The Royal Honor Guard Cavalry was the only non-combat cavalry regiment recognized and officially registered by the military of the Orlando Empire. Every knight stood between 185 and 187 centimeters tall, with no deviation allowed, and their weights were strictly regulated between 80 and 85 kilograms. These knights possessed extremely fit physiques and rugged, handsome features; their existence was solely to embody the nobility and majesty of the royal family.

  Their armor, matte black with golden trim, was distinctive—exuding an aura of solemnity, mystery, and nobility. They carried black banners on which the royal family’s emblem was painted in golden ink. The banners danced in the wind, fluttering loudly. Each knight’s upper body remained completely motionless, while their lower bodies rose and fell in sync with the horses’ movements as the warhorses marched. The warhorses, too, had undergone strict training, stepping in nearly identical rhythm, creating a uniform sound of hooves striking the ground.

  The residents of Milin City, crowded along both sides of the official road, held their breath, afraid that even the slightest sound of breathing might disturb these imposing knights or startle the warhorses that were taller than most men. What excited and terrified them the most was the fear of disturbing the prince being guarded at the center of the honor guard.

  Yoberg, the governor of Bell Province, had woken up early—a rarity, as he usually did not rise until well after sunrise. This day, before dawn, he had climbed out of his warm, comfortable bed, which still carried the scent of a woman’s body. After hours of anticipation and waiting, his attention had slightly wandered, but he snapped back to focus as the carriage stopped not far from him. Instantly, his face lit up with a vigorous smile, and he stepped forward to greet the visitor.

  "Your Highness, Yoberg Malkin, Governor of Bell Province, respectfully welcomes your arrival," he said, bowing deeply five meters in front of the carriage to show his respect. He then took the reins from the groom, replacing him at the horse’s side. Holding the reins for a member of the royal family was no disgrace; many would have fought for such an honor.

  A corner of the beaded curtain hanging from the carriage door was lifted, revealing half the profile of a teenager around seventeen or eighteen years old. The cold expression on his face gradually softened into a smile. "So it’s Yoberg. You’re up early today. I suppose you went to bed very early last night, didn’t you?"

  This was the youngest son of Emperor Orlando, the most favored by his father. Three years prior, Yoberg had forgotten the date of the prince’s visit and slept until noon, making the prince extremely angry. If not for the intervention of the princess (Yoberg’s sister, the prince’s wife), Yoberg might have faced severe punishment. One should not underestimate the destructive power of these young princes just because of their age. Compared to the ruthless Orlando II or the iron-willed Orlando V, Orlando VI was emotionally more impulsive—in essence, he was prone to protecting his own family members no matter what.

  Yoberg’s smile was so wide that his features seemed to bunch together. He never considered himself the prince’s elder due to his sister’s marriage; instead, he went out of his way to please and fawn over his brother-in-law, well aware of how unrestrained these princes without a chance at the throne could be.

  A few years earlier, a local scribe had publicly accused a prince on a hunting tour of wasting resources and committing atrocities. The prince had thrown the scribe into a death cell and beaten him to death. The emperor had merely praised the scribe’s courage, while the prince had received only a symbolic punishment of one month’s labor in the royal garden.

  Yoberg nodded repeatedly. "That’s indeed the case, Your Highness. Upon hearing of your upcoming arrival in Milin City, I’ve been too excited to sleep these past days. Last night, to ensure I could be the first to welcome you today, I even burned a whole censer of ambergris."

  The prince gave a half-smile, knowing full well that Yoberg was lying, but flattery was always welcome, especially at an age when he delighted in being praised. He glanced at the groom standing beside the carriage and curled his lip. "Let him drive. You come inside."

  Yoberg immediately returned the reins to the groom, exchanged a polite greeting, and climbed into the carriage.

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  Inside the carriage, an incense burner filled the air with a subtle, unique fragrance—easily overlooked if not paid close attention.

  There were two women in their thirties inside, dressed in simple clothing, reclining on silk quilts that exposed their statuesque figures. These women had a particular allure: seemingly indifferent on the surface, yet their eyes burned with a passion that seemed capable of incinerating the world. Yoberg had long heard that his brother-in-law preferred mature women, and this confirmed the rumor was not without basis.

  He found a seat and sat down, keeping his eyes firmly fixed ahead, avoiding any improper glances.

  The carriage began moving again.

  "It’s so cold—if you ask me, winter hunts should be changed to summer hunts. At least we wouldn’t freeze to death as soon as we go out," said the prince, lying between the two women and enjoying their attentions. "I don’t plan to stay long this time. A token visit will suffice; I’ll be back in at most three to five days."

  This was not the truth. Emperor Orlando VI’s health had already deteriorated. Before the winter hunt began, he had not attended court for several days, delegating state affairs to the crown princess. The pope had visited the palace multiple times, and while the details were unknown, everyone knew the old emperor’s body was no longer fit to remain on the throne. No one could say how much longer he would last, but it was clear it would not be long. These princes and princesses had no interest in the winter hunt; lacking a chance at the throne, they focused on securing wealthy fiefdoms for themselves before their father’s demise, rather than challenging the succession rules set by six emperors.

  Yoberg carefully dissected the prince’s words, considered his response, and said cautiously, "No matter how long Your Highness stays in Milin City, I will do my best as a host to ensure you enjoy excellent food and entertainment."

  The prince laughed, clapping his hands with delight. "That’s why I didn’t bring your sister. I’ve heard that Milin City has the most skilled courtesans in the southeastern part of the empire. I must indulge this time—make all the arrangements."

  Yoberg felt a mix of amusement and embarrassment, aware of the shame in arranging courtesans for his brother-in-law behind his sister’s back.

  News of the prince’s arrival in Milin City spread like wildfire across Bell Province, eliciting both joy and anxiety among the people.

  The local political situation was both complex and straightforward: in essence, the empire’s top ruling group, led by the Golden Families, supported a faction to counter the local lords. The royal family had been balancing regional powers to prevent any single group from becoming too dominant. After two civil wars, the Orlando royal family had learned the secrets of governance and implemented them effectively.

  Winter hunts were like a dog marking its territory—an act to consolidate rule, telling both the common people and local lords that the empire was still under Orlando control. This approach was milder than others, less likely to incite rebellion.

  The evening banquet proceeded as scheduled, with nobles from Milin City and lords and mayors from other cities in attendance. They were not there because they liked the prince or sought closeness to him—what use was a prince with no hope of the throne? Their presence was merely to pay respects, acknowledge imperial rule, flatter each other, and together praise the royal family, creating an illusion of harmonious governance.

  Notably, Arno, the baron of Pramisburg, had not been invited to the banquet—a deliberate snub by Yoberg.

  At the banquet, the prince was the center of attention, bathing in laughter and flattery, intoxicated by the adulation. Though he was a significant figure here, in the capital, he was insignificant compared to the seven Golden Families or even the dukes and marquises. Here, however, all the prominent figures of Bell Province—mayors, lords, and city leaders—revolved around him, giving him a heady sense of power he rarely experienced in the capital.

  After three rounds of wine, the guests were well into their cups when someone suddenly called out, "Why isn’t Baron Arno here today?"

  The entire banquet hall fell silent. Yoberg smiled triumphantly and finished the remaining wine in his cup. "That can’t be. I sent word to Baron Arno. Perhaps he was delayed by some urgent matter?"

  At Yoberg’s signal, a mayor pushed through the crowd, his face flushed and reeking of alcohol, unsteady on his feet. "What urgent matter could be more important than His Highness’s arrival? I think he doesn’t take Your Highness seriously at all!"

  Being lifted high only to be harshly cast down—this sudden turn of events was like a slap in the face for the prince. Just moments ago, he had felt like the lord of the world; now, he was rudely awakened.

  In this remote region far from the capital, someone had dared to ignore his arrival. This gap between his imagined importance and reality drove the prince, already seven-tenths drunk, into a rage. He held his wine cup halfway to his mouth, his face alternating between pale and red, finally turning a deep crimson.

  Sensing the moment was right, Yoberg stepped in to smooth things over, approaching the prince with a smile. "Let’s not bring up mood-spoiling topics. Come, everyone, raise your cups to His Highness!"

  "To His Highness!" the crowd chorused, and the banquet erupted again into song and dance, every face plastered with exaggerated smiles.

  The prince slowly finished his wine, his eyes blazing with sharp intent. He sneered and slammed the cup down on the table.