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Join the Server“Accompanying concubine Fria to the summer palace is hereby commanded.”
At the notice brought by the chamberlain, Livron and Judith clasped hands and let out shrill screams.
“Eeeek! A summer palace! I’ve only heard about it before, I’ve never actually been there!”
“Where do you think it’ll be? The Rolland Valley? The Larenne River? Lake Kali? They say the late emperor treasured the summer palace dearly.”
“They say he called it ‘a sanctuary for the soul’ and ‘the palace of dreams.’ And every year after returning, by late spring the next year, princes and princesses would be born one after another. The whole court would supposedly echo with babies crying.”
“Lady Olga, have you heard anything? They say it’s a villa personally designed by the late emperor.”
Unlike the two excitable girls, Olga sat quietly embroidering as Isabel spoke to her. Since Judith and Livron had become unusually close, Isabel had naturally been left to choose between the taciturn Olga and Fria, the master of the Swallow Palace, as conversation partners.
Yet she still regarded Fria as a rival and had not lowered her guard.
“By the time I entered the palace, His Late Majesty’s illness had already grown severe, so he remained bedridden the entire time. Everything I know comes from rumors as well.”
Olga answered while deftly moving her hands. She had once worked in the main palace as a maid of the sewing chamber, her main task being the preparation of bedding.
Her capable hands extended beyond embroidery, during tea time, she brewed tea so delicious it inspired admiration.
“What have you been embroidering this whole time?”
Watching her made Isabel yawn as well. Massaging her stiff shoulders with a bored expression, she asked another question.
“Forget-me-nots. They’re my favorite flowers.”
“You’re making it for Lord Fria, aren’t you? He’ll be delighted. Your work is wonderful.”
Though she continued the conversation to ease her boredom, Isabel had little real interest in Olga’s embroidery and offered praise halfheartedly.
“You flatter me. I’m still far lacking compared to Lady Lindgart.”
There really was no cure for that obsession. Irritated by Olga’s constant references to “Lady Lindgart,” Isabel asked with subtle sarcasm:
“I’ve always been curious. Why did you come to the Swallow Palace, Lady Olga? I heard you volunteered.”
“Because I wanted to see him.”
Caressing the forming flower pattern with her fingertips, Olga quietly continued.
“I truly, desperately wanted to see him.”
The owner of the handkerchief she was making was not Fria. Whispering the meaning of the blue flowers, Olga resumed stitching.
“Please do not forget me, Your Majesty.”
****
The procession of carriages departed from the main palace and traveled along the mountain road.
Though the stay at the summer palace would only last a few days, emperors who valued dignity traditionally traveled with hundreds of attendants during vacations.
Had the emperor not angrily demanded whether they intended to relocate the capital after seeing the mountain of bundled furniture the servants prepared, the number of carriages would have been several times greater.
Attendants and maids were arranged before and behind the imperial carriage. Mounted guards led the procession at the front. Armed knights followed after them, while servants clung to chairs, flower vases, and tables atop luggage wagons, battling the heat.
Next came the carriage of the main palace maids responsible for serving the emperor, then the carriage of kitchen servants wiping sweat nervously as they worried whether the ingredients would spoil, followed by medium-sized wagons occupied by bards, jesters, and musicians, and finally the carriage of the chief steward and chamberlain frantically checking inventories.
At the very end trailed the carriage carrying the concubine’s belongings, following behind the maids’ carriage. Departure had been delayed due to Fria insisting on reducing luggage while his attendants stubbornly opposed him.
Inside the largest and most ornate imperial carriage sat Owen and Fria.
Once, this carriage had transported countless concubines dressed in wide gowns to and from the summer palace dozens of times. The empty seat across from him now felt strangely vacant with only a male concubine aboard.
The attendants, thrilled by the unprecedented sudden summer retreat, had fussed endlessly while dressing Fria. Wrapped in lavish clothing, he felt suffocated. Since morning, he had lost count of how many times they made him change outfits in their petty competition.
“No, Lord Fria. Red suits you perfectly.”
“But considering the season, sky blue is better. Red looks unbearably hot just to look at.”
“I think you should change back into the first outfit. You’ll be sitting for a long time, so you need fabric that wrinkles less.”
“The material doesn’t breathe well! Lady Livron, how can your sense be this terrible?”
Who was he even supposed to listen to? Fria felt like a confused pet suddenly surrounded by people all claiming ownership.
The clothing wasn’t the only uncomfortable thing.
It had been ten days since that night. At first, Owen’s usual indifferent attitude made Fria assume he remembered nothing about what had happened.
Yet…
Every time Fria turned his head, he found the emperor watching his every movement with an intense gaze.
“There’s only him and me in this carriage. What is there to monitor?”
Embarrassed, Fria deliberately avoided Owen’s eyes and looked out the window instead. Half a day still remained before reaching the summer palace. The road ahead felt bleak.
‘What is he thinking?’
The concubine stared silently outside the entire time. Whenever Owen had accompanied the late emperor in the past, several concubines would gather around the old emperor chattering endlessly:
“Your Majesty, the scenery is beautiful.”
“Your Majesty, are you hungry?”
“Your Majesty, my heart feels ready to burst with joy that you summoned me.”
They competed to flatter him nonstop.
It would hardly please Owen if the male concubine suddenly started showering him with affection, but this mute-like silence was equally irritating.
As the sun shifted, the shadows of the forest stretched longer, falling across the concubine’s face by the window. He truly was beautiful, but not like the figure who kept appearing in Owen’s thoughts.
Looking at him now stirred no feelings whatsoever.
Even if the concubine suddenly coughed blood and died in this very seat, Owen felt he would not experience the slightest sympathy.
‘I’ve only wasted my time.’
Thinking so, Owen leaned back and closed his eyes. He was tired.
****
The summer palace, built entirely of white marble that gleamed even from afar, bore the nickname “Temple of the Moon.”
Bathed in moonlight, the palace radiated a pale brilliance in welcome to its guests.
The moment the luggage was unloaded, servants and maids scrambled in chaos, cleaning, rearranging furniture, preparing meals, while the three girls ran through every corner of the palace with sparkling eyes.
“Lord Fria, look at this! It’s a fountain!”
“Oh my, it’s magnificent! Lady Olga, come down and see!”
Unlike the excited attendants, Olga remained by Fria’s side organizing luggage. She merely smiled quietly toward the girls in the garden.
Could only one or two years’ age difference really make such a contrast? Olga never behaved rashly and carried out her duties silently and diligently. Somehow, Fria found her worrisome.
Perhaps it was because she had been born an illegitimate daughter and raised carefully watching the legitimate children’s moods. She was excessively quiet and obedient.
“Aren’t you tired? You can organize later. Why not rest for a bit? Have some tea.”
“I shall prepare it immediately.”
The moment she turned toward the door, Fria stopped her.
“The chief steward will bring it soon.”
Upon arrival, the chief steward had informed them that dinner preparations would take time and asked whether Fria wished to share refreshments with His Majesty first.
“His Majesty should arrive shortly as well.”
“His Majesty?”
Olga’s expression brightened instantly, her eyes shining with unmistakable emotion.
For the first time, Fria saw a reaction from Olga befitting a girl her age and stared at her in surprise.
Speak of the tiger and he appears.
The emperor, who had departed earlier with several knights, returned accompanied by the chief steward. He had gone to inspect the security of the summer palace, now officially his property.
Outside, the sounds of workers busily erecting tents echoed through the air. Apparently preparations for the entertainment planned during the vacation were underway.
“These grapes were grown in the palace gardens.”
A chamberlain carrying a tray placed teacups and plates of fruit upon the empty table. Clusters of pale green grapes hung heavily from their stems.
As Owen lifted his teacup, he noticed the unfamiliar maid standing behind the concubine and looked at her curiously.
She was not the maid who usually panicked noisily whenever she saw him.
Olga slightly bent her knees in greeting beneath the emperor’s sharp gaze. Something about the woman seemed oddly familiar.
Quick-witted as always, the chief steward explained immediately.
“She has recently become Lord Fria’s attendant maid. Besides Lady Olga, two others have also joined him.”
“She previously served in the main palace, so perhaps she appears familiar. Lady Judith said it would be difficult to attend to Lord Fria properly alone, so reinforcements were assigned with the Finance Minister’s approval.”
“I see.”
Losing interest in the woman immediately, Owen asked about the upcoming schedule instead.
“We plan to gather nearby knights for a light archery tournament. Would Your Majesty care to participate for amusement? A small banquet is also planned this evening, so inviting the victor and commending him would be appropriate.”
Listening to the emperor and chief steward converse, Fria’s expression dimmed.
Archery tournaments. Hunting. Estate inspections.
As someone stuck in the ambiguous position of a male concubine, there wasn’t a single event he could participate in.
He had never formally trained in martial arts, so even without the status of concubine he could not have competed. But surely he could at least laugh, drink, and become friends with knights his own age.
It frustrated him that before the emperor and chief steward he could not freely masquerade as “Gir, physician of the Swallow Palace.”
On nights like this, Fria even found himself missing the butter-tongued bard Byron.
The adventure continues! If you loved this chapter, Can Love Be Styled Too? is a must-read. Click here to start!
Read : Can Love Be Styled Too?
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