If You Take the Enemy Prince as Your Knight Chapter 91

While the mad emperor was taking his nap, Dominic’s work attitude was exceedingly insincere. He occupied the very center of the couch as if he were the guest. With one leg crossed over the other, he casually tossed an apple up into the air and caught it again, his posture utterly lax. “Aren’t you going to sit?”

 

“I will sit.”

 

“Want an apple? …Oops. Didn’t think you wouldn’t even catch it. My apologies.”

 

“…”

 

Rubbing his shoulder as if it were bruised, Raval swallowed the humiliation. I’m the visitor, and that b*stard is the one standing guard! What is with that flippant attitude and condescending tone?

 

The derogatory nickname people used for Raval was ‘Arondit’s hunting dog.’ Perhaps because of that, Dominic, the third son of Duke Arondit, treated Raval as if it were only natural to look down on him as an inferior, no, as a dog.

 

Even setting aside his arrogance, Dominic’s very existence irritated Raval. High birth, handsome looks, peerless martial prowess, wasn’t he a man who had been born with everything and lived his entire life without knowing deprivation?

 

Whenever Raval looked at Dominic, he fell into self-pity. Compared to Dominic, Raval felt as though he himself had succeeded through sheer perseverance, overcoming every adversity and hardship, which made his own life feel all the more precious and almost sacred. All he had to do was admit that he envied Dominic, but Raval wasn’t that big of a man. And such unacknowledged envy and jealousy inevitably festered into hostility.

 

Just a greenhouse flower of a young master who lucked out with his parents. One day, I’ll definitely teach you what defeat feels like.

 

Just then, a pleasant thought occurred to him. Wouldn’t it be fun if that Princess Silver Bird he wants so much were to cling to me right in front of him? Princess Rosasia, kneeling at his feet and begging him to marry her. Though she would be unbearably bothersome, he would magnanimously extend a hand of salvation, playing the role of the gentleman. And Dominic, watching it all while trembling with rage. Just imagining it was intoxicating.

 

“Count Gawain, your expression right now is seriously annoying. Makes me want to kill you, so get a hold of yourself.”

 

“…”

 

Dominic released killing intent without a shred of pretense.

 

Muttering inwardly that this b*stard was, annoyingly enough, sharp as a beast when it came to reading the room, Raval corrected both his posture and his expression.

 

Dominic opened his mouth wide and took a loud, crunching bite of the apple. Even that trivial action looked wild, pricking at Raval’s inferiority complex as the conversation continued.

 

“Count, are you planning to wait until His Majesty wakes up?”

 

“Yes. I intend to see him before I leave.”

 

“He seems to be sleeping quite deeply.”

 

“You’re urging me to leave. Would you prefer it if I didn’t meet His Majesty?”

 

“That’s a misunderstanding. I said it for your own sake.”

 

“For my sake? You, Sir?”

 

“Yeah. Since we’re both treated like dogs, shouldn’t we have some camaraderie?”

 

“…” From Raval’s perspective, it was nothing but sophisticated mockery.

 

The two men, one with a sly grin and the other with open hostility, stared at each other for a long moment. The tense standoff was broken by the click of the door opening. Someone came out of the bedchamber. Thinking his wait had ended sooner than expected, Raval brightened, only to widen his eyes in shock.

 

“I-I’ll be going now. No need to see me out.”

 

From the emperor’s bed chamber, which should have been the most private of places, came a suspicious woman wrapped deeply in a hood.

 

“Take care on your way, Madam.”

 

“Yes…”

 

Even more shocking was that Dominic and the chamberlain looked completely unfazed. It meant this situation was ordinary, something that happened often. Only Raval blinked repeatedly, unable to believe what he had just seen.

 

That woman just now looked like Marchioness Plaven…

 

She was a noblewoman famed for her beauty. Though she had two sons as old as Raval himself, she looked far younger than her age. Her beauty from her prime is still shining. That was why Raval had recognized her at a glance.

 

Raval had never heard that her husband, Marquis Plaven, had died. And yet she was entering and leaving the emperor’s bedchamber?

 

As Raval was still in shock, the chamberlain offered him a teacup. The offer of tea, coming so belatedly, carried the clear intention of telling him to keep quiet.

 

“Oh dear, Count Gawain saw it too. It’s one of His Majesty’s new hobbies these days.”

 

“Hobbies…?”

 

“A gift sent with loyal intentions by a vassal seems to suit His Majesty’s taste rather well.”

 

“…”

 

No sane vassal would have offered up his own wife of his own accord. Whether subtly or openly, the mad emperor must have demanded it first.

 

The mad emperor, who already had a harem full of beauties, now took an interest in married women, his vassals’ wives, no less. The root of such twisted and perverse desire was clear. Simply collecting beautiful women like plunder was no longer enough. Only by adding the profound sense of betrayal that came from taking a vassal’s wife could the mad emperor finally feel satisfied.

 

Dominic spoke in his nonchalant tone. “You know Count Pabelo, who was demoted recently, right? That’s what happens when you refuse to prove your loyalty. Just so you know.”

 

The chamberlain offered his kind advice as well. “There are more ladies inside, so His Majesty’s nap may be extended. What will you do?”

 

It was rare for the mad emperor to take only one woman at a time.

 

“…I-I’ll take my leave.”

 

Raval left the palace with his head buzzing. Every time the carriage jolted, it felt as though his brain were rattling around inside his skull. He wanted to rest as soon as he arrived at his townhouse, but once his outside affairs were done, the inner household awaited him.

 

That day in particular, his mansion was noisy and crowded with luxury merchants. It was obvious who had summoned them.

 

“Oh my, my son! You’re finally back.”

 

A melodious nasal voice greeted him. The woman with delicate features was Verche Gawain, Raval’s mother and the matriarch of the Gawain family.

 

“You called in a lot of merchants again.”

 

Verche immediately bristled. “I called them because I needed to! I’m the matriarch of the Gawain family. Do you expect me to wear outdated jewelry? What if people look down on our family because of that?”

 

“Yes, yes. And where’s Nadia?”

 

“She’s holed up in her room. Honestly, that temper of hers. Who knows what she’s unhappy about now.”

 

It was obvious. His mother and younger sister must have clashed over attending the founding festival banquet. Sure enough, the matriarch cautiously watched her son’s expression.

 

“My dear sonnnnn. You’ll let your mother see the imperial palace at this founding festival banquet too, won’t you…?”

 

Letting his immature mother loose in high society would only invite criticism, so he had delayed her entry to the palace with one excuse after another until now. When he had blocked her from attending the ‘Knight Derby’ banquet, she had turned the entire house upside down and written letters to every noblewoman she knew, claiming she was being imprisoned. If he blocked her from the founding festival banquet as well, she would surely cause an even bigger scandal.

 

“I’ll allow you to attend the founding festival banquet.” Raval reluctantly relented. But his mother wanted more than that.

 

“Then my son will escort this mother, right?”

 

“What? Why would I?”

 

“Because Mother doesn’t have a partner.”

 

“Father is there.”

 

At that perfectly reasonable rebuttal, Verche grew sensitive again. “You’re telling me to go with your father? How can you say something so cruel!”

 

“…That’s cruel?”

 

“It is! It’s Mother’s first time entering the palace! I don’t want to link arms with your wheezing, balding father. Let me go with my stylish son.”

 

“But I’m at the age to marry now. A grown son can’t exactly go holding his mother’s hand—”

 

“What’s wrong with Mother’s hand? A son is his mother’s boyfriend forever!”

 

That nonsense didn’t end there.

 

“This is for your sake too! I’ve heard there are countless young ladies in society eyeing you. Girls these days are vicious. My innocent boy obviously won’t be able to tell a fox from a real lady.”

 

“Mom…”

 

“Yes, yes. Just trust Mother. I’ll even check whether Princess Silver Bird is suitable as your match.”