It happened just then.
Isierd walked slowly toward Adrian with a smile on his face, then raised his arm as though offering a handshake.
“I’m counting on you from here on out, Adrian.”
“…!”
“You gave up the Grand Sage who had been your teacher, so I’ll work hard to make it worth your while.”
Adrian, who hadn’t expected Isierd to walk all the way over to him and speak directly, flinched and quickly swept his gaze around the room.
The guests in the banquet hall watched Isierd’s unexpected move with undisguised interest.
And among them…
Father is watching.
Adrian had no desire whatsoever to take Isierd’s hand, but he had no choice.
The moment Adrian reluctantly accepted the handshake, Isierd’s smile deepened.
Not stopping there, Isierd stepped one pace closer and pulled Adrian into something that resembled an embrace. A ripple of sharp gasps broke out from the people nearby.
“What’s gotten into him all of a sudden? He always seemed like he hated people touching him.”
“When did Isierd ever act like that?”
“Every time I saw him, he did. You wouldn’t have noticed, Riersha.”
Ricador, watching Isierd’s sudden behavior, muttered with a sour expression, as though he’d just witnessed the strangest thing in the world.
Riersha, on the other hand, tilted her head at the claim she was hearing for the first time.
He hates being touched? He never seemed like he had that kind of issue.
It was probably because no one had ever been genuinely kind to him. And after years of abuse on top of that — if someone reached out to touch him, a sensitive reaction would only make sense.
Thinking it through to that point, she had to admit that Isierd’s behavior just now was, exactly as Ricador had said, something that made little sense.
It was then that Duke Marcella praised Pernoa with a look of open interest.
“The Arachrene ducal house must have quite the education program. To think he could develop that kind of quality in such a short time. The performance is exquisite.”
“Performance?”
“He’s showing the nobles. Letting them see.”
When Riersha looked up with a blank expression, Duke Marcella explained kindly.
“I am a magnanimous prince — one who can embrace even my rival Adrian. Come to me, any of you, at any time. That’s what he’s saying.”
“…”
“Adrian has lost completely this time.”
“When has Adrian ever had to deal with something like this, sheltered as he’s been under the Empress’s wing?”
Pernoa followed up with a cold assessment.
As proof of that, even as Isierd was openly humiliating him right in front of his eyes, Adrian still stood there wearing a dazed expression.
He was simply that unskilled at smoothly deflecting provocations from those who meant him ill.
And now he had laid that weakness bare in a banquet hall filled with some of the greatest nobles in the empire.
“The Empress must be in a dreadful state right now.”
“Truly. And of all events, this one — even the Pope and the Tower Master, who are rarely seen in public, are in attendance. What a thing to have them witness.”
Duke Marcella clicked his tongue with a pitying air.
Riersha, however, tilted her head.
Is Isierd really the type to go so far just to make a good impression on others?
That didn’t match the Isierd she knew.
But then, she didn’t know every side of him, so she quietly nodded without pressing the thought further.
A moment later, Isierd released his hold and stepped back.
Then he returned to stand beside the Emperor.
Emperor Calius swept his gaze across the nobles filling the hall, let out a quiet, amused breath, and raised his hand.
“Then let the party begin.”
⁂
With the festivities officially underway, the orchestra that had fallen silent resumed its performance.
“Well then, I have a bit of business to attend to over there. I’ll see you again in a while, Riersha.”
Duke Marcella gestured toward one corner of the hall. Empress Karla stood there.
Is Uncle close with the Empress?
Riersha’s eyes went wide before her brows immediately snapped into a suspicious frown. Duke Marcella gave a pained laugh.
“Shoo.”
Riersha said it from a deliberate distance, and Duke Marcella startled slightly.
“…Pernoa. I think Riersha is getting some rather strange ideas. Help me out here.”
“It’s not a strange idea, Riersha.”
“…Hey.”
Duke Marcella let out a long sigh.
“A noble like me, whose family’s entire future hangs on every single word from the imperial family — I have to make a good impression on those in high places.”
“…Is that right?”
“It is. So I need to at least show my face. You make plenty of friends yourself, Riersha. …Though that might be a tall order.”
Duke Marcella glanced at the Arachrene brothers standing around Riersha like a personal guard and slowly shook his head.
Duke Marcella stepped away briefly to attend to business, and before long, nobles began drifting toward Arcmund as well.
“Good evening, Duke Arcmund. I trust you’ve been well?”
“It has been a while, Marquess Deluta.”
“It is an honor that you remember me. I heard you have rendered a great service to the imperial family — my heartfelt congratulations.”
“…Pardon me, I am Count Abagen. I wonder if you might recall me?”
“Of course I do. …I heard there was a serious matter in your domain recently. Has it been resolved?”
As the nobles closed in around Arcmund with careful, probing deference, Arcmund shot a sharp glare at Pernoa, who had quietly taken a step back.
Pernoa simply shrugged with a what do you want me to do? expression and gestured pointedly toward the children standing before them.
The message was clear: I have children to look after, so dealing with nobles on top of that is too much trouble — handle them yourself.
Just you wait.
Arcmund ground his teeth for a brief moment with a deeply soured expression, then smoothed his face back into something stern and dignified and began engaging the nobles in conversation.
Riersha stole glances toward where Isierd was standing.
Not a large crowd, but there was a fair number of nobles hovering around him.
The great noble houses aren’t moving yet.
Every step a great house took, every word from their lips, carried enormous weight.
The Empress, too, was watching sharply to see who approached Isierd — which made it all the harder for anyone of consequence to move freely.
In short, the nobles circling Isierd right now were not those who carried much real influence.
They were likely families with little or no direct ties to the imperial house, or those whose connections had grown thin enough that they were desperately trying to latch onto whoever they could.
“You must be really worried about him, Riersha.”
“Hm?”
“You’ve been staring at the First Prince nonstop for a while now.”
At Risideon’s words, Riersha nodded honestly.
She was worried about Isierd — the same way you’d worry about a child left alone near the water’s edge.
She was afraid he’d be used by the nobles, only to end up hurt in the end.
Everything about this kind of gathering would be new to Isierd, completely foreign to him.
But Riscal shot down that worry with characteristic bluntness.
“You don’t have to worry about that. After everything you’ve been through with that guy — that guy, I mean, the First Prince — and you still don’t get it?”
“Get what?”
“Him.”
“…?”
“He made a deal with Father, didn’t he? Our family approached him first, sure, but that doesn’t mean he got swept up by Father or let himself get pushed around. He didn’t back down, not even a little.”
That was true, but…
“What exactly did that guy do to make you see him so differently from the rest of us?”
Riscal stared at Isierd with the look of someone gazing at something insufferable. Ricador, who had been helping himself to little snacks nearby one by one, gave a shrug.
“Where do you think he picked up that polished talent for pretending just now? He must’ve built it up thanks to Riersha.”
“Stop saying weird things about him, both of you. Isierd isn’t like that!”
“See, there it is.”
The moment Riersha flared up, Ricador began turning to Risideon and Riscal repeatedly, asking did you see that, did you see that?
And beside him, Riersha fired back just as persistently — No he isn’t!
But beneath the peculiar looks her brothers were giving her, Riersha found herself growing more and more uncertain.
Was Isierd really just putting on a kind act in front of her?
“Enough.”
As the children’s voices grew louder, Pernoa cut in with a firm word.
Riersha, who had grown loud in the middle of the banquet hall, pressed her lips together with a miserable expression.
“Hmph.”
She turned her head pointedly away from Ricador with a deliberate flourish — and it was precisely at that moment.
“Oh? …Isn’t that…”
“It’s the Pope.”
“Good heavens.”
A ripple of murmuring spread through the guests. Riersha’s eyes went round as she looked toward wherever the nobles were staring.
Standing there, facing one another, were Isierd and Pope Christia.
