Chapter 42
Modern politics, with its ruling and opposition parties, was petty and complicated enough. But this world, where status held absolute influence, was a whole different headache.
Anyway, just as I was about to nod in agreement with Mikhail’s plan, Helene spoke up.
“No.”
“Helene?”
“We must follow His Majesty the Emperor’s command… the imperial order.”
“Imperial order?”
This was more of a request or suggestion, not a direct imperial command. If it had truly been an imperial order, there would’ve been an official decree stamped with the imperial seal.
But Helene continued with a firm tone, as if refusal wasn’t an option.
“His Majesty’s attendance at this year-end banquet will be his first official public appearance. You must not take its significance lightly.”
“Uh…”
She wasn’t wrong, but it didn’t seem like a strong enough reason to overturn Mikhail’s plan.
Even Mikhail appeared flustered, his gaze wavering as he looked at Helene.
“Helene, this isn’t that kind of issue.”
“No, His Majesty already views the Layton Duchy with suspicion. If we mess up this first step, it could become irreversible.”
“Something’s strange.”
The Helene I knew wasn’t someone who would say things like this.
If Mikhail had said it, I wouldn’t be surprised. But Helene? She was someone who typically offered more rational solutions.
“Why? Did the Emperor do something to her?”
It wasn’t like Helene held any affection toward the Emperor.
As someone who took pride in being the mistress of the Layton Duchy, she must have had a reason for giving such an answer.
“Helene, but this would be burdensome for Mother as well—”
“It’s fine. The speech script has already been prepared, so all she needs to do is memorize it…”
As Mikhail tried to persuade and Helene refused, I silently watched, deep in thought.
To be honest, I was in a position where I just had to go along with whatever the two of them decided.
But more than that, I was curious why Helene had changed so drastically.
It wasn’t mere curiosity—it was an uneasy déjà vu. I’d seen this kind of behavior before…
“Right. It’s similar to when she decided not to kick me out. But that decision was because of the late Duke.”
The reason they kept me as the grand duchess was because of the late Duke’s crimes.
To clean up the mess left by a monster who had murdered four wives, Layton accepted me. It gave the Emperor a convenient excuse too.
But this situation was different. The Emperor didn’t have a clear reason this time.
Unless… he’d sent Helene some kind of message, or maybe even threatened her?
“Wait a minute. What if it really is blackmail?”
What if the Emperor had something on Helene, or a weakness of the Layton family?
That would explain everything. And since Mikhail seemed unaware, it was likely a personal issue on Helene’s part. Besides, she and the Emperor were from the same imperial family—there were plenty of ways they could be entangled.
“I knew trouble was brewing.”
I let out a small sigh.
In any case, now that I knew Helene had something to hide, I couldn’t just go along with Mikhail’s plan.
“Alright, then let’s propose a compromise.”
“What?”
“A compromise?”
“Yes. For example… we could split the speech into two parts.”
An idea suddenly struck me like lightning.
Not from the complexities of noble households or social circles—but from a company dinner I’d attended in my past life.
“Now then, let’s hear a few words from the director—!”
So all I had to do was deliver a speech. That meant we could decide how the speech was done.
With a faint smile, I began explaining one of the worst aspects of modern society—“drinking toasts.”
—
After the discussion ended, I returned to the annex and immediately called for Anna in my bedroom.
“…So that’s how it turned out. I’ll be busy for a while.”
“Y-Yes.”
Anna nodded awkwardly, as if she couldn’t believe things had unfolded exactly as I’d predicted.
She looked confused, unsure whether to be happy or not about delivering a speech in front of the Emperor.
Nata, who had been quietly listening, asked cautiously.
“…Is the relationship between His Majesty and the Layton Duchy bad?”
“Huh? Sir Nata, you don’t know about His Majesty?”
“No, I apologize.”
“No need to apologize.”
Since Nata had been on the battlefield, it made sense he wouldn’t know the recent political climate. Succession drama had little to do with knights at war.
“The previous Emperor had two Empresses. The first gave birth to the First Prince and Helene. But she died after giving birth to Helene.”
“Ah…”
“Then he married his second wife—the current Emperor’s mother, Empress Chersil. She was the daughter of the Marquess of Daphone.”
Nata nodded in understanding.
“So Lady Helene and His Majesty are…”
“Half-siblings. And when Helene married into the Layton Duchy, the family unofficially supported the First Prince, who was Crown Prince at the time. But they lost. The Second Prince—that is, the current Emperor—took the throne.”
Even someone like me, who goofed around at the academy, had heard how shocking that incident was.
They said the Second Prince became Emperor immediately after the previous Emperor’s death by leveraging support from the East.
As a result, the Crown Prince gave up his claim and disappeared, and the Layton Duchy was left out in the cold.
Rumors swirled about who killed the Emperor and made the Crown Prince vanish—but such talk always vanished without a trace when it concerned powerful figures.
“In any case, the Imperial Family and Layton Duchy don’t get along. So for this year-end banquet, which will double as a power play, both sides want to wrap things up peacefully.”
Finally understanding everything, Nata nodded in relief. But Anna still looked troubled.
“Umm… I get the situation, but should I really be hearing this? I’m just a mere maid…”
“Huh? Are you going to spread this story elsewhere, Anna?”
“N-No! Of course not!”
“Then it’s fine. I trust you, Anna.”
“Grand Madam…”
Anna covered her mouth with both hands, touched.
If I can’t trust Anna and Nata, then I don’t have anyone left.
If Anna were to betray me, it would be because I was a bad judge of character.
I barely had any real subordinates. If I started doubting even Anna, I wouldn’t be able to do anything.
“So here’s the plan I proposed to Mikhail and Helene. First, we split the speech into two parts.”
“You mean a toast…?”
“Yes, the kind you’re thinking of. Like the ones at company dinners.”
The two exchanged glances, then muttered in disbelief.
“…Are you really doing that in front of His Majesty?”
“But nobles don’t really drink beer…”
The fact they were worried about entirely different things was amusing.
“Of course I’ll keep noble etiquette in mind. The point is to split the speech: a formal greeting and celebratory message as the official speech, and then a toast to mark the start of the banquet. I’ll handle the toast.”
No one said I had to give the entire speech myself. So I’ll take the lighter, simpler part while Mikhail handles the actual speech. Simple.
Of course, if the division was too obvious, we might draw criticism. So I intended to make my toast flawless and unassailable.
“But I haven’t attended many company dinners myself, so I’d like to ask your advice. You both like to drink, right?”
“Yes.”
“I-I enjoy it a little…”
“Word is you’re the biggest drinker in the annex, Anna.”
“…Who told you that? Was it the gardener?”
It was scary how fast the suspect popped up. I avoided Anna’s now-lifeless gaze.
As for Nata, I learned he liked drinking as we got closer. He claimed to have tried every famous spirit in the West.
Anna, on the other hand, was infamous for finishing five bottles of wine and still showing up to work the next morning. I wanted to ask them if they had any good ideas for a toast.
“I haven’t attended many group dinners either. Unless it was mandatory, I usually drank alone…”
Given Nata’s past, that was understandable.
“How are military drinking parties different?”
“Hmm… We don’t really call them toasts. We call it ‘The Words of Commander Herald.’ It’s named after an ancient herald. When the commander leads the chant—everyone joins in. That’s how it goes.”
Commander Herald, huh. I didn’t recognize the name, so it was probably a military tradition. Like Korea’s “Platoon leader is disappointed” chant or something.
Then I turned to Anna. She hesitated, fingers entwined.
“As for us… our toast is more like a shout-out. Praising the person who worked the hardest that day. Hmm… more like yelling than a toast.”
“Like, ‘Oliver! Happy birthday!’ That kind of thing?”
“…So it was Oliver who told you?”
As Anna’s gaze sharpened, I quietly imagined the kind of toast the servants might use.
