The talisman exuded a serpentine mana. Aslan held the talisman in his hand and walked unsteadily, sensing the violet mana that seemed to shimmer brightly.
The road to the palace felt like aimless wandering, and indeed, it wasn’t without its aimlessness. Aslan merely trudged on silently, replaying the events he had just experienced.
Lewena appeared.
She appeared before Aslan.
And left a mark.
There was no rationality in any of it.
Aslan knew this well.
At the same time, he understood why Lewena had chosen such an action.
It was impossible not to know.
It was love.
Because Lewena loved Aslan, she had revealed herself unnecessarily, left the talisman, and departed.
But even with such reasoning, it wasn’t a problem that could be easily brushed aside.
Aslan looked down at the talisman.
The black cloth talisman resembled the silhouette of a human wrapped in fabric.
At first glance, it was an ominous-shaped talisman. Aslan deeply regretted finding it here and now.
This talisman was meant to protect Aslan from Lewena’s magic, after all.
It was a sign that something significant would happen.
“…Or is it a deception designed to make me think this way?”
He couldn’t tell. For the first time in a long while, Aslan didn’t understand the Lewena who had reappeared.
She might have been under complete control by the Dark Ram, unable to act as usual, or her personality could have twisted during the process of decapitation.
Thus, Aslan rarely doubted—reflecting more made him realize how little he truly knew about Lewena.
His head was a mess. He didn’t want to think anymore. The faint nausea churning within prompted him to subtly wipe his lips with a frown.
Finally reaching the palace gates, Aslan still hadn’t reached any certainty. With a sigh, he entered the palace.
After identifying himself to the guards and receiving their scrutinizing glances, familiar faces awaited inside.
Frida, whose expression always reminded him of their teacher’s indifference; the chairman of the Senate, with his white scales and flaking hands; Helsing, the Duke of Cardi and neighboring Vida Kingdom.
These were the allies Aslan had requested to meet the Emperor, waiting just before entering the audience chamber.
Among them, Frida approached Aslan with a neutral expression, furrowing one eye.
“Why the sour face again?”
As soon as Aslan’s sister spoke, Aslan realized there was nothing to explain and quietly chuckled.
Her emotions subtly reflected in that smile caused Frida to furrow her brow and cross her arms.
“You’re not someone who gets beaten around… What happened?”
“It’s nothing.”
“Nothing? Your face says otherwise…”
“Come now, if he doesn’t want to talk, don’t push him.”
The Senate chairman intervened between the two.
Recognizing him, Aslan nodded slightly, but even with this interruption, Frida didn’t back down.
“…If you have something to say, come find me.”
With that, Frida stepped back, and the chairman followed suit after exchanging formalities.
Aslan watched their retreating backs until he noticed Helsing Duke observing him silently.
Upon realizing Aslan noticed him, the duke spoke immediately.
“To preface, I’ve never agreed to join this alliance yet.”
“What? Then…”
Surprised by the unexpected declaration, Aslan’s eyes widened as Helsing Duke gazed blankly into the distance with crossed arms, revealing his discomfort.
“But I haven’t refused either. It’s still pending… If you wish to involve Helsing in your plans, come to Cardi after the banquet concludes. There’s something I need to ask…”
“Are you threatening me, outsider?”
The growling voice drew both Aslan and Helsing Duke’s attention to Frida, who stood glaring at the duke with a wooden cup in hand, clearly bringing a drink for the visibly exhausted Aslan.
“No, it’s nothing like that. Simply… we require help.”
With an uneasy expression, the duke continued speaking, causing Frida to look skeptical. She handed the cup to Aslan and turned away.
“…If you have anything to say, come find me.”
Frida walked off, her coat fluttering behind her. Watching her leave, the duke sighed heavily.
“I’ll do it. Once my tasks are done.”
“Thank you. Then…”
As the duke withdrew with a sense of relief, a girl suddenly appeared from the audience chamber.
A girl with striking platinum hair reaching her neck and sharp blue eyes.
It was Ilyena of Ma’kel.
When Aslan bowed to greet the young empress, the girl approached without hesitation.
Standing awkwardly stiff, Aslan looked up as the girl observed him from above.
“Raise your head.”
In the brief moment Aslan lifted his gaze, various thoughts raced through the emperor’s mind.
Of course, as an emperor eager to see Aslan, she could wait indefinitely. But wasn’t letting him linger too much?
Thus, she intended to sternly reprimand Aslan, reminding him that even he shouldn’t keep royalty waiting.
Even planning to give an empty warning if necessary.
Until Aslan met her gaze.
Upon locking eyes with Aslan, the emperor pushed all her prepared words into oblivion.
Deep, clear green eyes. Within them floated deep fatigue and an undiminished passion despite the weariness.
Closing her mouth, which had opened to scold, the emperor fell silent. Clenching her lips tightly, she struggled to recall what she intended to say.
The process was slow and inaccurate. The young empress couldn’t remember her planned, authoritative, emperor-worthy scolding.
Simultaneously, she realized that whatever she said now would make her seem less like an emperor and more like Ilyena.
Realizing she lacked the courage to scold him while staring at his melancholy face so close, Ilyena remained silent, and Aslan looked at her steadily.
“Your Majesty…?”
The curious tone filled the void, prompting the emperor to close her eyes tightly and speak.
“You’re… late. The banquet will start soon… get dressed properly and come. From next time… please, don’t be late…”
Ultimately, the emperor failed to maintain her dignity, and Aslan didn’t care.
*
Clothes different from his usual attire—a noble outfit that even reminded him of Cornil Ashuld, the priest presumed dead long ago.
This was the clothing Aslan wore now, the attire required for the banquet.
The only solace was being allowed to drape the wings of Steamfalos over it, though Aslan remained deeply anxious.
‘Lewena, what exactly are you trying to do?’
It was because of the talisman in his hand.
The talisman provided protection against magical events or physical harm, akin to a charm.
Through his overflowing mana and magical talent, Aslan recognized the type of magic contained within.
So Lewena likely couldn’t accomplish much with the talisman alone, yet Aslan remained uneasy.
This talisman was proof that Lewena intended to do something definitive, and it symbolized her hope that Aslan wouldn’t be swept away by it.
What troubled him most was this implication.
That Lewena and the priests of the Dark Ram knew about Aslan’s plan.
If Lewena did something, it would mean they knew everything.
Even this seemingly unrelated banquet was part of Aslan’s plan.
Aslan’s plan was thus:
Host a banquet without apparent reason, gather allies when the banquet reaches its peak, discuss the future, and announce concrete strategies.
It was a plan conceived considering the priests’ focus on Aslan’s movements.
A measure taken to prevent interference with the detailed aspects of his plan by the priests.
Should he cancel the banquet now or proceed as planned? After long deliberation, Aslan opened his eyes.
‘But… rash actions aren’t wise. They might only suspect. I mustn’t act recklessly.’
After staring at the talisman for a long time, Aslan slipped it into his bosom and turned his head toward approaching footsteps.
Beyond the piled-up food and alcohol, his companions appeared.
Among them, Angie was at the forefront.
Angie was wearing a dress.
The girl walked awkwardly, treating the dress as if it were a cursed object that didn’t fit her body. Her cheeks flushed red as her pupils trembled with every uneven step, making her resemble a cat forced into clothing.
Behind her, Phey reacted similarly, though their pale complexion set them apart.
While Angie was like a cat in clothes, Phey was like a dog in clothes. Approaching with clumsy strides, Phey sent a nonchalant look of protest to Aslan.
“I want to change…”
“Sorry, endure until the banquet ends.”
“I don’t want to… fine…”
Knowing they’d receive the same answer, Phey directed their discontented gaze at Aslan before leading Angie toward the pile of food.
Watching the two girls walk away, Aslan turned his head upon feeling someone take his hand.
“Aslan, how do I look? Pretty?”
As expected, the person holding his hand raised it demonstratively and coquettishly smiled.
Ereta was not in her usual black but wore a deep red dress that exposed her shoulders. The fabric shimmered softly, flowing with her gentle movements like an aurora.
A dancing red aurora on earth. Aslan gazed at Ereta for a moment before nodding.
“Yeah, you look beautiful. It suits you.”
“I think so too. Red seems to suit me. Maybe I’ll choose red for my next outfit.”
“Sure, go for it.”
“Are you answering too casually?”
Ereta pouted and squeezed Aslan’s hand, who looked at her peculiarly before speaking.
“Tiamat and Lumel?”
Ereta glanced at Aslan sidelong before sticking out her lower lip but smiled bashfully when their eyes met.
“Tiamat threw a tantrum about wearing clothes and is currently fighting with the chairman you mentioned. As for Lumel…”
For a moment, a hint of defeat flickered across Ereta’s face. Before Aslan could question it, the banquet hall door opened, and another figure entered.
A towering bust, revealing just enough of the upper chest in a daring style.
A woman draped in a black dress embroidered with gold thread.
It was Lewena.
The moment Lewena appeared, half the gazes in the banquet hall turned toward her.
Blushing slightly, perhaps out of embarrassment, Lewena approached Aslan.
“Lord Aslan… Lady Ereta.”
Approaching, Lewena modestly greeted them, gracefully bowing with both sides of her skirt held.
Her gesture was natural yet harmonized perfectly with her current attire, creating a unique atmosphere.
Even Ereta momentarily stared in amazement.
‘Now that I think about it… Lady Lewena was originally a noble.’
Recalling this fact, Aslan noticed Lewena already lifting her head, her slightly flushed face partially hidden behind braided hair.
Even with the covering, it barely concealed her nose, eyes, and lips.
Ereta frowned faintly with a subtle sense of defeat.
“She’s annoyingly cute.”
Her honest remark startled Lewena, softening Ereta’s expression afterward.
