Chapter 2736: Coryn and Reven, Monsters of Scots

Date: Unspecified

Time: Unspecified

Location: Kingdom of Scotland, Lothian, Edinburgh, Palace of Holyroodhouse

“A legend circulates quietly through the Kingdom of Scotland, whispered among servants and guards alike. They say that within the abandoned wing of the Palace of Holyroodhouse, a monster with two bodies wanders the darkened corridors after midnight.

It is further believed that this creature is the reason King Stuart never took a wife. Suitors arrived, negotiations were made, and alliances were proposed—but none ever came to fruition. Some claim the monster’s existence tainted the royal bloodline. Others insist it was kept hidden to prevent scandal, its presence quietly dismantling every marriage arrangement before vows could be exchanged.

And so, the abandoned wing remains sealed, its doors locked and its halls left to dust, rumor, and something that may or may not still walk within them.”

The maid continued reading the book aloud to the princesses, though her voice had begun to waver. Beneath her layered silks, her body trembled uncontrollably. The temperature in the room seemed to be dropping with unnatural speed, the air growing thin and brittle despite the heavy drapes and braziers burning at full flame.

She tightened her grip on the pages, her breath misting faintly before her, unsure whether the cold came from the night… or from something listening to the story being told.

“What is the meaning of this?” King James Stuart demanded, his voice low but edged with restrained fury as he entered his daughters’ chamber. “Who sent this damned book to the princesses?”

The maid assigned to attend them dropped immediately to her knees, trembling beneath the weight of his gaze.

The very existence of the princesses was known only within the inner palace and a select circle of high nobles. Among them, only a handful possessed the privilege—or the audacity—to attempt direct contact.

That a book had reached the girls without his sanction was not merely a breach of protocol. They were openly undermining his authority.

“Father, please calm down. Martha looks like she’s about to faint,” Princess Coryn said with a soft chuckle.

The two princesses stood side by side—always side by side—two bodies sharing two conjoined heads, their movements flowing with uncanny coordination. When Coryn laughed, the sound rippled through both of them, shoulders rising in unison.

The maid flushed crimson and pressed her forehead to the floor, trembling.

“We ordered her to bring us the book,” Coryn added lightly, one set of hands adjusting the silk draped over their shared shoulders.

Princess Reven, whose expression rarely carried the same ease, turned their gaze fully toward their father. When she spoke, her tone was quieter, steadier. “But the story is true… isn’t it? We’re the reason you refuse to remarry, despite the pressure from the Royal Council and the nobles to sire an heir?”

Two hearts beat within two chests. Two pair of eyes searched their father’s face. The chamber fell into silence.

“Why would I need another heir?” King James said evenly. “I already have you.”

The firmness in his voice left little room for argument. But almost immediately, he shifted the conversation away from dangerous ground. “Tell me instead, how has your chivalry training progressed? Have you discovered its true name yet?”

“Not yet,” Coryn replied, her tone bright with anticipation. Reven’s gaze, sharper and more thoughtful, followed seamlessly. “But we’re close. Lately, we’ve begun seeing the world in shifting shades, like layers overlapping one another. It’s still unclear… but we believe that once we uncover the name of our Chivalry, we’ll finally understand what it truly is.”

The princesses could hardly contain their anticipation to awaken their Chivalry—the supernatural manifestation of one’s life force, psyche, and fighting will. Across the world, it bore different names depending on culture and tradition. In the frozen northern, it was called a Valkyrie. In the high dunes, a Djinn. In the eastern lands, a Yakash or Martial Spirit. Different titles, same essence.

Only those of royal or noble blood were known to awaken such power. As the daughters of the King of Scots, the twins had long ago sensed the presence of their own Chivalry stirring within them.

At first, they were puzzled. Why did they share only one chivalry between two bodies? But the answer eventually became clear. Though they existed as two individuals, nature saw them as one.

Was it because they were twins? They had considered that possibility more than once. But there were many twins among the nobility, and each of them possessed an individual Chivalry. Shared birth did not equate to shared manifestation.

After much quiet discussion between themselves, the sisters reached the only conclusion that fit their circumstances. It was not their twinship that bound their power together, but the fact that they were conjoined.

Their lives had never been separate. Their pulses had grown in tandem before birth. Their consciousness had awakened in the same womb, sharing the same breath, the same silence. In body and in spirit, they had always been intertwined.

So their Chivalry, too, emerged as one.

“Well, you two had better hurry,” King James said, folding his hands behind his back. “I intend to hold your debutante this year, before you officially turn eighteen.”

Though his tone sounded casual, there was calculation behind it. If they awakened their Chivalry in time, they would possess the power to defend themselves. Only then could he announce their existence to the world without fear of what that revelation might provoke.

“What?” Reven blurted, genuine shock breaking through her usual composure. “We never agreed to that.”

Coryn stared at him in equal horror. “Why would you even consider it?”

King James frowned at their reaction. “What do you mean, why? You are my daughters. My heirs.” His expression softened with unmistakable pride. “I want the world to see that I have daughters as remarkable as you two.”

As King James spoke, a faint glint flickered in the maid’s eyes. It lasted only a heartbeat before her expression returned to one of lowered obedience, but it was there—sharp, calculating, and entirely out of place. Father and daughters were too absorbed in their own exchange to notice the subtle shift.

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