The imperial court settled its monthly noble council agendas through a vote, and the nobles had long wielded their influence through that very mechanism.
Throughout the years, the Arachrene family had maintained strict neutrality. It was their unspoken declaration that they would tip the scales for neither side.
And yet, at some point, whenever an agenda favored by the Empress required passage, the number of votes expressing a particular opinion began to increase.
Where those votes had come from was painfully obvious to everyone present.
The elders began clearing their throats in visible discomfort.
“…A-ahem.”
“The motion to formally invest the First Prince as Crown Prince passed with a majority. I find myself wondering how such a thing was even possible.”
It had all unfolded after the Empress had appointed Risideon Arachrene as the Crown Prince’s swordsmanship instructor.
Regardless of whether there was any truth to it, rumors had been circulating that the Arachrene family had bent the knee to the imperial throne.
It was the result of men who had been promised enormous rewards by the Empress in exchange for casting their votes accordingly.
“If we’d all like to keep sitting across from each other and having civil conversations for years to come,” Pernoa said with a pleasant smile, “it would be wise to mind how we conduct ourselves going forward.”
Arcmund inwardly clicked his tongue.
In his closing remarks, Pernoa addressed the elders’ voting rights directly, and by doing so, he reclaimed the family’s neutrality.
For the time being, the elders would be keeping their heads down, too preoccupied with protecting themselves to entertain any other ideas.
Whatever their true feelings might be, from the outside, the internal unity of the Arachrene ducal house would appear stronger than ever.
“It seems we’ve covered all the important items on the agenda, so I’ll call today’s meeting here.”
Pernoa pushed his documents aside, announced the session’s close, and rose from his seat.
The elders looked unsettled, but not a single one raised an objection.
Pernoa strode toward the entrance of the grand meeting hall with long, purposeful steps and threw the door open.
And at that exact moment—
“Eek!”
Riersha, who had been pressing her ear flush against the door, lurched forward and nearly toppled over.
She managed to stay on her feet, but her nose was stinging sharply.
Because she had, quite openly, buried her face directly into Pernoa’s leg.
Pernoa stood blocking the doorway at a tilt, his head angled to one side, and spoke.
“What exactly are you doing out here?”
…She had been caught eavesdropping on the meeting.
⁂
As a result, Riersha found herself hauled, with no room to protest, into the now-empty grand meeting hall.
Oh no. Of all the times to get caught sneaking around.
To be fair, Riersha hadn’t actually set out to eavesdrop on the meeting.
It was just that the word imperial throne kept coming up in the conversation on the other side of the door, and as though she’d been enchanted, she had found herself rooted to the spot, unable to walk away.
And then she had been caught by Pernoa, neat as anything.
She turned the problem over in her mind, searching for some way to navigate this gracefully.
She was deep in thought when the sound of Pernoa laughing — a quiet, deflating breath of amusement — reached her ears.
He had been standing there with his arms crossed, watching her this whole time.
“I can practically hear the gears turning in that head of yours.”
“The— the gears in my head?”
Riersha startled and reflexively grabbed her own head with both hands.
She knew perfectly well that couldn’t be literal, but when Pernoa said it like that, her body reacted before her mind could catch up.
She was fidgeting with her fingers, caught somewhere between embarrassed and flustered.
“Did you truly think that was what I meant?”
“…No.”
Sure enough, Arcmund delivered the reprimand.
Riersha sheepishly lowered the hands she’d been holding over her head.
But why is Grandfather still here? He must have things to do.
The meeting had ended, yet Arcmund remained in his seat.
Riersha peeked at him over the edge of the desk, which sat well above her eye level. For a brief moment, she thought she caught Arcmund’s gaze.
She startled and quickly darted her eyes elsewhere.
Her red irises wandered pointedly in the opposite direction, making a show of looking at anything but him — then drifted back to Arcmund once more.
I must have imagined it.
There was no way their eyes had actually met.
Riersha lowered her gaze, deflated.
The round top of her head visibly drooped.
A moment later, Arcmund’s own crimson eyes — which had been engaged in the far more sophisticated act of pretending to look elsewhere — moved swiftly back to Riersha.
Since looking directly at her made the child flinch, this was his compromise, his best available alternative.
It was, by any measure, a baffling scene between a grandfather and his granddaughter.
Rosinante, observing everything from close by, gave a quiet click of his tongue.
…If you want to get closer to Lady Riersha, you could simply say so. Both of you are so impossibly stiff about it.
The irony was that Riersha was the one ending up frightened.
She would probably never know, not in all her life.
That there were two grown men doing their best to manufacture any excuse to spend time with her.
These two have a long road ahead of them.
Rosinante exhaled a long internal sigh.
The Duke isn’t being honest with himself either.
In his estimation, it was only a matter of time before Arcmund was completely won over by Riersha.
Even now, the man kept insisting she didn’t appeal to him while continuously finding reasons to watch her — and Rosinante was half worried that given a little more time, Arcmund would start carrying her around tucked under his arm.
Today’s meeting had ended on a favorable note, which meant Arcmund was in a particularly good mood.
There was no way Riersha wasn’t going to look absolutely adorable to him right now.
Rosinante glanced over at Oberon, who was waiting outside, in exactly the same position as himself.
Oberon seemed to sense the look and turned his head.
The moment Rosinante met those unreadable, enigmatic eyes, he smiled.
He followed it with an expression that plainly said, Why are you still here?, at which point Oberon gave a dismissive little shrug and turned away.
Rosinante redirected his attention to the grand meeting hall.
Pernoa, who had been standing by the window, broke the silence.
“Why haven’t you left yet? You’re supposed to be the busiest person in this entire estate.”
“Who said anything about being busy. I happen to have a perfectly free afternoon.”
Arcmund shot back without so much as glancing up.
The corner of Pernoa’s mouth curved upward.
“I find that very hard to believe.”
“What would you know about it, you who’ve never once served as duke?”
“Your assistant is waiting outside, wearing a rather desperate expression.”
“And aren’t you the busier one here? Watching you lounge about the moment you set foot back home is more than I can stomach. Go on, get to your study.”
Arcmund waved a hand, making clear he had absolutely no intention of being the first to leave.
Pernoa’s eyebrows rose like twin mountain peaks.
A strange, charged look passed between the two men.
“After you.”
“No.”
“…I need time alone with my daughter, so I’m asking you to leave.”
“She is my granddaughter as well!”
As their voices rose, Riersha began to squirm, shifting her weight from foot to foot, clearly at a loss.
The moment she showed visible signs of distress, both men fell silent as though they had rehearsed it.
“Ahem. Hmm.”
Arcmund cleared his throat, appeared to deliberate for a moment, then slid his plate of refreshments across the table toward Riersha with a small push.
“Sickeningly sweet and not at all to my taste.”
“Pardon?”
“You eat it.”
Riersha looked down at the delicate sweets and blinked.
Grandfather doesn’t like sweet things, I suppose.
In truth, the refreshments had been thoughtfully prepared according to each person’s individual preference — but there was no way Riersha could have known that.
“Well then, I’ll eat them wight up.”
Crunch.
A small hand reached out and closed around a chocolate-topped biscuit. Riersha opened her mouth wide.
With each bite she took, the sound of cheerful crunching echoed through the grand meeting hall with remarkable clarity.
“Wow, it’s so gwood!”
Riersha said it with complete sincerity.
It was the most refined thing she’d tasted among all the sweets she’d ever had. She didn’t know what brand it was, but she was already planning to ask Sona to include it at snack time from now on.
Pernoa watched Riersha devour the biscuits with great enthusiasm, then said something in a voice pitched low enough that only Arcmund could hear.
“Is this really the method you’re resorting to — something this childish — just to get her attention?”
“At least it worked. You haven’t managed to get any attention at all.”
“…”
“Is it good? Would you like more?”
Arcmund asked Riersha pointedly, loud enough to underscore his victory, and Riersha — still chewing, cheeks bulging round as a hamster’s — gave an enthusiastic nod.
“Mm-hm, it’s weally weally good! Gwandfather, do you not like sweet things?”
Arcmund’s expression softened into something warm and satisfied at the sound of her small, lisping voice.
“That’s right. I don’t care for sweets at all.”
“Oh, I see! Then I’ll eat them all up for you!”
It was no hardship for Riersha, who adored sweet things. If anything, she was delighted. Her cheeks puffed out happily as she beamed at him.
It looked as though this pointless territorial dispute between father and son might carry on indefinitely, and so Rosinante decided it was time to step in.
“Ah — Lady Riersha. What brought you all the way to the grand meeting hall in the first place?”
