Chapter 96: The Free City and the Seductress

The Free City of Romern—this capital and commercial hub, which looms over the Empire’s northern frontier, is like a pearl set upon a crossroads of land and water, day and night swallowing and breathing out the flow of carriages, ships, and people from north and south.

After a lapse of several years, as I stepped onto this land once again, the air was still filled with that familiar scent from my memories, a mixture of the salty brine from the docks and the clamor drifting from the markets.

Frankly speaking, most of my impressions of this city were still frozen within the winding narrow alleys of the Lower City, the rows of eaves, and the bustling marketplaces.

However, this time, as guests from Airandil, we naturally no longer belonged there.

The carriage drove straight down the Upper City Boulevard paved with square bluestone, welcoming us into the magnificent Governor’s Mansion, which served as our lodging for this stay.

According to the planned itinerary, we would rest here for three days to replenish our supplies.

“So… this is a letter for you? We’ve only been here for half a day, and they’ve already arranged this?”

Kritiya stood before the dressing table in the guest room, her fingertips lightly brushing over the red, gold-embossed envelope that had just been presented by a servant of the Governor’s Mansion.

She remained silent for a moment, then finally peeled back the sealing wax carefully and pulled out the stationery.

I saw elegant script flowing across the paper:

To the Pearl of Airandil, the noble Lady Kritiya:

We cordially invite you to join us at 7:00 PM tomorrow evening at the “Glass Gallery” in the East Wing of the Governor’s Mansion for a welcome banquet held in honor of you and your retinue.

At that time, Earl Marcus Vlad, Governor of Romern, along with the directors of the City Council and the Chamber of Commerce Federation, as well as many of this city’s local luminaries, will have the honor of spending an evening with you.

We wish to take this opportunity to further deepen the long-standing friendship between Airandil and Romern, and to jointly outline a new vision for trade, mutual benefit, and shared prosperity.

Your presence will add brilliance to this banquet.

We sincerely look forward to your arrival, and may the Holy Light shine upon your journey.

Your humble servant and friend:
Marcus Vlad

P.S. Should you require a suitable male companion, we would be delighted to arrange for an outstanding young man to be at your service.

“Heh… social obligations. Are you going?” I asked softly.

Kritiya finished reading the invitation, silently placed the letter back on the desk, and turned toward the bay window.

Through the clear glass, one could see faint silhouettes moving in the direction of the East Wing—the servants and craftsmen of the Governor’s Mansion had surely begun painstakingly decorating for tomorrow night’s feast.

“There is no reason to refuse… or rather, isn’t this exactly what my father wants me to do?”

Her voice was very quiet, as if she were speaking to herself.

“What about you? Do you want to go?” I pressed.

‘I wouldn’t say I hate it.’

She slowly exhaled, shook her head, walked back to the desk, picked up the quill, and dipped it in ink.

“Fine, I have to give them a response.”

***

I never expected that the “suitable male companion” Governor Marcus lightly mentioned in the postscript would materialize before our eyes so directly and uncomfortably.

What was this supposed to be? A clumsy honey trap?

God, I hoped it wasn’t what I thought; the mere idea was enough to make me feel nauseous.

“My Lady! This is bad!”

The maid Sally pushed open the door while panting, her face a mix of anxiety and a somewhat ill-timed excitement.

“Those… those young noblemen are all lining up outside the mansion right now! Every single one of them says they hope to be granted an audience with you!”

Kritiya, sitting on the wooden chair before the dressing table, raised her hand to rub her temples at the news, her voice tinged with weariness.

“Go tell them to leave. And convey to His Excellency the Governor that I appreciate his kindness, but I must decline.”

“Then what about the companion, My Lady?”

“I… have my own arrangements. He needn’t trouble himself.”

“But My Lady…” Sally hesitated, lowering her voice. “I heard that some of them have already started… started fighting to see who gets the right to meet you first! Right there in the front courtyard!”

Kritiya was momentarily speechless.

After a silence, she spoke slowly with a tone of sheer disbelief.

“They… they haven’t even seen my face yet. Just for such an illusory thing…”

Sally’s face flushed red; she stood up and walked to the window, lifting a corner of the heavy velvet curtain to look outside.

I followed her gaze and saw a dozen or so young men dressed in ornate embroidered coats gathered on the manicured lawn in front of the mansion.

They were agitated, arguing with flushed faces; if not for the Governor’s guards forming a human wall to block them, it looked as though someone might actually draw their sword and stage a brawl for this absurd reason.

This scene was so ridiculous it left one speechless—a group of people becoming this fanatical over a mere image in their imaginations.

“My Lady, haven’t you realized it yet?”

A somewhat excited male voice sounded from behind, carrying a certain smooth smile.

“There is no need for you to show your face in person; the title of ‘Pearl of Airandil’ alone is enough to drive these young men wild.”

Ah, that voice… I remembered hearing it when we entered the city to settle in.

Kritiya turned around and saw Marcus Vlad, the Governor of Romern, bowing slightly and waiting respectfully at the open doorway.

Marcus Vlad was a stout middle-aged man.

He held multiple positions: he was the administrative President elected by the City Council and the Chamber of Commerce, as well as an honorary Earl bestowed by the Emperor.

But beneath those glittering titles, his essence remained that of a calculating merchant lord, primarily dealing in wool, cotton, and linen, viewing profit as the eternal foundation.

Or perhaps, this so-called “Free City” itself was like this—a piece of fat that a rising merchant class had fought to tear from the mouths of the traditional nobility.

Here, the most valued things were never hollow honors, ancient lineages, or so-called dignity, but rather tangible gold coins and substantial returns.

“Noble Lady of Airandil, I wonder how your preparations for tonight’s grand feast are coming along?”

President Marcus walked forward with a beaming smile. “You are the undisputed protagonist of this evening.”

“Lord Earl.”

Kritiya gave a slight, polite bow in return and then got straight to the point, her tone calm but carrying an unquestionable demand for answers.

“Regarding those young men outside, I hope you can provide me with a reasonable explanation.”

“I—you mean them.”

President Marcus wore a look of understanding, as if talking about a group of naughty children.

“They are all fine sons from respectable families in the city, young and energetic—perhaps they don’t have hereditary titles or mountains of accumulated wealth, but they possess the most precious things: passion and… ambition.”

His words carried an imperceptible hint.

“They have nothing, and therefore their admiration for you is the most pure; they will certainly not bring you any… unnecessary trouble.”

No title, sons of good families—when these two phrases appeared together, I understood President Marcus’s underlying meaning.

When the bards in the taverns played their tunes, aside from heroic legends or myths, this type of plot was the most popular: a nameless poor boy catching the eye of a noble lady.

Those scandalous affairs—perhaps they were even more popular than heroic legends.

“I appreciate your kindness.”

Kritiya acted as if she completely failed to grasp the deep meaning in his words, her tone cold and firm. “But regarding the attendance of the banquet, I have my own plans.”

A flicker of genuine regret passed over President Marcus’s face, but he quickly concealed it, shaking his head slightly.

“I see. I understand what you mean. However, My Lady, if I may be blunt… this is the sort of thing you will eventually need to get used to.”

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

Kritiya’s eyebrows furrowed slightly as she looked directly at Marcus.

In the President’s squinted eyes, a trace of inscrutable emotion flashed—it wasn’t so much disdain as a kind of… condescending pity.

“Very well… my poor young lady.”

Marcus sighed softly, his tone becoming somewhat meaningful.

“It seems you truly haven’t seen through the nature of these appearances yet. It’s probably not appropriate for me to spell it out, but please consider this—at least you didn’t come here for nothing!”

“You see, although you already have a marriage contract with our Great King, the noble Duke sent you to the distant Royal Capital all by yourself… you will understand the meaning behind that sooner or later.”

“Anyway, I look forward to seeing your elegance tonight.”

His gaze lingered on Kritiya’s face for a moment, then slowly moved away as he made to turn and leave.

However, at the moment he was about to step out, his gaze seemed to accidentally sweep over a decorative oil painting hanging on the room’s wall.

“Ah, right, My Lady,” he said, pausing as if suddenly remembering something. “The artworks in this guest room are all treasures I’ve collected from all corners of the world over the years. You have refined taste, so I’m sure you will have a special appreciation for these works.”

After saying those pointed words, Governor Marcus nodded and walked away slowly.

Kritiya stood in place, her head lowered in silence for a moment, an unnameable emotion suppressed in her chest.

Then, she looked up and cast her gaze toward that massive oil painting that seemed to have been deliberately placed directly facing the bed.

Within that heavy walnut frame was a stunningly beautiful woman with brilliant blonde hair.

She was draped in a nearly transparent thin white veil, her snow-white skin showing a seductive crimson blush beneath the gauze; her figure was graceful as she reclined half-lying on a luxurious velvet bed.

She held a small cat with black and white fur in her arms, her eyes dreamy and her posture enchanting and soul-stirring.

To be fair, Marcus wasn’t lying. From an artistic perspective alone, the brushwork was exquisite and the use of color bold and clever; it was undoubtedly a masterpiece.

However, a strong wave of nausea surged uncontrollably from the depths of my heart, rushing straight to my throat.

Kritiya’s gaze swept coldly over an inconspicuous corner at the bottom of the frame, where there was a line of elegant cursive signature:

[To my one and only goddess of beauty—Lady Adolf, painted by S. Leon.]

Thump! Thump!

Her heart seemed to suddenly skip two beats, then began to pound wildly out of control.

Kritiya suddenly raised her hand to cover her mouth.

I clearly felt a surge of sour liquid rise from her stomach, burning her esophagus, only to be forcefully and painfully swallowed back down by her.

But—what was this supposed to be?

If it were me, my reaction would probably be even more intense than Kritiya’s, wouldn’t it?

I stared at that pathetic oil painting.

The image in the painting immediately corresponded with the name in the signature.

Lady Adolf—this woman was a notorious seductress in the Empire’s history, having served as the mistress to two Emperors in succession.

Even in those vulgar street songs and the privately circulated erotic manuscripts, she was the most common protagonist appearing alongside heroes, royalty, nobles, and artists.