The gates of the Imperial Palace stood wide open, and on either side of the entrance, knights clad in gleaming golden armor stood in perfect formation.
Riersha found herself instinctively straightening her spine in the face of the solemn atmosphere. Before the palace, the Emperor, Empress, and Crown Prince waited side by side, their eyes fixed on the road, ready to receive Isierd’s arrival.
“This way, Miss Riersha.”
“Mm-hm.”
Riersha glanced around and confirmed that the family crests of the noble houses had been arranged at intervals throughout the entrance grounds.
They appeared to have been placed in order according to the nobles’ ranks and titles.
Among them, the Arachrene family’s crest occupied the position closest to the palace gates.
And yet…
…The Kineart family’s crest is at the very end of the ducal houses?
That was entirely unexpected.
She had assumed they would be placed at least second…
For reference, beside the Arachrene family stood the Willias Ducal House, and beside them, the Marcella Ducal House, arranged in sequence.
When Riersha craned her neck to peek over and make eye contact, her round little head popping into view, the Duke of Marcella caught sight of her and smiled with undisguised amusement, returning her look with a nod of greeting.
A moment later, she could see him mouthing a small, silent hello.
Riersha beamed back at him and stood properly upright again.
Just then, Rosinante finished surveying their surroundings and muttered with a sour expression.
“I knew they were cunning, but I never imagined the Willias family would move this quickly to seize credit for themselves.”
“…Ah, I noticed that too. Wasn’t it something about the justice of the Declair Empire still breathing?”
“The Duke of Kineart, on the other hand, looks absolutely miserable. The Empress must be in quite a state.”
Riersha glanced over at the Empress.
She stood gracefully at the Emperor’s side, smiling with elegant composure, yet her gaze drifted elsewhere whenever she had a moment to spare.
Most likely, she was casting furtive looks at the Kineart Ducal House, relegated to the far end of the line.
It was as good as having the Emperor himself cast her family aside. This gathering must have been profoundly uncomfortable for the Empress.
And then there was Adrian—stone-faced, his eyes boring into the spot where Isierd would arrive—which told its own story.
He must have desperately not wanted to come.
Adrian could not have made it more obvious that he had been dragged here against his will.
Riersha quickly lost interest in the Crown Prince and turned to Pernoa with a question that had been nagging at her.
“When are the rest of our family arriving?”
“On the day of the party, I’m told.”
“I see.”
The welcoming banquet in Isierd’s honor was scheduled to begin at midnight tomorrow. It was a consideration for the nobles who had rushed to the capital and arrived only today.
“It seems the prince is arriving now.”
An unfamiliar noble’s voice drifted over from somewhere nearby.
Isierd is finally here!
Riersha’s eyes lit up as she snapped her head around.
Not far away, a grand and resplendent carriage was approaching—the one carrying Isierd. Imperial knights flanked it on all sides as an escort.
Unlike Riersha, who had come directly to the palace, Isierd had made a full circuit through the capital city before arriving, hence the delay.
Moments later, the carriage drew to a stop before the palace gates.
The low murmurs that had been rippling through the crowd fell completely silent.
Everyone held their breath, waiting for nothing but the opening of those golden carriage doors.
“His Imperial Highness, Prince Isierd Declair, has arrived.”
The knight of highest rank announced the arrival, and the carriage door swung open with smooth precision.
And from within, Isierd stepped into view.
“Oh my. He looks incredibly like His Majesty the Emperor…”
“If anything, the resemblance is even stronger there. Crown Prince Adrian… he takes more after Her Majesty the Empress.”
“…Hush.”
The nobles began to murmur among themselves.
Adrian appeared to sense the shift in atmosphere, and the color visibly drained from his expression.
“Welcome, Isierd. Everyone has been waiting for you. Was the journey comfortable?”
“Thanks to Your Majesty’s generous arrangements, it was an entirely pleasant journey. I am most grateful.”
“There is nothing to thank me for. It was only natural.”
Calius’s warmth drew looks of undisguised surprise from the assembled nobles. It was a tenderness he had never openly shown even to the Crown Prince.
The longer the two conversed, the more rigidly Adrian’s expression set into stone.
It was then that Karla, who had been holding her silence, swiftly inserted herself.
“Welcome, Prince Isierd. Not only His Majesty, but all of us have been waiting with great anticipation. …You should greet your brother, Crown Prince.”
“Yes, I suppose I should.”
At Karla’s prompt, Adrian smoothed away every trace of displeasure as though it had never existed, and smiled with effortless charm as he extended his hand.
“Welcome, little brother. I am truly glad you have returned to the Imperial Palace.”
“…”
“You won’t take my hand? Ah… perhaps you’re still unfamiliar with proper etiquette? In that case, the courteous thing to do is to clasp the hand so that the other person isn’t left embarrassed.”
At Adrian’s pointed remark, Isierd let out a soft, contemptuous laugh.
Then, slowly, deliberately, he grasped Adrian’s hand and held it firm.
“It seems to me that you’re the one who doesn’t know proper etiquette, Adrian.”
“…What did you say?”
“If we’re going by birth order, I was born first—which makes me the elder brother.”
“…!”
“I thought you should know. I trust you’ll conduct yourself with appropriate respect going forward.”
Adrian went rigid, his hand still held in Isierd’s grip.
Unable to conceal his bewilderment, he quickly swept his gaze around him.
Every noble who had been listening in wore the same expression—stunned, wide-eyed disbelief.
“Indeed. It is long past time we filled in the Imperial family registry properly.”
Calius sided openly with Isierd, and all around them came the sound of sharp, collective intakes of breath.
Adrian flinched and shot a look at Calius, but the Emperor didn’t spare him so much as a glance.
“…Your Majesty, surely with so many eyes upon us, such words are…”
“What can be done? It is simply the truth. Is it not something even the Empress has always known?”
“…”
“More importantly, I would very much like the person who damaged Isierd’s divine blessing to be found without delay. The Empress herself pledged to uncover who was responsible. I must say, my expectations are considerable.”
Karla’s teeth pressed into her lower lip.
Calius, having silenced her with a single sentence, turned his gaze—gleaming with quiet interest—down to Isierd.
“Yes. The First Imperial Prince of this Empire is you, Isierd.”
And then, as though wanting every last noble to hear it clearly, he drove the point home a second time.
The Emperor turned to look at Karla.
“Well then, shall we go inside? As this is the first occasion the Imperial household has been gathered in full, I would very much like us to spend the time together.”
“Yes, Father. As would I.”
Isierd answered with unhurried ease, brushing past Adrian as he did.
Adrian, standing right beside him, heard every word—and his eyes flew wide open in a look of pure, stunned disbelief.
It was the answer that had always been his alone to give.
In all of the Declair Empire, it had been a reply that only Adrian could offer.
That was mine!
But no longer.
Isierd Declair.
The moment that boy appeared, every certainty in Adrian’s life had begun to shatter.
How could Father do this to me? How could he treat me this way?
Adrian felt as though his entire body were plummeting through the floor and into the darkness below.
⁂
Once the Imperial family had all passed through the gates and into the palace, the rigid, airless tension that had gripped the crowd began to ease.
“Well. That was quite a blow he delivered.”
The Duke of Marcella appeared at Riersha’s side before she had even noticed, chuckling as he replayed what had just unfolded. He gave an exaggerated shudder.
“A nerve war conducted right in front of the Emperor himself. Fearless, honestly.”
“…Hello, Uncle. It’s been a while.”
“It has, Riersha. You’ve only gotten prettier since I last saw you.”
The Duke of Marcella was still wearing a helplessly bright smile from being called Uncle when a low, murmured voice from beside him caught Riersha’s ear—the Duke of Willias, seemingly lost in thought.
“…Isierd Declair as the First Imperial Prince? Then does that mean the oracle from eight years ago wasn’t referring to Crown Prince Adrian at all, but to Prince Isierd?”
“…?”
Riersha fixed her gaze on the Duke of Willias.
And there was someone else nearby who caught those same words.
Basen came bursting in from outside, breathless and disheveled.
“Tower Master! Tower Master…!”
“Everyone can see and hear you. You might try conducting yourself with a little dignity, Basen. You are still an elder of the Mage Tower, after all.”
“That’s not what matters right now! Do you have any idea what I just witnessed?”
“What did you witness.”
Sion replied with flat disinterest. Basen had been sent out on Sion’s orders to read the atmosphere around the palace and report back, and had now returned from that very task.
Seeing how completely white Basen’s face had gone, Sion gave a small jerk of his chin—then speak.
“It’s just—! I confirmed it myself—the black magic binding the Crown Prince has grown far stronger! I don’t know what could have happened in the past few days, but I’m absolutely certain of it.”
