The moment the awaited guests made their entrance, every gaze in the hall converged on a single point.
Calius’s pale blue eyes swept slowly over the familiar faces—and paused, just briefly, on one in particular.
He found himself recalling what had happened earlier that afternoon.
“You’ve come to collect your reward already. Have you given careful thought to what you wish to receive?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Then speak.”
At Riersha’s visit, Calius had felt a spark of genuine curiosity. He found himself wondering, with no small amount of interest, what she would actually ask for.
Riersha appeared to draw a deep breath, and then, in a voice of utmost solemnity, she spoke.
“Please assign the Grand Sage to Prince Isierd as his personal tutor, Your Majesty.”
“Hmm.”
“Is that something you could give me as my reward?”
To be perfectly honest, Calius hadn’t quite understood the logic.
Having the Grand Sage attached to Isierd as a private instructor—that was hardly what he would call a reward for Riersha.
Looking far into the future, it might benefit House Arachrene in some roundabout way, but…
“Did Pernoa put you up to this?”
“No.”
“Then you’re telling me this is truly something Lady Riersha came up with entirely on her own?”
Calius didn’t believe it.
Riersha Arachrene was unquestionably a remarkably intelligent child. She had received the Kadimo Troupe as a gift and put it to extraordinarily clever use—leveraging it, one step at a time, to obtain precisely what she wanted.
But had all of that truly been the result of Riersha Arachrene’s own independent judgment?
Hardly.
Calius dismissed the notion immediately.
No doubt the girl was held in high regard within her household. But however exceptional she might be, a child was still a child. In a world run by adults, what could someone as young as Riersha possibly maneuver on her own?
“You’re not lying to Us?”
“No.”
“Very well. In that case…”
Calius affected a leisurely air of deliberation before he spoke.
“The Grand Sage is already Crown Prince Adrian’s teacher. Even We find it difficult to interfere arbitrarily in matters of a crown prince’s education.”
Children, as a rule, fell apart when faced with unexpected setbacks—they panicked, they wept. Young nobles in particular had a habit of bluffing before the Emperor, puffing themselves up with exaggerated claims of brilliance, only to be thoroughly deflated and leave in tears.
Sure enough.
Riersha’s face fell. She began shifting her eyes back and forth with the look of someone caught in a very awkward spot.
It was a familiar sight. Calius’s interest evaporated in an instant.
“We have just refused your request. What will you do now?”
“Well then…”
If Riersha had truly come up with this petition on her own, she would have prepared a fallback. She would have known perfectly well that the Grand Sage was already Adrian’s teacher.
As the child’s silence stretched longer, Calius’s pale eyes grew still.
“We don’t have much time. Come back another day. For today—”
“Then please assign the Grand Sage to Prince Isierd as his tutor too. Will that not work?”
“…What did you just say?”
“That would work, wouldn’t it?”
Riersha was beaming at him with absolute sincerity.
Calius regarded her in silence for a moment—and then burst out laughing.
Yes. This was undeniably Riersha Arachrene’s own idea.
That kind of shameless, cheerful stubbornness was something only a child could think of, and only a child could pull off.
She was several times more brilliant than any young noble he had heard of—and yet, in the same breath, utterly guileless.
She bears watching.
Calius set aside the memory and withdrew his gaze, continuing forward.
But the nobles who had caught the Emperor watching Riersha were already turning their minds over rapidly.
“Something must have happened between His Majesty and the Arachrene girl.”
“…I did hear a rumor that she dined with His Majesty today. The child is said to be exceptionally gifted—perhaps she truly has won his favor?”
“…But until now, His Majesty has never shown any particular interest in us nobles, has he?”
One of them hesitated, choosing words with careful diplomacy.
Emperor Calius Declair had never paid much attention to the nobility—or more precisely, the nobility had never paid much attention to him.
He held the title of master of the Declair Empire, yes, but most had regarded Calius as little more than a sun soon to be eclipsed. Their focus had been firmly fixed on Crown Prince Adrian, whose future seemed far more assured.
Calius Declair, with only one acknowledged child to his name, had not been a particularly compelling figure in the eyes of the aristocracy.
That situation had now been turned entirely on its head.
From this moment forward, Calius Declair had risen to become not merely the empire’s sovereign, but the single most important person every noble needed to keep in their good graces.
If only I had made a point of getting to know him sooner. Have I done anything to offend him without realizing it?
The nobles who had spent years quietly dismissing the Emperor in favor of the Empress—following her lead, taking her side—now closed their eyes in slow, pained resignation.
As Calius, the Empress, and both princes ascended to the head of the hall, Riersha snapped her head up sharply.
Oh.
Her eyes met Isierd’s—and she broke into a bright smile.
“Today is a joyful occasion,” Calius declared. “As I’m sure you are all aware, a few days ago We recovered Our lost son, Prince Isierd Declair.”
“Congratulations, Your Majesty.”
The assembled nobles spoke in unison.
“Isierd. Come, stand here beside Us.”
Calius extended his hand, and Isierd stepped forward. Empress Karla startled slightly and shifted aside to make room.
At the far end of the line, now left standing last, Adrian bit down on his lip.
The order in which members of the imperial family stood at official ceremonies was, in every practical sense, the order of their standing within the imperial house.
Reduced to last place, Adrian clenched his fist against the humiliation burning through him.
“We are deeply gladdened by your return. Everything you were denied during your years away—every last thing—We intend to place in your hands. Is there anything in particular you have longed for?”
“I am content as I am. There is nothing I wish for especially.”
“You have remarkably little ambition. Is that really fitting? You are now, without question, the First Prince of the Declair Empire.”
Isierd answered, and Calius smiled at him with warm amusement.
First Prince.
At those words, the nobles drew a collective breath.
The title carried enormous weight.
And enormous power.
Evidence of that was standing right there—Adrian, doing his best to appear unbothered, wetting his dry lips with quiet anxiety.
“Yes. Our First Prince, having lived all this time without ambition, has likely not yet felt the full weight of his position. Then it falls to Us to help him. To begin with…”
The corners of Calius’s mouth curved upward with unmistakable intent.
It was beginning.
The Emperor’s sweeping proclamation.
Karla forgot to breathe as she listened.
The nobles were no different, hanging on every word, waiting for the official declaration.
“Effective immediately, We strip Adrian Declair of his title as Crown Prince.”
“…!”
“Heavens—he’s removing the Crown Prince’s title on the spot?”
The hall erupted in stunned murmurs.
Calius continued.
“And it seems fitting that the First Prince and the Second Prince compete for the position of Crown Prince on equal footing—as the Declair imperial house has always done.”
“…However, Your Majesty—Prince Isierd is already eight years old. To compete against Adrian, he may be too…”
“You are saying Isierd would be no match for Adrian?”
Karla shook her head quickly.
“Of course not. Only—I worry that Prince Isierd might become discouraged through no fault of his own. And if the bond between brothers were to suffer for it…”
“My, We had no idea the Empress gave such thought to these matters. How short-sighted of Us.”
“Yes, so perhaps for the time being, Adrian’s position might remain as it is… and we might proceed more gradually…”
“Which is precisely why We bring this up, Empress.”
Calius cut her off cleanly. His gaze shifted—toward where Riersha stood.
“Since the Empress has voiced such concern, We may speak freely on this as well. We were thinking of assigning the Grand Sage to Isierd as his instructor.”
“…What do you mean by that? The Grand Sage is already teaching Adrian.”
“Should he not grow quickly, if he is to adapt to imperial life without delay?”
“Your Majesty!”
“Adrian. What do you think?”
“…I… I will defer to Your Majesty’s wishes.”
“Good lad. Then there is no further issue.”
Calius settled the matter with perfect composure.
Riersha stared, wide-eyed with disbelief.
The Emperor granted every single thing I asked for.
Not a shared arrangement between the two princes—the Grand Sage had been transferred entirely and exclusively to Isierd.
“My goodness… His Majesty isn’t holding back at all. But you don’t look the least bit surprised, Pernoa.”
“I already knew.”
“You already knew?”
Duke Marcella looked at him with a questioning expression, and Pernoa supplied the explanation.
“It was something Riersha asked of the Emperor today.”
“…Ha. What on earth does that mean?”
Duke Marcella let out a short, baffled laugh under her breath.
The Emperor’s words had brought the hall to absolute silence in an instant.
“Well then. We will consider this matter concluded.”
Calius spoke with his gaze still resting on Riersha.
He’s speaking to me.
What the Emperor had just said was directed at her.
It was his way of telling her he had made good on his promise.
From somewhere across the hall, the Pope—watching it all from a distance—let out a quiet, amused smile.
“For Crown Prince Adrian to become a mere prince overnight—there is no greater humiliation than that.”
If the Emperor had judged Adrian to possess true imperial quality, he would never have stripped his title so readily.
But the fact that Calius had overturned his decision as easily as flipping his hand meant exactly one thing.
He does not recognize Adrian’s worth as his heir.
Adrian stood frozen, his expression that of a man who wanted nothing more than to flee the hall entirely.
