It was the start of the weekend. Feyt had no classes, but Carine did. The material for today was a lot more involved, though, so I found myself unable to just doze off with my eyes open this ti around.
But it wasn’t enough for to fully lose focus on what Feyt was doing.
As Feyt, I was standing by the southern gate of the academy, waiting with bated breath underneath the scorching sun, holding a relatively heavy bag with one hand, while staring at the empty, clean cobblestone roads.
Then, in the distance, the sound of a smooth roll of carriage wheels reached my ears. It grew louder and closer by the second.
I turned to find the carriage I’d been anxiously anticipating.
It was entirely unassuming. It was painted in matte, dark color with no family crests, flashy gilding, or golden accents to draw the eye. It looked like the standard transport of a well-to-do rchant or a minor noble. It was a complete contrast to the last carriage I was shoved in.
The carriage continued its smooth montum before finally decelerating, groaning to a halt right by the gate.
The fact that the carriage stopped with the door right in front of was a testant to how trained the coachman probably was. Like seriously, it was on the dot.
For a mont, nothing happened. I just continued to stand there, thinking whether I should be the one to approach the carriage.
I’m not being too pretentious to believe they would send an attendant to greet , right?
Before I could doubt myself any further, the carriage door clicked and swung open smoothly, and a single figure stepped out.
Looking every bit as handso yet beautiful as I rembered… was Princess Munith’s personal attendant, Rene.
Wearing a suit that hugged their fra, neither too tight, nor too loose; their long hair gathered and tied into a neat, low ponytail that rested over a shoulder. Rene still looked immaculate as ever.
Soone’s giving Leila a run for her money.
“Sir Feyt, I have co to escort you to your eting. Please, if you would,” Rene said, their voice smooth and polite. Any traces of that glare they gave last ti were gone, be it in their eyes or words. I wondered whether this was just their professionalism talking, or if I was just imagining things.
Rene gestured toward the dimly lit interior of the carriage, stepping to the side of the open carriage door to give a passage.
I swallowed the lump in my throat, nodded, and forced my feet to move. I took slow, deliberate steps, trying to show a bit of composure.
Ascending the small steps, I climbed inside and sank onto the plush, cushioned velvet seats. I placed my bag on my lap and held it firmly as I settled into my seat.
Looking around, it was clear this wasn’t the sa royal carriage Munith had used to practically kidnap last ti.
But despite its plain exterior, it felt like a bunker on wheels.
The wooden fras were thick, reinforced with iron brackets, and the windows were shuttered with what seed to be heavy glass. It also ca equipped with a compact, high-end drink cabinet built into the side.
I had a feeling this was just another piece of her personal collection ant for private, but secure, affairs.
Rene followed in shortly after, the heavy door closing behind them with a heavy thud. Without a word, they turned and rapped their knuckles firmly against the coachman’s wooden window behind them. A mont later, the horses neighed, and the carriage rattled back to life.
…
Hmm…
This is awkward.
Rene hadn’t said a single word since the carriage started its journey a few minutes ago. They just sat across from , perfectly poised, staring forward with an entirely unreadable expression. Not even a single word for my ears to analyze.
I could hear their breathing as calm. Not the natural kind, though, the professional one. I could tell Rene was one of those people who regulate their heartbeat or sothing.
Awkward vibe aside, it was getting incredibly hot. The scorching sun outside was turning this luxurious wooden box into a portable sauna, and I could already feel a thin layer of sweat beginning to form on my forehead.
I shifted slightly, trying to find a cool spot on the plush velvet, but it was a losing battle.
I glanced up at Rene, expecting to see at least a hint of discomfort, but nope. Nothing. Not a single drop of sweat. Their skin was flawless, their hair was perfectly in place, and that fine suit looked as crisp as it had when they first stepped out. Seriously, how was that even physically possible? Did a mage cast a cooling spell on that suit, or were they just built different?
But then, Rene suddenly moved.
With effortless grace, they reached over to the built-in drink cabinet, opened it with a soft click, and pulled out a clear glass.
“A drink, Sir Feyt?” Rene asked.
What are you, a mind reader?
But yes, absolutely, thank you.
I offered a small nod. “Yes, please. Water would be great.”
“Understood.”
Rene poured a clear liquid from a bottle into the glass, the faint clinking of ice cubes sounding like music to my ears. They handed it over, and I took it gently, adopting proper etiquette as I did so.
I took a sip, enjoying the cool water rushing down my slightly parched throat. I made sure to drink it all before I set the glass down on the built-in glass holder by the seat.
Once the glass was held in place, Rene’s posture shifted.
"You have proper etiquette," Rene muttered, more to themselves than to , though their sharp eyes quickly snapped up to et mine. "Were you trained in it, Sir Feyt? And to what extent?"
I froze slightly. The last thing I wanted to say was that I just copied things from Carine’s mories. But to be fair, Mother did train the basics while I was under her personal “care”.
"I was personally trained by Duchess Sareid in preparations for my future position as Lady Carine’s bodyguard," I answered confidently. “I believe I could pass off as a lower noble, at least.”
Rene stared at for a mont, as if analyzing my words, before apparently deciding to let it slide. Only then did they move on to the matter at hand.
“Good then. Now, regarding the details of your eting," Rene began, pulling out a sheet of paper from their slim briefcase by their seat. They handed it to .
“What is this?”
I began reading it as Rene began to discuss the content.
"Her Highness has arranged for the venue to be a private restaurant in the lower district. To avoid any unnecessary attention, Princess Munith will be in disguise. Her personal guards will also be stationed throughout the establishnt, similarly disguised."
I nodded slowly whilst reading the paper. The paper detailed far more than Rene’s explanation, such as the restaurant’s na and all. But I had to wonder.
Why is this being taken so seriously?
I an, it’s obvious we can’t et at the palace… but still…
"Furthermore," Rene continued, their tone dipping into a lower register, "Her Highness has explicitly requested that you dispose of royal protocols to keep up appearances. You are to treat her simply as a friend."
My eyes widened.
A friend?!
You’re telling to be all casual with the First Prince’s fiancée?!
I opened my mouth to respond, but Rene wasn't finished.
"However, that is her request," Rene added, "As for mine... I strongly advise you to rember your place, Sir Feyt. Do not mistake her indulgence of you as a privilege. Do not cross the line. Understood?"
A chill ran up my spine.
“Y-Yes! Understood, uhh…” My words trailed off, wondering how I should call Rene.
Rene let out a tiny sigh. “Bellerose. You may call that.”
Bellerose?
Is that Rene’s fake na?
Or perhaps their true one?
“Rember, refrain from using any titles for the duration of the eting. Just call Bellerose if needed.”
“Y-Yes, Bellerose!”
With the warning delivered, the carriage fell right back into a heavy, suffocating silence, interrupted only by the distant hum of the capital, the steady clatter of horse hooves, and the rhythmic rattling of the carriage.
I shifted my grip, holding the heavy bag tightly against my lap once more.
Inside weren’t weapons or smuggled goods or anything. They were just books, more specifically, the three-volu series of a romance novel Princess Munith had personally written and given to . A Quiet Love.
To say I had thoughts about the story would be a major understatent. I had several words for it… Most of them were confusing, a few of them were concerning, and all of them were just questions that only the author herself could answer.
After all, by the final volu, her story began to lose its identity as a story and was becoming more of a secret ssage to decode.
And the only reason I was here in this carriage right now?
I managed to decode it.
But this bundle of questions about her books wasn't the only thing weighing down my mind. There was a much bigger, much heavier secret burning a hole in my thoughts.
I needed to find out the truth. I needed to know if Princess Munith was truly the exact sa person ntioned in that old Talent record I’d found back in the royal archive. If she were... then she could be the only person who could hopefully solve the mystery of my Talent Symbols.
And judging by the ssage she had hidden in those pages?
She almost certainly was.
Or... perhaps she was just playing a ga with , and the whole elaborate setup was nothing more than clever bait.
At this point, it was just one of the many questions and hypotheses rattling around in my brain. There would be no definitive answers… not until I t her face-to-face.
I took a deep, quiet breath, trying to settle my nerves. I looked out the carriage window as the clean academy roads began to fade into the bustling, unfamiliar streets of the lower district.
I steeled myself for what was to co.
Whether Munith was a friend or foe, I was about to find out.
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