“Like this!”
Riersha channeled her mana and unfurled her ability.
Soap bubbles popped into existence throughout the Grand Council Chamber, drifting lazily through the air in every direction.
She poked one with her finger. It burst with a cheerful pop!
“Hehe.”
Riersha smiled — the kind of smile that said See? No problem at all, right? — and the already frigid atmosphere in the chamber dropped another several degrees.
Marquess Crender shot to his feet, staring blankly as he muttered to himself.
“H-how is this… how did this…”
And no wonder.
We’re finished.
Marquess Crender’s mind had gone completely white.
He had fully expected Riersha to walk in looking cowed and humiliated. Instead, she had strolled in without a care in the world, hand in hand with Pernoa, and casually demonstrated her ability in front of everyone.
Then what was the point of the Duke refusing the elders’ requests all this time?
But Marquess Crender was not the only one reeling.
The elders who had aligned themselves with him had gone pale as sheets, struck speechless where they sat.
Count Atran, in particular, had borrowed nearly as much as the Marquess under the most strenuous of circumstances — and his anxiety was so plainly written on his face that even a passing stranger could have read it.
How much did I borrow again?
He couldn’t even tally the full sum in his head. He had gone so far as to reach out to his wife’s family for funds.
“Why are your faces doing that?” Arcmund asked, making no effort to hide his displeasure. “You’ve just learned that Riersha is perfectly fine. Shouldn’t you be rejoicing?”
Those elders connected to the matter hastily rearranged their expressions.
“I can do this too.”
Riersha wrapped one of the still-floating bubbles around a nearby pen and sent it drifting upward.
Then she turned to address the elders who were gaping at her like fools.
“I can send things far, far away too!”
In other words: the one trapped inside a bubble next time could very well be one of them.
“So you’d better think twice before saying whatever you like from now on!”
There was no one present who failed to understand her meaning — even through her childish pronunciation.
Riersha had never formally exercised her authority before, so few had understood its true extent. But the matter at hand was precisely the kind that warranted holding the elders accountable.
Unable to contain his anxiety any longer, Count Atran leapt to his feet.
At this point, there was no choice but to pin the blame on someone else — anyone else.
“This is nothing like what you told me, Marquess Crender!”
“W-what?! You were the one calling her suspicious! What good does it do saying that now?!”
Marquess Crender turned scarlet and fired back.
Out of the corner of his eye, the other elders who had co-signed the petition to Arcmund began quietly edging away, angling to distance themselves from the fallout.
Pernoa spoke for the first time.
“What a shambles.”
“…!”
Marquess Crender, who had been jabbing his finger at the air and readying another outburst, caught himself and covered his mouth with a dry cough. He smoothed his jacket with exaggerated composure and moved to sit back down.
“Crender. Atran. Ellang. Yoshibis.”
Silence.
“Does everyone here know what this is?”
Pernoa smiled — a cold, thin smile.
They already knew.
“These are the noble houses that formally and officially called the Arachrene family’s heir into question.”
“…A-ahem.”
The elders belonging to those houses cleared their throats and looked elsewhere.
The remaining elders held their tongues entirely, not daring to draw a single spark of this fire onto themselves.
At least there won’t be anyone getting in the way.
Which meant this would be all the easier.
Pernoa’s expression hardened into something glacial.
“And just how do you intend to take responsibility for this?”
“R-responsibility…?”
“Riersha — young as she is — put her very position on the line to prove her worth. Surely none of you intend to tell me you’re incapable of doing the same?”
The elder seats.
The implication was unmistakable: surrender them, and answer for what you’ve done.
Someone swallowed audibly. The sound of a dry throat. They had all understood it in the same instant.
This entire proceeding had been a trap — one that Arcmund and Pernoa had built from the ground up to clear house.
Pernoa lifted the document marked 【Regarding the Abilities of Riersha Arachrene】 and held it in the air.
“Don’t tell me you challenged the heir on nothing more than a well, it might be true whim?”
⁂
At the very hour the Grand Council was reaching its climax inside the Arachrene ducal estate, Selvia Crender made her appearance at the aristocratic ladies’ afternoon tea party.
The ladies, who had fully expected her to skip today as well, looked up in surprise.
“My goodness — Marchioness Crender?”
“It has been a while, hasn’t it. I do hope everyone has been keeping well.”
Selvia Crender snapped open her fan with a dramatic flourish — a deep crimson affair adorned with dark red feathers.
It was a limited-edition piece from Royal Titania, the brand most adored by the nobility of Declair Capital, and it was said to have been offered exclusively to clients who spent upwards of thirty billion gold annually.
In short: something you simply could not obtain, no matter how badly you wanted it.
Every lady’s gaze fixed immediately on the fan.
This is what I’ve been building toward. This is exactly why I invested in Royal Titania.
Selvia Crender recalled the quiet tip her personal attendant at the boutique had passed along, and felt a warm bloom of satisfaction rise in her chest.
Her husband, Marquess Crender, didn’t know about any of it yet, but —
Hmph. A mere thirty billion gold. I’ll sort that out in no time.
She thought of the Marquess, who had left the house that very morning in high spirits, crowing about his imminent windfall, and let the last of her worry dissolve.
“You seem fully recovered, Marchioness.”
“Quite. I’m feeling much better, thank you.”
Selvia Crender wedged herself into the center seat with practiced confidence and lifted her teacup. As she drank, she straightened her spine and squared her shoulders, showing off the gown she’d acquired to match the fan — the latest set from Royal Titania.
The ladies, who had already caught whispers through the social circuit that Marquess Crender was making some rather significant moves, leaned forward with bright, eager eyes.
The Marquess was widely regarded as a fool in most respects, but when it came to business acumen, he was said to have a predator’s instinct. He hadn’t landed any great successes since the seal enterprise he’d announced with the Mage Tower, but that single venture had been so impressive that the noble circles had kept the Crender house close ever since.
“Oh, isn’t this the new dress from Royal Titania?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“It’s stunning! It suits you perfectly!”
“Do you think so? Nothing can truly match my natural elegance, of course, but this dress comes tolerably close, I’ll admit.”
“As expected — no one can compare to the Marchioness Crender’s refinement.”
Selvia Crender was widely considered to have taken extravagance to its outer limits, yet the assembled ladies rolled their tongues with seamless grace.
It was at that moment.
“My lady, my lady!! Something terrible has happened!”
“…What is it?”
Selvia Crender’s brow furrowed in undisguised irritation as a servant came crashing through the door, breathless and frantic.
The ladies began glancing back and forth between the two of them with hungry curiosity.
“The — the manor!”
“The manor?”
The servant, still gasping for breath, caught herself and quickly closed the distance between them. She leaned in close and dropped her voice to a whisper against the Marchioness’s ear.
“Creditors have stormed the estate, my lady! They’ve ransacked everything! They’re saying if the hundred billion gold isn’t repaid immediately, they won’t hold back!”
⁂
“Effective from this moment, the elder positions of Marquess Crender, Count Atran, Count Ellang, and Count Yoshibis are hereby revoked.”
The shockwaves didn’t stop there.
In a single morning, four of the Arachrene ducal family’s elders had lost their heads — figuratively, at the very least.
Of the ten elders that served the house, only five now remained.
“You can’t do this! You simply cannot — Your Grace! Your Grace, please, just hear me out for one moment!”
“Now, now. Let’s not cause a scene. Come along quietly.”
“Do you have any idea who I am?!”
Aska, who had been tasked with escorting the dismissed elders out through the formality of accompanying them to the castle gates with a few knights, watched Marquess Crender being hauled away — still shrieking — and smiled.
It was not a kind smile.
“Marquess Crender, do try to read the room. Even stupidity has its limits.”
“Wh — how dare you —”
“That’s exactly why you don’t even know your own house has already collapsed. How can you be slower to hear your own news than I am?”
Aska let out a low, impressed whistle. Then, in a final act of mercy, she kindly filled him in.
“You’re completely ruined. Just so you know.”
“…!”
“Well then — safe travels. I’ve got to go visit Lady Riersha~.”
Aska waved cheerfully from inside the gates.
That was the last thing Marquess Crender saw before the great castle doors swung shut with a resonant, final thud.
