Hestia and the Pitiful Beasts - Chapter 4

While it wasn’t unheard of for an Emperor to offer blessings to knights before major campaigns, such gestures were usually reserved for wars of grand significance—certainly not for a simple bandit extermination.

Yet Hestia stepped out of her carriage without hesitation.

“How amusing,” she said, a faint smile playing on her lips. “You, of all people, asking for my blessing?”

Perhaps she found it endearing that he had added the word “dare” to his request, as if elevating her status. Bowing his head again, Erei replied,

“Please wish for the safety of my men and the utter destruction of our enemies.”

“With your skills, that should hardly be a challenge. You’ve never lost on the battlefield, have you?”

“Today marks the dawn of a new era. It feels only right to approach the battlefield with a renewed mindset.”

“…Very well.”

Hestia stepped closer, lifting her hand toward him. Her fingers hovered near his forehead, a symbolic gesture of blessing.

“But know this,” she said softly. “If you fail after receiving my blessing, you’ll bring shame upon yourself.”

“Of course not,” Erei said, lifting his head with a faintly mysterious smile.

“Such a thing could never happen.”

“……”

“As long as it is your victory you desire, it shall be.”

When he pressed his lips to her hand, Hestia involuntarily flinched.

Her fingers, adorned with three large rings, carried a pleasant fragrance as they always did—perhaps from the holy water that had drenched her during the coronation or simply because she had always been born to captivate attention.

“Rise,” she said.

“Thank you.”

Erei slowly released her hand and stood, his towering frame casting a shadow over Hestia. She tilted her head up to meet his gaze and spoke.

“May the grace of Mikena’s gods go with you.”

At this, Erei’s smile deepened, as if he’d been waiting for those words.

“Lies.”

At first, it was just a slight curve of his lips, barely noticeable. Hestia frowned, but before she could push him away, his lips hovered near her ear. His words, too intimate for others to hear, were left as whispers meant only for them.

“You don’t even believe in the gods.”

“……”

“Your Majesty, so beautiful.”

Leaving behind the soft murmur of praise, Erei retreated with a languid grace. Hestia turned her back to him indifferently, her movements so composed that to any onlookers, their exchange seemed nothing more than formal pleasantries: a loyal knight thanking his Emperor.

“Then, Your Majesty, I shall return safely,” Erei said.

With that, he mounted his black horse, and the hundred-strong squadron rode off. A cloud of pale dust followed them, billowing in the air as their hoofbeats echoed across the gates.

The sound of a hundred horses’ hooves reverberated loudly, unsettling the stillness at the city gates. Hestia stood there for a long while, watching the procession disappear over the distant hill.

Only much later did she finally speak.

“I’m tired. I’ll finish today’s remaining duties in my chambers.”

*

While buried in a towering stack of documents, lost in thought rather than focus, a short knock broke the silence.

“Your Majesty, it’s me,” came Lapinan’s voice.

Hestia quickly adjusted the papers in her hands and called out, “Come in.”

Her mind had been elsewhere, wandering to unwelcome thoughts of a certain man who had departed earlier to deal with the bandits. She hated such distractions, even more so the idea of Lapinan noticing them, so she masked her thoughts carefully.

The door opened, and Lapinan stepped in, now dressed in formal robes rather than his military attire. It had been less than half a day since his appointment as Chancellor, yet the robes suited him so perfectly it was as though he had been born into the role. The stack of documents in his arms added to the image of a lifelong bureaucrat. Without the sword at his side, one might never guess he was skilled in combat.

He set the papers neatly on one corner of her desk and spoke.

“I believe Denche from the Lichty family would be a suitable match for Your Majesty.”

His tone was so matter-of-fact it could have been mistaken for a suggestion about dessert. Hestia, caught off guard, reacted more openly than she intended.

“What? You’ve already chosen my spouse?”

“You did say the sooner, the better, Your Majesty,” Lapinan replied with perfect composure.

“But in less than a day—” she began, only to quickly adjust her tone. She couldn’t afford to let Lapinan misinterpret her response.

“I told you to conduct a thorough vetting. Did you have enough time?” she asked cautiously.

“Among the seven noble families eligible to marry into the royal bloodline, I excluded the Dear family due to your poor relations with them, my own family, the Kyles, and the Yens from your maternal lineage. Of the remaining four, only Lichty, Dewey, and Hwickam have men of an appropriate age. The others only raised daughters, naturally assuming you were male until recently.”

He continued without hesitation.

“To summarize, Dewey’s heir is unattractive and would undoubtedly provoke your constant irritation, rendering marriage impossible. Hwickam’s young heir scored higher in some respects—handsome and politically unambitious—but his relationships with women are a disaster. Rumor has it his name appeared in the suicide note of a woman who jumped from the temple last year. Bringing him into the palace as your consort would likely lead to you killing him yourself within months. I figured it best to respect even the most worthless life.”

Lapinan’s bluntness bordered on absurd, but Hestia, used to his candor, merely twitched an eyebrow in annoyance and let him continue.

“That left the Lichty family. Upon meeting Denche, I found him almost disarmingly naive to the point of foolishness. Fortunately, there are no issues with his health or physical… functions.”

“Stop, Lapinan.”

Hestia raised her hand to interrupt. He immediately halted, bowing slightly.

“Yes, Your Majesty?”

“If I recall correctly, I gave you this task yesterday.”

“That’s correct.”

“And in that time, you managed to investigate all six eligible families—not seven, since you excluded yours—and even assess their… reproductive viability? Are you secretly seven people?”

“Technically six families,” Lapinan corrected, “since I excluded mine.”

“And why did you exclude yourself?” she asked, partly out of curiosity to see how he would handle the question.

Lapinan’s expression didn’t change. “Do you truly wish to marry me, Your Majesty?”

“…What?”

“If your desire is genuine, I must prepare myself accordingly.”

“Prepare for what, exactly?”

“To determine how much of my personal future I should sacrifice for the good of the Empire,” he replied earnestly.

“Forget it. My pillow has better jokes than you.”

Hestia pressed her fingers to her temple and let out a long sigh.

“Handle it as you see fit. And make sure Hwickam’s troublemaker is punished appropriately. Find evidence and deal with him.”

“What punishment would you suggest, Your Majesty?”

“Tie his hands and feet, hang him in the marketplace outside the palace walls, and remove the guards at night. If he’s wronged the women outside the palace, the locals will handle him by morning.”

“His family might protest,” Lapinan noted.

“They won’t. The current head of the Hwickam family is one of the rare nobles with a sense of honor. If the truth comes out, he’ll demand to kill his own son. Stop him. I have no interest in seeing an old man retreat to a monastery to spend the rest of his life repenting.”

“Understood.”

“If that’s all, leave. I have work to do. Thanks to someone, I’m drowning in documents on my first day.”

She cast a pointed glance at the mountain of papers on her desk. Lapinan nodded without comment, his expression impassive.

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

But he didn’t leave. Instead, he stood silently, watching her.

Hestia picked up a document, burying her gaze in it, and asked without looking up, “What is it? Do you have more to say?”

“……”

“Speak. If you do,” she prompted.

Lapinan finally answered, his tone softer than usual. “To be honest, I’m a bit worried.”

Hestia raised the papers slightly, shielding her expression. In a detached tone, she asked, “About what?”

“Erei might feel betrayed,” Lapinan admitted. “He might not be able to handle it and could leave the Empire altogether. As you know, he’s never cared for titles, honor, or rank. He’s always been a wanderer.”

“What’s more surprising,” Hestia replied with a dry laugh, “is that you thought he’d stay.”

Hestia let out a bitter chuckle.

To think that someone as cold and calculating as Lapinan—a man seemingly devoid of sentiment—still harbored such lingering attachment. It seemed that, without her noticing, a bond beyond mere camaraderie had grown between those two men.

The kind of human connection Lapinan shared with Erei was entirely different from the loyalty he had pledged to Hestia. Whenever Hestia caught glimpses of that bond, she couldn’t help but feel a pang of envy. But just as quickly, she would find herself disgusted by her own jealousy. What was the point? Sooner or later, she would have to abandon everything and everyone anyway.

She spoke again, her tone sharp and matter-of-fact.
“So, what exactly are you worried about? Erei’s potential heartbreak? Or the state of the military after he leaves?”

Now that she thought about it, Lapinan excluding himself from the list of her potential consorts might have stemmed from something as childish as this. Because they were friends.

But the answer she received was one she hadn’t anticipated in the slightest.

“No, Your Majesty. What worries me most is you.”

The sound of pages being flipped came to an abrupt halt as Hestia froze. Despite her resolve not to be swayed, she found herself immediately reacting.

“What did you say?”

“Forgive my boldness, Your Majesty,” Lapinan said, his voice steady but unusually soft. “But are you truly all right with him being gone?”

“……”

Hestia’s hands pressed against the desk as she stood abruptly, her movements sharp and deliberate.