The Concubine Does Not Love the Emperor - Chapter 11

To the north of Berthe lay the Boroman Empire, separated by the sea to the south.

The Boroman Empire boasted vast, fertile plains and a mild climate, resulting in a dense population. The rapid increase in population directly translated into military strength.

Emperor Boroman was fueled by a formidable military force, expanding his territories to encompass more than half of the twelve nations. People referred to Boroman as the great Boroman, the nation protected by gods.

While there was a custom on the continent to exchange nobles during wars, the Boroman Empire was an exception. Due to their fierce warriors who chose death over capture, those taken as prisoners from other nations, regardless of their status, received treatment inferior to commoners.

It was a system of slavery.

The treatment of female slaves was apparent. Margaret had attempted escape several times, each futile. In the Boroman Empire, men covered their heads with turbans, and women veiled their faces. Margaret, with her white skin and hair, turned white, was conspicuously different.

Even though northern women sold for high prices, selling a continuously rebellious slave at a good value was just as challenging as picking stars. The slave traders pondered and ultimately resorted to using potions to tame Margaret.

The person who finally bought her after a long time was a merchant from the capital. After examining her face and original clothing, he generously paid without asking any questions. Following the advice of the slave traders, who often dealt with escape attempts, the merchant chained her wrists and ankles.

After traveling for several days, they arrived at an estate on the outskirts of the capital. The place resembled more of a prison than an estate. It was there that Margaret found her first proper rest. The exotic-looking servants provided her with clean and nourishing meals. The first-time attendant taught her how to make coffee and basic etiquette.

Armed soldiers were stationed throughout the estate, and Margaret kept an eye out for an opportunity to escape. However, she found no gaps to exploit. One day, the maids lifted her hair and covered her face with a veil adorned with jewels. They anointed her with fragrant oils and dressed her in a one-piece dress made of intricate embroidery on silk pants.

In her adorned state, she was led to a spacious reception room. Amidst the ornate geometric patterns that adorned the room, a young boy sat elegantly dressed.

“Is this the woman?” “Yes, Your Highness. We have made all necessary preparations.”

Margaret could instinctively sense it. That the boy was the master of the estate. Emotions she had suppressed surged back again.

‘Let’s use the boy as a hostage and escape.’

Two guards flanked the boy. They wore chimney-shaped hats and carried long, gracefully curved swords at their sides.

“You speak Boroman, correct? Come closer.”

Despite his youthful appearance, his tone was mature. Margaret concealed her feelings and approached slowly. Her hired hands by her side stood still. The guards did not appear vigilant. They merely stood like statues.

It happened in an instant.

From the guard’s waist on the left, a knife was drawn and pointed at the boy’s neck. The movement was so swift that even the exhaled breath came out belatedly.

“Don’t move! Even a slight movement and this boy’s head will fall to the ground.”

The guards and the hired help were all taken aback, but not a single one moved recklessly. Amidst the breathless, tense silence, the boy held captive calmly looked up at Margaret.

“I heard you were drugged, yet seeing you move, you seem fine.”

With a gesture that showed no sign of fear, the boy motioned that he was fine. One of the hired helpers, who had been gauging the situation, quickly dashed out of the reception room. The boy lowered his voice as he whispered.

“Are your wounds alright?”

“Yes, one of my servants tended to them.”

“I should lower the blade.”

A soft chuckle followed. The boy did not appear to be afraid of the knife pointed at his throat. It was bewildering. It was very different from the plans Margaret had formulated in her mind countless times over a short period of time

If things had gone as she had thought, the boy should have been trembling and ordering his guards to lower their weapons, while she arranged for a carriage and clothes. Until they reached the port and boarded a ship, the boy should have been obediently scared.

But her intuition was wrong.

“You act as though you have multiple lives, like a cat with nine. Prepare a carriage. I am going to escape this country.”

As she had suspected, the boy did not reply. In the meantime, a hired hand, who had escaped while they were distracted, returned with the soldiers.  Margaret pulled the boy towards the wall. Blood oozed drop by drop from the boy’s neck where the knife was pressing, but he remained unperturbed.

“I’ve heard you’re clever, but you still can’t assess the situation, can you? Haven’t you realized that my life is worthless compared to yours?”

His tone of sympathy unsettled her even more. The worth of a life. That single phrase invoked numerous thoughts.

“Your judgment isn’t entirely wrong. Typically, others would offer anything to save my life. If it were anyone else, you could have taken the carriage to the port and boarded a ship straight away. But this case is different. There are exceptions to every situation.”

Things were taking a turn for the worse. The balance of power was tilting in the boy’s favor.

“You won’t be able to return to your country, Margaret.”

As her name was spoken, she almost dropped the knife. The boy calmly turned his head to look at her, his gaze unwavering. His eyes were as clear and transparent as amethyst.

“So, you know me.”

“It took longer than I thought to find you.”

“Who are you?”

“I am Mustafa, the son of Debran.”

It was an unfamiliar name. As if he could read her thoughts, the boy continued.

“My elder brother is Sulayman Bor. He is the Emperor of the mighty Boroman Empire, the son of the Divine.”

Sulayman Bor. She had heard that name before. No, she had heard that name countless times in diplomatic circles. The Emperor of the Boroman Empire, a major trading partner and ally of the Berthe Kingdom.

“Lies. I’ve heard that the Boroman Empire is a perpetually indebted state. They say that when one of the Emperor’s sons ascends to the throne, all the brothers are killed. You can’t possibly be the Emperor’s younger brother.”

“You know it well. However, the Emperor granted me a special favor. A favor that disappears like an illusion as soon as I leave this mansion.”

It was a rough and coarse voice. Amidst the green-clad men, a man dressed in blue stood out. He stepped forward with a stride reminiscent of a giant.

“Perhaps because you’re a woman, you talk too much. Is that knife in your hand a decoration? If you dare to strike a noble, expect to die.”

Contrary to his words, the man paid no attention to the captured prince. He swung his knife with gusto. Evading his attacks skillfully,  Margaret pushed the prince in the opposite direction. The man’s brute strength was as formidable as his size. Every swing of his knife created a swift whooshing sound.

“Stop! Don’t swing your knife around in my room.”

A harsh voice reverberated through the room, but the man paid it no heed. His face displayed a triumphant expression as if things were going his way.

“You rely too heavily on brute strength.”

Margaret narrowly dodged a knife that flew above her head and lunged into the man’s arms. Perhaps underestimating her, he had many openings. The knife grazed the man’s leg, cutting through his flesh.

In an instant, the man lost his balance, tumbling forward in a somersault. The sound of his fall was deafening. The brief drama concluded, and amidst the soldiers, a short burst of laughter could be heard. The man struggled to rise, his face reddening from anger.

“Enough!”

The prince interposed himself between the man and Margaret. As the man breathed heavily and exhaled his frustration, the soldiers, who had been serving as a backdrop, closed in around him.

“Step back. According to the law, I should punish that woman. I cannot neglect my sacred duty.”

With a single step, the prince provoked uncertainty among the soldiers. A sense of otherworldliness, mixed with an unshakable authority, emanated from him. The soldiers protected the prince, unable to halt his actions. The man stared at him with madness in his eyes, like a bloodhound that had caught the scent of blood.

“In the end, one of them will die.”

Margaret clenched the knife tightly. The curved blade felt unfamiliar in her grasp. Even small, wounded beasts were difficult to handle. Not to mention that the giant soldiers were already filling the room, their imposing presence overwhelming.

“You should be the one to step back. A woman won’t harm me.”

As the situation escalated, the prince spoke with a calm and composed tone.