There was nothing written on the blackboard.
“Because this cannot leave a written record, this lesson will be conducted entirely through conversation between you and me, Miss.”
“What is it about?”
“The agenda of the Arachrene family’s Grand Council.”
The faint trace of amusement that had lingered on Carden’s face vanished in an instant, replaced by something utterly serious.
The Grand Council — composed solely of the Duke, the Young Duke, and the ten Elders.
The lesson was to be built around the actual items brought before that council.
Because the matters discussed there could never be permitted to reach the outside world, the heirs’ lessons derived from them were always held in the strictest secrecy.
“Among the agenda items from the most recent Grand Council was the matter of Oberon’s disposition.”
“…!”
“If you were in that position, Miss Riersha — what would you do with Oberon?”
Carden fixed her with a keen, unwavering gaze, waiting for her answer.
⁂
“If you were in that position, Miss Riersha — what would you do with Oberon?”
In the end, Riersha could not answer.
Not for the entire duration of the lesson.
For a full hour, Carden said nothing, asked nothing, and simply waited in silence.
When the time was finally up, he rose and made his way to the door, pausing only to speak over his shoulder.
“I do hope to hear your answer the next time we meet. Until then.”
The lesson was not over. It had merely been adjourned.
Riersha returned to her room and let out a long, heavy sigh — then another, and another.
It’s only the venue that changed. We moved the lessons to the Tower of Truth.
And yet it felt as though the person himself had changed entirely.
All the lessons she and Carden had shared until now suddenly felt like nothing more than a gentle introduction.
To think that Oberon’s disposition has already been escalated to the Grand Council.
What had come of the wish she’d asked of Pernoa?
The truth was, Riersha already knew. The wish she had made had done nothing but put Pernoa in an uncomfortable position — and had been nothing more than a desperate, unreasonable demand to begin with.
I misjudged the situation.
Oberon was Arcmund’s man.
If she truly wished to help him, she should have gone directly to Arcmund and spoken her mind.
⁂
“Right then. I’m going to try.”
“Miss Riersha, where are you going?”
Riersha, who had been lying face-down on the settee in a mood of quiet dejection, suddenly sprang to her feet.
Sona had just stepped in carrying a tray of afternoon snacks and looked at her with puzzled eyes.
“Sona, I’m going to see Harabuji.”
“The Duke? Well, at least have a little of this before you go.”
Riersha hesitated, glancing back over her shoulder.
On the table sat a pudding, gleaming in the most tempting shade imaginable.
A snack…
She swallowed.
For a moment she wavered — then squeezed her eyes shut and turned her head away.
“No, I’ll have it when I get back!”
Before she could regret her decision, she threw open the door and slipped out at a brisk trot.
⁂
In Arcmund’s study.
Arcmund had been carefully reviewing a business proposal, and now he shook his head with a grave expression.
“You intend to export ‘Serinel’ to foreign nations?”
“There is no violation of imperial law.”
“…That is not what I am saying.”
Pernoa’s response was utterly composed. Arcmund exhaled slowly.
His meaning was clear enough: there was no need to make enemies of the imperial palace over something so easily exploited against them.
Beyond that, Serinel was an exceptionally rare gemstone — one capable of containing even high-tier magic.
The Declair Imperial House would not simply stand by with folded hands while something like that was shipped abroad.
“Other ducal houses are already exporting Serinel, are they not?”
That much was true.
Only a handful of families had the right to sell Serinel on the open market, and the majority of them were ducal houses.
Still, Arcmund shook his head, unmoved.
“Low-grade Serinel flooding the market — that I can tolerate.”
What circulated publicly was low-grade Serinel.
The problem was that the Serinel produced within the Arachrene direct domain was small in quantity but extraordinarily pure.
Even mid-grade Serinel could channel magic powerful enough to reduce an entire city to ruin.
Of course, a mage of sufficient caliber would also be required to wield such power — but that was a separate matter.
“If the buyers are sovereign nations, would that not become a serious problem?”
The imperial house would have every reason to keep a sharp, anxious eye on the Arachrene Duchy.
“That is precisely what I want.”
“…Have you lost your mind?”
“Shouldn’t everyone be reminded of who it is they’ve been living comfortably beneath all this time?”
“…”
“Furthermore, high-grade Serinel will not be sold to anyone. The Arachrene Duchy will hold an absolute monopoly.”
In other words, even the Declair Empire itself would be unable to obtain high-grade Serinel at any price.
And then there was the matter of the duchy’s private forces — though officially disbanded, those men had not simply disappeared into thin air.
The net result was a quiet, dramatic expansion of the Arachrene family’s military capacity.
By the time the imperial house realized what had happened, it would already be far too late.
“What is your reason for provoking the Emperor to this extent?”
“How else will we flush out the rats?”
Whatever informant had been placed within their ranks had gone undetected for far too long — which meant the creature was clever.
But if the imperial house grew anxious enough, they would have no choice but to force their agent’s hand, however recklessly.
Arcmund, who had stepped back from the active management of the family’s affairs, clicked his tongue.
Then, without warning, a shadow crossed his face.
The matter of Oberon’s disposition — raised as an agenda item at the last Grand Council — had surfaced in his mind.
The Elders had been relentless, insisting that Oberon, who had attempted to use his ability on Riersha, could not be allowed to go unpunished.
He understood perfectly well that their true aim was to strip away one of Arcmund’s most reliable hands — but even so.
“How does Ian Charlotte conduct herself?”
“No behavior of concern has been observed.”
“…”
“Nothing problematic has appeared in Riersha’s lessons, either.”
At Pernoa’s words, Arcmund made a low sound of discomfort.
Losing Oberon now would be an unbearable waste.
He had gone to see Oberon in his cell more than once, urging him to speak the truth and promising to use his influence to have him freed from the underground prison — and each time, Oberon had refused to open his mouth.
If he was being honest, it stung.
It was then that a knock sounded at the door, and it swung open.
“Harabuji!”
It was Riersha.
The child clearly had not expected Pernoa to be there as well — her eyes went wide as saucers.
“Have you come to see your grandfather?”
“Yes.”
Riersha cast a sidelong glance at Pernoa, then turned to face Arcmund fully.
Whatever had brought her here, her expression was one of solemn, steely resolve.
Arcmund raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued.
“Harabuji, I have something to say.”
“Then say it.”
“Please…”
Riersha drew a long, deep breath, then spoke each word with careful, deliberate clarity.
“Please give me Oberon.”
⁂
In the underground cells of Arachrene Castle.
Oberon sat in the darkness with his eyes closed.
In a place where not a single thread of light could find its way in, all sense of time had long since slipped away from him.
My fate will be decided soon enough.
Oberon, who had devoted his entire life to the Arachrene Duchy, wore a bitter, hollow expression.
The Elders would not let this opportunity pass them by.
They had always resented him — this man so much younger than themselves, seated as Arcmund’s chief aide, issuing direction and instruction as though it were his right.
More than anything, they feared his ability.
“Just the sight of those eyes brings bad luck.”
“Gives me the chills, honestly. Acting as if he’s something special.”
From the moment his ability awakened, Oberon had never truly belonged among the people of this family. He had always hovered at the edges, apart.
All because of an ability they found unsettling.
Perhaps this is how it was always going to end.
He thought it wasn’t such a bad conclusion, all things considered.
If it hadn’t come to this, he might have gone mad eventually.
He was exhausted — bone-deep exhausted — from dealing with people who wore the mask of loyalty to the family while concealing entirely different desires beneath it.
It made him sick. Revolted him to his core.
“Oberon isn’t worried about anything, is he?”
Perhaps that was why.
The moment he heard Riersha’s words, Oberon felt it for the first time — a vertiginous, disorienting sensation, as though something hidden within him had been seen.
Something that even Arcmund had never noticed.
As though Riersha somehow already knew the darkness coiled quietly inside him.
The loyalty he bore the Arachrene family — and alongside it, the other feeling. The one that whispered, some days, of how he might tear it all down.
