Chapter 74: The Deal is Struck
“Do you truly see it that way?”
“Yes. The jewels feel like a disguised representation of tears.”
“I see. That’s how it comes across to you, then.”
The Grand Duchess nodded to herself, then turned to the murmuring crowd around her and spoke:
“I believe in respecting individual impressions. The artist’s intent matters, of course, but what the viewer feels is just as important.”
At that, the mouths of those who had been criticizing Aracila for her “rude” comment snapped shut. The Grand Duchess swept a calm gaze across the now-silent crowd and added,
“If I explain what I intended with the painting, I’d be invalidating someone else’s interpretation. So, let’s leave this one as is.”
She moved on to the next painting, resuming her guided tour. Aracila followed quietly, her mind slightly clouded with worry.
‘Was I too blunt?’
She had tried to follow her sister’s advice—be honest, but not crude. Still, being someone who naturally leaned toward candidness, Aracila couldn’t be certain she had struck the right balance.
‘Did I mess up? I hope not… but judging from the tone of the painting, I still think it was painted from a place of sadness…’
The Grand Duchess didn’t glance her way again, which only deepened Aracila’s anxiety. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this anxious about whether someone liked her.
When the tour finally ended, the Grand Duchess dismissed the group, telling them to enjoy the rest of the exhibition at their leisure.
Aracila considered approaching her, but decided against it after seeing the Duchess firmly decline another person’s attempt at conversation.
‘I suppose I’ll have to be satisfied with just showing my face today.’
It was unrealistic to expect immediate results on a first attempt. Even with magic experiments, success only came after several failures.
Still, since she was here, she figured she might as well study the Grand Duchess’s paintings closely—maybe they would provide conversation fodder for the future. She slowly wandered through the gallery on her own.
That’s when someone suddenly addressed her.
“Good afternoon, Duchess Vandemir.”
“…?”
The speaker was a kindly smiling middle-aged woman, dressed plainly though neatly—too modestly for a noble. She looked more like a maid.
Aracila was momentarily puzzled as to why the woman had spoken to her, but her eyes widened at what the maid said next.
“I’m Catherine, lady-in-waiting to Her Grace the Grand Duchess. Would you follow me for a moment?”
She added in a hushed tone, just loud enough for Aracila alone to hear:
“Her Grace has requested your presence.”
Without hesitation, Aracila followed.
The maid led her to a reception room on the upper floor of the gallery. Inside, the Grand Duchess was seated upright, waiting.
“I offer my greetings to Your Grace. I am Aracila Vandemir.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Duchess Vandemir. Please, have a seat.”
Aracila obeyed and sat across from her. A maid poured tea into her cup before stepping back to the wall.
“I invited you because I thought it would be nice to share a cup of tea. Do you have time?”
“Of course, Your Grace.”
Even if she hadn’t, she would have made time by any means necessary. Aracila nodded politely.
The Grand Duchess studied her with a gaze that was frankly appraising. Though there was interest in her eyes, it wasn’t discomforting—just a bit too direct.
Once she had finished her quiet inspection, she spoke in a smooth, gentle voice.
“Truthfully, I was quite impressed with your earlier answer. That painting—you were right. I painted it during a particularly dark time. I even cried while adding the color.”
She spoke casually, but the weight of her words was anything but light. Aracila listened with genuine seriousness.
“I’m sure others sensed the sadness too, but you were the only one who said it outright. I appreciated that. Most people watch what they say around me far too carefully. They always feel the need to praise.”
“I can understand why others would feel that way. To be honest, I was worried afterward that I might have overstepped.”
“Hah! You’re remarkably honest, I see!”
The Grand Duchess laughed heartily. The warmth in her gaze deepened.
Most people, in moments like this, would try to make themselves seem special—insisting, for example, that while others might lie or flatter, they were different.
But Aracila had taken an unexpected route. She had expressed empathy for the others’ reluctance to speak honestly, rather than positioning herself above them.
It didn’t come across as feigned kindness. It felt like a natural, unfiltered expression of her own heart—an unnecessary but sincere show of understanding.
“Are you deeply interested in the arts, Duchess?”
“I wasn’t, originally. But I wanted to grow closer to Your Grace, and that gave me the interest.”
“Oh? You wanted to befriend me?”
The Grand Duchess smiled in delight at the candid reply.
She had grown tired of people who cloaked their intentions in roundabout words, always circling around what they really wanted. Aracila wasn’t like that. She simply said what she meant.
Unlike those who used a hundred words to say one thing, Aracila used one word to say it all.
“And why is it you want to grow closer to me?”
“Because I hope Your Grace might become my patron in the social sphere.”
“And why?”
The Grand Duchess repeated her question with a simple tone. Her smile still lingered, but there was weight behind her eyes now.
Aracila discreetly swallowed. This was where the real conversation began—and she had to tread carefully.
She recalled her sister’s advice: Be sincere, but act wisely.
“I’ve devoted myself completely to my work at the Tower and, as a result, failed to build any standing in society. After marrying, that became a serious vulnerability.”
“Indeed. For noblewomen, it is wise to establish some presence in society.”
“Yes. Without it, I can’t counter the people who spread lies about me or try to drive a wedge between me and my husband.”
The Grand Duchess raised her cup with a quiet smile. Aracila followed suit, using the pause to moisten her throat.
In truth, the Grand Duchess had heard rumors about Aracila before. But the cycle of scandalous gossip flaring up and dying down was so frequent that she hadn’t paid much attention.
“You wish to use my name to refute those rumors?”
“Not quite. What I want… is to put an end to the woman pursuing my husband.”
The Grand Duchess’s expression shifted slightly. The smile slowly faded from her lips.
Her gaze sharpened, and she stared at Aracila with quiet intensity.
“Your husband is Lord Vandemir, isn’t he? Are you saying he’s been unfaithful?”
“No, not at all. He hasn’t had a change of heart. But there’s someone trying to shake his resolve by attacking me—and that’s the real problem.”
In other words, the unpleasant rumors circulating about Aracila had originated from a woman who harbored feelings for her husband.
The Grand Duchess knew that story well.
She had endured the same.
The women who chased after her husband had wanted to oust her and claim her title as Grand Duchess, never realizing it was a station given to her by birthright—as a princess of the empire.
They had clawed and schemed, belittling and slandering her with relentless persistence.
In truth, those who acted from ambition were easier to handle. A clear display of her imperial bloodline was usually enough to subdue them.
But the ones who truly loved the Grand Duke… those were the ones she had to fear. Their obsession blinded them, making them reckless and utterly irrational.
The Grand Duchess had dealt with so many of them—so many she had grown weary of it—and eventually, she withdrew from the Grand Duchy altogether, returning to her homeland for a quieter, more peaceful life.
In Aracila’s words, the Grand Duchess saw echoes of her own past. After a long pause, she finally spoke.
“So you’re asking me to become your patron, and deal with the woman after your husband for you?”
The Grand Duke’s infamous affairs had made the Grand Duchess something of a legend.
It was common for noblewomen, troubled by their husbands’ infidelities, to come to her—either for advice or to ask her to intervene.
That Aracila might be one of them was disappointing, but not surprising. She had seen it all before.
But then, unexpectedly, Aracila shook her head with conviction.
“Why should I ask Your Grace to handle my affairs? What I want… is the strength to deal with her myself.”
The Grand Duchess blinked—taken aback.
She had fully expected Aracila to plead for help in punishing her husband’s admirer, just like so many others. But instead, Aracila had asked not for a favor, but for empowerment.
The Grand Duchess regarded her anew, eyes now gleaming with intrigue.
She had seen countless women come to her asking for revenge—but never one who had asked for the strength to carry it out with her own hands.
People had a strange tendency: simply because the Grand Duchess shared the same wound—an unfaithful husband—they expected her to fix everything for them.
“Well, Duchess Vandemir, I understand your circumstances. But tell me, why should I help you? If it’s strength you want, you ought to cultivate it yourself.”
Despite Aracila’s refreshing honesty and different approach, the Grand Duchess didn’t feel any particular urge to assist her.
If Aracila got into a spat right in front of her, perhaps she’d step in out of momentary sympathy. But that would be the extent of it. She had no intention of offering favors to someone she’d just met, no matter how likable they were.
“I’ve heard that His Grace the Grand Duke has yet to name your son as his official heir,” Aracila said calmly and suddenly, steering the conversation into unexpected waters.
The Grand Duchess’s brow twitched.
She tilted her head slightly, as if to say, Let’s hear where this goes.
“I can help ensure your son is named the official successor.”
At that, the Grand Duchess’s eyes widened more than they had all day. Every answer Aracila gave was more surprising than the last.
Still, this was a serious matter. She narrowed her eyes and asked, sharply,
“And how would you do that?”
“His Grace recently sought to sign a contract for a magical airship, hoping to improve trade with the Kingdom of Yortan. But the deal fell through after failed negotiations with my husband. If Your Grace helps me, I’ll finalize that contract under your son’s name.”
Aracila had learned from her sister that the Grand Duke continued to delay naming his son as heir—not because of any flaw in the young man, but because he had yet to produce any results that would earn his father’s full trust.
Upon investigating, she’d found this to be true: the son was not lacking, merely overshadowed. His achievements had yet to stand apart from his father’s.
But if he could succeed in securing a deal that even his father couldn’t—a diplomatic and economic victory like this airship contract—he would surely earn a second look.
The deal was all the more critical because maritime trade with the Kingdom of Yortan was essential to the Grand Duchy of Keyston.
For generations, the two nations had exchanged vital resources. A complete breakdown in relations would be disastrous for both sides.
Recently, however, trouble had arisen.
It wasn’t political tension or war. The sea between the two countries had become dangerous, plagued by monsters.
Even after paying huge sums to exterminate them, the peace never lasted. New threats kept emerging, and this year, not a single shipment had been exchanged.
But magical airships flew through the skies. They were immune to such dangers.
This made the contract with the Vandemir airships a clear, immediate solution to a worsening crisis—one the Grand Duke had been unable to secure, despite his efforts.
The Grand Duchess ran the numbers silently in her head.
If her son could close the deal, it would be enough to prove his capability—and with just a little support from her, he could be named heir in no time.
Decision made, she finally spoke.
“All you need is my backing to establish yourself in society?”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“Very well, then. We have a deal. Let’s see how close we can become, you and I.”
The Grand Duchess smiled and extended her hand.
Aracila accepted it with a respectful grip.
And with that, she had secured a powerful patron in high society.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ✧: *. ꕥ .* :✧ﾟ. ───
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