Chapter 72
After the Grand Opening
The grand opening ended in triumph, and several days passed since then. Thanks to the journalists who had returned early, both Behern and Arvern were turned upside down with excitement.
“The Duke of Venachert opens a luxury resort in a coastal city!”
“The Duke of Venachert, now president of La Floriena, begins a new venture.”
“The hidden meaning behind the name La Floriena Resort!”
“Crowds rushing to Florian for their next getaway!”
The moment those reporters stepped into their offices, they wrote their articles with almost maniacal speed.
As a result, Arvern—where the social season hadn’t even been held that year—and Behern—where the season had passed without scandal or spark—were suddenly abuzz again, all thanks to one man: the Duke of Venachert.
Dante smirked faintly as he read the news summarized in Hudson’s letter.
“The trouble of gathering all those reporters paid off. The interviews were a nuisance, but worth it.”
“Your Grace, telegrams for reservations are already flooding in! The general manager hasn’t had a moment to breathe since the opening!”
Callis’s lively voice filled the office. He had been stationed there since the first foundation stone was laid, so his excitement was more than understandable.
“As it should be. It’s only just opened. Make sure the bonuses and vacation rewards for the staff are all arranged before summer ends.”
“Yes, Your Grace! Oh, and…”
Still bubbling with energy, Callis pulled a small notebook from his breast pocket.
“The High Judge just sent a telegram.”
“Ah.” Dante let out a short breath and nodded.
‘Please give me some time to think, Your Grace.’
‘I can’t give you much. Timing, once lost, never returns.’
True to his cautious nature, the High Judge had not given an immediate answer. Dante hadn’t pressed him, either—he preferred careful men.
Still, he hadn’t expected a reply within mere days. Especially not by telegram.
He unfolded the message Callis handed over and read it quietly.
[I will follow Your Grace’s will. What I did back then was simply my duty. You need not repay me.
—Harold]
A faint smile touched Dante’s lips.
He was a righteous man—upright, unbending. A man who endured injustice in silence and upheld the dignity of his office without complaint.
To leave such a person under royal control, shackled by palace politics, had always felt like a waste.
Adjusting his jacket, Dante turned to Callis.
“You know you’re not getting a vacation, right?”
“W–What? No vacation?”
Callis’s eyes went wide as saucers.
“Why not? How’s a man supposed to live without a break?”
“Keep working. You’re paid well enough.”
With a flick of his brow, Dante brushed past the indignant aide.
“If you’re that mad, go get rehired at the resort. Bring your resignation and résumé.”
“You wound me, boss!”
Ignoring his whining, Dante stepped out of the office, his mood considerably lighter.
***
The Arvern royal council chamber was just as noisy. Half the assembled nobles could speak of nothing else but the Duke’s new enterprise.
“No wonder His Grace was away from Behern for so long.”
“When it comes to business, no one rivals the Duke of Venachert. Remember when he extended the railway to that remote region years ago? Everyone mocked him then—but it all makes sense now.”
“Come to think of it, His Highness the Crown Prince and the Chancellor must have known beforehand, yes? Since the development rights would’ve come from the Crown.”
At that, every gaze turned toward Reichert.
Damn it. I didn’t know a thing.
Grinding his teeth in secret, Reichert forced a polite nod.
“The Duke mentioned he wished to experiment with a modest leisure project. It seemed a fine opportunity to raise the nation’s prestige, so I consented.”
The ministers nodded approvingly, none the wiser, while Reichert silently sighed.
So much for ‘meeting investors in Rahlen.’ Starting a new business—was that what he meant?
‘Endure until autumn,’ he said… Was that what he meant all along? What changes in autumn?’
He was still lost in thought when a voice cut through the hall.
“The Chancellor approaches!”
Damn it. Reichert’s expression darkened.
He’d barely smoothed over the uproar from the title reinstatement matter, and now this.
His irritation with Dante flared briefly—until his eyes met the Chancellor’s cold, serpentine gaze.
He resisted the urge to squeeze his eyes shut and instead forced a polite smile.
“Welcome, Chancellor.”
“Your Highness, did you know of the Duke’s business endeavours?”
“…Yes. I granted the development rights myself, after all.”
The Chancellor’s voice, sharp and public, made the entire room hold its breath.
“Why was I not consulted first? Granting such rights falls under the Chancellor’s jurisdiction. Even the royal family must abide by the law, Your Highness. Do you not understand that?”
The venom laced in Norman’s tone made Reichert grind his teeth inwardly.
Your neck’s on the line too, so endure it, you bastard.
What a mess. Between the Chancellor and Dante Venachert, he was bound to be crushed either way.
He thought fast. The king’s health was failing rapidly; he barely recognized anyone anymore.
When His Majesty passed, Norman would undoubtedly seize complete power—and Reichert’s own safety would hang by a thread.
It was clear which side he had to choose.
Not that Dante Venachert was trustworthy—but better him than a Chancellor who’d reduce the royal authority to ashes.
As for his suspicions that Dante had a hand in the king’s condition… Well, that could be dealt with later.
For now, survival came first.
“I see no issue,” Reichert said smoothly. “It’s a lawful enterprise that elevates the nation’s standing. He invested his own funds, so why should I refuse him, Chancellor?”
“…Did you just say no reason?”
“I fail to understand why you’d be so sensitive over a mere development right.”
He meant it sincerely. The Chancellor had never made a fuss over the Duke’s past ventures—why now?
“…Your Highness, are you serious?”
Norman’s eyes glinted dangerously.
Swallowing hard, Reichert kept his composure.
“I’ve already discussed this matter with the Duke thoroughly. I’ll meet with him again soon to review the details. You needn’t concern yourself too deeply, Chancellor.”
“Very well. But you haven’t forgotten our previous agreement, have you, Your Highness?”
At that, Reichert’s brow twitched.
Of all times to bring that up…
He forced a strained smile as murmurs spread through the chamber.
“Of course not. I remember—and I’ll see it carried out.”
That “agreement” was none other than the promise to persuade Lady Anaista of House Winfield to become the next Duchess.
Persuasion, of course, was just another word for pressure.
And convincing Dante Venachert of anything was next to impossible.
A bead of sweat slid down Reichert’s back as he maintained his diplomatic smile.
Caught between a Chancellor hungry for power and a Duke who might strike at any moment, he had to find a way out—before either side decided his usefulness had run its course.
