That day, the royal palace of Alexandria was wrapped in an unusually tense atmosphere.
Not only the bureaucrats assigned to palace duties, but even the maids and servants moved with extreme caution, watching every movement of the king and his ministers.
The reason was simple.
Today, they were in a terrible mood.
The cause of that mood was a letter that had arrived at the Royal Academy the day before—
a letter sent from the frontier of the Highland Principality, far to the north of the kingdom.
Its contents were as follows:
"We request that you permit the temporary entry of Catherine Monvoisin—formerly the eldest daughter of the Marquis House Monvoisin, whom your kingdom exiled—so that she may accompany my son, Arcus Victor, as an attendant during his study abroad."
In other words—
It was a request for the temporary re-entry of a woman who had been officially exiled from the kingdom.
Under normal circumstances, the request would have been dismissed with a single word: absurd.
Yet the fact that it couldn't be so easily dismissed was precisely why the kingdom's most powerful figures were on edge.
And so, irritated though they were, the king and his ministers gathered in the grand council chamber.
"I believe everyone here already understands the situation," the king began.
"Yesterday, the academy received this letter."
The speaker was King Gerald Loar Alexandros, ruler of the kingdom and father of Crown Prince Edgar.
With a look of open disgust, he tossed the letter onto the table. One of the ministers picked it up, and it was passed around the room.
"Allowing re-entry to someone we exiled—surely that's impossible?"
"What are you saying? She survived exile," another snapped back.
"And the Demon Forest, no less! Should we not show magnanimity?"
Opposing opinions clashed instantly, with voices agreeing passionately on both sides.
"I understand what you're all saying," the king said heavily.
"But—"
"If I may clarify the details," interrupted a bearded man standing beside him.
It was Chancellor Dill Weissmann.
"This time, letters were sent not only to the Royal Academy, but also directly to the royal government."
He withdrew several documents from his coat.
"One states that the young woman under their protection has been granted formal registration—approved by the principality. That part is legitimate. But this letter…"
With a bitter expression, he opened one document for all to see.
Written there was a single sentence:
"I trust that your royal government is both generous and independent."
Just one line.
Yet despite its brevity, the elegant handwriting carried an unsettling weight.
The men gathered here were veteran politicians, but even they frowned at its implications.
"'Generous,' hm. According to the law, one who has atoned for their crimes should indeed be shown tolerance."
"Nonsense. Are we really to bow to a petty noble of a small country?"
"But she survived the Demon Forest…"
The council was divided—and the reason lay in the nature of exile itself.
Under the laws of the Kingdom of Alexandria, exile consisted of the following:
Revocation of royal nationality
Public notification to the nation
Notification to the country of exile
Completion of punishment once expelled from the kingdom
Which meant—
Once Catherine had been expelled, she had legally completed her punishment.
No further penalties could be imposed.
Interpreted strictly by law:
"So she atoned for her crime, ceased to be a citizen, and now demands temporary entry?"
"Ridiculous!"
Voices erupted throughout the chamber.
It was sophistry—yet the law truly said nothing about what came after.
"Why was such a loophole left unaddressed?" someone demanded.
All eyes turned to Attorney General Leonard Lowe.
"Because re-entry was never considered," he replied coldly.
In all previous cases of exile, no one had ever returned.
And there was a reason for that.
When someone is exiled, their nationality is revoked at the border.
Until another country formally shelters them, they are effectively stateless.
In this world, nationality does more than define citizenship—it signifies that the state guarantees a person's origin and governs them under the law.
Those without nationality are not protected by any law.
Which means—
Anything done to them is permitted.
Put simply, nationality protects human rights.
Exile, in practice, was a method of execution for those too influential to be killed openly.
That was why the law never bothered forbidding re-entry.
And yet—
Catherine had survived that hell.
Thus, voices arose in her defense.
"She overcame exile. We must show the courage to acknowledge that she has atoned."
Another question followed.
"Then why wasn't she attacked this time?"
"Because the principality was never notified of the exile," Leonard answered.
Normally, such information would spread instantly.
Bandits gathered at borders, waiting for a target they could assault without consequence.
They were, effectively, executioners by proxy.
This time, however, the destination was unclear—and even criminals hesitated to venture into the Demon Forest.
"So why wasn't the principality informed?"
At that, Chancellor Dill sighed deeply.
"Because of the word independent."
He explained.
The Holy Church, which had proclaimed Catherine a saint, was deeply involved.
Initially, the Church demanded Catherine's execution, calling her actions blasphemy against the goddess.
But even a saint could not justify execution over a student dispute.
When the crown prince proposed exile, the kingdom resisted—
Exile was effectively a death sentence.
And worse, it would appear that the government had bowed to the Church.
That, the kingdom could not allow.
At the same time, nobles aligned with House Monvoisin protested loudly:
"Exile over a children's quarrel?"
Yet antagonizing the state religion was equally unacceptable.
So they devised a compromise—
An exile in name only.
Publicly, it satisfied the Church.
Privately, they promised safe passage without notifying the principality.
However—
Another intention slipped in.
Those who feared the growing power of House Monvoisin saw an opportunity.
They designated the Demon Forest as her destination.
They assigned disreputable escorts.
A silent execution.
And those who pushed this forward most strongly were—
Chancellor Dill Weissmann.
Attorney General Leonard Lowe.
They—and even the royal family—feared House Monvoisin's rise.
The father of the crown prince's fiancée.
A finance minister with overwhelming influence.
If this continued, the Alexandros royal house would be eclipsed.
Fear, vanity, pressure from the Church, and noble resentment—
All intertwined into an execution disguised as exile.
After finishing his explanation, Dill sighed again.
"In short, to appease both the Church and the territorial nobles, we staged a 'safe exile.'
And now—if we reject this request—we appear to be ruled by the Church."
As an independent government, they must act with generosity—according to the law.
That single sentence had cornered them perfectly.
"So, Your Majesty," someone asked,
"What is your decision?"
All eyes turned to King Gerald.
"…We have no choice but to accept."
A murmur rippled through the chamber.
"The law forbids nothing. She has atoned, and she now holds foreign nationality.
Refusing entry to a single young woman would only make us look petty."
Covering his face, the king added:
"Issue a restraining order prohibiting contact with the saint.
If any crime occurs, responsibility lies with the principality."
Satisfied murmurs followed.
Once it was no longer their problem, the debate ended swiftly.
"Then it is decided," the king concluded.
"Temporary entry into Victor territory for Catherine Monvoisin is approved."
☆☆☆
"He truly was an interesting young man."
Swaying gently in his carriage, Marquis Lucian gazed at the peaceful fields of Victor territory rolling past the window.
"Yes… Arcus was fascinating," Lady Flora agreed softly.
Lucian chuckled.
"Not only him. His father—Sir Alan Victor—was equally impressive."
He recalled their discussion regarding Catherine's return.
(To predict that much with so little information…)
Lucian himself had anticipated much—but only because he understood the royal government.
That a frontier noble like Alan Victor had seen through it so clearly left Lucian genuinely astonished.
(To think such a man exists in a place like this.)
"The world still has hope," Lucian murmured.
Beyond his smiling reflection, the fields of harvest spread out under the sun.