TEDOR 12

Chapter 12

Adeline’s refusal sent shockwaves through the young ladies in the ballroom.

One of the noble daughters, who had witnessed everything nearby, spoke in disbelief.

“Did I just hear that wrong?”

“No, you heard right. I never imagined Her Highness the Princess would turn down Lord Sandviken’s invitation to dance.”

“My goodness. I could never refuse him!”

“Nor could I. I’d always heard the Princess was timid and naïve, but clearly that wasn’t true. She certainly has her likes and dislikes, doesn’t she? Still, to reject Lord Sandviken’s request to dance!”

Their whispers made Teros’s face flush red. He was as shocked as they were noisy.

He was well aware of his own reputation — the object of many people’s admiration. For Her Highness to refuse his invitation… could it be that she didn’t know who he was? Surely not. Even if she lived secluded in the imperial palace, how could she be so ignorant of the world outside?

Teros forced a smile to hide his embarrassment. Since the Princess had refused, there was no dignified way to persist. The best course now was to retreat quickly and politely.

“I see. My apologies for the intrusion.”

After a short bow, he turned stiffly and returned to his father. His first words were filled with resentment.

“Did you see that, Father? I followed your advice and only made a fool of myself. Must I go to such lengths for a mere young princess?”

“Tsk. To lose heart after a single refusal! The Princess is the Empire’s only heir. Do you not understand her worth?”

“She may be the only one now, but who can say what the future holds? His Majesty is still young.”

“You’re the one who doesn’t understand. His Majesty has no intention of placing anyone on the Empress’s throne. It’s been vacant all these years — haven’t you noticed? You may feel humiliated today, but soon enough Her Highness will think better of you. Judging by her reaction, she likely hasn’t even heard your name. Once you enter the Academy, she’ll learn your value herself. She’ll see you differently then.”

The Duke of Sandviken tried to console his son, but Teros barely listened.

He had left the Academy for this ball, hoping to gain something — but he had earned nothing. Worse than nothing — humiliation. If he returned now, rumors would surely spread that he had feelings for the Princess and been rejected.

His peers and the young ladies who admired him might pester him with ridiculous questions. The very thought gave him a headache.

He had worked hard every year to remain at the top of swordsmanship, to preserve his fame, influence, and spotless reputation. A man of noble blood and outstanding talent — no young lady disliked him, and Teros liked it that way.

A noble lineage, remarkable skill, universal admiration — Teros was not about to give up any of it. He should have been the most talked-about figure at tonight’s ball. People might say the Princess was the guest of honor, but that was only in name. He considered himself just as deserving of attention.

And yet — after following his father’s advice and asking the Princess for a dance — to be refused?

That was not in his plans.

By tomorrow, the Academy would be buzzing with gossip. The Princess refused Teros Sandviken’s dance. The thought alone made his head burn with anger. This was all the fault of that ignorant Princess.

Wherever people gather, there are bound to be stories — some rising, some falling. And in the end, someone’s humiliation becomes another’s amusement.

Yet outwardly, the ballroom remained cheerful and bright.

Guests laughed and chatted, champagne glasses in hand. Men and women danced, exchanging glances and polite affections.

The heads of noble houses huddled in corners, trading information. The young ladies watched Adeline carefully, behaving even more demurely than usual. The young men didn’t dare approach her.

On the surface, nothing was amiss. It was a splendid night in the imperial palace, the very height of elegance. The musicians played on, and the noble daughters switched partners as they danced.

But after the ball ended, society would be abuzz.

Whispers would spread from lady to lady, until eventually the rumors reached the ears of every patriarch — carefully retold as if they were reasoned conclusions.

Some impatient noblewomen were already deciding to reduce contact with Count Tamera’s household, just in case. The main concern: to make sure their children did not grow too close to the Tameras’.

Meanwhile, among the young noblemen attending from Clionas Academy, word was spreading that the Princess’s standards were far higher than they’d imagined.

They could hardly contain their glee at the thought of spreading the story — that Teros had, at last, been refused by a woman.

In the farthest, quietest terrace of the ballroom, two boys were especially delighted. Oscar Poltava, son of the Marquis of Yorn, chuckled wickedly.

“What a show! I came to this ball expecting nothing and ended up thoroughly entertained. You saw it too, didn’t you? Teros asked so politely, and Her Highness cut him down without hesitation.”

“Haha, it was priceless. So cold a rejection! Imagine how wounded he must be. Poor, poor Teros.”

The boy who echoed him — Ian Semeion, heir to the northern Count of Semeion — wore an expression far too amused to be truly sympathetic. Oscar smirked at his sarcasm.

“To think he dared invite a twelve-year-old princess to dance. What a comedy. Is he that obsessed with power? Fortunately, Her Highness can tell what kind of man someone is.”

“I agree. That idiot only cares about looks and reputation. I’ll grant he’s a genius with a sword, but otherwise? Below average. His character’s rotten. Once Her Highness enters Clionas, she’ll see what an arrogant peacock he is. The girls who fall for that pretty face — I almost pity them.”

“Haha, if Teros heard us, he’d probably challenge us to a duel.”

“Oh, absolutely. He’d come up with some lofty excuse just to beat someone bloody. So maybe keep your voice down — we’d be the ones in trouble if someone overheard.”

At Ian’s warning, Oscar’s laughter abruptly stopped.

Someone was already on the terrace — sitting on the railing. The breeze lifted the folds of a red dress, sending golden hair streaming in the wind. Her golden eyes glimmered with an unmistakable presence that made them wonder how they’d missed her.

The moment they recognized her, Oscar turned pale and bent low.

“I greet the future of the Empire. Oscar Poltava, at Your Highness’s service.”

“Ah! Your Highness the Princess! I am Ian Semeion. Please, call me Ian.”

Adeline looked down at them, her expression soft but perceptive.

Oscar Poltava — son of Marquis Yorn Poltava, who had been unjustly exiled to the frozen north by the schemes of the noble faction. And Ian Semeion — heir to the Semeion family of the north, destined to become the commander of the Second Imperial Knights.

In another time, Ian’s skill had saved Adeline’s life more than once. Before she could ever repay that debt, he had fallen at the Fortress of Bergen.

To see them both again — those who had once vanished like dawn mist — filled her with a bittersweet ache.

“I am Adeline Teraaden. You may raise your heads.”

“Your Highness, we’ve made a terrible mistake. Our apologies. We didn’t realize anyone was here.”

“It’s my fault for forgetting to lock the terrace door. Seems I’ve gained unexpected audience members. I suppose I must ask you to leave now.”

“No, we’ll go!”

Ian waved his hands frantically, flustered. Adeline smiled faintly. Some things never changed — his overblown reactions among them. Watching him now, she felt as if the commander she’d lost had come back to life. A rush of emotion welled up — grief, longing, maybe both.

Just as the two young men turned to go, Adeline stopped them. She had something to tell Oscar — a message to pass on to his father.

“Wait. Stay a moment. I’d like someone to talk to.”

“If Your Highness is bored, shall I fetch some of the young ladies for company?”

“No, that’s not it. I have a word of advice for you, Lord Oscar.”

Advice? From a twelve-year-old princess?

Oscar turned back, perplexed. It had to be a pretext — maybe she was going to tease them or order them to play along with her whims. She might look unusually calm and mature for her age, but still — she was twelve.

His father had even told him that the young Princess was rather childish. Lately, she’d changed somewhat, he’d heard, but how much could a child really change? Still, he couldn’t afford to offend her.

“What kind of advice, Your Highness?”

He asked without much interest, already bracing himself for childish nonsense.

But when their eyes met, Oscar froze. There was no playfulness in her gaze. Her golden eyes gleamed — heavy as lead, cold as sunlight on steel — sharp like a predator’s.

Not even Emperor Callas himself had eyes so commanding.

From that small frame emanated a force like magic — regal, absolute.

Before he realized it, Oscar had dropped to one knee, as if compelled by instinct — paying the respect due to the Empire’s crown princess.

Ian gawked in disbelief. His proud friend, who never bowed to anyone — not even their professors — kneeling to a twelve-year-old girl?

And yet, somehow, it didn’t feel wrong.

Ian felt it too — that shiver down his spine. There was something about her presence — the dignity of a commander, the weight of authority — though she’d never wielded a sword.

After a pause, he followed Oscar’s lead and knelt as well.

“We are ready to hear Your Highness’s counsel.”

Looking down at them, Adeline spoke evenly.

“I hear the Marquis of Yorn Poltava is increasing his investments in trade. They say he’s commissioning new merchant ships — is that true?”

“It is, Your Highness.”

“He should stop. No — he must stop.”

“…Pardon? May I ask why?”

“A man who trades with his own fortune can rise again even if storms strike. But one who borrows to trade will never survive the tempest. Mark my words — before long, House Poltava will face bankruptcy. If you wish to avoid tragedy, persuade the Marquis to withdraw his funds at once.”

Oscar’s face stiffened. He immediately regretted kneeling.

“Forgive me, but that makes no sense, Your Highness. Do you have any evidence? What you’ve said sounds like pure conjecture. My father would never be convinced by such talk. And bankruptcy? Why utter such ominous words?”

“This year, thirteen trade ships will dock at Sirene’s port. As a result, the houses of Viscount Conil and Count Liant will go bankrupt, while Count Carrer will earn enormous profit.”

“You speak as though you can see the future. How can you be so certain, when the ships haven’t even arrived?”

“Time will prove it. I’ve said all I needed to say. The rest is up to you.”

With that, Adeline turned and left the terrace.

She had given all the warning she could. The rest was Oscar’s decision.

As she disappeared, Oscar and Ian exchanged grave looks.

“…Wow. I felt like I was in the presence of the Emperor himself. Is it because she’s royal, even at her age?”

“Must be. She’s definitely no ordinary girl. I’ll remember this.”

“Remember who? The Princess?”

“One day, we’ll owe her our allegiance. It’s only right to know what kind of person she is. But still… what was that about bankruptcy? Does she hold some grudge against my family?”

“It was strange, yeah. To start a conversation just to say something like that…”

“Still — she’s extraordinary.”

Ian’s jaw dropped.

“Extraordinary? You? Did you hit your head?”

“You really think that pressure we felt was our imagination?”

“…No. Honestly, I was shocked. For a moment, she seemed more imposing than the Emperor himself. But what she said— predicting the future like that — that’s impossible! The spring trade fleet won’t even return for another three months at best. No one could know how it’ll turn out. Even the priests of old never had true foresight — only the saintesses of legend were said to.”

“You’re right. No one can see the future. I don’t believe her words either — too vague, too ungrounded.”

“So we agree?”

“Yes. But she’s already a little Empress. The one true heir of Teraaden. After tonight, I understand — not following Her Highness would be the greatest mistake of my life. Maybe she speaks nonsense sometimes, but if you won’t follow someone who radiates authority that effortlessly… then who would you follow?”