Frederick laughed so merrily that the tent shook.


 

Everyone was stunned in a different way from before. It seemed that no one had ever seen the King so happy.


 

Besides, they seemed to have noticed for the first time that his smile was more beautiful than any words could describe.



 

“I can’t believe you shove a rag into the king’s chest.” Frederick said when he finally stopped laughing.

“You’re an interesting maid.”


 

There was that look again.

Millicent tilted her head to make eye contact with him, who was too tall for her. The look of the day when he had grabbed her on a moonlit night and asked what she was thinking.

An unfamiliar gaze that made Millicent, who had always considered herself a hunter and predator, feel like unexpected prey.

The very gaze that Frederick, as glittering as the bright sunlight, showed every time he was captivated by a glimpse of Millicent’s darkness…



 

“Did you find out that the Duke of Albury is my brother, not my illegitimate son?”  Frederick whispered so that only Millicent could hear him.


 

“Yes? Yea….” She answered vaguely.



 

“Did Rubert Mulally tell you that?”

Before long, the smile disappeared from his face. “Is your relationship with him really just a benevolent priest and a poor orphan?”



 

Somehow it was a question laced with doubt. The only problem was that she had no idea in which direction the doubt was headed.


 

Millicent was not confident in this type of conversation. It was only natural, since she had no aptitude for grasping the subtle emotions of others. The odds were high that she would blurt out some unintentional gaffe. So she decided to distract him.




 

“Why did you lie to me again?” She drew out a forgotten irritation. “This time it wouldn’t have been as simple as simply getting into the rhythm of my misunderstanding. You made up your mind from the beginning and fooled me.”



 

Millicent grumbled quietly. “I really believed it.”



 

 “It looked like you did.” Fortunately or unfortunately, laughter again spread across Frederick’s face.



 

“Of all the things you said that day, to what extent are they real and to what extent are they false?”



 

“That’s something you’ll have to figure out, Millicent.” He whispered. “Just like I’m eager to find out about you.”


 

Then he lowered his head. His lips almost touched Millicent’s ear. His breath tickled her earlobe.


 

“I wanted to see how far you are with your ignorance.” His whispered voice came tinglingly close to stabbing directly to her brain. “You really are an adorable fool, Millicent.”


 

Goosebumps ran down her back. It felt like she had been stripped naked.

Millicent tugged at the string of her hat, which dangled under her chin as was her habit.


 

“I can’t be blessed with a rag, no matter how funny it is.”

Suddenly, Frederick turned around as if nothing had happened.



 

Everyone witnessed a strange scene. They saw the king and the maid strangely intimate and whisper to each other.


 

But Frederick’s cheerful demeanor, acting as if nothing had happened, soon became a command. Even though they were bewildered, they had to pretend it was nothing.


 

That was the king’s will.



 

“I’m going to compete with the brave Marquis Cadwall.”



 

Frederick continued to speak pleasantly, heedless of the confused crowd.


 

“How are you, Lady Adriana?”

Adriana dropped her crutches in surprise at the sudden mention of her name.



 

“You don’t have a rag either, do you?”


 

Frederick strode towards her. Instantly, he pulled and untied Adriana’s handkerchief with one hand, which was tied to her dress.


 

It was quite a sensational act to do to a young lady of a noble family,

but he did not hesitate. And he was also a man for whom such behavior suited him.


 

 “Yes, you have such a beautiful handkerchief.”


 

Adriana’s initials were embroidered in a monogram on a sky-blue silk handkerchief that Frederick waved.



 

“…AB.”


 

Frederick read it as if to overtly imply.

That cooled the heat that had been boiling in Millicent’s chest. AB was an unacceptable initial for Adriana Beasley.

She must be eliminated.


 

“You will bless me, won’t you, Lady Adriana?”


 

 “Yes, of course.” Adriana blushed at his words. “With all my soul, I wish Your Majesty good luck.”



 

“Are you going to pray more fervently than the faithful Queen?”


 

Again it was a provocation to Jadalin’s pride.


 

“Yes, no matter what.”

And that provocation was created by Frederick, but completed by Adriana.


 

For the first time since Frederick appeared, Adriana took her eyes off him. Then, triumphantly she looked Jadalin squarely in the eye. She seemed to believe that the king was almost rolling into her arms.


 

But Jadalin was no easy opponent.

The Queen snickered. She didn’t even cover her eyes in contempt. It was as if she were looking not at a lady, but at a whore who had spread her legs wantonly.


 

Adriana was determined to indulge everything, but she had to feel shame.


 

“I shall keep it carefully in my armor.”


 

Staring at the taut nerve warfare he had caused himself, Frederick walked out.


 

“With the blessing of two beautiful souls, I will definitely win.”



 

The time to compete had come. Everyone bent to their knees and back to greet the king.


 

“My queen.”


 

Meanwhile, Frederick bowed towards Jadalin.


 

“My dear Majesty.”

Jadalin countered with a bleak look that made him suspect that the meaning of the word “dear” might have changed.


 

“…my maid.”


 

Frederick whispered to Millicent as he opened the tent door with his own hands.


 

And before Millicent could answer, he stormed off before she could grasp the meaning of his words.

Soon it was game time.

Everyone sat in the bleachers. Under the hot sun, the first match began as Jadalin, seated on her throne, tossed her handkerchief.


 

It was a silly game in which the two young knights quarreled. But after the second and third games passed, the talented players took the field, and the tension increased.



 

Then, in the fifth round, Frederick appeared.

He entered the arena riding his beloved black horse that had roamed the battlefield with him. Despite the sturdy armor that covered his face, everyone recognized their king by his presence alone.



 

Frederick bowed to the queen and was greeted with enthusiastic cheers from his subjects.


 

“May God bless His Majesty the King!”


 

They shouted the blessing loudly and threw flower petals.

It was a sight that Millicent could not adapt to no matter how she looked at it.


 

It was contradictory to the fearsome rumors about Frederick as a bloodthirsty, power-hungry king who waged war by executing venerable nobles, but at the same time they loved him with the same fervor as if he were the hero in a heroic opera.


 

But it was inevitable. Because it was the first time for all of them to have an absolute monarch who laid the nobles of the Round Table at his feet.


 

They feared that the old regime to which they were accustomed would disappear, but they were excited by the anticipation of a new regime ruled by a king powerful enough to rival the emperor of the empire.



 

“He’s…so great.”



 

Maid Tracy, who was twisting her apron in admiration of Frederick’s appearance, murmured.


 

The maids threw aside their chores and came out to watch the match. It was as if their eagerness for the king had overcome their fear of Mrs. Galbraith.


 

Well, anyway, Mrs. Galbraith must be here somewhere in the crowd to watch the match.


 

“It’s all good, but the matches His Majesty plays in aren’t interesting because they don’t make any money.”



 

Tracy said. She looked disappointed that there were no bettors, who would normally be busy raising the stakes.


 

“Why?”



 

“Because the bets don’t work. Everyone only wants to put their money on His Majesty, so how is that a bet?”


 

“If someone bet on the other opponent, you could take a big share.”


 

“If you walk away and lose, you have no share, what the heck!”

Tracy snorted. “And who in the world will defeat His Majesty?”


 

It was her way of saying, “It’s never going to happen.”


 

Indeed, Frederick’s first opponent, Raymond Thiel, Marquis of Cadwall, was completely immobile. Even though he was a nobleman who had made a name for himself as being very brave in his youth.


 

The moment their lances collided, the Marquis of Cadwall recoiled and fell from his saddle.


 

“Father!”


 

Ophelia, Jadalin’s lady in waiting, was startled.


 

“I’m all right, Your Majesty.”


 

Frederick jumped off his horse to check his condition, but fortunately the Marquis of Cadwall shook off without a hitch and stood up.


 

“I’m all right, Your Majesty. It’s just that I’m past the age to enjoy this kind of entertainment.”



 

He looked a little embarrassed.


 

“I just hope that I will never have to confront Your Majesty again.”


 

“I’m glad.”


 

Frederick nodded in satisfaction at the unexpected pledge of allegiance. He seemed genuinely delighted with the new order he was creating in the place where his brother Christopher had died in vain.

And he won the next two matches in succession.

Even Millicent could not take her eyes off Frederick.

His arms, superbly balanced with muscle, handled the big lance as lightly as cotton wool. His thighs and calves, which hugged the gigantic warhorse tightly, did not even budge an inch, no matter what the impact.

He was as strong as he was beautiful. It was as if he was a creature created by God using only pure masculinity.



 

“His Majesty Frederick has won!”


 

He won another battle. The bright red-haired knight admitted defeat and bowed.


 

The crowd cheered deafeningly. Frederick raised his helmet and showed his face. His smile, characteristic of a man accustomed to overflowing compliments, was real.


 

“Oh, Lady Adriana’s handkerchief is about to fall off.”



 

Suddenly Jane Grant pointed at Frederick.

Jadalin and the attendants’ gazes followed suit. They could see the sky-blue cloth sticking out from the chest of Frederick’s armor.

It was pushed further and further out as he waved his hand in response to the cheers and finally fell to the ground.


 

Likewise, the king’s subordinates saw this and jumped up to pick it up quickly.


 

But it was too late. It was after Frederick’s nice riding boots had stepped on the handkerchief. The heel of the boot smashed Adriana’s name, engraved with AB. Not only that, he kicked the handkerchief as if it was getting in his way of walking back to the crowd.


 

In no time, Adriana’s silk handkerchief rolled away, soiled with dirt.

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