Past noon, Cyril carried some work over to the main palace on a pretext. The emperor had never welcomed Cyril warmly, so he didn’t visit unless circumstances demanded it, but this time he had a different purpose: Adelaide.

The main palace’s head chamberlain recognized Cyril and bowed politely.

“His Majesty is in audience with Duke Berthier.”

“I know. I hear Duke Berthier intends to verify a certain viscount’s identity?”

“Yes, Your Highness. Viscount Lavota. The previous Viscount Lavota passed away abroad, and those he left behind have had no small amount of hardship.”

The main palace’s head chamberlain, far older than Dager, still possessed sharp wit despite his age. Unlike the officials and palace attendants who made a point of treating the crown prince coldly, he always showed him a measure of warmth.

“Did Duke Berthier come alone?”

“He came with Viscount Lavota.”

“Just the two of them?”

“Who else would need to come, besides Duke Berthier to vouch for the identity and Viscount Lavota to have his identity confirmed?”

“What I mean is…”

Cyril stopped himself when he saw the chamberlain’s wrinkled eyes fold into crescents.

“Two is enough. Never mind.”

“Lady Berthier did not come, Your Highness.”

“Who asked about Lady Berthier?”

“This old man’s back may be quite bent, but his ears still work well enough. I hear Marquis Ferithid had his eye on Lady Berthier as a match for His Highness Albert?”

“Your ears may work, but your tongue runs too long. If you want to die in your bed, learn to filter what you hear and keep your mouth shut.”

“I will keep that in mind, Your Highness.”

The old chamberlain brushed off Cyril’s threat without a care. When Albert had basked in Marquis Ferithid’s doting, it was the chamberlain who had soothed a envious Cyril. Cyril unconsciously projected onto Dager the image of a father, and onto this old chamberlain the image of a grandfather.

Dager and the main palace’s head chamberlain were cousins. When Cyril received the crown prince’s palace and gained a kind of independence, the old chamberlain, worried for him, had pushed his cousin into the position.

“To think Duke Berthier would stand as guarantor for someone else. You really do see everything if you live long enough.”

“Hearing that from Your Highness, who is twenty, gives this old man quite the pang of regret for having lived too long.”

“I wasn’t talking about you, so don’t go reading into it and blaming me for it.”

The old chamberlain, Danel, let out a light chuckle. That surprising things could still happen after more than eighty years of life was a good sign.

“I came to discuss a matter with His Majesty, but Duke Berthier is not a man who lets His Majesty go easily, so I’ll take my leave.”

“Of course. Should Lady Berthier happen to come to meet the duke, I will send someone to you right away.”

“Danel.”

“Please don’t worry, Your Highness. I will make sure Lady Berthier cannot leave before Your Highness arrives.”

“You never listen.”

Cyril turned away with a click of his tongue, a faint smile at the corner of his lips.

He hadn’t seen Adelaide, but at least he now knew he had one person on his side.

One might wonder what help a doddering old chamberlain could offer, noble or official he was not, but Cyril needed this kind of confirmation.

A sign that at least one person cared about Cyril’s happiness, and not Albert’s.

***

The imperial palace was a thoroughly unfamiliar place to Lionel, who had not yet grown accustomed even to the Berthier estate. Everything glittered gold in every direction, and he couldn’t find anywhere to rest his eyes.

Duke Berthier, by contrast, chatted and traded jokes with Danel with the ease of someone visiting a friend’s home. Lionel, who had only ever seen Duke Berthier on the receiving end of Adelaide’s subtle dismissals, was freshly reminded that the man was, in fact, a duke of the empire.

“Your Majesty, Duke Berthier has arrived.”

“Send him in.”

The emperor’s voice was stiff and cold. Lionel couldn’t bring himself to lift his head, and trailed behind Duke Berthier with his eyes fixed on his own feet.

“Your Majesty, this is Viscount Lionel Andreas Lavota, whom I mentioned previously.”

“So I finally get to see the Viscount Lavota the duke has talked my ear off about.”

Duke Berthier jabbed Lionel in the side. Lionel offered a bow in the manner he had been taught.

The emperor didn’t spare Lionel a glance and gestured for him to rise. Lionel, still looking down, missed the gesture, and Duke Berthier had to jab him in the side again.

“Viscount Lavota saved the duke, and the duke has a history of saving me, so it’s only right to restore the man’s rank.”

The emperor handed a stamped document to Danel. Danel received it respectfully and brought it to Duke Berthier.

“It sounds, somehow, like Your Majesty is not entirely pleased that I saved you?”

“If I’d had a choice at the time, I would have picked someone better than the duke.”

“What is wrong with me, I ask. Your Majesty simply doesn’t know how to value a good friend. By the time I’m dead and gone, it’ll be too late to stand before my coffin with regrets.”

“Is the duke not the shameless sort who insists that no amount of repaying a debt is ever enough?”

Lionel noticed that a faint trace of laughter had crept into the emperor’s voice. Duke Berthier had shed every last shred of courtly deference and was pressing his luck entirely.

“Has Your Majesty ever properly repaid me? This one can’t be trusted for this reason, that one can’t be trusted for that reason, so you do everything yourself, you said, and isn’t that exactly how I ended up in this sorry state!”

“I’m not sure what sorry state the duke thinks he’s in.”

“To share a morning meal with my one and only daughter, I have to practically beg. That girl Adelaide, I don’t know who she takes after with that stubbornness of hers. The moment I open my mouth at the table, she says, ‘You’re not a farmer plowing a field, Your Grace, you really do talk too much!’ and gives me a scolding.”

The emperor shook his head from side to side. Lionel reacted much the same way.

Duke Berthier was complaining in words, but what he was really doing was boasting: these days, I eat breakfast with Adelaide.

“As it happens, a matter has come up that I need to discuss with you regarding Lady Berthier.”

Lionel snapped his head up. The emperor, whom he met face to face for the first time, carried an air of authority that made it hard to believe he was only forty.

The faint lines etched lightly around his eyes and mouth, rather than making him look old, worked like some enchanted device that made his age impossible to gauge.

“The gardens of my palace are quite worth seeing. Viscount Lavota need not sit through the tedious talk of old men, so go outside and enjoy yourself.”

The emperor waved his hand, treating Lionel not like a sixteen-year-old but like a child of ten.

Lionel was curious what the matter involving Adelaide could be, but with the emperor telling him to leave, he had no choice but to withdraw in silence.

Out of the audience chamber, Lionel had nowhere to go. He wanted to head to the gardens the emperor had mentioned, but among the countless doors in this vast palace, he had no way of knowing which one led outside.

He couldn’t very well stand in front of the audience chamber door either, for fear someone would think he was eavesdropping, so he wandered off with no particular destination. He had drifted through what felt like several endless corridors when he came to his senses and found he had made his way outside.

“Who goes there?”

A cold blade touched his neck. Lionel, who had never held anything but a wooden practice sword in training, froze in a stiff panic.

“I am Lionel, that is, Viscount Lavota, who came with Duke Berthier.”

A brief silence followed, and then the blade withdrew. Only then did Lionel turn to look at the one who had drawn a sword on him. It was a man who resembled the emperor to a striking degree. Brilliant golden hair, vivid blue eyes, a face that looked exactly like what the emperor might have looked like if he turned back twenty years.

“Are you a prince, Your Highness?”

“A prince?”

Cyril repeated the unfamiliar form of address back at him. The boy with the gentle look clearly did not seem at home in the imperial palace.

“Ah. Viscount Lavota. The one Duke Berthier vouched for.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“You’ve been staying at the Berthier estate, I hear.”

“That is correct, Your Highness.”

Lionel was bothered by the conversation that kept breaking off, but he didn’t know what more he was supposed to do. Cyril noticed Lionel’s eyes darting busily this way and that, and found it oddly reminiscent of Albert, and smiled faintly.

“Is Lady Berthier doing well?”

“Lady Berthier is always doing well.”

“Still the same temperament?”

“It seems the Lady Berthier you know and the Lady Berthier I know are different people, Your Highness. My Lady Berthier is a very warm person.”

“My Lady Berthier?”

Cyril found it absurd, watching this half-grown creature bare its claws and hiss.

“Viscount Lavota. I hear you lived all this time not even knowing you were a viscount. You still have a great deal to learn. You should be thinking about how to repay Duke Berthier for the trouble he’s taken on your behalf.”

“I.”

Lionel bristled and was about to say something back when a rustling sound announced Danel’s arrival.

“Crown Prince, Your Highness.”

“Danel. Did you come looking for Viscount Lavota?”