TLRP 16

chapter 16

 Neither a Snake Nor a Lion

“Power is incredible. Whether it’s a drug, poison, or medicine, it can make people sick, drive them insane, and sometimes even heal someone.”

“They say that even the wisest, who ascends the throne with good intentions, ends up killing ten thousand people. The king’s seat is a poisoned cup. Once you drink, you are no longer human.”

“No longer human? What do you mean? If you stab someone, they’ll die; if you hit them, they’ll scream. Cut the flesh, blood flows; take out the heart, they die. Isn’t that human enough?”

Adeline was in the carriage with Nabi. As their conversation grew increasingly fierce, Zakarian, who was also present, coughed awkwardly in discomfort. But the two women, clad in battle armor over their uniforms, did not stop talking.

Nabi calmly replied to Adeline’s words.

“Being human is not just about breathing and having a beating heart. Justice, conscience, fear, affection… if even one of these is missing, then it’s already—”

“—an asshole or a lunatic.”

“Ahem! Indeed!”

Adeline, glancing outside the carriage window, asked Zakarian, who had started coughing awkwardly.

“Is a cold going around? Zakarian, you should’ve rested at home.”

“Eh? It’s not a cold.”

Zakarian sighed. He had volunteered to guard her because the Lion King stubbornly refused to meet Adeline until his meditation was finished. He had lied that the king was suffering from a severe cold and staying in seclusion.

Already frustrated, he also had to endure Nabi’s suspicious glances shooting at him from time to time. All of this was because of Baltica. Damn king.

As Zakarian internally cursed the Lion King, Adeline pointed outside with her finger.

“Finally, they’re coming out.”

They were watching the Traveler’s Street in the Wind Square, at the heart of Sol-Marma.

Ordinary young men moved in and out of large, old buildings. Occasionally, well-dressed gentlemen appeared, or women carrying food and alcohol in wide baskets on their heads.

“Leaving it out in the open like that actually avoids suspicion.”

“Seems so. At first glance, it looks like an ordinary lodging.”

It was the base of the radical faction that assassins had revealed. They were aware that the group was influenced by strange ideologies, but the level of brainwashing was significant. It was logical and persuasive. Ringo had once been so impressed during a conversation with them that he jumped from his chair and clapped enthusiastically.

Marma was rotten. Rotten parts must be cut away. For that, war is necessary.

“Nonsense.”

Of course, Adeline sneered mercilessly.

“It would probably sound better than listening to someone justify crimes. A murderer claiming that humans are naturally trash and must be killed to some degree—how is that different?”

“Princess, they’re coming.”

Zakarian urgently gestured to her. Adeline, who had been fiercely criticizing them with Nabi, pressed her lips shut and clung to the window.

“Where are they going?”

“Just… leaving work, I guess?”

It was ridiculous. Most of them weren’t sacrificing for the ideology they claimed to believe in. They were like office workers—doing their job, getting paid, and leaving. Adeline, speechless and amazed, leaned back in the carriage and let out a hollow laugh.

“Of course. Noble purposes, my foot.”

Just then, someone abruptly flung open the carriage door. Startled, Adeline drew her dagger, and Zakarian stepped forward, readying his weapon. But a familiar face appeared in the gap.

“Lachi?”

Adeline called him. It was the Lion King. His hair ruffled, he glared at Zakarian and said:

“Meditation isn’t working.”

“What?”

“Think of another way.”

After being chased by Crown Prince Cesare, Richard Selmore—the ill-fated knight who was hired by Duke Canis of Voltein and eventually sold to Mother Blanc—was reflecting on his fate.

If human destiny is truly predetermined, as the fortune-tellers claimed, perhaps his life was meant to be a twisted mess, pushed around until death.

Even if Mother Blanc highly valued Richard’s skills, it didn’t mean he could suddenly rise to her inner circle. And he didn’t want to. He knew too well that the terrifying old woman earned her wealth by taking lives in the most brutal and certain ways, leaving no loose ends. She would even kill the rest of a family or take a child as a hostage and sell them as a slave.

“I’ve come on Mother Blanc’s errand.”

Richard had been assigned to deliver a chest full of gold coins to radical assassins. A perfect test of loyalty. Even diverting a single carriage he drove would provide enough for a lifetime, yet he didn’t dare. Mother Blanc was no pushover.

“Come in.”

Despite being alleyway assassins, the radicals were arrogantly haughty, discussing history, politics, and ideology as if they were a state-saving organization. Listening carefully, it was all nonsense.

“How much this time?”

“Wouldn’t you know by counting?”

“Show some respect. Are you flaunting because of Mother Blanc’s name?”

Richard swallowed the curse forming in his throat. Weaklings, incapable of killing a single woman, yet eating gold like it was nothing.

“Wait. I’ll open the warehouse door.”

“Tell Mother Blanc about your arrogant behavior.”

The radicals inside turned to glare at Richard. Even those loudly arguing or teaching a boy how to use weapons. Richard smirked, rubbing his stubble, grown over a few days.

“What are you looking at?”

They stopped speaking to him. They were never close to him. Mother Blanc was a dirty slave trader, and these were people who justified murder with ideology.

Suddenly, Adeline came to mind. Her sharp gaze, questioning everything whenever he looked at her. Richard didn’t realize he was imitating her tone unconsciously.

The warehouse door opened. Richard silently watched the workers he brought carry Mother Blanc’s gold into the storage. He didn’t need to stay; they were unpleasant people. As he moved to the backyard leading to the warehouse, a voice called out:

“Sir, welcome!”

“How have you been?”

“We failed again. Truly sorry, it’s our fault.”

“You did nothing wrong. It’s the powerful who are incompetent.”

“Sir, please sit here.”

It was a strange sight. The unruly radicals regained order with the arrival of an old man. Holding a worn bowler hat and a bundle of newspapers, the elderly man sat neatly.

“Today, we’ll study the great kings and military methods that saved the nation of Babel multiple times.”

Richard knew him. Mixing with the workers, a silly smile escaped him. This so-called teacher was someone he had encountered several times when he guarded Crown Prince Cesare.

The Duke of Nord Hill. One of his aides.

The realization that the Duke was behind the radicals hit Richard like molten metal. Everything he couldn’t see by Cesare’s side became clear at once. Memories of being beaten severely by the prince surged, turning fear into hatred.

Cesare. Once respected. His master.

Then Adeline’s face came to mind. The princess, never showing fear even in front of the crown prince, the duke, and assassins. Her cold, clear eyes gripped his heart.

“Are you really not sick?”

“Sick? Who’s sick?”

It was suspicious. Even to Adeline, the Lion King seemed too fine, but Zakarian insisted the king was bedridden with a severe cold.

“Meditation… why?”

“Why is someone sick coming here to worry the princess?!”

Before Adeline could finish, Zakarian barked, shooing the Lion King away. She eyed the two men suspiciously again.

“I was meditating…”

“We have an important duty to watch them. The king should go in now!”

“Zakarian.”

Adeline, unable to restrain herself, placed her hand on his shoulder and smiled.

“Tell the truth. What’s going on?”

“Princess, it’s just…”

Zakarian was too embarrassed to call the king foolish. He didn’t know how to explain that the king, trying to maintain a vow made with warriors at a cliff, stubbornly adhered to it alone—even now, distracted by Adeline.

Zakarian handed Nabi the task of explaining.

“Nabi will explain.”

“Why me?”

“You know everything. Great Prophet of the Desert.”

Zakarian smiled like he’d found an oasis. The Lion King frowned at his subordinate’s strange behavior.

“Get in first. Before anyone notices.”

Adeline grabbed the Lion King’s hand, pulling him into the carriage. He clambered in, stretching his long legs but muttering in frustration at the cramped space.

“Too narrow.”

Initially, Adeline and Nabi sat on one side, Zakarian opposite. Now, Nabi and Zakarian squeezed together, and Adeline was pressed against the wall by the Lion King’s bulk.

“This won’t do.”

Adeline’s thigh was about to slide under the Lion King’s leg. She wore pants, making it worse. The Lion King, stuck tight, finally said to Zakarian:

“Get out.”

“What? What?”

“Get down. Take your men home.”

“I…”

I got here first, you fool. Nabi quickly translated Zakarian’s muttering.

“He insulted the Lion King.”

Adeline added this to her growing knowledge of her fake maid.

The Lion King intended to come home with Adeline, but Zakarian’s fierce objection stopped him. Concerned about breaking a vow, he hesitated when his subordinate warned about being alone in the tight space.

Adeline chuckled, suggesting she and Nabi walk while giving the carriage to the men—but was flatly refused.

“Your Highness is currently in danger.”

“No one will know it’s me. LookAdeline planned to give all the credit for the success of this raid to the Lion King and the Royal Guard if it went well.

As a delicate and powerless princess, she could not fight directly, so their roles were crucial. She had no worries about the Lion King, but she was slightly concerned that the Royal Guard might slow him down. That was why she decided to assist from a distance.

“Adeline.”

“Hm?”

“Don’t get too active. You’ll draw suspicion.”

The Lion King said with a smile. Adeline smiled along with him.

The Fifth Knight Division of the Royal Guard had heard from Adeline, who appeared with the Lion King, that she had discovered the assassins’ base. They wondered how a princess could have obtained such information, but seeing the Lion King standing beside her made it believable.

They planned the operation using the map the Lion King provided. Adeline had intervened several times during the strategy meeting in the western palace’s dining antechamber, which she had offered for security, but her interjections were so natural that no one found them odd.

The Fifth Knight Division was an ordinary knight corps. Most were nobles or from wealthy families. Since they rarely participated in dangerous missions, the younger knights appeared quite tense.

The raid was scheduled for midday. Adeline had discovered that the assassins left at night, so she ordered the attack around noon, transitioning from morning to afternoon.

The Lion King led about a hundred of the emperor’s guards, who were wary of him, to Wind Plaza. The Travelers’ Street had many alleys, so they had no choice but to split the troops. The Lion King’s gaze swept over the alleys, spotting the passersby, who were actually his secretly placed men.

“Who will give the raid orders…?”

The knight commander asked. The Lion King was intimidating, fearsome, and awkward, so the commander wondered who should issue the command.

“You do it.”

“Understood.”

The commander raised one hand. He had planned to shout the command loudly to mock later, but fortunately, a simple hand signal sufficed.

The escape routes were blocked. The Royal Guard and the Lion King’s men, gathered at the entrances, moved in unison, entering the building.

With a loud crash, the massive wooden doors were torn off—front doors, back doors, windows. They left no point unguarded. The radical assassins inside screamed as they ran out, but there was nowhere to flee. The Lion King’s men ambushed them from every alley, weapons drawn, while Adeline, clad in a black robe, stood on a tall building with the butterfly, shooting arrows at the fleeing enemies.

That day, the emperor’s knights and the Lion King of Odium combined forces, annihilating the group of assassins who had persistently targeted Adeline Vita’s life.

Most were killed or captured. Almost every newspaper in Sol-Marma covered the incident, citing the assassins’ claim that war was necessary to purge the corruption in the country.

Yet everyone mocked them. People criticized them for acting like insane rebels in a prosperous and peaceful nation, rather than showing gratitude.

Adeline credited all the success of the operation to the Lion King and the Fifth Knight Division. She stated that if not for them, she would have been discovered dead in her bed one day, and that it was only by the grace of the emperor, who had listened to her modest voice, that she survived.

The emperor was overjoyed.

The emperor’s attendants visited the Lion King, gifting him a sword made by Marma’s finest craftsman. That wasn’t all. Along with a letter of gratitude for saving his daughter, a banner embroidered with the emblem of the Marma royal family was delivered—grand, dazzling, and resplendent in red.

The Lion King unfurled it and asked,

“What is this for?”

Adeline, visiting his home, answered,

“It would fetch a good price if you sold it.”

She was sincere.

The Fifth Knight Division also received rewards. They were given promotions, substantial bonuses, and their gaze toward Adeline softened noticeably.

“If I make a good impression on Mother Blanc, I could become the head of Tamiren.”

Reinhardt overheard Mother Blanc’s followers whispering among themselves.

It was said that the old woman occasionally selected smart and capable subordinates to adopt as heirs. The previous head had become the head that way. Many envied Reinhardt. Despite being the bodyguard of the traitor Count Canis, Mother Blanc had boldly chosen him purely for his skill, which drew resentment.

The audacity of these assassins made him feel sick.

After visiting the radicals’ base and seeing the old aide following the Duke of Nord Hill, Reinhardt began to see all the country’s powerful figures as monsters.

What should he do? He held a blade—deadly for both the Duke of Nord Hill and the Crown Prince Cesare, who relied on him.

“Can the princess really be a match?”

At first, Reinhardt doubted. To him, Adeline Vita had nothing but her beautiful face and sharp tongue.

But news came that the emperor had given her a whole knight corps, and that the Lion King had annihilated the assassins’ base with the Royal Guard.

It had all been the princess’s doing. Reinhardt realized that the things he hadn’t noticed in the palace became clear outside. It was Adeline who had moved the emperor, the Lion King, and diverted the knights’ attention.

“Selmore? Reinhardt Selmore?”

While pondering the news that the captured radicals refused to speak under intense interrogation, Adeline unexpectedly received a visitor—Reinhardt Selmore.

She remembered the last time she saw him. Though he had been expelled from the palace, somehow he was now serving as a bodyguard to Count Canis.

“I requested an audience under a strange name, but it’s definitely Reinhardt Selmore. What should I do?”

The butterfly asked. Adeline nodded without hesitation.

“Bring him in.”

“You really want to see him?”

“You want to know if Count Canis is dead, don’t you?”

He likely was, at Mother Blanc’s hand.

Adeline met Reinhardt in the reception room on the first floor. He had changed considerably—messy long hair, unkempt beard, a somber expression, and a sharper, leaner presence.

“Sir Selmore,” Adeline said. Reinhardt awkwardly bowed to her.

“I’m no longer a knight.”

“That doesn’t mean I can call you Reinhardt. We aren’t that close.”

Adeline sat first and asked if Count Canis was dead. He confirmed it.

“Mother Blanc, then?”

“You know already, don’t you?”

“I’m just confirming.”

Reinhardt seemed unfamiliar with Adeline now, as if seeing a stranger. His cold tone was honesty, and his formerly arrogant attitude now reflected confidence. It was not she who had changed—it was him.

After a brief hesitation, he spoke decisively:

“Mother Blanc gave gold coins to the radical assassins.”

“I know.”

“I delivered them.”

“Then are you now Mother Blanc’s bodyguard?”

Adeline’s face remained unreadable. Reinhardt, unable to gauge her reaction, continued:

“The Duke of Nord Hill trained them.”

Originally, he had intended to test or negotiate with Adeline, but the words slipped out. He was captivated by her blue-tinted eyes, losing his usual caution. In resignation, he explained:

“When I went to deliver the gold, the duke’s aide was there, teaching them strange ideologies—Babel’s history, military strategies, army training. They called him ‘teacher’ and were completely bewildered.”

“Are you sure?”

“I was the Crown Prince’s guard. There’s no way I couldn’t recognize them.”

Adeline said nothing, her gaze still unreadable. Reinhardt, who had revealed such crucial information, nervously asked:

“What will you do?”

“What?”

“What will you do with the duke?”

Adeline finally smiled.

The audience ended quickly. Reinhardt left her palace dazed, stumbling and looking back multiple times, seeing only the high western palace walls.

“You want to spite Cesare? I’ll show you a very good way.”

Adeline Vita was a lion—an expert hunter, a starving lioness.

“Take the information you brought me to Mother Blanc. She’ll be very pleased.”

“To Mother Blanc? What happens then?”

“Just watch.”

Something very interesting would happen. Adeline’s chilling smile haunted his mind.

“How can you do this to me!”

“Beatrice!”

Beatrice wanted to break off her engagement with the Crown Prince, which angered the duke. The betrothal was effectively a political pact between Cesare and the duke—her refusal was not something to be taken lightly. Persuasion failed; Beatrice refused to listen.

“My grandfather’s favorite. The lovely youngest, the jewel of Nord. He always said he’d give me whatever I wished! Was wanting love too much? I only said I didn’t want a loveless marriage!”

“Snap out of it. You are a child of Nord Hill.”

“So I thought I could live differently! I was lucky to be born his granddaughter! I thought I could marry the one I loved!”

Beatrice cried on the bed, surrounded by her nurse, maid, playmate, and governess, all fretting as she refused food until her engagement was broken.

Her pretty face was streaked with tears. Though her chest ached, the duke could not ignore her stubbornness. The Crown Prince Cesare was outside the door.

“This is a crucial promise. Even I cannot break it lightly—it’s an engagement with the Crown Prince.”

“Don’t make excuses! You are an adult, a duke! Why gamble your granddaughter’s life on a promise? Just write a contract! Sign it! Witness it! That’s more certain than marriage! Can’t you even do that?”

“Beatrice!”

“Is it you, grandfather, who has no intention to uphold it?”

“What?”

The duke raised a hand. Beatrice instinctively closed her eyes, expecting a slap. Though he did not strike her, the emotional blow was felt.

“Now… you’re about to hit me.”

“Beatrice. Listen to your grandfather.”

“No. I won’t.”

Clutching her blanket, she moved to the far side of the bed, shouting in grief and rage:

“I love him! No one can stop me! Never appear before me again!”

She buried her face in the pillow, sobbing loudly. Her mother, the duke’s daughter, arrived pale, glancing anxiously between the duke and Cesare.

Cesare’s face was gray. He was frustrated, amused, and insulted. This was a political marriage; Beatrice was just a child to him. Yet the thought that this brat fell for the Lion King at first sight ignited fury and possessiveness. She was to be his wife.

“May I speak?” Cesare asked the departing duke. The duke opposed, but Beatrice’s mother eagerly guided him in. Cesare approached the motionless Beatrice under the blanket.

“Lady,” he