* * *

What on earth was she wearing?

I had no idea where she’d been or what she’d been doing, but her skin was tanned like someone who had spent months working under the blazing sun.

She wore a strange headscarf and unfamiliar garments that seemed suited to a hot, arid climate.

“Berta Everdeen, the humble daughter of the Everdeen family, offers her greetings. I must apologize for arriving in such a hurry, but the person I serve is somewhat impatient.”

Berta gave a light bow, her unconventional attire starkly clashing with imperial court etiquette. Her confident gaze swept the room.

Wasn’t she supposed to be in Gert?

Gert was a northern peninsula region—not as far as Velon but much farther north than the imperial capital.

It was a damp, misty place, hardly the kind of region for clothing like this.

‘What on earth is going on…?’

As someone who didn’t have the standing to approach the king lightly, Berta, being even lower in rank, should have had no right to raise her head before the emperor.

Yet the fact that the chamberlain hadn’t stopped her meant she had significant backing.

And who was this “person she serves”?

She had mentioned finding a powerful benefactor, but…

‘Wasn’t she referring to Hernan?’

If not, the entire series of events suddenly made even less sense.

Berta disappearing right after Hernan’s visit, taking all her dowry with her, forcing me to personally visit Velon to apologize—it all fit if the two of them had conspired together.

But now, it seemed I’d been wrong.

“Well, Your Majesty must be curious about the purpose of my visit, so I’ll invite them in without further ado.”

While everyone else was still trying to process the situation, Berta knelt briefly in respect, then turned toward the open door and called out.

“Please, come in, Your Highness Elkalid!”

And then… the figure that stepped through the doors was someone no one could have anticipated.

“A… dancer?”

Not just a dancer—men and women with lithe, muscular bodies streamed into the hall, paired up and performing elaborate dances while playing heavy, ornate instruments.

The sight was so surreal that even the attendants lining the walls were too stunned to intervene.

The emperor and the chamberlain, who should have been scolding them, were equally at a loss, their faces betraying utter confusion.

Only Hernan stood unmoving, his expression unreadable.

“His Highness Elkalid of Morgana has arrived!”

At last, one of the guards found his voice, announcing the arrival of the figure at the center of the commotion.

Seated on a lavishly adorned palanquin that practically screamed excess—a level of luxury the empire itself might have deemed excessive—was the ruler of a distant island nation, one the empire had long sought to ally with, only to be repeatedly rebuffed.

“You! What the hell is this…?!”

Taking advantage of the stunned silence as all eyes turned to the King Elkalid, I hissed at Berta.

She merely pressed a finger to her lips with a mischievous smile.

“I’m here to help. Explanations can wait.”

With that, she confidently stood beside the King Elkalid and bowed once more.

---

At the moment Jurgen sent Hernan to Heskin Castle and went to meet Duchess Velesa, Hernan checked the scroll tied to the leg of the crow that had followed him without getting lost.

[I can arrive by 3 PM. If I’m delayed, please buy some time.]

The hastily scribbled handwriting was so sloppy it was hard to believe it came from a scholar.

Yet the message confirmed that the sender was the person Hernan had been waiting for, so he swallowed his complaints.

Even though Hernan had asked for regular updates on his whereabouts, he had only received three messages in total, each from a different location.

Coordinating communication with him required almost as much effort as it had taken to manipulate Jurgen.

‘It’s a miracle the messenger bird even managed to find him on time,’ Hernan thought grimly.

Without that, he might have spiraled into panic, paralyzed by the fear of having no final card to save Jurgen.

“They say they should be able to arrive on time,” Hernan relayed with a calm expression, though it took effort.

The princess visibly relaxed, letting out a sigh of relief and clutching her chest.

However, Hernan wasn’t ready to let his guard down and cautioned her sternly.

“Keep rehearsing what you’ll say before His Majesty. You’re prone to mistakes and clumsy speech, so practice thoroughly.”

Meanwhile, outside, the panicked servants—scrambling to accommodate their unexpected noble guests—were whispering that the princess and the duke must be romantically involved.

As if, Hernan thought, glancing at her icy demeanor. Anyone watching would find that idea absurd.

Baron Heskin, observing the pair, grumbled internally.

“I’ll be clear: I’m cooperating with the Duke solely for Viscount Everdeen’s sake.”

Hernan responded without the slightest change in expression.

“I understand. We’ll leave shortly, so we’ll impose on you only a little longer.”

Baron Heskin ground his teeth.

‘The nerve! How dare he act so shamelessly after dragging Viscount Everdeen, the idol of us all, into this mess!’

He was about to voice his disdain when his eyes caught Jurgen’s hands.

They were clenched so tightly that his blunt, trimmed nails had left deep marks in his palms.

‘Hah… So even he gets nervous,’ the baron thought, though it didn’t make him feel any more charitable.

He still refused to acknowledge this slick-faced man as Viscount Everdeen’s closest confidant.

If their plan failed and caused the viscount irreparable harm, he’d make Hernan pay with his life.

As Baron Heskin seethed, the night passed.

By morning, Hernan and the princess were ready to depart for the imperial palace.

All that remained was to gather the key players necessary to bring this absurd charade to an end.

---

“I greet you again, Your Majesty. I am Berta Kalis, humbly standing before you as a bridge between Morgana and Pelton. As His Highness Elkalid is not fluent in the Imperial tongue, please address him through me.”

Berta’s confident demeanor seemed to momentarily leave the Emperor at a loss for words.

He twitched slightly before composing himself and speaking.

“It’s a pleasure to welcome a guest from Morgana, as this is the first such visit. However, the suddenness of your arrival has caught me off guard.”

At that, Berta tilted her head slightly and whispered to the man seated atop the palanquin.

He was a strikingly handsome man with curly hair, exuding a charm completely opposite to Hernan’s.

He replied in a language foreign to the Emperor’s ears.

Berta translated with a smile.

“Morgana has long hesitated to accept diplomatic relations due to the lack of a stable route between our nations. However, with a viable passage now established, we couldn’t miss the chance to strengthen ties with Pelton and foster a brotherly bond. His Highness felt compelled to come without delay.”

“What?”

The Emperor blinked in surprise.

Whatever the man had actually said, Berta’s translation was exactly what the Emperor had longed to hear.

Morgana, the fabled land of gold.

Everyone in the empire had heard tales of streets paved with gold, rich oil fields, exquisite coral-filled seas, and golden mountains.

Yet Morgana, unlike neighboring Velon, lay across a treacherous strait.

Only a handful of lucky explorers had managed to hitch rides on Morgana’s ships and confirm the legends.

Morgana’s isolationist policies and mastery of naval combat, combined with the strait’s deadly currents, made the empire’s dream of accessing Morgana almost unattainable.

‘Morgana… The ultimate prize, even greater than Velon.’

* * *