Chapter 156: Frederick’s Fury
The atmosphere in the Crown Prince’s palace had been deadly since morning. It was because Frederick’s mood was exceedingly foul after checking the morning newspaper.
The article detailed how Damian had raided an illegal slave auction and uncovered Marquis Grant’s involvement in wicked black magic.
“Damian Vandemir, that son of a bitch…….”
Unable to suppress his surging rage, Frederick grabbed a nearby vase and hurled it.
The attendants stifled their screams, holding their breath. When he vented his anger physically like that, the best course was to remain utterly still and avoid provoking him at all costs.
“After all that indulgence, he’s trying to crawl right up to the very top. That vermin who doesn’t know his place—how dare he challenge me.”
A grinding sound escaped through Frederick’s clenched teeth. He had never imagined losing his closest confidant, Marquis Grant, in such a manner.
He’d been thoroughly struck by Damian. The fact wounded his pride so deeply that he couldn’t endure it.
Over and over, thoughts of Damian filled his mind as he flung objects, stomped on the shattered remnants, and slapped the cheek of an attendant who mustered the courage to intervene.
It had been ages since he’d behaved this savagely. Normally, he feigned composure to uphold his dignity as the crown prince.
After a prolonged outburst bordering on tyranny, Frederick only managed to calm himself when his aide arrived.
He issued a curt order to clean up the wrecked office and shifted to the reception room.
“I present myself to Your Highness the Crown Prince.”
“Report.”
“Yes, as you command.”
The aide responded with tension to the immediate order that bypassed any pleasantries. It was because the information he was about to deliver seemed unlikely to ease the crown prince’s furrowed brow.
Observing Frederick’s intensely irritable expression, the aide cautiously began to speak.
“Among the evidence seized from the illegal slave auction by the authorities, the Dome Merchant Guild’s ledgers and key confidential documents were absent. The inventory of evidence submitted by Lord Vandemir follows the same pattern. Just to be thorough, I dispatched personnel to search the guild’s office, but as anticipated, nothing turned up.”
“Then you’re suggesting those items sprouted legs and fled on their own?”
“N-no, sir. It appears the guild owner either took them or disposed of them, or…… the Red Hawk Knights diverted them.”
At the final remark, Frederick furrowed his brow. A headache throbbing, he massaged his temples and snapped in a cutting tone,
“Where is the guild owner being held?”
“Well……. He was confined in the underground prison to the west of the imperial capital, but he escaped at dawn today.”
Brandon had bribed a low-ranking knight guarding the prison and slipped away unnoticed; now, his trail had vanished.
A pursuit team had been hastily assembled, but rumors were already circulating that he’d crossed into another country.
Frederick closed his eyes and steadied his breathing to quell the fury churning within him once more. Veins bulged prominently on the back of his tightly clenched fist.
“Go capture that wretch at once.”
“Your command is my duty, Your Highness.”
The aide rose abruptly, bowed deeply in response, and after offering a respectful farewell, hurried out. He appeared fearful of lingering and incurring wrath.
Left alone in the reception room, Frederick sank into quiet contemplation.
‘Did Damian Vandemir take those things, or not?’
He’d already heard reports that the Red Hawk Knights had ransacked the guild’s office from top to bottom during the bust of the illegal slave auction.
Furthermore, considering Damian had presented Marquis Grant’s black magic bomb contract as evidence, the likelihood that he’d taken them was high. His own transaction records would be among the most classified secrets, after all.
The thought that crucial documents were now in Damian’s grasp left Frederick in a bind, prompting him to cradle his forehead and exhale a sigh.
‘It’ll be trouble if the contents of the ledgers or documents are exposed.’
Before that could happen, he needed to eliminate Damian Vandemir. In any case, to Frederick, the man’s mere existence—living and breathing—was an intolerable affront, so this was a welcome imperative.
‘How to dispose of him? Frame him for treason?’
There was no charge more convenient for handling adversaries.
Yet Frederick soon abandoned that approach. Branding Damian a traitor outright would mean his wife, Aracila, would be executed alongside him.
‘To claim Aracila for myself, I must topple only Damian Vandemir.’
Their relationship had deteriorated to the point of being virtual strangers, but Frederick still couldn’t relinquish his feelings for Aracila.
Just then, as he wrestled with his dilemma, an attendant approached and respectfully proffered a letter.
“It arrives from the Vandemir ducal household.”
“Understood. Dismissed.”
With a slight scowl, Frederick examined the missive, which had arrived at an uncannily opportune moment.
As he dispassionately scanned the contents, beginning with formal pleasantries, his expression shifted into something curiously enigmatic.
“Your Highness, do you recall the oath of fealty I pledged to you five years ago?
My family and I, the Vandemir ducal house, shall render our utmost loyalty until the day Your Highness ascends as our esteemed Emperor.
Therefore, I beseech you to grant my precious son Oscar, who will inherit my mantle, the opportunity to serve Your Highness as well.”
The Duke of Vandemir had elaborated at length, pleading earnestly for a chance for his eldest son. It was a poignant display of devotion toward a child whose reputation was in endless freefall due to the illegitimate affair scandal.
‘Oscar Vandemir… he might prove quite useful, actually.’
A cunning scheme flashing into his mind, Frederick curved his lips into a sly smile.
‘Yes…… in the long view, that wouldn’t be a bad move at all.’
Summoning the attendant once more, he began composing a reply.
Aracila inquired far and wide in search of a man named Sian Mondor. Yet no matter how thoroughly she looked, no one seemed to know of him.
She even asked the Grand Duchess of Keystone for help, but the duchess merely shook her head.
“I’ve never heard of a family named Mondor in the grand duchy either. The same goes for my acquaintances. He might be a foreigner, so perhaps broaden your search.”
“Yes. Thank you, Your Grace.”
On her way back after parting from the grand duchess, Aracila let out a deep sigh. For even the grand duchess, renowned for her influence in high society, to be unaware of him.
At this point, she couldn’t help but question whether Sian Mondor was even a real person.
‘Maybe Sian Mondor is actually Sian and Mondor separately. Or perhaps it’s not a person’s name at all, but means something else entirely.’
Aracila racked her brain diligently before halting the carriage in the bustling district. Her chest felt so stifled that she needed to stroll the streets and feel the cool breeze against her skin.
‘Lately, the research on the confession agent isn’t going well either, and aside from being named heir to the magic tower, everything else is lackluster.’
Studying a flower that had gone extinct decades ago was no easy task. There was scant documentation, no specimens to work with, and none of the three researchers had any prior interest in botany, making progress arduous.
It was amid this vexing blend of fortune and misfortune that Aracila walked forward, her gaze fixed ahead.
“Huh? Lady Vandemir?”
A familiar voice called out to her from behind. Aracila turned her head in bewilderment, her eyes widening in surprise.
Eric approached her with a delighted expression, cradling several books in his arms.
“Fancy meeting you here. Have you been well?”
“Oh, yes. Are you on your way back from the bookstore, Lord Roberts?”
“Haha, that’s right. A scholar I admire just published a new book, so I came to buy it myself.”
Eric smiled brightly. With his gentle features, he exuded a soft and warm aura, much like Iris.
It struck Aracila anew that her sister had found someone so similar to herself, and her gaze drifted toward the books.
<The Plant Encyclopedia Written While Drunk>, <The History of Plants Written Without Drinking>.
‘……Hmm, quite peculiar tastes.’
They were titles that looked like the sort she wouldn’t read even if someone paid her to. Suddenly recalling that he was a scholar, Aracila lightly asked.
“What exactly does Lord Roberts do, if I may ask?”
“I’m a botanist. Until last year, I taught related courses at the academy, but now I’m focusing on my personal research.”
“Ah, I see.”
Aracila nodded. No wonder he was carrying books about plants. She followed up with a suitably sociable response.
“That’s impressive. I hope your research always goes well, my lord.”
“Yes, thank you. And congratulations to you, madam, on being designated as the successor to the Magic Tower.”
“Thank you.”
The two exchanged brief pleasantries and then parted ways. However, Aracila, who had been walking along with a thoughtful expression on her face, suddenly turned her body around.
“Just a moment, Lord Roberts.”
The long legs that had been strolling leisurely came to a hesitant stop. She closed the not-too-distant gap in an instant and stood right in front of Eric.
“Yes? Is something the matter?”
Eric looked at Aracila with a surprised expression. He hadn’t imagined she would follow after him and strike up conversation again.
“Are you researching anything in particular right now?”
“Right now? Um, I was delving into rare plants and wrapped that up last month, and presently, I’m fumbling around in search of a new topic. Why do you ask?”
“Then, how about joining me and my juniors in researching the Dillai flower? I’d like to scout you, my lord.”
If Eric the botanist joined their research, they could resolve the difficulties they were facing due to their lack of knowledge about the flower.
Up until now, she hadn’t thought of it because there were no relevant contacts in her circle, but encountering Eric like this made her realize they needed at least one promising botanist on board.
“We’re planning to bring the extinct Dillai flower back into bloom. Not interested?”
Aracila asked once more. At the unexpected proposal, Eric blinked his eyes slowly before soon replying with an excited look on his face.
“As a botanist, of course I’m interested! It’s about a plant that’s vanished from the world making a comeback. There’s nothing more thrilling and joyful than that.”
“Perfect. Join us, then, Lord Roberts.”
“I’d truly welcome it. I look forward to working with you from here on, Mrs. Vandemir.”
Eric extended his hand first, offering a handshake. Aracila responded with a smile lingering on her lips.
“I look forward to it as well.”
They agreed to set up a formal appointment later to discuss the details more thoroughly, and this time, the two finally parted ways for good.
Having unwittingly recruited her sister’s lover, Aracila headed back with steps that felt considerably lighter. She was satisfied that one of her worries had been alleviated, even if just a little.
That evening, at the dinner table, Aracila told Damian about what had happened that day.
“On my way back from meeting Her Highness the Grand Duchess Keystone, I ran into Lord Roberts by chance.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes, I had no idea, but it turns out the lord is a botanist.”
Damian listened to her words with an expression devoid of any enthusiasm. He had no particular interest in Eric, so none of the information related to him struck him as intriguing in the least.
As he was neatly slicing the smoked lamb and bringing it to his lips, he paused at the words that followed.
“So, I plan to work together with Lord Roberts from now on.”
Work together? On what? Damian’s expression subtly stiffened. The image of the two quickly growing friendly at the birthday party flashed through his mind.
Of course, since Eric was Iris’s lover, it wasn’t a romantic jealousy that stirred in him—but rather, a different kind altogether.
As her terminally ill husband, his days left to spend with Aracila were steadily dwindling, yet that man faced no such limit. It was thoughts like these that fueled it.
Come to think of it, it wasn’t just Eric; everyone except Damian would be in that position.
The sudden realization that he alone had a predetermined end to their relationship left Damian in a low mood, and before he knew it, he asked in a tone that came out somewhat sharper than intended.
“What exactly do you mean by ‘work together’?”
“The research I’m involved in right now. We happen to be in dire need of botanical expertise at the moment.”
“But didn’t you say it was your first time meeting him last time? Won’t that be uncomfortable?”
“It’ll be fine. After all, he might end up becoming family someday.”
The madam who had connected Iris and Eric was a renowned matchmaker in the capital. What’s more, since their mother had made the introduction, it was clear they were courting with marriage implicitly in mind.
Aracila had always been more obedient than her, raised as the epitome of a noble young lady, so she fully expected that her sister would one day marry in accordance with their parents’ wishes—which left her with no doubts whatsoever about the pair.
If anything, she thought Eric, with his similar features and demeanor, suited her sister remarkably well. Even from that brief glimpse, he seemed like a good person, which put her mind at even greater ease.
‘……At the very least, Lord Roberts’s future lies in becoming part of your family.’
Damian swallowed the words that had risen all the way to the tip of his tongue, covering his mouth with his water glass instead.
He was irritated with himself for being unable to rein in this petty behavior that kept surfacing.
“Ah, but more importantly, there’s something else I really need to tell you.”
─── ･ ｡ﾟ✧: *. ꕥ .* :✧ﾟ. ───
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