Chapter 9: The Mask of Blue Blood

Eight nobles of blue blood remained within the tent.

Two administrative officers of faint blood, one representative of deep blood, and one knight stood among them.

The arrangement was almost too precise — as though the board had been set like a game of chess.

“I am Ribelia, daughter of Argantius.”

My younger sister, representing our side, greeted them calmly and took her seat at the round table.

Her energy was faint, but her pronunciation was precise, and her posture unwavering.

Of course, that didn’t change the impression that she looked more like a patient than a diplomat.

If before she resembled someone clinging to life through treatment, now she at least looked like someone recovering.

Before I could even be surprised, the blue-blooded noble from the Imperial Family spoke up.

Golden hair gleamed beneath the lamplight, and clear blue eyes caught my attention.

But wait—hadn’t the royal I met before been white-haired with violet eyes? Was this man truly of royal descent?

Well, if he came under the banner of the Imperial Family, he must be royal indeed…

“I wonder what courage Argantius had to send his daughter into the Emperor’s lands.”

The tone went beyond mockery — it carried pure hatred.

I instinctively stiffened, fingers brushing the hilt of my sword.

The royal knight scowled at that gesture.

He too rested his hand upon his own sword in reply.

Following Dande’s advice, I first checked the left side of his breastplate.

At that instant, I had to gather every shred of self-control within me not to scream.

The knight’s hair, streaked with gray, reached his shoulders, and his golden eyes glimmered beneath the torchlight.

Pinned upon his chestplate was a metallic flower — the emblem Dande had described to me.

He once told me, “If you can trade twenty knights to kill one officer mage, it’s a victory.”

That man had survived such trades — luck and skill both.

I bowed slightly, suppressing my unease, and released the hilt.

The knight watched me, raised his chin arrogantly, and likewise withdrew his hand.

Silence settled over the tent.

“It would be troublesome if you declared this as Imperial land on a whim,” Ribelia broke that silence.

“Let’s look at the documents and hear your side first. How does the Imperial Family interpret this event?”

“Interpret?” the royal scoffed. “There is only one fact — the Intezeruto Family trespassed upon Imperial territory.”

He slammed his hand on the round table.

Boom.

The mana in his blue blood stirred, sending a faint breeze through the tent.

He too was one of those who could kill with magic born from will alone.

Yet Ribelia met his gaze without flinching.

“Only the victor’s belief becomes truth,” she replied evenly. “Are you prepared to make it so?”

The royal’s jaw tightened.

A faint tingle spread through the air as his mana responded to his fury.

I frowned.

Whether conscious or not, this was clear intimidation — a display of magical dominance.

Under the table, Ribelia’s hand trembled.

Her shoulders quivered as though about to collapse.

Don’t falter now.

This was for the vast plains and the 340,000 lives that would begin anew there.

Ribelia exhaled shakily, her head lowering like that of a condemned prisoner before the executioner.

The royal smiled — a cruel, satisfied smile.

It reminded me of the woman who once delighted in piercing through me with her gaze.

Blood boiled within me.

To suffer humiliation without response meant I was no noble.

To let my liege be insulted without action meant I was no knight.

Yet I could not draw my sword first.

This was the enemy’s camp, surrounded by Imperial officers and knights.

If battle broke out, could I truly defend Ribelia and fight that knight?

His face was lined — age had already begun its work.

He was of faint blood, then.

In stamina, I held the advantage.

Even against the flower-bearing knight, retreating while defending her would be possible.

“My lady, please step back.”

Seven pairs of eyes turned toward me.

I spoke calmly, as if stating an obvious fact.

“There’s no need to heed the words of a false royal.”

***

A frozen silence fell upon the tent.

Even time seemed to pause, watching us.

“Sir… what did you just say? Have you gone mad?” my half-sister whispered, her eyes unfocused.

“You’d best take responsibility for that claim,” the royal knight said, his tone heavy with killing intent.

His right hand twitched. His left leg braced. In his mind, he’d already charged at me a dozen times.

I stared straight into his eyes.

Bright golden hair, noble poise, eyes like polished sapphire.

He looked like a hero wearing a laurel crown.

“Why should I apologize?”

To an outsider, he might indeed appear the very model of a noble royal.

“Lady Ribelia, come to your senses,” he sneered. “That man has no right even to lift his head before you.”

A crack split the royal’s refined mask — anger flooding his once serene eyes.

His blue irises, duller than my own, trembled with rage.

Pathetic.

“When I was young, I accompanied Lord Argantius to a meeting with the Imperial Family,” I said evenly. “I saw the Crown Princess with my own eyes.”

The half-royal clenched his fist.

“The pureblood royals have white hair and violet eyes. You have neither — not even the shape of her brow matches.”

Even with mixed heritage, the resemblance should have shown.

“Of course, you might still be of deep blood, I suppose. Born of a royal and a gold-haired maid, perhaps?”

It was phrased politely, but my conviction was absolute.

Illegitimate births among blue bloods were common.

“Such vulgarity! You dare slander royalty? Do you wish to hang?”

His hand glowed faintly — mana shimmering like heat.

A prickling sensation spread from my fingers to my toes.

The Imperial officers beside him bowed hastily, urging restraint, while ours stepped in front of Ribelia trembling.

I took a step forward instead.

My legs quivered, but I stood tall, shoulders squared.

In this empire, blood color was hierarchy.

“My lady stands here as the recognized heir of the Intezeruto Family — Ribelia Intezeron Intezeruto! Who are you to threaten her? State your name!”

The man flinched, confusion fracturing his anger.

He rose suddenly — and then froze.

Though his face stiffened, he could not bring himself to state his lineage.

“You can’t say it, can you? Because it’s not a name worth knowing.”

The knight’s eyes narrowed, his hand gripping his sword again.

Even his gaze felt heavy, enough to freeze me in place.

But this was not a battle of steel — it was a battle of presence.

And by letting his anger show, he had already lost.

I stood before the flower knight and the royal mage, unyielding.

“The Seven Elector Families stand as equals. We give the Imperial Family its due respect, yes.”

The Emperor was addressed as Your Majesty, while princes and Elector Lords alike bore the title Your Highness.

“We, the Intezeruto Family, have honored that dignity. We’ve brought our heir across these distant borders despite bandit raids — out of respect.”

“Brother…” 

Ribelia grabbed my arm. I did not shake her off, but I did not turn.

If I yielded now, I might never see another sunrise.

“And you? You present before us one whose parentage is uncertain, claiming royal blood?”

“How dare a mere knight speak so presumptuously!”

Bang!

The royal struck the table again.

His knight drew his blade halfway.

Blue mana surged, crackling in the air like a storm barely restrained.

I faced that fury head-on, shadow stretching behind me.

“Indeed. A mere knight should know his place.”

I drew a dagger from my cloak and sliced my palm.

Drip.

Blue blood — clear as aquamarine — welled forth.

“I am Anplus Intezeron Intezeruto, former heir of the Intezeruto House.”

The royal knight gasped.

The half-royal stared as though struck.

“You…”

“I’ll ask once. Is this how the Imperial Family treats the House of Intezeruto?”

Neither answered.

Their silence said enough.

“I’ve heard of you,” the royal muttered finally. “The cripple of Intezeruto. The man born with supreme blood yet no magic.”

“I’ve never heard of you at all, half-royal. Has the Imperial Family fallen so far that it must rely on bastards?”

Our eyes met — neither of us looking away.

His pride came from clawing through hardship, no doubt.

Mine came from losing everything I once held — glory, status, even my magic — and enduring it.

Such pride could not be broken.

He looked away first.

The half-royal collapsed back into his chair.

Grinding his teeth, he swallowed his humiliation.

Ribelia yanked on my arm sharply.

“Have you lost your mind?”

Her palm struck my cheek.

“How dare you! Apologize this instant!”

Her voice trembled, theatrical — for the others.

Moisture glittered in her eyes, darting nervously.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered softly, for my ears alone.

It’s all right, I murmured back.

As much as I’d shown defiance, I now had to show obedience to rightful authority.

I bowed deeply.

“I apologize for my rudeness toward a member of the Imperial Family.”

But I did not say “royal.” Never would I grant that word to a half-blood.

Fury flickered again in their eyes, but before they could speak, Ribelia stepped forward smoothly.

“After such a long journey, my body grows weary. I ask for time to recover before the negotiations continue.”

A polite dismissal — and a reminder that none of this was official.

“We don’t have much time,” the royal tried to snare her with words.

“Then perhaps reading each other’s statements thoroughly will help save time later,” she replied gracefully.

She slipped neatly through his rhetorical net.

“We didn’t come all this way just to quarrel, did we?”

Cornered by diplomacy, the royal relented.

“…Very well. I look forward to your recovery.”

Ribelia rose from her seat.

The half-royal called after her, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“A direct heir of pure blood, you say. Quite the knight you keep beside you.”

“Thank you,” she replied.

“But perhaps one who clings to old glory forgets his place. Wouldn’t he shine more on the battlefield than by your side?”

An insult — a warning not to bring me next time.

Ribelia smiled sweetly.

“Worry not. My brother is not one who clings to old glory.”

“Oh?”

“He strives to become not noble, but sublime.”

She turned and walked away.

The half-royal and his knight stared at me, stunned.

For a knight of blue blood, the word sublime was forbidden — reserved only for royalty.

So in this world, I alone could bear that title.

The half-royal’s face twisted in confusion.

As we left the tent, beneath the cold gaze of the Imperial maidservants, Ribelia’s lips moved silently.

“Brother. Tonight. My tent.”