Luke had written down the password he set for her accounts on the inner wall of the box before he pushed himself off the edge of the table. However, it was not expected that the communication device would be left alone on the table, inside the box that it came with. But he was not about to hand it to her like a peace offering. He was not interested in peace.

Rhiane’s replies triggered a fuse and he was not the type who would back down when challenged. “I am not asking them to lay down their arms,” he shot back. “Those who are sympathizing with the rebellion and the idealistic world it promises should know better than to put blind faith into an organization who had not yet proven itself, nor had shown any potential in fulfilling its promises. Your role today is simple enough. Use the credibility you say you have to influence the public – wake them up. Let the parents see the ugly truth about the rebellion so they could educate their children about it, likewise, let the children hear about the evil scheme of these so-called patriots so they could convince their parents to withdraw.” He may not fully agree with the methods employed by the team, but it was better than Rhiane’s implied course of action which was to sit back and do nothing. There was information that he could not share with her, like the model of the firearms he retrieved from the dead rebels and how it was the same as the firearms commissioned by the state specifically for certain ranks in the military. He suspected the rebellion was not as poor as it would like the public to believe, that it was not even made of the less fortunate members of the society. It was possible that the organization was backed by the very lords and ladies that it was calling tyrants. 

“I refuse to be bullied by the rebellion.” And he also refused to allow them to continue hurting her. Luke would have said it aloud except that Rhiane already declared her intention to leave. The prince’s jaw was clenched as if stopping himself from calling her name and asking her to stay in the room, because they were not yet done talking. Convincing her to go through the day with him was already out of the question, besides he did not want to. 

Ms. Viscomi, on the other hand, turned on her heels and went after the princess elect. “Ms. Black, wait.” 

“Let her go, Luce,” the crown prince commanded as the door slammed close behind Rhiane. 

[hr]

But the itinerary would not be hindered by her absence. The crown prince himself made sure of it as he insisted to meet the lords and ladies of the land on his own. Because no nobleman had his residence built in that town, the private lunch party was held in a decent sized function hall not too far away from the villa that the couple occupied. As was the protocol, only selected media outlets were allowed to cover the event and none of the personnel was allowed to ask questions. Therefore, the media was left to speculate when the crown prince arrived alone. 

The interior of the venue was decorated in finery reminiscent of the capital’s glory. Furniture and fixtures, the chandelier, and even the curtains, must have been shipped from the capital just for that very event. It was in stark contrast against the poor, desolate houses with mismatched window shutters and ill-fitting wooden door outside the property. He did not dream about experiencing living in one of those huts, but now that he had seen it, Luke was curious what it was like. How different was it from the concrete walls of his home.

Lords, ladies, and people of importance to the society loitered around the room. Their lively-colored dresses and coats complemented the purity of the white walls with its golden accent. He smiled almost automatically when the Baron Ferullo and his wife approached him. “My wife organized this party, my prince,” boasted the baron. Perhaps a dozen rich people were in attendance, their ages ranging from early twenties to about fifties. Admittedly, he did not know everyone in attendance, but he was sure that these were the people who were supposed to be looking after the people. 

“Thank you, my lady, for a lovely party.” He was ushered deeper into the hall to be introduced and re-introduced to the other attendees. Of course, the moment he drew near, every person’s attention seemed to gravitate towards him. It was not everyday that they would get the chance to interact with the crown prince. Even the waiters and waitresses hired for the event were openly ogling the prince. Their town was too far away from the capital that nobody of significance barely visited the place. 

Luke could handle the noblemen and women. They were moving in the same world anyway. He was fluent in speaking the language of the highborn, knew when to complement, when to smile, and when to say “with all due respect.” The lords talked to him about politics and economy, while the ladies were more openly interested in the status of his relationship with Sophia Keller now that he was engaged. None believed that Luke would choose a farmer over a successful actress/model. 

“Speaking of which, where is this fiancee of yours?” asked a woman who he judged to be in her early fifties while they were in the middle of their meal. “She’s a beauty. I have seen her on television. I wonder how much of that beauty is thanks to talented make-up artists.”

The comment solicited a few giggles from around the table. Luke was tired in repeating himself, but for the sake of manners, he answered, “She wanted to walk around town, familiarize herself with the people and their craft, so I let her.”

“She does not belong here, anyway,” the lady laughed a dainty little laugh. “A farmer will remain to be a farmer no matter how expensive the clothes you put on her.”

Another added with mock sadness and an audible sigh, “I pity the clothing labels who are and will be associated with her name.”

Luke paused before placing down the utensils beside his plate, seemingly loosing appetite after talking to those people. One thing he forgot about the upper class was that they loved talking behind another person’s back.

“Hurry up and get her pregnant, your highness. Though if you will not mind, I can keep her company while you go about carrying out your duties.” The baron wiggled his eyebrows, suggestively, earning him a smack on the arm from his wife. “What?! She has a beautiful body. I will not mind that she is a commoner if she’ll consent.” 
A few other men voiced the same sentiment, while the women kept to their stand that Rhiane did not belong with them. Luke tried to keep his temper in check, forcing a smile to humor them, but when somebody commented that he would probably enjoy his time with her except that he knew of prostitutes who were as shapely but more beautiful and with more breeding than Rhiane and that he could introduce a few to Luke if he wanted to, the prince snapped. “Enough.” A single word said in a quiet, but firm voice was enough to silence the laughter. 

The baron smiled sheepishly at the younger man. “We were just joking around, your highness. Surely you find nothing wrong with --”

“I said that is enough.” The tone of his voice was raised a notch higher. Finally, he lifted his gaze from the handmade centerpiece to meet the eyes of the baron. “Nobody shall malign my fiancee while in my presence. Besides, slandering your future queen is synonymous to treason, did you know that, Lord Ferullo? Or are you one of those imbecile, who thinks that the expensive labels sewn into his clothes define the level of his intelligence.”

 No wonder the towns he had visited in the area were not as progressive as the rest of the nation. Disappointed with one person entrusted to enact and implement laws, he shook his head and prepared to leave. However, as his gaze swept across the room, a certain familiar silhouette caught his attention. Her eyes met his as she stood by the doorway with her good hand on the frame.