The Maid and The Usurper - Chapter 3
“Lady Hortensia, guests have arrived.”
The head maid had come rushing in, breathless. Hortensia tilted her head in curiosity. Who could possibly be visiting at this late hour? She set down the rose water on her dressing table. She was not one to welcome unannounced guests graciously.
“Send them away.”
“Well… It’s just that they are already in the drawing room and…” The head maid’s voice trailed off.
In the mirror, Hortensia saw the reflection of burly knights. Their armor gleamed in the moonlight, and their thick swords seemed ready to cleave anyone who dared get in their way.
“How dare they, to treat the House of Orléans so.”
“You need to come with us.”
Two knights blocked the head maid’s path. Hortensia met their intense gazes with a touch of arrogance.
“Judging by your insignia, you must belong to the Valois Order of Knights.”
There was no one who didn’t know the name of the Valois Order. Even those unfamiliar with the Valois Knights would recognize Edmund de Valois. He was the war hero who had turned the seemingly inevitable defeat in the Battle of Berganwald into a victory.
The Berganwald War, which began with the Sarban’s Continental Unification War, had seen the alliance suffer repeated defeats. Desperate and without troops to spare, the Papal States had urgently summoned Edmund de Valois. He had not only changed the course of the war but had also altered the course of history.
Thus, they established close ties with the Grand Duchy of Jürgen and persuaded Edmund de Valois. They offered him the vacant Countship of Rhineland as a reward. The grand triumphal parades and unparalleled hospitality were all for Edmund de Valois and his order of knights.
“A lowly country bumpkin wouldn’t know manners.”
It was a mocking sneer. The veins on the knights’ hands bulged as they gripped their swords.
“Isn’t it only natural for someone who has risen by luck to act this way, Princess of Orléans?”
A sarcastic voice, tinged with amusement and interest, came from behind the knights. Acrid cigar smoke curled up into the darkness. Slowly, the contours of a face emerged from the shadows of the dark hallway.
“A lowly bumpkin from the countryside lacks both manners and decorum.”
Hortensia froze in place. It was a face she could never forget. Though his once white face was now deeply tanned and scars had grown more pronounced around his mouth and eyes, it was still the same face from back then. Hortensia gripped the back of her chair with a deathly pale complexion, her knuckles standing out starkly.
He was a towering figure, two heads taller than the burly knights in front of him. His entire body was a mass of muscle, a lethal weapon in itself. With broad shoulders and a body of bone and muscle, he resembled a beast. Exuding an aura of intimidation, Edmund de Valois walked in, imposing, as he puffed on a cigar.
His short, curly black hair was neatly combed back, revealing a handsome forehead. His eyes were clear and transparent, reminiscent of ice. With a sharp nose and a strong jaw, he had the look of an ascetic, yet attractive, man. He seemed inherently like a predator eyeing its prey. He tapped the ash from his cigar onto the floor.
“If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, may we have a word, Your Highness?”
His tone was half-threatening. The sword at his waist gleamed menacingly. The terrified head maid nervously looked back and forth between Hortensia and Edmund. Hortensia forced her stiff tongue to move.
“Leave us… I can handle this alone…”
“But, milady—”
“I said leave! I can handle this alone!”
The head maid quickly bowed her head in response to Hortensia’s outburst. Edmund also signaled to the knights with his eyes. Without a word, they bowed and retreated. Once their footsteps were no longer audible, Edmund gracefully smiled and gestured for Hortensia to take a seat.
“Please, have a seat. Your legs must be tired.”
“…Yes.”
Hortensia tried to hide her trembling, but her body refused to cooperate. As she sat in the seat of honor, he approached her directly. His hand lifted her chin. His blue eyes, unchanged from back then, were unreadable. They were the same eyes that she could never forget.
“It’s been a long time, Layla. My maid.”
It was a name she hadn’t heard in nearly ten years. She had tried to forget, tried to erase it.
“It’s been a long time, Count.”
Leopold Lear Edehardt, Count of Rhineland, the illegitimate son of Franz II, and Layla’s first love. It was a name she had never forgotten.
“Have you been well? No, you must have been well. A child who used to roll around in a brothel has wrapped herself in the false shell of heir to a ducal family, so of course, you must have been well. Isn’t that right?”
It was a thin shell that could peel away at any moment. There was no Lady Hortensia of Orléans here. Before him sat only Layla, the daughter of a brothel prostitute.
