“Your evidence?”
On Sion’s orders, the Magic Tower was currently under restricted entry. No one could come or go.
In other words, there was absolutely no way the Crown Prince’s dark magic could have been fortified without some external factor at play.
Basen pointed to his own eyes, his voice rising with agitation.
“I saw it with these two eyes — clearly!”
“What a compelling piece of evidence.”
“…”
“Tell me what you saw.”
Sion’s sarcasm made Basen drop his hand, looking slightly embarrassed. He straightened his posture and composed himself.
“You were certain yourself, Tower Master — you said that Isierd Declair’s divine power would be extraordinary.”
“I did say that.”
Sion nodded slowly, sifting through his memories.
Based on what he’d heard from the Arachrene family, there was no doubt about it. Isierd had accomplished something that would have been impossible without a truly exceptional level of divine power.
And though it hadn’t been formally discussed yet, the subject of the oracle from eight years ago was unmistakably Isierd Declair.
“Then couldn’t divine power also break dark magic?”
“In theory, yes.”
He had never witnessed it himself, but the historical records confirmed as much. Whether anyone in the Declair Empire was actually capable of it — that was another question entirely.
“In theory, you say? I saw it clearly at the palace gates, Tower Master. Isierd Declair took the Crown Prince’s hand in his.”
“And?”
“The Crown Prince was perfectly fine. The dark magic hadn’t lifted at all. If your theory is correct, shouldn’t it have?”
“Hm.”
What kind of blindsiding situation was this?
The corners of Sion’s mouth curved upward, sharp and dangerous.
So my theory was wrong?
No.
That couldn’t be it.
Even a small trace of divine power — the amount contained in a single dose of Serinel — had been enough to purify poison in an instant.
Isierd Declair could undoubtedly perceive the Crown Prince’s true nature.
Someone with that level of supreme divine power might not shatter dark magic in a single blow, but…
They could certainly throw it into disarray for a moment.
That would have been enough. Today had been a perfectly ripe opportunity — a feast, even — to reveal the Crown Prince’s true face before everyone assembled.
Isierd Declair would have known that.
“How interesting.”
Sion murmured to himself.
Basen looked skeptical.
“Isn’t it possible that Isierd Declair simply doesn’t have that level of divine power? Perhaps we’ve been overestimating him.”
“He’s a prince with an oracle to his name. It makes no sense that he’d lack even that much.”
“Then why? Maybe he’s just young and doesn’t know what he’s doing — doesn’t that seem more likely?”
“Did he strike you as foolish?”
“No. He held his own against Crown Prince Adrian without missing a beat. When he addressed him directly as his elder brother, the tension in the air was something else.”
“So, not foolish either.”
Sion tapped a finger idly — one of his few habits that surfaced whenever he was thinking through something.
“Even for the Empress, meddling with the dark magic again at a time like this would be a considerable burden.”
“Are you saying Isierd Declair deliberately left the Crown Prince alone?”
“That seems more probable.”
“…Why?”
Why would anyone throw away such a golden opportunity?
From Basen’s perspective, it was utterly incomprehensible.
Sion shrugged.
“I don’t know. Go ask him yourself.”
“…”
“Ha. Things are really not going the way I’d like.”
He had never met Isierd Declair in person, but it was becoming increasingly clear that the young prince operated by slowly draining his opponents dry and grinding them underfoot at his leisure.
Unless, of course, something had changed — some unexpected circumstance that made breaking the Crown Prince’s dark magic immediately impossible.
Just then, Basen spoke as if something had only now come back to him.
“Now that I think about it — when the Emperor attended the trial, he reportedly spent a brief moment alone with Isierd Declair.”
“Then something must have passed between them then.”
What the Emperor wanted was obvious enough. The restoration of his own power.
“Should I look into what exactly transpired?”
“Yes. And what’s the Temple’s situation right now?”
“The Empress visited the Temple not long ago, but there’s been no notable news since.”
“Right. The important people are all surely very busy these days.”
“…Tower Master, couldn’t you try being a little busy yourself?”
“My head is already aching.”
Having more or less sorted through his thoughts, Sion rose from his chair with a pleasant air. Whatever else was going on, the first order of business was keeping the promise he had made to Riersha. There was a proper order to all things.
“Send our young lady a bouquet with a note that we’re in her care going forward, Basen. And establish a communication line so she can reach the Tower directly.”
“I — pardon?”
“A promise is a promise.”
After all, everything was unfolding exactly as Riersha had said it would.
“A being who will restore all things to their proper place…”
Basen left, and Sion lingered at the window, murmuring to himself before a quiet smile crossed his lips.
⁂
One day passed after the imperial family spent time among themselves, renewing their bonds.
Riersha bolted upright in the enormous bed.
“Hmm…”
She yawned widely and glanced around, only belatedly remembering that she was inside the Imperial Palace.
As a point of note, the residence they’d been given was a palace the Emperor had bestowed in its entirety upon the Arachrene family — an extraordinary display of favoritism by any measure.
Pernoa, upon hearing the news, had been notably less than pleased.
“The Emperor is openly trying to upend the existing order.”
It was clear he found it distasteful to have the Arachrene family used as an instrument of the Emperor’s designs.
I wonder if Isierd slept well.
Riersha gazed at the magnificent palaces visible beyond the window. Isierd would be staying in one of those buildings somewhere among them.
“I hope he’s settling in alright.”
She was still murmuring to herself when the door opened and Sona stepped in.
“You’re awake, Miss Riersha? Were you comfortable last night?”
“Mm-hm. I’m fine. What about you, Sona? Did you sleep well?”
“Yes, I slept very comfortably. But…”
But?
Riersha tilted her head.
Sona hesitated, then gestured toward one side of the table.
“A bouquet?”
“Yes. It was sitting there when I came in this morning.”
“Who sent it?”
“I’m not sure. I checked it over, and there was nothing suspicious about it. The item enclosed with it was an ordinary communication orb.”
Sona brought over the bouquet from the table — lush and beautiful, brimming with flowers.
Riersha studied it for a moment, then unsealed the letter. There was nothing written on the outside of the envelope to identify the sender.
Instead, elegant handwriting met her eyes.
The letter contained a very simple message.
Watched the trial. You did well. I look forward to working with you.
Riersha knew at once who had sent it.
It could only be Sion Senuart.
He had kept his promise.
And the communication orb — this was likely the means by which she could reach him directly.
“The Tower Master sent it.”
“The Tower Master?”
“Mm. Looks like he’s decided to work with me after all.”
What a relief. If he had chosen to side with the Empress instead, things would have become complicated in any number of ways.
She ought to reach out through this orb before long.
Riersha was stretching as she got up when —
Knock, knock.
A knock at the door. It opened to admit a palace handmaiden stepping carefully inside — the same familiar face who had guided them here yesterday.
“What brings you here so early?”
When Sona asked on Riersha’s behalf, the handmaiden delivered an unexpected and rather startling piece of news.
“His Majesty the Emperor sends word that he would like you to join him for breakfast. Along with the Young Lord of Arachrene.”
“…Hm?”
“You’ll need to prepare without delay… might I assist you?”
Glancing out toward the hallway, Riersha could see several more handmaidens waiting. She blinked a few times in a daze, then opened her mouth.
Sleep had left her all at once.
A personal breakfast invitation from the Emperor himself — of all people!
“Then, if you’ll excuse us.”
The handmaidens swept into the room in a flurry.
