Chapter 68: Three Silver Coins...
"G-greetings, Lady Reinhardt." One of the knights stepped forward, his armor clinking as he adjusted his grip on his torch. His eyes flicked past her imposing figure, toward the shadows of the alley behind her. "Why are you outside at this hour?"
Olga didn’t flinch. She lifted her chin, the moonlight catching on her stern profile. Her voice was steady, almost casual. "The princess wished to take a stroll tonight."
A hush fell over the knights. They exchanged wary glances, their gazes darting to the slim figure veiled in a white cloak just a few steps behind Olga.
The torchlight made the pale fabric glow faintly, unmistakably marking the Saint of the Kingdom. Behind her, several other shapes stood cloaked in heavy shadows, their features obscured but their presence undeniable.
The knights shifted uneasily, the weight of the situation pressing in. Finally, another spoke, his tone more cautious than before.
"...It isn’t wise to be out so late. The capital isn’t safe right now, not with the Gambit underway, and contenders from across the realm pouring in. There are... dangers."
At that, Olga’s brow arched. The air seemed to tighten around her as she took one step forward, her presence alone forcing the speaker to falter. "You think I can’t handle a few rats?" she asked coolly, her words sharp as an arrow loosed from a bow.
The knight flinched, then straightened. Olga’s voice dropped lower, every syllable weighted with iron. "Look properly. Do you see the princess standing here, alone? Do you think I would let her wander unguarded? She is surrounded, " her eyes flicked briefly toward the cloaked figures behind, "perfectly, and plenty protected."
Her words cut the air like a blade.
The knight swallowed hard, eyes drifting back to the shadows where the princess stood. None of the cloaked figures moved. The princess didn’t turn. Neither did the others. They stood as if carved from stone, their hoods pulled low, refusing to show even a sliver of their faces.
The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating, until the knight gave a short, uneasy hum. His eyes lingered on the cloaked group, suspicion prickling at him, but he couldn’t pierce the veil of shadows they cast.
"Forgive me," a soft, lilting voice interrupted. "I wished only to take a short walk. Rest eludes me, not when the Gambit is so close, and excitement keeps me wide awake."
The effect was immediate.
Every knight perked up at once, their suspicion snapping into startled reverence. The princess had spoken. Slowly, almost reluctantly, they let their eyes shift from Olga’s iron presence to the cloaked figure in white.
Althea turned slightly toward them, just enough for her gentle smile to catch the glow of the torchlight. Her tone was honeyed, as serene as the hymns she was known for. Olga, remained expressionless, her face carefully schooled into a neutral mask even as her jaw tightened.
The knights flushed, a faint pink creeping into cheeks hardened by steel and discipline. Their bodies stiffened as they bowed low, voices awkward but reverent.
"Oh, no, Saint, please, there’s no need to apologize," one of them stammered, the edge in his voice softened to almost boyish awe. "We simply wanted to be certain you remain safe."
Another chuckled nervously, eager to ease the mood. "Yes, that’s all, Your Highness. Forgive our intrusion."
Althea’s smile widened by a fraction, warm and disarming. "You are kind," she said softly. "But you needn’t fear. I am protected. I have my Olga here, as always..." Her delicate hand lifted, gesturing gracefully behind her. "And, as you see, a few mercenaries sanctioned by the temple to watch over me."
The knights’ gazes followed her gesture.
In the gloom, the line of dark cloaked figures remained still. Not one face lifted, not one voice answered. They were statues in shadow, silent guardians. But the longer the knights stared, the less comfortable they became.
One knight, suspicion gnawing at him, squinted and stepped forward. His gauntlet creaked as he raised his torch higher, trying to pierce the dark shroud covering those unfamiliar figures. The flame’s glow stretched toward them, licking at the edges of their hoods, searching for features, any hint of who they were.
For a heartbeat, no one breathed.
Suddenly, the princess brought her hands together in a sharp clap. The sound echoed in the narrow alley, startlingly loud against the stone walls. She closed her eyes, her expression serene, as though she had fallen into prayer.
"For your hard work, and your devotion to duty..." her voice was soft, lilting, almost musical. "...I pray the Gods bless each of you abundantly."
The knights froze, then scrambled to follow her lead. Helmets dipped, gauntlets clicked together as they mimicked the gesture, bowing their heads in awkward reverence. Their armor creaked as they shifted to kneel or clasp their hands.
Even Olga, stiff as iron, let her lashes lower in a practiced show of faith, though she cracked one eye open to glance at the cloaked men lurking just behind the princess.
They were less convincing.
One of them clumsily mirrored the princess’s posture, fumbling his hands as though he had never prayed a day in his life. Another switched hands mid-motion, realizing he’d crossed them the wrong way. A third muttered under his breath, clearly uncertain of what to do. Olga’s gaze narrowed, though she said nothing.
When Althea finally ended the prayer with a soft hum, the knights lifted their heads with renewed vigor, visibly energized. Her blessing had worked on them. With lightened steps and smiles creeping across their faces, they bowed once more and departed, the sound of their armor fading into the night until the alley was theirs again.
Only then did Olga release a long, quiet sigh. Another voice echoed it, Lenko, unable to hide his relief. He tilted his head toward the princess, whose face had already shed the honey-sweet gentleness she had shown moments before. Her lips were pressed flat, her expression cool and businesslike.
"...Thank you," Lenko murmured.
The princess gave him a small nod, but her gaze shifted past him, snapping to the tenth prince.
Keiser stiffened when her scowl landed on him like a weight.
"Three silver coins," she said flatly.
"...What?" He blinked at her, caught entirely off guard.
"...Fee." The princess crossed her arms, tapping her finger against her sleeve, eyes sharp and unyielding. She looked every inch the noble who expected compensation on the spot.
Keiser just stood there, dumbfounded.
Oh.