The day of the first hearing against House Kineart.
The Declair capital’s newspapers—which had until now kept conspicuously quiet—finally ran their first headline in enormous print.
“House Arachrene: Is This the End of Their Alliance with House Kineart?!”
“House Arachrene has long pursued private gain through baseless fabrications, leading the charge to tarnish the imperial family’s dignity and incite the citizens of the Declair Empire—”
It seemed that with Duke Willias’s support secured in his mind, Berun Kineart had decided it was time to wage a full-scale war of public opinion.
Pernoa caught sight of the headline, let out a quiet scoff, and set the newspaper down as though it weren’t worth another moment of his attention.
“Berun Kineart is shaping the narrative.”
“…”
“Good. The more noise he makes, the more attention will fall on the prince.”
If anything, he ought to be grateful. The man was spending his own money, doing all the legwork for them without being asked.
Listening to Pernoa’s words, Isierd studied him for a brief moment before returning to his breakfast.
No matter how he looked at it, this was a peculiar pairing.
Why did the young lord suddenly invite the prince to join him for breakfast?
He had fully expected them to dine separately.
Rosinante quietly retrieved the newspaper Pernoa had set down and pretended to read it, all while stealing glances at the two of them.
“Isierd Declair.” Pernoa spoke. “How does it feel, knowing that name will soon be yours?”
“I don’t feel anything in particular.”
“Because you were never interested in that position to begin with?”
“…”
“Funny, then. Risideon told me you attended your lessons more diligently than anyone else.”
Pernoa’s crimson eyes grew cold and still.
“Did something happen to make you want that seat?”
In that instant, Isierd’s hand faltered—only for a fraction of a second—before resuming its natural movement. But Pernoa didn’t miss it.
“I see.”
He said it simply.
So. Something had given Isierd a reason to want the Declair name.
“Why the sudden interest in me?” Isierd asked.
“We’re going to be closely involved with one another going forward. It helps to know what the other is thinking.”
Closely involved.
At those words, Isierd understood why Pernoa had summoned him to breakfast. Now that he was on the verge of receiving his status as a prince, he had become a genuinely useful piece on the board. And Pernoa, accordingly, was prepared to treat him as such.
A silence settled between them for a moment.
Pernoa studied Isierd’s expressionless face, then spoke again.
“I’ve had a sense that you’ve been hiding something from me. When do you plan to tell me what it is?”
“Hiding something? I’m not sure what you mean.”
“…Are you pretending not to understand?”
Just then—
Click. The sound of a door opening.
Pernoa smoothed away the cold edge that had been building in the air and turned toward the sound. Isierd did the same.
Standing in the doorway was Riersha, blinking sleepily, still in her nightclothes.
Late the previous night, it had been decided that she would depart for the capital at once. The goal was to draw as little attention as possible during the journey.
Riersha stared blankly at the two of them, then shuffled over and dropped into a chair. Sona, who had hurried out after her, looked completely at a loss.
“Miss Riersha! You can’t come out like this! It’s not just family here—the prince is here too!”
“Mm, s’fine, Sona. Isierd and I are friends.”
“…”
A hush fell over the room.
It was Isierd who broke it first. He finished spreading jam on his bread and held it out to Riersha without missing a beat.
“We still have plenty of time before we need to leave. You could have slept longer.”
“…Mm, s’okay. I’m awake now.”
“Here.”
“Mm. Thanks.”
Riersha accepted the bread without a second thought and popped it into her mouth. Rosinante swallowed hard and quietly checked Pernoa’s expression.
Pernoa’s brow was already furrowed as he watched Riersha converse with Isierd as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
“…The two of you seem quite close,” Rosinante remarked, with a somewhat sour edge to his voice.
Riersha nodded.
“Mm. Yeah. We got really close.”
“Really… close, you say.”
Gulp.
Rosinante lowered his head until his nose was practically touching his plate, sensing the atmosphere growing distinctly more dangerous. He deeply regretted opening his mouth. There was a reason people said you were halfway safe just by staying quiet. Rosinante resolved to live by those words more faithfully from now on.
“Here, drink your milk too.”
“Thanks.”
Isierd smiled pleasantly and poured milk into her cup. Riersha beamed at him, her cheeks round and full.
Just then, a soft jingle came from Isierd’s arm—a flash of red as a Serinel bracelet swayed gently.
What is that?
Two pairs of adult eyes turned toward it.
“Oh, right—”
“You gave it to me yourself because you were thinking of me. So I’ll keep it with me always.”
“…”
“Well then. I hope everyone enjoys their meal.”
Isierd smiled warmly and announced his departure.
Riersha had been chewing away contentedly at her bread when she noticed both adults staring at her. She tilted her head.
“What are you lookin’ at me like that for, Papa?”
“As I recall, you’ve never given me a Serinel that holds your ability.”
“…Oh.”
“From now on, you shouldn’t go handing something that important over to just anyone without thinking.”
Though strange wasn’t quite the right word. What that boy was, was a slippery creature with far too many secrets.
Pernoa gazed at the direction Isierd had disappeared, then let out a quiet laugh.
“Hiding something? I’m not sure what you mean.”
Even thinking about it again—what an absurd thing to say with a straight face.
And yet, right in front of Riersha, he had been playing the picture of innocence. The whole thing was utterly baffling.
⁂
The noble tribunal of the Declair Empire’s capital was a place only aristocrats could enter.
Yet its entrance was already packed with reporters from every major paper.
Every last one of them had been summoned there by Duke Kineart.
Having stepped down from his grand carriage well ahead of time, Duke Kineart made his appearance with a composed, authoritative expression and strode forward.
“Oh—there’s Duke Kineart!!”
“Good day, Your Grace Duke Kineart! I’m from the Declair Capital Gazette—”
“We’d love to hear your thoughts going into today’s hearing! Just a word, Your Grace, please!”
As the reporters swarmed forward with no semblance of order, the duke’s aide stepped ahead and began corralling the chaos.
“Due to time constraints, we’ll only be taking one question per person. Please form a line and wait your turn. The reporter from the Declair Capital Gazette—you mentioned you’re from there just now—you may go first.”
“Yes, I’m a reporter by the name of Emma. Could you tell us what stance you’ll be taking in today’s proceedings?!”
“Ah, that would be…”
The moment Duke Kineart opened his mouth, the crowd fell into breathless silence. Every ear strained toward his next words.
“The conduct of House Arachrene in this matter is something I cannot and will not excuse. They have gone so far as to stain the honor of the imperial family itself—how could anyone simply look the other way?”
“Is that to say…?”
“All things must eventually return to their proper place. How could anyone think to stage such a revolting spectacle as a public performance? And from a great noble house that ought to be setting the example for all others, no less. Tsk, tsk.”
Duke Kineart clicked his tongue as if the very thought disgusted him. Gasps rippled through the crowd.
“So House Kineart is truly acting out of genuine concern for the Empire’s future?”
“But of course. Which noble isn’t? If someone were to claim otherwise, I can only interpret that as evidence of ulterior motives.”
In other words—House Arachrene was harboring something sinister.
Everyone was furiously scribbling down Duke Kineart’s words when, at that very moment, Duke Macton Willias happened to be passing nearby. Duke Kineart’s face lit up.
“Ah, and there is Duke Willias as well. Surely he too, regarding this matter—”
But something was wrong.
Duke Willias glanced once in his direction—and walked straight into the building without a word.
Duke Kineart, who had assumed the man would fall right into step with him, felt a large question mark rise inside his head.
His aide spoke quickly.
“Duke Willias has always disliked commotion, Your Grace. And with such a crowd, he may simply not have noticed us. There are quite a lot of people here.”
“…I suppose that’s it.”
Duke Kineart forced the stiffness out of his expression and replied.
Duke Willias would never betray him.
Not when he thought back to the letter he had received from the man not long ago. There was absolutely no way.
