Arc-6 Ch-05

 At the corner of the corridor leading to the party hall, I parted ways with Lady Mylene for the time being.

If the two of us entered the hall at the same time, it was highly likely people would start speculating about a connection between the Holfort royal family and the Bartfort house.

Lady Mylene, Count Atley, and I were to hold our discussion in a separate room, taking turns so as to not arouse suspicion.

If the purpose were only to talk, then having a secret meeting in another room would be the optimal solution. However, this time the occasion was the party held right before the official distribution of rewards.

To learn the current political climate of the royal capital, there could be no better opportunity. That is why, despite my pregnant body, I chose to follow Lady Mylene’s plan.

For the court nobles and great lords who deal in politics and see each other every day, this party might be nothing extraordinary. But for frontier lords or officials who had been sent abroad for diplomacy, this was a rare chance to learn about the state of power within the kingdom.

Even for Lady Mylene and Count Atley, it was necessary. They needed to personally observe promising nobles, confirm their character, and attempt to draw them into their faction. For such reasons, this opportunity could not be neglected.

Originally, I would have wanted to bring Leon with me. Unfortunately, he was in the final stages of seeking supporters for the reform plan and could not accompany me.

No matter how detailed my explanations, few would take interest in a reform scheme conceived by a mere duke’s daughter — or rather, by a young viscountess from the frontier.

It was because Leon had earned a viscountcy and lands through his achievements in the war against the Principality of Fanoss, saved many compatriots during the subsequent invasion, and succeeded in governing his lands, that other nobles would listen to him.

Although I contributed as his wife, Leon had the bad habit of underestimating himself, dismissing his own influence, and treating it as something troublesome.

Feigning incompetence and deceiving others with such pretense was no doubt his own form of camouflage. But it could not remain that way forever.

Yet if he were to show the same ferocity he displayed during the rescue battle in everyday life, he would only build walls between himself and others.

My husband is so extreme that supporting him constantly is an exhausting task.

At the entrance to the hall, attendants were stationed to receive invitations, and guards were conducting checks of belongings.

The party had already begun, and aside from me, no one else was trying to enter at this hour.

After all, most of those invited were royals and high-ranking nobles. If any incident were to occur, it could easily alter the entire balance of power in the kingdom.

I handed my invitation to the attendant and gave my bag to the guard for inspection.

Some people cast dubious glances at me, but that was only natural.

For a pregnant woman — and one in her final month — to attend such an event alone was an abnormality.

Normally, one would not go outside and would instead remain at home until childbirth. I myself had spent my first pregnancy that way.

“…The inspection is complete, you may proceed.”

“Thank you.”

I accepted my returned bag and entered the hall. Several dozen nobles were already inside, holding glasses filled with wine as they conversed.

Smiles were on their lips, both the elderly and the young, but none bothered to hide the sharp gleam in their eyes as they sized each other up.

For the time being, I sat in a seat by the wall and surveyed the entire scene.

My objective tonight was, above all, the secret conversation with Count Atley, and second, to gain an overall sense of the political climate in the capital.

As I sat quietly at the edge of the hall, trying not to draw attention, a waiter approached and offered me a drink.

I took a carbonated fruit water and began carefully observing my surroundings. Just how many years had it been since I last attended a capital party like this?

Looking across the hall, I noticed where the greatest number of people had gathered. A stout middle-aged man was speaking with the nobles.

It was Bernard Fia Atley, Count of Atley, and currently a minister of the state.

The central figure of tonight’s banquet, the Count wore a kindly smile as he greeted one noble after another.

By rights, I too should have gone to greet him, but doing so now would only draw attention. It was better to deliberately remain a wallflower and wait for a more suitable moment.

Still, attending a royal capital party after so many years was unsettling.

Since marrying into House Bartfort in the frontier, I had attended countless gatherings of local lords, and I had personally organized many such events as well.

Even so, the parties of the royal capital were more dazzling, more refined. The staff were thoroughly trained, and the food and drink provided clearly cost a great deal.

Once, I had been called the “Crimson Rose” of capital parties. But those days were gone. I was no longer a prince’s fiancée, nor a duke’s daughter, but merely the wife of a frontier lord.

Though people noticed my arrival, there were no longer any bold enough to come and greet me.

Back when I was in the academy, there had been endless events — one day a banquet hosted by the royal family, the next a night party hosted by ducal house — every few days, some new feast to attend, enough to cause headaches. That memory now seemed strangely nostalgic.

One of the advantages of marrying into House Bartfort was that there were few such gatherings. In truth, the environment in which I had been raised had been unusual even by noble standards.

Now, with so little involvement, I could only laugh wryly at how twistedly I had grown up. Watching the vanity and suspicion playing out before me was, as an outsider, rather fascinating.

When I myself had been a participant, I was constantly tense, trying to measure others’ worth. But now, with the wider vision that came from years of experience and from standing somewhat apart, I could catch glimpses of people’s true feelings in their expressions and gestures.

Those who projected calm confidence were nobles whose houses were flourishing. Those restless in word and deed were nobles whose houses were in decline.

Not every case matched this pattern, but desperation robbed people of composure and brought out theatrical mannerisms and exaggerated gestures.

Perhaps the reason the best nobles required the same qualities as actors or swindlers was that, at their core, nobles were not much different from thieves, taking the harvest produced by commoners.

Such thoughts likely came only because I had married a peculiar noble who found peace of mind working in the fields.

Count Atley eventually finished greeting the attendees and exchanging brief words.

After whispering something to a waiter, he left the hall — most likely to confer with Lady Mylene, who was waiting in the adjoining room.

My own conversation with him would follow afterward. Until then, I decided to enjoy this rare opportunity to attend a royal capital party again.

The nobles who had gone to greet the Count dispersed, each finding new conversation partners. I compared the faces gathered here with the registry in my memory. Most were the heads of their houses, titleholders themselves.

Because of the war, many houses had seen succession. Fathers or elder brothers had perished, and heirs had inherited their places.

Among them, I recognized some nobles I had once been introduced to only as heirs, now standing as their families’ heads. Roughly half the faces I knew; the other half were entirely unfamiliar.

Many who had not been raised as heirs — second and third sons — had been forced to inherit in the place of fallen fathers or brothers. Others had distinguished themselves in battle and had been newly ennobled.

The distribution of rewards, normally held once a year, had been postponed again and again because so many houses were busy settling matters of succession.

The wounds Holfort had suffered in the war with the Principality of Fanoss were deep. It would take several more years before the scars fully healed and peace was restored.

“Oh my, could it beee... Lady Angelicaaa?”

A strangely drawn-out voice called my name.

Although the speaker had added the polite title of “Lady,” the tone itself was grating.

Turning, I saw three women approaching. The one who had spoken looked vaguely familiar.

If I remembered correctly, back when I was still a duke’s daughter, she had been part of the entourage of one of my followers. And the two with her had been her followers in turn.

I had never exchanged words with them, nor even been formally introduced. I could recall their faces vaguely, but not their names, nor their families. Still, since they had addressed me, I could not respond without courtesy.

I placed a smile upon my lips, rose, and bowed. Even heavily pregnant, the motions I had practiced since childhood came easily.

“Angelica Fou Bartfort, Viscountess. I thank you for kindly speaking to me on this occasion.”

The self-introduction was perhaps excessively polite. At noble gatherings, even the smallest flaw in conduct could turn into scandal.

Handled well, it could be an opportunity to raise one’s standing. But standing out too much here would surely bring it to the duke’s ears.

I had already sent word to the ducal house that, ‘I have matters to inquire regarding the distribution of rewards, and so I will call upon your estate.’

If I were seen in the capital too early, it might only provoke unnecessary suspicions. Yet the women gave no reply. Even as I named myself, they stood there, smirking at me.

Ah, I understood. They had only approached to sneer at my present circumstances.

Back when my engagement to Prince Julius was annulled, many had mocked the disgrace I showed.

Such people had even gone so far as to call House Redgrave “the foremost of declining noble houses,” and they had cozied up to the faction of Marquis Frampton.

Yet during the war, the collusion between Marquis Frampton and the Principality of Fanoss was uncovered. As a result, the marquis and his relatives were punished under the crime of treason for inviting foreign aggression. Shamelessly, they then sought to save their lives by ingratiating themselves with the Redgrave family.

Neither my father nor I are people of such benevolence as to extend a hand to weathercocks without convictions.

The consequence was that many noble houses were abolished, and their relatives were dragged down with them.

Now the kingdom is flooded with nobles stripped of their positions and young women whose engagements have been dissolved.

At present, the Redgrave ducal house stands as the most powerful noble family in the Holfort Kingdom.

Everyone fears my father, flattering and fawning upon him without end. At this point, it is hardly clear who is truly the master of the nation.

“How careless of you to attend without your husband at your side.”

“This banquet is meant to celebrate the coming rewards of merit, yet why would you appear here alone?”

“From your appearance, you seem to be with child. Should you not be taking better care of yourself?”

From the sound of their voices, they seemed to speak out of concern for me.

Yet even as they covered their mouths with their fans, the delight twisting their eyelids exposed their true nature all too clearly.

How anticlimactic.

Had they been nobles of spirit, with the backbone to remonstrate against the tyranny of a ducal house, I would have welcomed the chance to offer them my cooperation.

But what they possess is nothing more than the craving to look down on others and flaunt their own superiority.

No matter how they despise me, it does not prove that they themselves are superior. And yet, to think that such women still exist among the nobles of the capital.

As Lady Mylene once lamented, the distortions of the kingdom’s nobility cannot be erased by one or two wars alone.

“I hear that your husband, Lord Bartfort, distinguished himself in the war. Still, as a newly appointed noble, surely such gatherings must be unfamiliar to him.”

“They say that on the floating island he received, the lord himself dirties his hands with soil. A marriage across such a difference in station must bring you much hardship.”

“Lady Angelica, you must feel terribly lonely in such a remote land.”

In plainer terms, what they meant was: “Murderers have no place among nobles.” “Upstarts should till their fields.” “Return to the countryside at once.”

How well they manage to cloak such cruel words in refined language and still utter them aloud.

Even when taking into account that I was cast aside by Prince Julius, that Olivia became the Saintess, and that relations between the ducal house and the royal family have worsened, their audacity in mocking me to this degree is almost admirable.

Do they truly believe me to be some doll that can be struck without ever striking back?

If so, their miscalculation is laughable.

The reason I refrained from appearing in public after the annulment of my engagement was to prevent the damage from spreading further. It was not because I bore any gratitude toward the royal family.

Leon’s advancement was recognition for defending the kingdom and saving countless nobles. To criticize him would be akin to declaring that Holfort should have surrendered to Fanoss. As for him personally laboring in civil works, there is no helping that.

The Bartfort territory remains largely undeveloped, and Leon has a fondness for working the soil. Restraining him would only hinder the growth of the domain and deprive him of his respite, causing resentment to build.

Compared to those who never once set foot in their fiefs, living in the capital while neglecting their subjects and sowing rebellion, Leon fulfills his duties as a noble far more faithfully.

For a man who never received a noble’s education, he has done exceedingly well. Indeed, I doubt there are many nobles who could do better.

“I hear that even sky pirates attacked your ships. Truly, you live in a dangerous land.”

“And was it not said that Lady Angelica herself took part in their subjugation?”

“Oh, how dreadful. Such a thing would be impossible for women like us.”

The fact that the kidnapping incident from several months ago has been so distorted makes me want to clutch my head. At the same time, I cannot help but admire the audacity of people who can twist events into such fanciful tales.

The truth of the incident, when Jenna, Finley, Dorothea, and I were abducted, has never been revealed.

That the suppression of the Ladies’ Forest was incomplete, that Zola and her accomplices escaped and were given the chance to strike again—such facts were inconvenient for the royal family, whose support among the nobility was already in decline.

Thus the official account became: “A ship of the Bartfort family was attacked, but thanks to the lord and lady’s valor, the pirates were defeated.”

Because of that, Leon is rumored to be a bloodthirsty man, and I, the woman who burned sky pirates from the skies.

We allowed those rumors to spread, since they served to intimidate others and enhance the standing of House Bartfort in the lawless frontier.

Yet in the eyes of the nobles of the capital, we have become nothing but merciless brutes. Now then, how should I handle this?

The three women before me continue to prattle on, filth spilling ceaselessly from the unclean holes on their faces. From the outside, it may seem as though four ladies are gathered in pleasant conversation. In reality, I alone am being insulted.

The simplest course would be to ignore them. I have no desire to involve myself with such women. But to retreat without a word could easily be seen as conceding defeat.

Worse still, such people often take silence as victory, boasting of it to others. Twisted facts then become slander, and slander eventually harms one’s house. Leon, once a commoner, was ennobled as a baron and is now expected to be raised to count for his military merit.

In the past century of the kingdom, no one has risen so far in a single generation. Whether he wishes it or not, Leon is now considered the most highly valued of the young nobles.

Already he is envied and resented by many. To add malicious rumors to that would only give our enemies an opening. Thus, the wisest course would be to silence these women with words and resolve matters smoothly.

“To attend a party while with child—surely that is far too reckless?”

“Enough. Remember, she was once engaged to the crown prince, only to be replaced by a newcomer from the frontier. She cannot even spare many guards for her own protection.”

“The one who captured Prince Julius’s heart was the Saintess. It is no wonder Lady Angelica lost.”

“But worry not! These days it is fashionable for lords to take multiple wives. I am sure Lady Angelica will find a fine match yet.”

…Enough.

I will crush them.

I had ignored their many insults, deeming them not worth the effort. But I have been far too lenient.

Their scornful glances at my belly, slighting the child yet unborn, their slanders against Leon as a crude upstart—I will not forgive them.

You know the truth yourselves, don’t you?

That it is your own laziness and arrogance that leave you shunned, and so you seize upon the flaws of those who succeed, pretending they are nothing remarkable.

If you do not, the weight of your own smallness would crush you. Unwilling to face your own misery, you wound others and revel in a fleeting sense of superiority. I understand. I once did the same. It was the only way I could endure.

For that, I pity you.

But pity will not stay my hand. For the sake of my husband and children, I will destroy any who dare become our enemies.

“Your counsel is most humbling. Indeed, my husband, Leon Fou Bartfort, still lacks much in the way of noble comportment, and I suffer many hardships because of it.”

“Oh my, how unfortunate.”

“Yes. My husband was raised for his deeds in war, and thus he shows no mercy to his enemies. Be they brigands or otherwise, any who insult House Bartfort, regardless of their station, he will pursue them to the very ends of the azure sky.”

“……”

The women’s faces, once sneering in derision, now twisted in fear and turned pale.

So. They had deliberately set out to slander Leon and me. To claim their words were unthinking slips born of noble status is useless.

The men of House Bartfort do not show mercy even if their opponent is a woman.

Even with Zora and her ilk, Leon had long refrained from taking their lives. Yet the moment they resisted, he did not hesitate to kill.

No one can know where his boundary lies. Once crossed, he will bare his fangs and rip out your throat, regardless of status or position.

That is the man called Leon Fou Bartfort.

Once seized by his bloodlust, there is almost no restraining him. Even if his foe weeps and begs for mercy, he will not stop.

“For such a man to be your husband, Lady Angelica, your hardships must be great indeed. Surely this proves there is a problem with the distribution of rewards, don’t you agree?”

“Bloodline, family ties, lineage—all ignored. Strength alone decides everything. To think that is enough for one’s achievements to be recognized—is that not strange?”

"As I thought, if we don’t return to the former policy of favoring women, the position of noblewomen will only grow more precarious."

"The so-called Saintess from commoner birth is nothing but a source of disorder for the kingdom. Lady Angelica, surely you must agree?"

So in the end, that’s where it comes down to.

Simple-minded, or perhaps just pathetic.

Just a moment ago they were scorning me—mocking how I lost my place as the prince’s fiancée to Olivia.

And now, they turn around and disparage Olivia’s birth, slandering her for being a commoner.

That they cannot recognize their own self-contradiction in such incoherent words and actions—that is their fatal flaw.

The Kingdom of Holfort abolished the policy of favoring women to accelerate national recovery, pushing forward reforms that reward ability instead.

Talents such as Leon are being recognized, while hereditary nobles who lived only on pedigree and connections, and noblewomen who had been granted excessive privileges, are finding themselves with no place left.

Having lived however they pleased, they now struggle when no one acknowledges them. But such circumstances cannot be overturned with a few days of frantic effort.

Turning their corroded hearts into malice against others may comfort them for a moment, but nothing changes.

I have changed. Leon himself is the one who changed me. Perhaps these women before me too might walk a happier life, if only they encountered someone who could truly change them.

That said—an insult demands an answer.

"I do not think so."

"Why ever not?"

''The Saintess is a woman of pure heart. The quarrels of the past cannot be erased, yet it is possible to join hands and build a better relationship. At this very time, the Saintess has willingly taken on the memorial rites for those who perished in the recent war. The local lords, and indeed all who witnessed her compassion, were deeply moved. As for our house, we can feel nothing but gratitude."

"So Lady Angelica, you say you hold no resentment?"

"It was because my engagement to His Highness Julius was broken that I was able to wed my present husband. True, he has shortcomings as a noble. Yet as a vassal of the kingdom and a valorous defender of it, he is a man I am proud to call my husband."

"To be forced from the glittering royal capital into the harsh frontier—and you claim you feel no dissatisfaction? That’s unbelievable."

"Because it is uncharted land, the scope for achievement and development is plain to see. In these past years, the wheat harvest of the Bartfort domain has steadily surpassed the previous year’s yield. My husband personally leads the efforts to improve crops, with even exports to other domains in sight. Our unique resource—the hot springs—has gained a fine reputation. Thanks to the Saintess’s recommendation, the number of visitors has grown, not only from neighboring lands but also from the capital itself. For this, I would like to extend my heartfelt thanks here and now."

With measured composure, I bow my head—not hurried, not exaggerated. From the nobles watching from a distance, voices of surprise rose.

For people like this, it is more effective to admonish them by showing that their jibes hold no sway, rather than by trading insults head-on.

They are the sort who relieve themselves by trampling down someone weaker or more pitiable.

Then I will show them instead a life lived happily, serenely, unmoved by reputation, and let them taste the sting of recognizing their own smallness.

My counterstroke must have been unexpected. They trembled, humiliated. If they are willing to retreat with just this much disgrace, I will not press further.

What truly matters is my discussion with Count Atlee. I have no need to waste strength.

"…I won’t accept this. I will never accept it!"

"What is it you refuse to accept?"

"Why is it that our husbands and families cannot rise in rank, yet a mere commoner can become Saintess or noble!?"

"My husband grew up like a commoner, yes, but he is of proper noble birth. I demand you correct your words."

"Because these lowborn wretches flaunt themselves, the wealth and goods that should be ours are taken away!"

"Is it not rather that you and your families simply lack the ability?"

"Silence! How dare you speak so insolently!"

The calmer I remained, the more their tone grew wild. What came from their mouths was childishness, prejudice, and words too base to be endured.

To expose such ugliness of character so brazenly—that itself is the very reason they can never know happiness. Yet as long as they remain blind to it, no improvement can ever be made.

Persuasion seems hopeless. Should I perhaps have spoken more gently, tried to teach them?

"You, who were cast aside by His Highness, dare speak after showing such disgrace!"

"Oh? So you bring that up."

Their jeering was suddenly cut short by someone else’s voice. A voice I recognized—a woman’s.

"You do realize that Angelica is not the only young lady whose engagement was broken because of the Saintess, don’t you?"

Her tone was calm, yet there was an unyielding force in it. The women, who had lost themselves in rage, now faltered in fear. The owner of that voice stepped closer—a young woman with hair like orange flame and eyes like emerald gems.

"It’s been a while, Angelica. You really do manage to stir up a commotion at every gathering."

"…Lady Clarisse Fia Atley, may you be in the best of health."

I responded with courtesy. The other women, by contrast, stood frozen, unable to act. And because they fail to act in such moments, they do not realize why others take them lightly.

At any rate, they had picked a fight with me and caused a scene—at a party hosted by Count Atley himself. Their chances of recovery were slim to none.

"So then. ‘Cast aside and disgraced,’ was it? And just who exactly were you referring to? Do enlighten me."

"N-no, it wasn’t you, Lady Clarisse!"

"W-we only meant that it is problematic when a noblewoman’s fiancé is stolen away by a commoner—!"

"Meaning that when Lord Marmoria broke our engagement, it was because I was at fault? Is that what you’re saying?"

"No, not at all!"

"Then what are you trying to say?"

"Isn’t it improper for a noble’s wife to attend a party alone? One could hardly blame people for suspecting her of husband-hunting, or trying to entice men to raise her husband’s position!"

So that’s their angle. For an impromptu excuse, not a bad one. Indeed, at this party most noblewomen were accompanied by their husbands or male relatives.

That I alone arrived somewhat late, and unaccompanied, could well be viewed with suspicion. My bad reputation has not yet been completely erased. There was, admittedly, reason enough for them to be wary.

"…Angelica was invited personally by my father. And it was reported in advance that Viscount Bartfort could not attend due to unavoidable circumstances. There is nothing untoward here."

"What!?"

''Why!? The people attending this party are either those receiving rewards for their service, or those petitioning the Count for positions!"

"Why should Viscount Bartfort be invited at all!?"

At those words, several nearby nobles began to stir uneasily. I see now—the families of these three must have schemed to petition Count Atley directly for appointments. Perhaps they were even sent along to help ensnare him.

They must have thought I was here for the same reason—to boost Leon’s career. That this very misunderstanding would spell their ruin, they could never have imagined.

"It was I who invited Leon Fou Bartfort. Count Atley merely obeyed the royal command."

A dignified voice rang through the hall.

The gathering was thrown into uproar—for the supreme authority who in truth ruled the Kingdom of Holfort had made her entrance. Almost reflexively, I bent my knees and bowed. One by one, the nobles recognized the voice and followed suit.

Parting the crowd with every step, a woman with silver hair and clad in a gown of pure white advanced. Her presence alone froze the air of the venue.

Mylene Rapha Holfort.

Now, she was no carefree lady of leisure, but a sovereign of chilling command.

"For months on end, Viscount Bartfort sustained the frontlines in our war with the Principality of Fanoss. With the recommendations of many nobles indebted to him, and after due consideration of his domain’s management, judgment has been rendered. At this reward-granting occasion, I, Mylene Rapha Holfort, Queen of the Kingdom of Holfort, recognize him as raised to the fourth rank of the court hierarchy, ennobled as Count. Any who object, speak now."

The meaning of her words struck—and astonished cries resounded.

No wonder the nobles were shaken. A man scarcely in his early twenties, granted the rank of Count? In the kingdom’s history, such cases numbered only a few.

And unlike heirs who merely inherited upon a father’s death, this was true promotion by merit.

Indeed, while the ranking of counts has subdivisions of high, middle, and low, and while the Bartfort house is newly risen and still holds little authority, a Count is a Count all the same.

They now stood level, in title at least, with the venerable Roseblade family or the Atley family of ministerial fame.

Aside from those few nobles forewarned through my father’s efforts, all others now realized how greatly this appointment would shift the kingdom’s balance of power.

Ambitious nobles would see opportunity for their own rise. Incompetent ones would tremble, sensing their positions threatened.

"The long history of conflict has ended. The Principality of Fanoss is now vassal to our kingdom. But threats to Holfort remain. The true strength of a nation is tested not in war, but in its recovery. I call upon you, nobles who bear Holfort’s future, for renewed loyalty and redoubled resolve."

The Queen’s words were gentle in tone, yet brimming with force that brooked no dissent. Perhaps this party itself, hosted by Count Atley, had always been her true stage.

The Queen personally stepping in to quell disputes among nobles—this spectacle alone would stir many hearts, in these days when the royal family’s authority was waning.

When I raised my head, Mylene’s eyes met mine. For just an instant, she smiled—playfully, almost amused. I had been had. Completely had. Of course, I was never fully in league with the royal faction. Yet to be used so adroitly—!

The ducal house had restricted information, unwilling to appear as though we were favoring our son-in-law with promotion. That very restraint had backfired.

If Leon’s rise is presented as the natural reward of ability, many nobles will shift toward the royal faction. Why must both the Holfort royal house and the Redgrave ducal house alike maneuver to seize advantage?

Gazing at Queen Mylene’s back as she graciously greeted the nobles, resentment welled within me.

And beside me, the noblewomen who had tried to use me—perhaps themselves used by Mylene-sama—stood in stupefied silence. Pitiful indeed.

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Authors Note

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This is posted to coincide with: Mobseka manga vol. 12, AnoSeka manga vol. 1, and Mobseka Kindergarten vol. 2 (final).

Here, Clarisse makes her appearance—who, in the original novel’s final volume, splendidly became one of Leon’s concubines. She’ll appear again next chapter. Mylene may look like a mischief-maker here, but her highest priority is always the Holfort royal family (her husband, son, and daughter). In this story she’s portrayed as a foxlike woman who will use whatever she can. Her thinking resembles Angelica’s—both put family first—but experience and temperament let her outmaneuver others. This Mylene won’t follow Roland into retirement or stab him if he strays, but she will keep him firmly under her thumb.