Cyril lightly kneaded his stiff neck. Since Cyril had come of age, the Emperor had instructed him to handle matters of lesser importance.

The Emperor was still in good health, yet he had overridden the administrative officials’ opposition with imperial authority, as there was no precedent for a Crown Prince to have any hand in state affairs while the Emperor remained fit. Because of this, Cyril applied himself with great concentration to avoid making even the smallest mistake.

“Your Highness. The hour is late. Perhaps it is time to retire for the night.”

“I’m nearly done. I only need to set the order for those scheduled to have an audience with His Majesty tomorrow.”

There was no end to those who wished to see the Emperor. Cyril reviewed each person’s stated reason carefully, and for those he judged the Emperor need not personally deal with, he redirected them to the appropriate official.

“Hm? Duke Berthier is requesting an audience with His Majesty.”

“Is Duke Berthier not someone who can speak with His Majesty privately at any time?”

“That’s true. Which means he has a matter that requires a formal request…”

Cyril read carefully through the words written in the stiff cursive that perfectly reflected Duke Berthier’s character.

“He says he wishes to have a long-lost viscountcy formally recognized.”

“Ordinarily, verifying a title requires going through a complicated process, but if Duke Berthier stands as guarantor, His Majesty’s approval will come through immediately.”

“Most likely.”

Cyril moved Duke Berthier to the top of the order, then drew a line through it and crossed it out.

“Will Lady Berthier come along as well?”

“Your Highness?”

“Lady Berthier strikes me as someone who sleeps late in the mornings. Late afternoon, well past noon, would probably suit her better.”

Dager clicked his tongue inwardly. Neither Cyril nor Dager actually knew whether Lady Berthier slept late or not.

But if Cyril had arrived at that thought by way of the saying that beautiful women sleep a great deal, then Dager might need to treat Adelaide not merely as the reckless young lady but as a future Crown Princess.

“Dager.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“I only said that because someone with a temper like Lady Berthier’s could well have low blood pressure. That’s all.”

“I said nothing, Your Highness.”

“Lady Berthier is a beauty, but surely you don’t think I, the Crown Prince, would believe some folk saying about beautiful women sleeping a lot?”

“I repeat, I said nothing, Your Highness.”

“Your head is very loud. Mind not just your words but your thoughts as well.”

Dager bowed politely and hid his expression. Cyril turned to the remaining matters with the face of someone who was, by anyone’s measure, in a considerably better mood.

The next day, Cyril woke unusually early. There was nothing special about the day, yet his heart stirred for no particular reason. Dager came in with the washing water and, seeing Cyril already awake, smiled quietly to himself with a fairly good idea of why.

“Don’t smile for no reason.”

“I smiled because I believe I can guess why Your Highness woke early.”

“My eyes just opened on their own today. You don’t know the reason any better than I do, so don’t go on about it.”

“Lady Berthier,”

“No.”

“Your Highness, was Lady Berthier not unexpectedly warm? That is all I was going to say.”

“Now you’re making fun of me.”

“I would never dare.”

Cyril cupped both hands full of water and brought it to his face. Unlike usual, a sweet fragrance tickled his nose.

“Dager.”

“I mixed a little scented oil into the washing water. Apparently it is quite popular among ladies these days.”

Cyril shot the old chamberlain a sideways look. Dager quickly looked away and busied himself kneading a stiff towel in a show of softening it.

“Shall I fetch fresh water if it displeases you?”

“Never mind. No need to waste what’s already been brought.”

“Of course, of course. Your Highness is a considerate master who never makes those beneath him suffer needlessly.”

“That’s enough, Dager.”

After finishing his preparations, Cyril headed to his office. He met in place of the Emperor with those who had not been granted an audience, and listened attentively to their various petty grievances.

Even though it was still morning, visitors to the imperial palace came in a steady stream. The Emperor handled the major matters; Cyril handled the minor ones. Minor matters were sometimes the more troublesome to resolve.

“Who’s next?”

“Marquis Ferithid, Your Highness.”

“Send him in.”

Marquis Ferithid entered the Crown Prince’s office with an arrogant bearing. He was the Empress’s family. He was a devoted grandfather to Albert, but for as long as Cyril could remember, he and Marquis Ferithid had maintained a distant relationship.

“Your Highness.”

“Grandfather.”

“Grandfather, in an official setting? I have come to meet Your Highness as Marquis Ferithid.”

“……Marquis. Sit.”

Cyril moistened his parched throat with tea. Marquis Ferithid studied Cyril, who resembled the Emperor and only the Emperor, and turned his gaze away with displeasure.

“State your business.”

“His Highness Albert will be coming of age soon as well.”

“He will.”

“I wish to pursue a marriage arrangement.”

“For Albert?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Cyril exhaled wearily. Cyril himself, the Crown Prince, had yet to be engaged, let alone married. Amid the Emperor’s indifference, Cyril had half given up and resigned himself to the idea that he would meet someone when the time came. And now Albert’s marriage was being brought up.

“Marquis. Albert is still young. Would it not be better to take time and match him with a young lady he shows interest in?”

“His Highness Albert is of the imperial family, and once he comes of age, he will no longer be able to visit the palace as freely as he does now.”

“And so.”

“And so I believe His Highness Albert will be in great need of a wife to look after him, Your Highness.”

“It makes me feel rather as though I am driving young Albert out with nothing to his name.”

Marquis Ferithid did not deny it. Cyril tilted his teacup again. It was empty. He rang the bell to have tea brought.

“So, do you have a young lady in mind?”

“In terms of rank, Lady Berthier would be the most fitting.”

“Lady Berthier?”

“It is a marriage within the imperial family, after all. There are rumors that Lady Berthier is somewhat ill-mannered, but she appears to have been showing a different side of herself recently, so would she not make a well-suited match for His Highness Albert?”

Cyril sensed instinctively that this was not simply a matter of finding Albert a match. The empire had unified the continent, so there was no need to marry into other royal families to forge agreements between nations.

For that reason, even the Emperor had married the Empress, who had been the daughter of a count within the empire, and the late Emperor before him had done the same. Duke Berthier was the person who had contributed most to the current Emperor’s ascension to the throne. He was also a close friend of the Emperor’s from childhood.

Recommending Lady Berthier as a match for Albert was Marquis Ferithid’s declaration of intent to push Albert as Crown Prince.

“Marquis…”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“Grandfather. Please do not do this to me.”

“I only wish to see His Highness Albert live happily.”

Cyril’s head rang as though he had walked into a wall, faced with Marquis Ferithid’s unyielding expression. Their relationship had never been a warm one, but he had not anticipated anything quite this far.

“Am I not also your grandson, just as Albert is?”

“Your Highness.”

Marquis Ferithid fixed Cyril with a sharp gaze that could not by any measure be called the look of a grandfather toward his grandson.

“I have never once thought of Your Highness as my grandson. I speak now only because I have watched Your Highness grow up over the years.”

“You want me to step down and give up the position of Crown Prince?”

“Surely you do not wish for a civil war, Your Highness.”

Cyril irritably undid a couple of shirt buttons.

He was fond of Albert. But the position of Crown Prince was not something he could give up. It was not mere ambition for power.

To Cyril, being Crown Prince was the only affection and attention the Emperor had ever shown him. He had no desire to hand over even that small handful of the Emperor’s regard to Albert.

“I will make efforts to satisfy you, Grandfather.”

“Whatever efforts Your Highness makes, my mind will not change.”

Cyril laughed, a short, flat sound, and said:

“Very well. But I will not allow Lady Berthier.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I have Lady Berthier in mind for myself. So find another young lady for Albert’s match, Marquis.”

Marquis Ferithid left without concealing his displeasure. Cyril could no longer afford to sit idle and content himself with the position he had been given. He needed to build his own allies to stand against Marquis Ferithid.

“D*mn.”

Cyril dragged a hand down his face. With his palm covering his face, Adelaide appeared in the darkness, giving her answer with such easy confidence.

‘Don’t cling to your parents’ love. It’s a futile thing.′

The thought that he had to use Adelaide, who had given him a moment of joy and peace of mind, weighed on Cyril.

Meanwhile, Adelaide had not the slightest intention of attending Vivian’s poets’ gathering. According to her plans, she was supposed to be at the imperial palace right now. The visit to the imperial palace to have Lionel’s title formally recognized was not exactly a welcome item on her schedule, but compared to Vivian’s poets’ gathering, it almost seemed appealing.

“Adel! Lady Vivian said you’d come, but I never thought I’d actually see you here!”

Vivian had been shrewd enough to invite Violet in advance. Adelaide found herself dragged along by Violet, who clung to her with no sign of letting go, and thrown into the middle of a hungry pack of poets desperate to find a patron.

‘That meddlesome old man. I won’t let this go.’

Duke Berthier was to blame for how things had come to this. Overjoyed that Adelaide’s friends had grown from one to two, Duke Berthier had badgered Amy from early that morning to wash and dress Adelaide, put her in a carriage, and sent her off to the Rissatino estate.