Isabel, in her youth, was renowned for her beauty, and now at thirty-five, her youthful glow had faded, yet years as a queen had graced her with a different kind of allure. The sense of naivety had withdrawn, replaced by a majestic demeanor and a sovereign’s authority, all of which were reflected in her.
She donned her most exquisite, most ceremonious garments and put on her crown, just as she had for every grand ceremony in the kingdom, dressed to the nines.
She walked leisurely through the foreign halls of Pincer City’s palace, her head high and her chest out, overflowing with the aura of a queen.
Seeing her in this state, many servants within the Pincer Palace couldn’t help but gather and whisper among themselves. After their initial amazement at her presence, their thoughts surprisingly converged.
“Does this dethroned monarch really consider this place her court?”
“Ha, how ridiculous.”
“Mr. Gu will teach her a profound lesson.”
…
The servants spoke in hushed tones. They were but ordinary people, instinctively cautious not to offend, even in the face of a fallen queen—someone they could only look up to, even though her death seemed imminent. They could chat among themselves in secret, but they surely wouldn’t dare to be overheard.
But even if Isabel hadn’t heard their whispers, she knew what those gossips were saying.
It didn’t matter.
In a way, they hadn’t exactly spoken untruths.
Isabel’s demeanor was indeed an invitation for Gu Hang to ‘teach her a lesson’.
The prouder she acted as a queen now, the louder it would resound when she later lay prostrate before Gu Hang, her pride, dignity, and prestige all shattered.
Once she loathed these things, but now she had to pick up what she despised, to use as her final weapon.
She was led by a walking server to a small side hall.
The wooden door opened to reveal a bright, albeit small, office ahead of her.
Sunlight spilled in through the window onto a rather young and handsome man, seated behind a wooden desk, scribbling something.
He looked up, glanced at the Iron Curtain Queen, and his eyes flickered ever so slightly. Indeed, her appearance had taken him aback.
Such elegance was indeed rare to see.
In the Alliance, such displays were not in fashion—all were dressed modestly from top to bottom, even in significant ceremonies, they would merely dress a bit more formally; in Korolya III, clothing was indeed more exquisite, but styled more modern, even post-modern to Gu Hang’s view, which he found somewhat abstract.
Isabel’s garb, however, was different—feudal and regal, with a complex and ornate aesthetic considered outdated in many worlds, was unexpectedly to Gu Hang’s liking.
Of course, he wouldn’t be caught dead wearing it himself, nor would he promulgate such dress in his own government or economic systems.
But he could still appreciate it when it did appear before him.
Isabel sharply detected Gu Hang’s gaze.
She thrust her already full bosom forward a bit more firmly.
But just then, Gu Hang withdrew his gaze.
All he did was mildly say, “Isabel, right? You’ve arrived a bit earlier than scheduled, but please, take a seat for a while; I have some other matters at hand.”
What else could Isabel say?
She had her schemes, yet she dared not truly defy the governor.
She had to compose herself and took a seat nearby.
It turned into a long wait.
Her clothes might have been beautiful, but they were far from comfortable, and she maintained a strict posture to avoid wrinkling her attire.
At least not by her own doing, not now.
Throughout this time, she stole glances at Mr. Gu repeatedly. She even had a keen desire to peek at the documents on his desk, clearly of great importance.
But she dared not make the slightest overstepping gesture.
“Please relax a bit,” came Gu Hang’s gentle voice again, “There’s no need to be so tense, nor so stiff. You might be waiting for quite a long stretch.”
“That’s alright,” the queen responded subconsciously.
Gu Hang didn’t further concern himself with her.
In fact, Gu Hang was well aware of Isabel’s intentions.
But he was utterly uninterested.
He had no penchant for tearing apart someone’s dignity, nor did he derive much pleasure from the feeling of conquest. His calculations were cold, driven by gains and losses, and the pursuit of his goals.
It wasn’t that he intentionally neglected Isabel; he indeed had matters of greater importance to attend to.
His strategic considerations for Heijian Star were steadily advancing.
Striking the Kingdom of Stefano was a vital link.
His forces were valiant and well-equipped, but their numbers were problematic. Alliance soldiers, no matter how fierce, should not face foes ten times their number in direct combat.
If the battle turned into a lengthy war of attrition, it would be a nightmare. Against an enemy of four hundred million and a whole planet’s strategic depth, thirty-five thousand troops in Gu Hang’s charge couldn’t hope to win. If warfare degenerated to such a state, Gu Hang would have to enact his contingency plans, abandoning the swift conquest of Heijian Star in favor of assimilating the local populace.
But for now, that step wasn’t necessary. He could still follow the primary plan—a lightning war to overwhelm the entire planet.
He needed prompt, decisive battles, and through such victories, to swiftly tear down the resistance of the entire world.