"Mother, I won’t accept concubines. Also, do not pin your hopes up about that Verner girl, because the day I find her, it will be the last day of her life."
Oriana was shocked to hear what he said. ’Is he going to kill his betrothed? Why? Just because she doesn’t want to marry him? Did it hurt his pride?’ She shook her head in disbelief. ’So cruel. I hope this girl is never found. To have an arranged marriage with this madman, she sure is unlucky. Wherever she is, I hope she meets a good man who will love her for who she is.’
"Arlan..."
The prince changed the subject, "How about we talk about something else, Mother? How about throwing a ball for Lenard’s wife to welcome her into the family? We can also use that opportunity to formally introduce her to the capital’s noble families."
The older woman sighed and agreed, "Alright. That is what you want."
When the Queen was getting visibly tired, they headed towards the gazebo of the garden where Arlan pulled out a chair for his mother.
Oriana, who was standing below the steps of the gazebo, could not help but criticize him inwardly. ’What a gentlemanly act in front of his mother.’
One of the Queen’s ladies-in-waiting departed to get tea and refreshments for the royals.
"Which reminds me, rumors reached me that one of your servants caused trouble during the birthday ball of Count Milton," he heard the Queen say after sipping a cup of freshly brewed tea, to which Arlan replied with, "Is that so?"
’Is the Queen displeased about what I did?’ Oriana wondered.
"Countess Milton and her friends came crying to me during one of the afternoon tea parties I hosted."
"Did she plead for her son to be given leniency?"
"That and that the servant should also be punished for assault," Julien laughed. "Your servants are brave just like you. No wonder you even did your best to prove him innocent." The Queen then took another sip and said, "From what I heard, it’s a young boy." She looked at Oriana. "It should be him?"
"Hmm," Arlan replied as he followed his mother’s gaze.
Queen Julien had an amused gaze when she called her over. "Boy, come here."
Seeing the Queen looking at her, Oriana walked inside the gazebo and stood with her gaze lowered.
"Orian, right?" the Queen asked. She remembered the name when Arlan called her earlier in the hallway outside the King’s chamber.
"Yes, that is indeed my name, Your Majesty."
"Your age?"
"Fifteen, Your Majesty," she lied as usual.
"You are such a young and delicate-looking boy. It amazed me that you could beat a big man like Wallace Milton. You seemed to be very skilled in fighting."
As the Queen stopped, it was a signal for Oriana to talk. Arlan was nonchalantly drinking the tea that the servants had served, as if he was not interested in their conversation.
"Your Majesty, Young Lord Milton was drunk at that time so anyone could do what I did."
The Queen chuckled. "So you don’t want to be praised? But let me tell you that you did well by protecting that lady. A true gentleman should always respect a lady. Your actions protected that lady’s reputation and future."
Oriana didn’t know what to say but heard the Queen say to Arlan, "No wonder you accepted him as your personal aide. Since Orian is accepted as a physician apprentice, he must be intelligent and meticulous, and from the Milton incident, he is also righteous and chivalrous. You always have a good eye for people. It seems you collect all the smart and capable talents in this kingdom under your banner."
"It happened that the Ahrens sent a few servants and he had been assigned to my residence," Arlan casually replied, his face expressionless.
The Queen simply smiled at her son and then returned her attention to Oriana. "Which family are you from, Orian?"
It was a general assumption that anyone serving in the royal palace, not to mention one’s personal aide, ought to be members of the nobility.
Oriana didn’t expect this question, but before she could say a word, someone beat her to it.
"He is a peasant from the countryside, not a noble," Arlan answered in her stead.
Oriana clenched her fists the way he mocked her calling her peasant, ’This arrogant and rude brat.’
Julien looked at Arlan with astonishment. There was a real reason why the nobility served royalty.
Children from noble houses received education at an early age. Raised in an environment where their talents were allowed to flourish, they were educated in swordsmanship, culture and arts, history, politics, administration and commerce.
Royal servants were basically extensions of their masters, acting as their eyes, ears and hands in the palace. If asked to choose between a scholar’s son and a farmer’s illiterate son, it was normal to employ the scholar’s son.
It was very, very rare to find a capable person among the poor commoners.
"I am a commoner, Your Majesty. I don’t have a family name," Oriana answered as well, albeit a little late.
"It’s alright. What matters is how capable you are," the Queen said as soon as she regained her composure. She threw a satisfied look towards her son. "This talented boy can shine with proper training. Shall I ask him to be transferred to the Palace of Rose and train him to be a knight? That is a good way to give him peerage. I see a lot of potential."
"Once a person enters the Palace of Thistle, they become mine, Mother. They can only leave if they die or become old enough to retire from service," Arlan replied.
The Queen laughed. "You won’t be lenient to your mother? Always so possessive."
Arlan didn’t comment about it and said, "Mother, I will be leaving for Othinia in a week. Is there anything you want? You always loved crafts from the West."
"Hmm," the Queen pondered for a bit. "I believe you will find something for me on your own."
"I will try."
"Don’t get me flowery fabrics though. Also, don’t get the same gifts with differing colors," Julien reminded with a soft laugh.
"Since I don’t know which you’ll prefer, isn’t it best I get all versions available for you to choose from?"
"Oh, Arlan, if you get a lady by your side, it would make it easier for you to choose more decent gifts for your mother."
Arlan understood the subtle hint in his mother’s remark, and as he replied, his gaze passed by Oriana. "Do not worry about it."
As the pair of mother and son enjoyed their tea in the garden, a thought stuck Oriana.
’This brat is obviously on good terms with his mother. Why does he call for her every night, as if she had gone somewhere far and he longed for her? Why was he tormented by her in his dreams? Could it be... another woman? Is Queen Julien not his birth mother? If so, then is his mother dead? To have such nightmares about his mother, what exactly must have happened?’