The imperial palace at midnight sparkled just as brilliantly as it did in the light of day.
“Wow!” Riersha spun around, eyes wide, drinking in the sight of it all.
A procession of noble carriages was still filing through the palace gates — the last of the guests arriving in an unbroken stream.
Somewhere among them would be a carriage carrying Arcmund and her brothers.
Riersha had napped well that afternoon and woken in high spirits, and now her knees bounced in a little rhythm as she waited. Pernoa caught sight of it and let out a soft, deflated laugh.
“It’s barely been any time at all. Are you really that excited to see your family?”
“Yes! I missed them so, so much!”
Had it been about two weeks? She had never been apart from them this long before, which made the reunion feel all the sweeter.
A moment later, a carriage bearing a familiar family crest rolled through the gates, and a window flew open.
Ricador leaned his entire upper body out, craning forward with unmistakable enthusiasm.
Dressed in a striking red formal uniform, he was impossible to miss.
“Riersha!”
“Ricador oppa! You’re here!”
“…Ricador. People are watching. What on earth are you doing.”
“So what? Riersha and Father are right there — I’m just saying hello. You’re way too worried about what other people think.”
“…Where is Riersha, exactly? Stop hogging the whole window and move aside once you’ve waved. Go on, Ricador.”
A brief scuffle broke out inside the carriage, and then Riscal appeared beside him, shouldering his way into view.
“Riscal oppa!”
Riersha waved her hand enthusiastically back and forth. Riscal gave a playful little flick of his fingers in return.
Beside him, Risideon appeared quietly, a warm smile already on his face.
“Have you been well, Riersha?”
“Yes! But where’s Grandpa?”
Riersha tilted her head curiously, and the answer came from an unexpected quarter.
“He’s probably holding himself back — can’t exactly wave hello from a carriage window like the children.”
“…What a wretched thing to say. Must you really speak that way?”
“Was I wrong?”
Arcmund’s deeply displeased voice rumbled from within the carriage.
The carriage came to a full stop moments later, and Arcmund was the first to step out. The moment he descended, eyes from all around turned toward him.
It was a rare occasion for the entire Arachrene family to gather together at the imperial palace, and more than a few gazes followed him with open curiosity.
Arcmund extended his arm toward Riersha.
“Come here, child. Let your grandfather hold you.”
“Grandpa!”
“Not so fast.”
Riersha had already let go of Pernoa’s hand and was about to dart forward when Pernoa caught her, pulling her back. He wrapped his outer coat snugly around her small frame, bundling her in completely.
What is happening right now?
Arcmund, who had been reaching forward with open arms, pressed his lips into a thin line.
Riersha froze in surprise and looked straight up, only her head poking out from the coat.
She could see the ridge of Pernoa’s nose, and just below it, his lips curving into an unhurried smile.
Arcmund, who had been kneeling with his hand outstretched, clicked his tongue.
“Childish man. I only wanted to hold my granddaughter for a moment. What is the meaning of this?”
“She is my daughter. She will be entering the banquet hall with me tonight as well. I trust you can make your own entrance, Your Grace.”
“Tsk, tsk. At this rate, Riersha will never find a husband someday!”
It was at that moment.
“A husband?”
Risideon, who had been watching the rather alarming family reunion with quiet amusement, went still and echoed the word. His crimson eyes narrowed as his head tilted slightly to one side.
If Riersha were ever to bring a boyfriend home someday…
The thought reached its destination, and cold words came out entirely of their own accord.
“Grandfather, what kind of joke is that? Riersha is still so young.”
Risideon was not the only one who reacted.
Ricador, who had been shaking his head at the two adults’ childish bickering, let out a cool, mirthless scoff.
“…You know, I never really thought about it — that when she grows up, she might have a fiancé. What do we do if she just shows up one day with some guy she calls her boyfriend?”
“At the very minimum, he’d have to be stronger than all of us. If he wants to live, that is.”
“Fair point.”
Riscal delivered the chilling statement in the most casual tone imaginable. Ricador nodded in wholehearted agreement.
Every single pair of eyes in the family turned toward Riersha.
“W-Why are you all looking at me like that?”
Suddenly the center of everyone’s attention, Riersha shrank back and burrowed deeper into Pernoa’s coat.
She hadn’t done anything wrong, but somehow she felt as though she had.
She tucked herself away, only her eyes peeking out and darting from face to face.
“How very creative, all of you.” Pernoa’s voice was mild. “Riersha isn’t interested in any of that yet. And besides, she’s never going to bring a boyfriend home.”
She’d be buried first.
He murmured it gently, so casually and naturally that Riersha spent a moment wondering if she had heard him wrong.
“…Pardon?”
“Shall we head inside? We shouldn’t arrive after the Emperor.”
“…Yes. Let’s go. Let’s go right now.”
Riersha nodded before she had fully processed anything, and Pernoa’s smile deepened.
⁂
The banquet hall, with all the great noble houses gathered beneath one roof, was exactly as magnificent as one would expect.
Riersha looked around wide-eyed.
Here and there, she caught glimpses of children around her own age.
And perhaps because of the conversation that had just taken place outside — though she couldn’t be entirely sure — her brothers refused to stray from her side, scanning their surroundings with watchful eyes.
“Here, Riersha. Would you like to try this?”
“Sure, thank you.”
“There are drinks too, so just let me know.”
“Mm-hm. …But are you all going to stay right here the whole time?”
Didn’t they need to mingle with other young nobles or something?
Riersha was still puzzling over this when Duke Marcella approached from across the room. He had clearly already made the rounds greeting several of the other guests.
“What a sight — a little lady with four magnificent knights at her side. Very impressive.”
“Uncle Marcella!”
“You look lovely as always, Riersha. …And it has been quite some time, Duke Arcmund.”
“It has been a while, Duke Marcella.”
“You look as vigorous as ever, Your Grace.”
Duke Marcella offered his warmly sociable smile as he greeted them, and Arcmund returned a familiar nod. As Pernoa’s longtime friend, the two men had always maintained a reasonably cordial relationship.
“In any case… I hear His Majesty intends to make a rather significant announcement tonight. …I imagine it has something to do with setting the two princes against each other in some form of competition?”
“What else could be significant enough to warrant it.”
“Mm. …It may well be only my speculation.”
“When everyone’s speculation points in the same direction, that becomes the answer.”
And the fact that the Kineart ducal house had been pushed to the very bottom of the ducal ranking just the day before was answer enough in itself.
Tonight’s celebration was nothing more than the Emperor’s formal confirmation of what everyone already knew.
“It’s nearly time for the imperial family to make their entrance, and yet there’s still no word of them… I suppose they simply don’t want to be here.”
Duke Marcella murmured it with quiet amusement, a wine glass held loosely in one hand.
And then it happened. A commotion erupted from somewhere outside.
“What is all that noise? Is there anyone who could still cause a stir at a gathering like this?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea.”
With virtually every prominent noble already present, there was hardly anyone left whose arrival could cause a scene. And yet — a scene it clearly was. Riersha fixed her gaze on the entrance. And then —
“H-His Holiness, Pope Christia, is arriving!”
Riersha’s eyes went so wide it was almost alarming.
“…The Pope is here?”
A nearby noble whose name she didn’t know muttered the words in dumbstruck confusion.
But the surprises did not end there.
A moment later, another name was announced.
“His Excellency, Sion Senuart, Grand Master of the Mage Tower, is arriving!”
Christia, who had just stepped into the hall, turned to look back over his shoulder with the air of someone who had known perfectly well what was coming.
And then he acknowledged Sion, who was strolling in at his own leisurely pace.
“You made it in time, at least.”
“On a joyful occasion like this, the Tower deserves to offer its proper congratulations — I couldn’t very well be late. And what brings the Pope to a gathering he wouldn’t normally grace with a second glance?”
“The same applies to the Temple. On such a joyful occasion, offering our congratulations is only right.”
“Ah, I see.”
Sion gave a sardonic nod.
Riersha was watching the two of them when her gaze happened to brush against the Pope’s for the briefest of instants. Her body stiffened involuntarily.
So that’s the Pope.
He was a remarkably young man — the first Pope she had ever laid eyes on — and there was something strangely unsettling about the atmosphere he carried with him.
A faint discomfort prickled through her, and Riersha took a small, quiet step back.
“What’s the matter, Riersha?”
“Mm, it’s nothing.”
Ricador asked, and Riersha shook her head.
Not long afterward, word came that all members of the imperial family had arrived.
“His Imperial Majesty, Emperor Calius Declair! Her Imperial Majesty, Empress Karla Declair! His Imperial Highness, Prince Isierd! His Imperial Highness, Crown Prince Adrian — all are now entering!”
The hosts of the evening had finally arrived.
