The Villainess's Secret Bedroom Service
Chapter 157: Izaar

Chapter 157: Izaar

"So, this is Izaar..."

Rosalie gracefully unveiled herself, casting off the hood of her long, dark green cloak, and her eyes widened in wonder. As her consciousness seamlessly merged with Meiling’s, distinguishing between the vivid memories she held and the details from the books she had devoured in the past became an intricate task.

Every facet of her surroundings exuded enchantment. The journey from the very instant they crossed the border to the gradual halt of their horse in Azarain, the Grand Capital of Izaar, felt like a seamless transition between strikingly different realms.

Azarain was indeed a great city. Nestled within the heart of the Empire, it unfolded like an ocean of opulence and natural splendor. Bathed in perpetual sunlight, its streets weaved through grand marble structures adorned with golden domes and intricate mosaics. Lush greenery lined boulevards and squares, where vibrant markets bustle with exotic wares. Gardens of resplendent flora bloomed everlastingly, creating oases of tranquility amidst the urban vibrancy. Palatial avenues are adorned with flowing fountains and statues depicting legendary tales.

Azarain, the jewel of Izaar, stood as a testament to wealth, embracing both the riches of its people and the warmth of its sun-kissed landscapes.

Observing Rosalie’s awe-stricken expression as she immersed herself in the city’s beauty, Altair could not help but let a genuine smile curl his lips. Her ability to genuinely enjoy almost anything tugged at the complex strings of his emotions, a phenomenon that repeated itself each time even the slightest flicker of emotion graced her beautiful face.

"You look enchanted, Lady Rosalie. Does this place charm you so?"

The man stood next to Rosalie, smiling lightly as he looked down at her bright face. The lady nodded in confirmation.

"This city looks magical. I wish we could stay here long enough to explore everything it has to offer."

Yet, both of them acknowledged that reveling in the exotic opulence of Izaar and its capital was not their top priority, not until they addressed matters of greater importance at hand.

With a somewhat melancholic smile playing on her lips, Rosalie turned to Altair and finally broke the silence,

"So... The person we have come here to seek help from, where do we find them?"

Altair delved his hand into the deep sleeve of his black cloak, retrieving a small, folded piece of aged yellow paper. Carefully, he unfolded it and began to skim through, as if seeking the answer to Rosalie’s question hidden within the lines. Pausing to gather his thoughts, he shifted his gaze, his red eyes meeting Rosalie’s, poised to respond. However, before he could utter a word, another man’s voice chimed in abruptly,

"Have you lost your way, dear travelers? Care to accept a helping hand?"

They turned around, prepared to deny the offer, but froze in place as recognition dawned upon them at the sight of the man standing before them.

"Your Highness?!"

Indeed, to their great surprise, the man standing in front of them was none other than Rostan, a member of the Imperial family who not so long ago had extended an invitation to the duchess to visit his native land.

The Imperial Prince stood tall and confident, his arms in front of his body, hidden inside the wide sleeves of his flowing silk robe.

Savoring the genuine bewilderment etched on the young woman’s face, the prince smiled with both his lips and his eyes, his voice carrying a delighted tone,

"I am glad you have decided to accept my invitation, Lady Rosalie! But what is it that I am seeing here?"

Playfully, he scrutinized Rosalie’s appearance, taking a brisk stroll around her like a curious dog. A smirk played on his lips as he continued,

"You are traveling rather modestly, I must admit! Or are you actually here..."

Rostan then shifted his narrow eyes to Altair, lowering his voice as he concluded,

"Incognito? Is this the case, revered Altair? Or is it ’just’ Altair now?"

Altair furrowed his eyebrows, visibly displeased with this unexpected encounter. Despite being aware of Rostan’s uncanny ability to see through people, it still irked him that his identity had been uncovered so swiftly.

Unfazed by Altair’s ungrounded hostility, Rostan positioned himself next to Rosalie, extending his arm in a gallant gesture, and continued,

"Whatever the reason for your visit may be, I am pleased to have spotted you just before you vanished into the sea of people. Now, please allow me to escort the two of you to my palace. I am sure you are eager to rest after the long journey here."

He was ready to start walking when Altair carelessly placed his large hand on the prince’s shoulder, thwarting his initial step.

"I do not mean to be rude, Your Highness. Her Grace and I appreciate your concern; however, we are both in a hurry and do not have the luxury of attending to the etiquette here. Therefore, please accept our apologies as we deny your gracious offer."

"Altair, can we not––"

Rosalie sought to interject, especially since she feared that rejecting the prince’s kindness might sour their relationship with the nobles of Rische or spawn negative rumors about them.

Rostan, with the same air of politeness and nonchalance, offered Altair a fake smile and nodded. Then, he spoke in a somewhat mocking tone,

"But of course, Altair! I understand you are busy searching for the man who might aid Her Ladyship with her peculiar predicament. However..."

He paused, and his face unexpectedly darkened,

"I am afraid neither of you can find him without my help."

"I beg your pardon?"

Altair widened his bright red eyes, unsure if the prince’s words were the same ones registering in his brain. Rostan looked back at Rosalie, offering her a warmer, more reassuring expression. He shrugged his shoulders as he explained,

"The name is Haemir Yuzura, the most renowned dark magus in Izaar, working for the Imperial family. Oh, pardon my haste!"

Rostan playfully slapped himself on the forehead, then fixed his sharp glare back on Altair as he concluded,

"Perhaps that name does not ring any bells. Then how about Amarath, the Demonic Judge?"

"What?!"