After Sion left, Riersha sank deep into thought.
She had been so certain, until now, that the Empress had been the one orchestrating everything.
“Haah.”
Riersha let out a long, heavy sigh as the full truth settled over her.
The Empress was nothing more than a blindfold.
And on top of that, the Empress had one enormous weakness — Adrian Declair — which would have made her incredibly easy for Abel Senuart to bend to his will.
That was how it was.
Abel Senuart had been working alongside the Empress all along.
Their ultimate goals were different, but the path leading to each of those goals had aligned perfectly. So they had agreed.
That was why the Arachrene ducal house had been destroyed so swiftly, so completely, so without recourse.
“Miss Riersha… your complexion looks terrible. Why don’t you lie down and rest for a bit?”
“No. I have a lot to think about.”
“…Then at least take a walk?”
“No. Thank you for worrying, Sona.”
Riersha shook her head firmly, and Sona retreated with a sulky little pout.
Then the maid glanced toward one corner of the room and spoke up again.
“But what about that? Are you planning to keep it in your room? Couldn’t we put it somewhere else?”
“Hm?”
Riersha lifted her head.
Sona was talking about the Demon Dragon’s Staff.
As their earlier conversation had been drawing to a close, Sion had made it clear that she wanted to take the staff with her.
“Now that you know what kind of terrifying person owns that thing, won’t you give it to me?”
“Absolutely not.”
Riersha had refused without a second’s hesitation.
“…You just heard who’s been pulling the strings at the Imperial Palace and the Temple, Miss Riersha, and you’re still saying that?”
“I’m not particularly frightened.”
“…So you’re really not going to give it to me?”
Sion had asked again, visibly flustered, as though she had fully expected to walk away with the staff. But Riersha had shaken her head with calm, unwavering certainty.
Because —
“Miss Riersha, managing that object yourself is dangerous. Even now, if you were to contact the Tower Master —”
“No. He can’t come.”
“…Can’t come?”
Contrary to Oberon’s concern, Riersha spoke with complete conviction.
“If that were possible, he would have taken it back a long time ago.”
“What you’re saying is… you suspect that storage case is also serving to prevent any tracking?”
“Yes.”
There was no other reason Abel Senuart would have failed to locate the Demon Dragon’s Staff.
I should probably tell Grandfather and Father about this.
Riersha pushed herself to her feet.
“Sona, where are Grandfather and Father right now?”
“Oh, the two of them are out in the estate garden together.”
“Really? I’ll go there, then!”
Riersha headed straight for the garden.
Inside, Pernoa and Arcmund were deep in a serious conversation, their expressions taut.
“Grandfather!”
Riersha had hesitated at the garden entrance for just a moment before calling out with deliberate cheerfulness. Both men stopped talking at once and looked toward her.
“Oh, Riersha. Has the Tower Master gone?”
“Yes!”
Riersha nodded vigorously.
She trotted over and settled herself beside them.
When she saw the two men exchange an awkward glance, cutting off their conversation, she was fairly certain they had already learned the identity of the person behind these events.
And it seemed neither of them had any intention of telling her.
If that weren’t the case, they would have no reason to share such a loaded look with each other.
I should be the one to bring it up first.
Riersha deliberately knitted her brows in an expression of distress, and Pernoa spoke immediately.
“Your expression is troubled. Did things not go well with the Tower Master?”
“Well, the thing is…”
“It’s all right. Go ahead and tell us, Riersha.”
Arcmund patted her gently on the shoulder, his voice soft and reassuring.
Riersha had been dragging her feet on purpose, letting the silence grow, and then she drew a long, deliberate sigh and dropped her news like a stone.
“Abel Senuart is planning to destroy the Empire.”
“…”
“Sion told me that before she left.”
“…”
“The Imperial family and the Temple are both in the palm of his hand, she said. And perhaps… all of us, too.”
The old Arachrene ducal house had been there as well, resting unknowing in that same palm.
The faces of both Arcmund and Pernoa went rigid.
It was the moment their suspicions hardened into certainty.
⁂
The Declair Imperial Palace.
Word had reached even Karla’s ears that Adrian had been rampaging through the palace these days, searching high and low.
He had been neglecting his lessons entirely, apparently consumed by the hunt for something. In the end, Karla summoned him.
“You called for me, Mother.”
“…I’ve been hearing that you’ve been neglecting your studies and wandering around looking for something. …Just what are you doing, Adrian?”
Karla arranged her expression into something as warm as she could manage as she asked. She was furious — absolutely furious — but she intended to hear the full story before saying anything else.
“Oh, it’s nothing important. There’s something I need to find.”
“Something you need to find. And what is that? If it’s a lost object, you could simply have the maids search for it.”
“It’s in a place the maids can’t access. I thought I could find it quickly, but…” He trailed off. “I wonder where it could be.”
Adrian murmured it to himself, perfectly at ease, as he took a sip of his tea.
Any other time, he would have noticed exactly where he had gone wrong and shown at least some sign of contrition.
There was nothing of the sort now.
Karla caught the change in an instant and studied her son with wary eyes.
“You’ve been keeping so many secrets from me lately that it stings. …If something like this is happening, you should have told your mother.”
“But you wouldn’t understand even if I told you.”
Adrian shrugged lightly.
“Then what is it?”
“…Just something that was made a long time ago. A staff, I’m told. I need to find it soon — I think I’ll feel better once I do.”
“A staff? …What kind of staff are you talking about? When did you ever take an interest in magic?”
“It isn’t mine. I was asked a favour.”
A favour?
Karla’s face twisted into an open frown. The corner of her mouth trembled, but she swallowed her rising temper and asked again.
“So you’re telling me you’ve been leaving your lessons to rot and running around searching for this staff because of some favour?”
“Yes, that’s right, Mother.”
Karla slammed her hand down on the table, her voice cutting through the room.
“Adrian Declair! Are you entirely out of your mind?!”
“…”
“Isierd Declair is the one receiving all of His Majesty’s favour, the Grand Sage praises him constantly — and after seeing all of that, you feel no sense of urgency whatsoever?! What could a staff possibly matter enough to occupy your attention?!”
But no matter how furious Karla’s outburst was, Adrian’s expression did not change in the slightest.
If anything, he tilted his head as though he genuinely could not understand why she was this angry.
It was the expression of someone who had absolutely no idea what he had done wrong.
Karla faltered and called his name.
“Adrian.”
“Yes, Mother. Go ahead.”
“…Why aren’t you saying anything?”
“Saying what?”
“…”
“What is it that I’m supposed to say right now?”
He blinked at her with wide, earnest eyes and tilted his head.
The sight of it felt profoundly, deeply wrong.
The Adrian standing in front of her did not feel like the son she had always known. A cold, crawling unease moved through her.
Karla paused and looked him over slowly, from head to toe.
“…You have clearly done something wrong, and yet you show no remorse at all. …Surely you’re not asking because you genuinely don’t know?”
“Oh. So that was a wrongdoing.”
“…Adrian?”
“I truly did not know, Mother. …I see. Before, I would have apologised. How strange.”
After hearing Karla’s explanation, Adrian wore a peculiar expression and pressed his hand to his own chest, over his heart.
It was, in truth, a strange thing.
Because Karla was right.
Before, he would certainly have been apologising frantically, begging forgiveness.
“I don’t feel like I’ve done anything wrong at all, Mother. I don’t even understand why you’re so angry.”
“…”
“Mother, I wonder why I’m like this?”
Adrian blinked slowly as he asked the question.
Neither of them had noticed that the price Abel Senuart had named when he cast his dark magic was quietly, steadily taking hold.
