become the kindest, fairest person in Emil’s memory under tragic circumstances.

“Your Grace, the carriage has arrived.”

“What carriage!”

The Briand estate lacked the finances to operate a carriage. Even the steward serving him was sent by Giscart, acting as a watchdog.

“Let’s go see it.”

Seeing the steward’s fierce gaze, Emil lowered his eyes and stepped forward. On the worn wooden floor, he reached the front hall and saw a grand carriage reminiscent of the Briand estate’s former glory.

The coachman, dressed better than Emil himself, stepped down elegantly.

“Alexa Briand has sent an invitation.”

Alexa? That was her?! Emil’s face brightened.

“She hasn’t forgotten this brother’s face!”

He was moved—it was the teaching of his father!

“Please come to Rodbrock immediately.”

“Very well, my carriage!”

Emil didn’t hesitate and climbed aboard. Seeing the steward off, the coachman said:

“You should also soon return here and reorganize the estate, then go back to Rodbrock.”

The steward widened his eyes, then looked down and muttered:

“So, it has come to this.”

A cold smile crept onto the steward’s lips.