“The rabble thinks they can crawl up bit by bit, don’t they?”

Crack.

The fountain pen snapped in the noble princess’s hand, her brilliant silver hair catching the light as she released the broken pieces. It was crafted with only the finest materials befitting royalty, its durability beyond ordinary, yet she broke it so easily. Clearly, this princess was far from a frail woman.

“What a pity. It was quite a fine pen… perhaps some restraint next time, unless you’re aiming to boast about a diet of thrice-daily potions.”

“How dare you run your mouth. A proper servant should be concerned for his mistress’s hand, not babbling impertinently.”

“Were you just an ordinary young lady, perhaps I would, but worrying about Your Highness seems a rather foolish endeavor. Haha.”

“…Insolent.”

Tsk.

Icy glare flashing, she clicked her tongue. This was Isis Pendragon. She brushed away the pen fragments and took a sip of her refreshing tea.

“Haa, even this can’t cool the anger in my heart.”

“Haha, does it bother you that much?”

“It certainly does. These lowborn fools constantly provoke me, don’t they?”

“…You must watch your tongue. If you make such indiscreet remarks about the Guild in public, you could bring misfortune upon yourself.”

“Nonsense.”

Isis sneered with disdain.

‘Vile creatures.’

Indeed, her disdain for the Guild Consortium was apparent.

‘Filthy rats.’

The Guild Consortium had emerged as the fourth pillar of power within the kingdom, rivaling the noble council, the merchant alliance, and the mercenary union.

While it lacked the honor and influence of the noble council, the financial might of the merchant alliance, and the independent military force of the mercenary union, it still…

“Remember, the Guild controls the largest workforce in this kingdom—no, on the entire continent. One wrong move, and you’ll lose ‘public sentiment.’”

“You think I don’t know that? Are you daring to teach me?”

“Consider it the earnest advice of an old butler. Hoho.”

“…Hmph.”

All talk.

Isis looked at her butler with a dissatisfied expression. She would have loved to teach him a lesson, but given his abilities, any attempt might only backfire. Talented servants always seemed insufferably arrogant.

‘…Of course, it’s not as if I’m unaware.’

But a ruler’s duty includes acknowledging what needs to be admitted. She mulled over Albert’s so-called advice, letting her mind cool.

‘To catch these loathsome rats, I’ll have to understand their ways.’

Knowing one’s enemy was the first step to conquering them. So while Isis continued her dismissive tone, she refrained from further outbursts.

‘…Moments like these make me resent the former king.’

Still, her frustration was undeniable.

Why had the Guild’s power grown so prominent within the capital in the first place?

It had all begun when the late king granted them authority, giving rise to the Guild’s influence.

In his lifetime, the late king had declared:

“If the power of nobles or merchants grows too large, it becomes dangerous, as the cries of the common folk will go unheard. How can a state where only the voices of the privileged ring out be just? No, the people’s voices must also be amplified, creating a force capable of challenging existing power structures…yes, a force solely for the people! Let the Guild grow strong to serve as a counterbalance to the nobles’ and merchants’ tyranny.”

In hindsight, it was nothing short of remarkable foresight.

The entrenched powers.

The late king had foreseen that the more arrogant and corrupt the nobles and merchants became, the more it would impoverish the lives of the people.

And he’d witnessed the disaster that awaited if the people’s grievances were ignored—the catastrophe of war.

‘That’s how Britain fell.’

Pendragon’s longtime rival, the Kingdom of Britain, had fallen partly due to its defeat in war with Pendragon, but that battle was merely the final straw. Britain had been a nation on the brink even before the war broke out.

A fitting demise.

At least, that’s how she saw it.

‘…Unbelievable.’

Despite their defeat, Britain, with its fertile lands and resources, could have bounced back. Yet, no one wished for Britain’s revival or hesitated to leave it in ruins.

They had prioritized increasing taxes and prices to line their pockets, losing the trust of their people in the process. The result was inevitable.

Well, thanks to their foolishness, Pendragon’s postwar integration had gone smoothly, drawing new citizens effortlessly into its fold.

…Not that there were no rebellions.

In any case, this series of events had served as a valuable lesson for Isis.

‘A kingdom is not solely the ruler’s; it belongs to the people. The moment we lose the people’s trust, the kingdom truly begins to crumble.’

The start of a downfall.

…To avoid such a fate, Isis knew it was necessary to maintain an open channel with the Guild, no matter how repugnant she found them.

While they might be a gathering of filthy sewer rats, their role as a voice for the powerless masses was undeniable.

Nevertheless…

“It’s understandable why you’re so upset, Your Highness. They’ve crossed a line. To think they’ve started backdoor dealings with high-ranking nobles—how deplorable.”

“Too late to switch sides now.”

As the “favor” gradually morphed into a perceived “right,” cracks were already forming.

Isis’s expression hardened as she scanned the document once more, clicking her tongue in irritation.

“‘Secret meetings with high nobles and merchant leaders have been confirmed’…pathetic. Are they now bloated enough to grasp at power?”

“More than power, I’d say they seek to exert influence over the kingdom. Growing large as they are, they must think they’re wolves, forgetting they’re mere dogs. Hoho.”

“…Are you enjoying this?”

In Albert’s seemingly sharp remarks, Isis detected a hint of amusement. He seemed to be delighting in the nobles’ and Guild’s collusion. And indeed…

“Watching a good fight is always entertaining.”

“……”

Yes, this superhuman disguised as a butler was hardly concerned with power struggles or the birth of new factions.

In his eyes, all their activities were likely…

‘Just sandcastles waiting to be knocked down.’

In any case, he was an excellent but rather daunting butler.

“Haa.”

She exhaled deeply, loosening her carefully styled hair. The mounting obstacles, unfortunate circumstances, and lack of a solid pretext gave her a headache.

She yearned to crack down on the Guild, yet couldn’t be certain of the Guild’s or the nobles’ schemes.

As it was, she was doomed to burn the midnight oil.

“Enduring hardship in youth is a young person’s privilege, after all. Please persevere.”

“…I am forty years old.”

“If I may borrow Sir Ihan’s words, you’re in the prime of life.”

“……”

“And surely royalty shouldn’t complain about age! Once you’re past a hundred fifty, feel free to call yourself old.”

“Hmm…”

It almost sounded like an order to keep working well into her second century, which brought a complicated feeling.

Just then—

Knock, knock.

“Your Highness! I’m here!”

“…Shouldn’t you wait after knocking?”

“Oh, right! I’ll step out and come in again.”

“…Forget it.”

She sighed, mentally conceding the pointlessness of her own words.

Watching the beaming maid at the door, Isis found herself burdened by a different kind of headache.

Laira Winter.

This was her personal maid, assigned to attend her sworn younger sister.

…Though from what she’d heard, Laira had been more destructive than helpful.

Still, that was of no concern to Isis right now. What concerned her was the carefree maid standing before her.

“I entrusted you with my sister due to your diligence. So why are you here in the palace? Don’t tell me you think my orders are meaningless.”

Why had she forgotten her original duty and shown up at the palace?

Of course, she hadn’t scolded her intending any real punishment. It was more of a habitual reprimand, since, whatever she said, this maid probably wouldn’t comprehend it anyway.

Her curiosity, however, was genuine. Laira, eyes twinkling brightly, spoke up.

“Oh, I came because the knight had a message for you!”

“…From him?”

“Yes!”

“Hmm.”

Isis knew he seldom delivered messages directly. Occasionally, he’d drop hints, but such straightforward messages were rare.

…Troubling.

And then—

“The knight said, ‘It looks like I’ll have to clash with the Guild, so please handle the aftermath.’ He said any justification would do.”

“……”

Her anxiety had been spot on, and Isis rubbed her brow again.

“Haha, truly the best talent. Solving Your Highness’s worries in an instant, haha!”

“Don’t laugh. Do you think I’m not serious?”

“Isn’t it delightful? He always exceeds my expectations.”

“Nonsense.”

“…Pardon me, but…”

“……”

“Are you perhaps…enjoying this?”

“……”

—She couldn’t suppress a budding satisfaction.

•  
•  
•  

Meanwhile, the knight who had so nonchalantly asked the princess to handle the fallout was—

“You better be careful with your words. If I catch even a hint of a lie, your head will be the first to go.”

“……”

—threatening the Guildmaster’s life.

“……Hah.”

The Guildmaster laughed weakly in disbelief.

The knight’s terrifying aura loomed over him, his subordinates scattered and injured, the doors, desks, and floors shattered, with a hatchet ominously embedded in the table before him.

A deadlock.

If ever there was a moment when retreat was impossible, this was it. The Guildmaster dared not meet the knight’s gaze.

‘Damn it, I’ve really stumbled onto a madman this time…!’

He was too afraid to even look up.

Nothing in this world was scarier than a human, hatchet in hand, with murderous intent glinting in his eyes.