Episode 27: A Symbol of Marriage

“This place feels nice.”

It wasn’t a thought she had deeply considered. However, not wanting to admit she had no thoughts at all, Afrosa blurted out whatever came to mind. The truth was, she felt a little disoriented. She wasn’t accustomed to hotels. While she had stayed at an inn when traveling from her hometown to Loran, this was her first experience with a hotel.

After giving a vague response, Afrosa chewed on a piece of chopped vegetable. The hotel occupied a vast estate. Padanua, the city between Dranberk and Loran, was renowned for its picturesque harbor that drew tourists year-round. The hotel, situated at the city’s heart, was an opulent structure.

Unlike the nobility who, after a series of failed ventures, repurposed their villas into hotels out of necessity, this establishment was intentionally built to host the noble visitors who frequented Padanua annually.

The coachman had arranged for them to stay the night here and planned to resume their journey early the next morning. Being mindful of serving the prince and princess consort, he had selected a particularly luxurious accommodation. As he had assured, the hotel rivaled the grandeur of many aristocratic mansions.

The garden, meticulously maintained like that of a noble estate, was both lush and charming. An artificial fountain sparkled brilliantly, illuminated by light bulbs—a recent invention by a certain inventor just a few years prior.

Unlike the small, remote village of Loran, the bustling city of Dranberk boasted a row of large accommodations designed to welcome royal and high-ranking officials. These were called hotels, and Afrosa had never stayed in such a place before. In fact, it was her first time riding in a four-wheeled carriage or even seeing light bulbs.

“I’m glad you like it.”

“Yeah.”

“Eat a bit more.”

Afrosa nodded. Unlike her, who was shrinking in the unfamiliar environment, Alec appeared completely at ease, showing no signs of discomfort. Afrosa, however, couldn’t seem to shake off her nervousness. Perhaps that’s why the food, crumbling in her mouth, tasted bland.

“Are you feeling unwell?”

Noticing her picking at her food without eating much, Alec asked. Afrosa slowly shook her head. The tension that had gripped her since leaving the village hadn’t subsided. The tingling sensation in her stomach and the lump-like feeling in her throat made her continue slicing through the glossy vegetables without taking a bite.

“Your Highness.”

A voice unfamiliar to Afrosa called out from nearby. Momentarily dazed, she didn’t realize the words were directed at Alec until she saw his gaze shift over her shoulder. Only then did she notice someone approaching them.

“Marquis.”

At the mention of “Marquis,” Afrosa turned around with a startled expression. A middle-aged man with a sturdy build and warm, amicable features was striding toward them. Afrosa instinctively stood to face him, noticing a younger man following close behind.

“Your Highness. How long has it been since our last meeting? Truly, you must have endured so much. In these dark and trying times, for your enlightened self to grace me with your presence—there is no greater honor.”

With seemingly genuine emotion, the man spoke quickly, his eyes glistening as he bowed deeply to Alec. Alec regarded him calmly and asked,

“I thought you’d be staying in Dranberk.”

“I heard from Lord Orchen that Your Highness would be passing through Padanua, so I came to meet you here.”

“I see.”

Orchen had departed ahead of them, saying he had matters to attend to. Having ridden a horse instead of a carriage, he likely arrived earlier. Alec, watching the Marquis with his polished demeanor, turned to Afrosa. She stood silently, hands neatly clasped, observing the exchange.

“And who might this be?”

Marquis Heslo, after completing his greeting, glanced at Afrosa and asked. Afrosa focused her gaze on his face, attempting to discern any sign of hostility.

“My wife, Afrosa,” Alec replied. “Marquis, this is Rose. Greet her.”

“I’ve heard much about you, My Lady. I am Philip von Heslo. Please, feel free to call me Philip.”

The man offered a friendly smile and extended his hand. His expression was composed and affable. Unlike Orchen and other nobles Afrosa had encountered, he showed no visible displeasure. Perhaps it was because he didn’t know her true background.

Still, the difference in demeanor was unmistakable. No matter the setting, the Marquis had greeted Alec with utmost respect. Even after Alec introduced Afrosa as his “wife,” the Marquis merely extended his hand for a handshake, not as one would address the consort of a prince or even a noble “lady.”

It was polite—acknowledging her as a person—but no more than that.

But that was fine with Afrosa. She was simply grateful he didn’t regard her with contempt. Having grown so accustomed to the disdain of nobles, this level of courtesy brought her unexpected relief.

As she reached out to accept his hand, a larger hand pushed hers away. Above her head, Alec’s low voice sounded.

“It would be best if we observe proper decorum.”

Alec’s lips curved slightly, but the expression was cold, devoid of warmth.

A chilling silence filled the space. Afrosa felt as though she might dissolve into nothing in the tense atmosphere. Her trembling hand, which had almost met the Marquis’s, was withdrawn, and she clasped her hands together tightly once more, her gaze darting nervously.

It was then that she noticed the young man who had accompanied the Marquis. Though he was well-dressed enough to seem like the Marquis’s son, their ages were too close for such a relationship.

The young man’s eyes were fixed on Afrosa, causing her heart to pound in her chest. His sharp, striking features felt oddly familiar. When had she seen him before? Where had they met? She couldn’t recall, but she was certain—they had met before.

“Ah, what a mistake I’ve made. Haha. Forgive my lapse in judgment,” the Marquis chuckled awkwardly. “It’s been so long since I’ve had the honor of receiving a lady of such noble and dignified stature as the Prince’s consort. I’ve had no reason to ascend to Travis, and so I haven’t had the opportunity to greet such distinguished women. My apologies.”

“That’s all right, Marquis. Please don’t worry about it,” Afrosa replied, waving her hand dismissively. However, Alec seemed to have a different perspective.

“No,” he said, his tone firm. “She is my wife, and you will show her the respect befitting my title.”

“Ah, of course,” the Marquis replied, his smile turning sheepish. He then addressed her more formally, “Your Highness, Princess Consort.”

Afrosa felt her face flush bright red as she lowered her gaze. It felt as if she’d just heard something absurd, something too grand to take seriously. Princess Consort? Her eyelids fluttered nervously as she stared at the floor, trying to compose herself.

She glanced up again, wanting to brush off the situation with another lighthearted remark, but Alec’s face remained stoic and unyielding.

“Allow me to reintroduce myself,” the Marquis said after a brief pause. He gave Alec a quick sidelong glance before smiling again. Then, lowering himself onto one knee, he placed one hand behind his back and gently took Afrosa’s hand. Bowing deeply, he pressed his lips lightly to the back of her hand.

The sensation of his well-groomed mustache brushing against her skin made her shiver involuntarily. Afrosa wasn’t accustomed to such formal greetings, and her face grew even redder. Resisting the urge to pull her hand away, she forced a tight smile.

“Please forgive my earlier discourtesy,” the Marquis said.

Her eyelashes fluttered, betraying her unease. She shook her head once more, glancing at Alec. His sharp, steely gaze wasn’t on the Marquis but fixed instead on the young man standing behind him.

---

Earlier…

“But surely you don’t have to take Afrosa with you,” the abbot had said.

Upon hearing that Nasca had infiltrated the village, the abbot had been silent. With Prime Minister Mankel under arrest, there was no one left to check the emperor’s actions, let alone protect anyone from him.

Louvero, with his uncompromising nature, pursued his goals with relentless determination. He was not a man who took detours or showed mercy, not even to his own family. For someone like him, there was no telling what cruel measures he might take.

It was the morning of the festival held in honor of the emperor’s birthday. That morning, Alec planned to meet with the abbot, reveal his intention to leave Laurant and take Afrosa with him, and set out on their journey.

Alec believed that even the abbot, who cherished Afrosa as his adopted daughter, would have no choice but to accept their departure once he understood the dangers and the horrors that lay ahead.

But…

“Afrosa would be better off staying in this village,” the abbot had said, seemingly unfazed by the idea of separating Afrosa from her husband.

“She is my wife,” Alec had countered firmly.

“I know that. But I think… she would be safer here.”

The abbot had nodded repeatedly, indicating he understood the gravity of Alec’s situation. He even acknowledged the peril posed by the emperor’s intent to eliminate him. Yet, he couldn’t agree to Afrosa leaving with him.

“I understand what you’re saying, Alec. I do. I know how grave and terrifying the danger you face is. I even know the emperor has marked you for removal. But Afrosa…”

“Is it because she’s a runaway slave?” Alec had demanded.

Alec didn’t mince words. His directness struck like a blow, leaving the abbot silent. The older man’s furrowed brows betrayed his discomfort.

“Aprosa’s danger is not yours, just as your danger is not hers.”

“Husband and wife are one,” Eilek countered.

“You are not husband and wife.”

The abbot denied it with a bitter laugh. Alec’s expression froze, his face hardening as though doused with cold water. His features turned emotionless, the chill of his gaze almost suffocating. Yet the abbot stood firm, unwilling to retract his words.

“You are not truly husband and wife, are you?”

A couple was only recognized as such in the empire if they officially registered their marriage with the governing lord. For slaves, it required their owner’s permission, followed by the lord’s approval. In truth, most lords didn’t concern themselves with who their slaves married, as long as the spouse was neither a freeman nor a noble. Still, the law required that such unions be recorded.

Lords processed these filings monthly and informed the respective slave owners. Afrosa, however, was a slave—and the very idea of her marriage to a prince was inconceivable. As a runaway slave, any attempt to file a marriage certificate with the lord would immediately lead to her capture and return to her original master.

Thus, Alec and Afrosa were not legally married. At the time of their wedding, Alec had lied to Afrosa, claiming he would submit the paperwork to the local lord. Afrosa, unaware of the truth, remained oblivious. The abbot, burdened by this knowledge, was deeply conflicted.

If only Alec hadn’t lied to Afrosa from the beginning, matters wouldn’t have grown so complicated. Afrosa didn’t even know she was a slave. The abbot couldn’t begin to imagine how she would react if she ever learned the truth—how deeply she might resent Alec, how much fear and anguish she might feel.

The abbot couldn’t bring himself to tell her either. He had tried once, when she was preparing for marriage, but the words wouldn’t come. How could he shatter the joy of a girl who wept with happiness every day at the thought of marrying the man she loved? He didn’t have the heart to be so cruel.

It would’ve been better if they hadn’t married at all. If things had stayed as they were, the weight of the burden in the abbot’s mind might have eased. But Laurant was a small village. For Afrosa to remain unmarried would surely raise questions. Her peers were already wed, their bellies round with child.

There was no fault in Afrosa, no reason why the abbot wouldn’t marry off his adoptive daughter. If she remained single for much longer, people might begin to gossip or assume something was amiss. Eventually, the abbot resolved to marry her to Alec, believing that he, of all people, would understand her situation.

Afrosa had to marry someone, after all. The abbot had even subtly asked if she might consider another man, but she was adamant. If she were to marry, it could only be Alec. So the abbot consented. Yet now…

“I didn’t expect you to think this way, Father-in-law,” Alec said, his tone laced with restrained tension. “If you don’t recognize Rose as my wife, then what do you consider her to be?”

“I…”