Chapter 19
Chapter 019. The Princess at 21 (8)
Before she knew it, it was the final night Rosalyn would spend in the Imperial Princess’s palace. And just like every other night, she was suffering from insomnia.
Although she had been falling asleep a bit earlier each night, she still couldn’t drift off until well past midnight.
“Hmph.”
Whenever sleep wouldn’t come, she usually turned to her work. But tonight, all her documents had already been packed into the carriage, so there was nothing to do.
She briefly thumbed through books she’d already finished.
“If it’s like this, I might as well go out.”
Rosalyn took up her sword and stepped outside. She figured exhausting her body might help her sleep.
She had eased up on training to avoid the Emperor’s watchful eyes, and now her body itched for movement.
Step, step.
The dark, silent corridor was eerie. The end of the hallway was swallowed in shadow, as if darkness had devoured it whole.
“……”
But to Rosalyn, it was a familiar, unremarkable sight.
Her heir training had started at age eleven and was notoriously harsh. It had been the only way to keep up with Lucas’s pace.
Yet for young Rosalyn, it had been nothing short of cruel. No matter how much her tutors praised her, no matter how proud her mother was of her grades—
She didn’t feel joy. Each night, all she did was pray for the next day not to come.
Those prayers stopped around the time she turned fifteen. At some point, she began surpassing Lucas’s scores, and keeping up with the lessons became easier.
“Was it from then?”
It must have been around that time that sneaking around the palace at night became a habit. She would wander the palace, avoiding the eyes of the servants.
Not that she did anything particularly daring.
Climbed trees in the garden. Ate leftover food from the kitchen with her hands. Climbed up to the roof of the palace and gazed at the stars.
“Oh, and I found that too.”
The doghole in the palace wall. She’d even discovered a small passage only a rebellious adolescent girl could slip through.
But she had never once stepped outside of it.
She tried many forms of rebellion, but that—she never dared.
She feared someone might find out she wanted to run away. Especially her mother.
She couldn’t let that happen.
“……”
Rosalyn came to a stop in front of a massive tapestry. She lifted her head to gaze up at the face of Empress Beatrice woven into the cloth.
“Mother.”
The tapestry was more worn than she remembered. But it was enough to stir a vivid memory.
‘My princess, my dear princess.’
She thought of her mother’s death. That desperate voice calling out for her as life slipped away echoed in her ears.
‘You must always be strong. You must overcome everything.’
Even in her final moments, her mother had clutched her hand with terrifying strength. Rosalyn opened and closed her hand, recalling the iron grip of Empress Beatrice.
‘You must become Empress.’
In her last moments, the Empress was beyond reasoning. Always stern and noble in life, but in the end, only obsession remained—repeating the same words again and again.
‘Rose, you must survive…’
It had been a painfully cold farewell. No words of love. No apologies for old wounds.
Just the same commands she had repeated so many times in life—echoed again in death.
“Don’t worry.”
All the more reason Rosalyn could never go against her mother’s will.
To Rosalyn, Beatrice was someone she could never understand—but someone she had to.
Eleven years enduring whispers and pointing fingers as the Emperor’s concubine. Ten years of suspicion that she had poisoned the First Empress.
Surely, part of the reason her mother had fought through those twenty-one brutal years… was for her. Rosalyn couldn’t turn her back on that.
‘I will return.’
Rosalyn made the vow silently.
She had no intention of ending her life in Anata as Lucas intended. He had ordered her death—so she would repay him in kind.
‘When I return, everything will be restored.’
The throne that had once been within reach. The truth behind her mother’s death. The honor of her mother’s family.
The day she returned from Anata, all of it would be hers again. She would make it so.
‘If it took seven years to return from the battlefield, I’ll return from Anata in three.’
Perhaps losing those seven years of memory had been a gift from the gods.
The “Rosalyn de Anata” who had lived like a walking corpse was in no state to do anything. Maybe this was the gods’ way of returning her to “Rosalyn de Hernia”—the one who could do anything.
To claim what was rightfully hers.
‘So don’t be upset that I’m leaving the tapestry behind.’
Meriwood had insisted she take it, but Rosalyn had no intention of increasing her baggage.
‘Next time, I’ll hang it in the main palace for you.’
Rosalyn picked up her sword and resumed walking. Before she knew it, her steps had taken her to the doghole in the wall of the princess’s palace.
She had long outgrown the hole and could no longer fit through it—but for some reason, tonight, she wanted to see it again.
The day of departure for Anata had finally arrived.
To avoid any delays, the Anata party had decided to leave in the morning. As a result, the Imperial Princess’s palace was bustling from early dawn with all kinds of people.
The knights of the conquest unit chatted while waiting for their lord, the servants hurriedly loaded baggage into the wagons, and the coachmen inspected the horses before departure.
Amidst it all, only Sionne stood idly by. He found it oddly surprising that such a cold, empty palace could be so lively.
“Prince—no, Sir Sionne!”
Someone tapped him on the shoulder.
It was Meriwood, her forehead glistening with sweat. She pulled a bundle of paper from her arms.
Wrapped inside the paper were bread and cheese.
“Have this on the way as a snack.”
“Ah, thank you.”
Over the past few days, Meriwood had quietly taken care of Sionne.
To be exact, it started after his tearful performance. Apparently, his tears had moved her deeply.
“I really wanted to look after you myself, but since we’re traveling separately, I have no choice.”
“You’re not coming with us?”
“No, Her Highness said it would be too dangerous for me, so she didn’t want to bring me along.”
Meriwood furrowed her brows in annoyance. Then she leaned in and whispered softly in Sionne’s ear.
“So I plan to join up later after stopping by our estate. I’ve already arrived in the North—she wouldn’t seriously send me away now, would she?”
She stepped back and shrugged her shoulders with a playful expression.
“Besides, I needed some time to organize the things I have on hand. It worked out perfectly. Just… don’t tell Her Highness.”
Sionne nodded in agreement—just as the noisy surroundings fell into sudden silence. Everyone stopped what they were doing and bowed in the same direction.
Rosalyn had emerged from the palace, fully prepared for departure.
Wearing a sharp uniform and a cape, she looked every bit the war hero.
“We greet the sole ruler of Anata!”
Jacob was the first to step forward and salute.
“We greet the ruler of Anata!”
The rest of the knights echoed after him.
“You may relax your stance.”
Rosalyn nodded slightly to acknowledge the greeting. At her word, the knights straightened up with synchronized precision.
She scanned the entourage she had personally selected. Not only knights, but also the servants—all of them.
“Yes, I am the Grand Duke of Anata. And you who follow me are Anata’s people.”
She didn’t need to raise her voice to command the crowd. Her presence alone carried weight.
“Today, we depart for our land.”
Anata—the harsh, barely habitable land. From now on, it would be their home.
“As you’ve heard, it’s barren and dangerous. It may even be worse than the stories say.”
Perhaps due to Anata’s notorious reputation, determination filled the knights’ faces while worry darkened those of the servants.
“But we will not falter. We will not die.”
Rosalyn looked into each of their faces as she spoke.
“We will only triumph. We will only conquer.”
She was brimming with confidence—and it rang clearly in her voice.
“And so, Anata will become a name as glorious as it was infamous.”
Her words seemed to lift the mood slightly. Expressions lightened.
“From now on, people will remember us as victors, as conquerors.”
It was an arrogant claim—but one that felt trustworthy. Rosalyn de Anata’s life thus far gave it weight.
“Because you and I will make it so—as we always have.”
At that moment—
Clap, clap, clap. The sudden sound of clapping, unwelcome and sarcastic, interrupted the moment.
“My, what a splendid speech.”
Lucas de Hernia appeared, applauding halfheartedly.
