After the Duke finished speaking, there was a long pause, and the tension was as intense as a storm that was about to break out. The Duchess drained her tea without a sound, put the cup down, and turned to Queen Isolde, grinning cheesily.
In honey-dipped tones, Duchess Evangeline exclaimed, "Such boldness, undermining the authority of the King in his kingdom," with hate oozing from every word. "I imagine, as a foreigner, it must be difficult to fully understand the delicacies of our ways."
The smile on Queen Isolde's face was as firm as her teacup grip. "Oh, Duchess," she murmured with just as much sweetness. "I assume that spending your days cooped up in this makes it difficult to understand much of anything. This small, charming estate, far from the court, where real power is found."
Her smile widened slightly and her brow raised. "It is reassuring to think that, in spite of everything you have done, the dynamics of influence have not yet succeeded in surpassing theory in your mind. With everyone in the court grinning at you and chatting about you the moment you turn your back, you must feel incredibly alone."
Isolde's tone was soft, but her eyes glittered dangerously. "Me, lonely? Evangeline. With the king's love and the nobles' respect, how could I be?" She hesitated, tilting her head slightly. "Oh, I suppose that's something you might not be familiar with, given how seldom I see you at any important royal gatherings."
The Duchess shook her head and laughed softly. "You're wrong, dear Isolde: I purposefully avoid such company. Instead of wasting my time courting those who have no real significance, I shall cherish the company of the few who do. For some of us, buying affection is not necessary."
Isolde's jaw tightened. "Oh, Evangeline, the only thing more tiresome than ingratiating oneself is dealing with someone who doesn't understand how delicate politics really are. But I suppose you wouldn't need to concern yourself with that since you've been, rather absent from the more important discussions.".
Evangeline's smile grew sharper. "I don't need to be part of every tiny discussion to hold my position. After all, when you're truly respected, you have the power without needing to throw your weight around. Some of us have real power, Isolde. You have heard of it, I'm sure?
Isolde merely cocked her head to one side, her eyes narrowing. "Respect? Or fear, Evangeline? There's a difference, you know. One that I imagine you've confused more than once. It's easy to hold power when people are terrified of you. But respect? That must be hard to come by for someone like you.
Evangeline did not cease to smile. "Oh, I can assure you, Isolde, that fear and respect can, in fact, usually go hand in hand. And it is a lot better than some ephemeral love one would believe flows from those below them."
The polite smile of Isolde thinned into a line. "Ah, I see. So that it is? Your house, deeply rooted as it may be, lives upon intimidation. It's quiet sad, to be honest."
Evangeline's head tilted, and her eyes flashed like diamonds. "Better intimidation than clinging desperately to a throne you barely deserve, Isolde."
The queen's eyes flashed, and her voice was ice. "Evangeline, dear, at least I sit on a throne."
Selene, who had sat in stunned silence, sipping her tea and watching the exchange, could have sworn she was observing two schoolgirls arguing over who was was more popular in class. The smiles never once left their lips, yet with each retort, the words beneath them cut just a little deeper.
She looked around and realized that her father, the Duke, somehow vanished into thin air. Coward, she thought. But I don't blame him. I want to leave too.
As she thought this, she realized that her brother Damion was trying to sneak off, inching away from the oncoming storm.
But Selene knew better that this would only escalate. She had seen this before in dramas and on Earth: when women ran out of personal insults, they always dragged their children into the fight. And she knew full well that her class as a dark priestess would be the weapon used against her mother should things continue.
Just as Damion was about to get away, Selene suddenly acted. In the blink of a second, she sprang from her seat and sprinted out of the gazebo as her legs took her as far as possible from the battlefield.
Damion, who was right in the midst of his silent retreat, turned into a statue when he saw her run. He glanced behind him at the gazebo, then swore silently. Damn it, now I have to stay. He let out a defeated sigh and sat back down.
Meanwhile, Crown Prince Aldric sat quietly beside his mother, his face a mask of quiet elegance, though he wished for no more than to be gone like the rest. He was young, but even he knew when adults were being ridiculous. Why did I have to come here?.
She saw that Selene had managed her escape and felt a surge of relief. Evangeline did not want her to be dragged into this mess, to embarrass her even further. Smart girl, she thought, silently giving credit to her daughter for her quick departure.
But minute by minute, the debate between Duchess Evangeline and Queen Isolde grew heavy. After insulting each other first over their power and then their status, their husbands became the subject of their conversation, as each anxious to prove that her husband was better than the other's.
"Oh, Evangeline, dear," Queen Isolde started off, her smug smile. "Your husband may be the Duke of Ravencroft, but he pales in comparison with my king. Do I need to remind you of how many lands my husband has conquered in his reign?"
Challenge flashed in the bright eyes, her smile razor-sharp. "Conquered? Oh, Isolde, I didn't realize we were counting squabbles over border towns. It must weigh on you so heavily to be married to a king who has difficulty holding what little territory he can claim. My husband doesn't have to go to war to command respect; his victories are well-attested across kingdoms."
"Victories?" Isolde shot back, her voice heavy with sarcasm. "I suppose sitting in an office, overseeing trade routes, constitutes a victory in your family. My king has led armies to victory more times than can be counted. Your duke might as well be a glorified merchant."
Smiling further, Evangeline said, "But while your king wages his wars, leaving others to run his kingdom, my husband actually keeps our lands in order, with stability and growth. And talking of that, he never lost a battle-perfect record, if I might remind you?"
The anger rose now in Isolde's voice, flashing in her eyes. "At least my husband can fight on the front lines, not just sit on a horse and point. He's the most feared warrior in the kingdom."
Evangeline cocked her head, her voice silkier than ever. "Oh, my dear, fear only gets you so far. My husband is respected, not feared. That's why our house has remained untouchable for centuries. Can your king say that? Or is he busy appeasing the nobles who whisper behind his back?"
Isolde's face flushed in anger, but she kept her expression tranquil, clamping her teeth together. "My king does not need the seal of approval from every little minor noble to sustain his post. He has the throne, and that is all that matters."
"And yet," Evangeline said, glancing at Isolde, "my husband holds in his hands the power that keeps your throne stable. Isn't it hilarious how dependent your so-called king is on our family's goodwill?"
The queen's composure finally cracked, her voice rising slightly. "You speak as though your Duke holds all the power, yet without the crown, you are nothing more than a wealthy house. My husband still sits above all, including yours."
Evangeline shrugged nonchalantly. "Sitting on a throne doesn't make you the most powerful, Isolde. It just makes you the most obvious target."
Selene, who had snuck back to watch the spectacle, could hardly restrain her curiosity. The insults were coming thick and fast now, and her mother, Duchess Evangeline, was winning with quick-witted responses. Selene marveled at how easily her mother outmaneuvered the queen, who was starting to lose control.
An angry Queen Isolde tried her last desperate tactic in desperation. She turned to her son Aldric and said, smiling triumphantly, "Well, if we're talking about achievements, Aldric here is already at level 14. Isn't that impressive for his age?
The duchess barely batted an eyelash. "Oh, how nice. But I am afraid my son Damion reached level 16 just last month," she returned with aplomb as she turned a sideways glance at her son, who sat coolly at the table. "He has always been quite talented, has he not?
With that, the room fell silent. The queen's triumphant smirk faltered, staring at the duchess and obviously floundering for immediate speech. Isolde turned to Aldric, who sat beside her, his body visibly shaking under his mother's gaze. She gave him an accusing glare, the fire of her anger suppressed just beneath her royal mask.
Selene, who had been watching from side, couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for Aldric. She knew too well how these kinds of confrontations usually went for the children on the losing side. The queen would more than likely take her frustration out on Aldric, pushing him into even harsher training after this humiliation.
Poor kid, Selene thought, biting her lip. Well, at least when he reaches age 16 he will surpass Damion. He'll be at least level 213, compared to Damion's current level of 205. But why is their level so low?... Maybe they didn't get their special training yet.