~CHAPTER 37~
“I will visit at six.”
– Elpenlira.
The letter felt less like a princess’s message and more like a thief’s notice.
Rision narrowed his brow and set the letter face down.
Even while the Emperor read the letter handed to him mid-meeting, the nobles around the round table kept their voices raised.
“It has not even been a full year since the incident in the Valdein County. And now another provocation like this!”
Leading the charge was the Marquess of Homella.
The Homella family was the birth family of the Duchess of Belua, and through that marriage alliance they had secured a firm position among the southern high nobility.
The Marquess of Homella often acted as a field captain for the southern faction. Whenever he made excessive demands under the excuse of youthful passion, the Duke of Belua would pretend to placate him and accept roughly half of it.
“The Count of Loisen wants to settle the matter peacefully, so why must the central court step in and make it bigger?”
This cold response came from Viscount Maier.
He was a western noble whose lands bordered the Loisen County and strongly desired increased trade through an open border.
Naturally his relationship with the southern nobles—who had monopolized trade by exploiting the historic conflict between Catalos and Arasas—was strained.
The Marquess of Homella snorted.
“The Loisen Count would try to settle it peacefully even if Arasas marched in with an army!”
At that insult, the Count’s eldest son, Tiber Loisen, who was attending as the family’s representative, shot to his feet.
Count Erbinjel and Baron Aldebaron grabbed him from both sides and held him back.
Thinking he had gained momentum, the Marquess of Homella waved his hands in the air like an actor and raised his voice.
“Even if the actual damage was small, this is a matter of principle! How long will we let those Arasas bastards look down on our Catalos Empire?”
“Marquess, wait—”
“In times like this, we must set an exam—”
Baron Galia, timid and soft-spoken, tried to stop him, but the Marquess was too drunk on his own theatrics to notice the room growing cold.
At last he realized the silence and stiffly turned toward the head seat.
Rision leaned his chin on one hand, listening with an unreadable stare.
The Marquess sank back into his chair.
His gaze wandered over the round table.
Rision spoke in a calm voice tinged with amusement.
“Tell me, what do you all think my role is in these meetings?”
No one answered.
“A cleric who forgives wrongdoing if one confesses? A lord who solves grievances when you complain? A judge who mediates disputes fairly?”
Rision slapped the round table with his palm.
The massive slab of carved wood gave a heavy, resonant thud.
“You report, advise, and execute. I listen, decide, and command.”
Everyone lowered their heads.
Rision gathered the last of his patience and warned them.
“I will hear three sentences from each person. No more.”
He was already tired of watching their wagging tongues. He could write a puppet play with the characters seated around him.
The first to be called was Tiber Loisen.
“It is true that a resident of the Loisen County, who crossed the border illegally to peddle goods, got into a quarrel with an Arasas merchant and was killed. But the Arasas side apologized and compensated the family sufficiently, so the Loisen County considers this matter resolved. That is all.”
Rision then turned to the Duke of Belua, who had stayed silent until now.
“Explain why a matter resolved at the local level was dragged before me.”
And if the explanation displeased him, he would not overlook it this time.
Wasting the Emperor’s time was one of the classic ways for high nobles to show defiance and flex their influence.
The Duke of Belua slowly rose to his feet.
The relaxed way he cleared his throat made Rision’s buried anger rise again.
“Sir Tiber Loisen claims Arasas apologized and compensated the family, but that is a distortion. Even a formal national apology would fall short, yet they merely sent a merchant carrying a letter and compensation. This is an insult to the Great Catalos Empire. We must send an official protest in the name of the Imperial House—”
“Duke, are you unable to count?”
At the dry question, the Duke closed his mouth.
He probably never counted his sentences in the first place.
Rision’s dislike for long-winded nobles was well-known, but he rarely humiliated someone so openly.
But today he was furious.
Every word the Duke delivered under the guise of loyal counsel dripped with concealed poison.
He should have realized by now that such tricks did not work on Rision, yet the Duke still clung to habits from the previous emperor’s reign.
Unable to accept that a parent and child could be so different—that was the Duke of Belua’s fatal flaw.
“A merchant carried the letter and compensation? That must have been the guildmaster of the Eastern Merchants’ Association of Arasas, acting as Labelan Arasas’s unofficial representative.”
Minor disputes along the border with Arasas were common.
During peaceful years, each region developed its own methods and networks for handling issues.
Instead of national intervention, unofficial channels had become a standard way to resolve conflicts.
In this case the culprit was a merchant, so Arasas—more precisely, Labelan Arasas—sent the guildmaster as an agent.
Though the parties didn’t appear in person, it was essentially the Crown Prince of Arasas apologizing, and the Loisen family receiving that apology.
It was understood by all involved, even if not recorded formally.
And if not for people like the Duke of Belua, who made direct diplomacy and border openness so difficult, the incident would never have escalated at all.
“Should I demand that the old Emperor of Arasas bow and apologize to me because a merchant crossed the border illegally, got into a fight, and died?”
Silence.
“If we must wage a continental war, I’d prefer it be for a reason less stupid than this.”
Rision was the only one who smiled.
He stood with Elpenlira’s letter in hand.
The nobles, each pale for different reasons, stood up as well.
“If you insist on wasting my time, at least do it in a productive way.”
Winter was approaching.
That was a relief.
When the nobles returned to their domains for the social season, he would not have to see their faces for a while.
Maybe when the season matched the mood of his heart, the world would feel a little less lonely.
In the corridor, Rision removed the crown pressing on his head.
The chief attendant, following him like a shadow, took it carefully with gloved hands.
He often wished he could cast off the suffocating weight on his soul as easily as the crown on his head.
* * *
It was the first time Elpenlira had visited the Imperial Palace since the incident with Edric.
“Don’t tell me you put that there for me to see?”
She frowned openly at a painting in the reception room.
It was the portrait that had arrived with Labelan’s letter not long ago.
Rision was startled as he poured tea into her cup.
He had forgotten it was still sitting there.
“No. I just didn’t know where to store it, so I left it wherever.”
“I don’t want to look at it.”
The attendant rushed over and flipped the portrait over.
Watching Elpenlira sip her tea with a stiff expression, Rision asked carefully:
“Do you not think he’s handsome?”
“He’s ugly.”
“……”
“I pity his future wife. Imagine spending a lifetime with a man that ugly.”
Objectively, Labelan Arasas was a strikingly handsome young man.
His olive-toned skin and deep brown hair radiated vitality.
His rare amber eyes always sparkled with mischief.
Even in a serious pose for a portrait, his natural smile peeked through.
Although he often joked, “Compared to you, I am a slug without a shell,” anyone could tell that such comments came from confidence.
“Well, if he’s not your type, then I suppose that’s that.”
“There are actually women who like men that ugly?”
There were about five hundred noblewomen of Arasas who would disagree, but Rision wisely changed the subject.
“How is your studying going?”
“Are you asking about my teacher?”
He had no answer for that.
Elpenlira set her teacup down with a sharp clink.
“You two seemed friendly. Why don’t you come to Oak Palace anymore? What happened between you and my teacher that day in the Imperial Palace?”
Silence.
“You didn’t do anything ungentlemanly to her, did you?”
Elpenlira was simple in her nature.
She divided people into two groups: those who were hers and those who weren’t.
Kindness, favors, debts, wrongs—she returned all of it in her own way.
Rision had assumed Elpenlira saw Dianu Ortensa as someone to whom she owed a debt, thus her reluctantly helping with “the teacher’s” affairs.
But if that were all, she wouldn’t have come here asking questions.
He leaned toward her slightly.
For the first time in a long while, it felt like he might have a meaningful conversation with her.
“Lira. Are you curious about my relationship with Lady Ortensa?”
“Am I not allowed to be?”
“You are, but… I didn’t know you two had become close enough for you to be curious.”
Elpenlira pressed her lips together.
A faint wrinkle formed between her brows, as if she wanted to deny something.
But what she finally said was sincere.
“She’s strange, isn’t she?”
Rision raised an eyebrow.
He could list twenty words to describe Dianu Ortensa, but “strange” wasn’t one of them.
Elpenlira bit her lip in frustration.
“She keeps treating me like someone she needs to… look after and help…”
