OFR 12

12. How Can I Help?

Young Roderick was so deeply shocked that he didn’t come out from under his blankets for days. He didn’t want to die. No matter how great the Whittegars or the Saluga Company might be, they were nothing compared to the Imperial Family. The young boy spoke less and rarely left his room. He often skipped meals.

I don’t want to die!

Every night he cried himself to sleep. Then, one night, he felt a cool hand stroke his fevered forehead. He didn’t open his eyes, but he knew whose hand it was. His father’s. There was a faint scent of alcohol in the air.

“Roderick, you’ll be all right. No one will die anymore. I won’t let that happen.”

Roderick kept his eyes closed. Somehow, he was afraid to see his father’s face right then. He squeezed his eyes shut and refused to open them. A faint laugh reached his ears.

“I promise. No one will die.”

Whether it was a promise or a desperate vow, the Count of Whittegar left those words behind and walked out. Was that, perhaps, his way of saying he was going to die? Only now did Roderick begin to understand the depth of his father’s despair and sorrow. Too late. Far too late.

Roderick rubbed his face with his hands and looked again at Edna. The young lady with golden hair gazed back at him, her eyes glimmering with mischief. This was no time for jokes—what was he to do with this reckless girl? Ian Lombardi, of all people!

“Edna, this isn’t the time for jokes! Have you gone mad? Ian Lombardi! You should just lie low like Marian! An engagement out of nowhere—what are you thinking?”

“Brother, please calm down.”

Edna poured a cup of tea and pushed it toward him, then smiled softly. Roderick rubbed his forehead as if he had a headache, but sat down obediently where she’d set the tea.

When he took a sip, Edna spoke.

“The Crown Prince must already know that Marian has someone she loves. She is beautiful, yes—but his proposal wasn’t made out of love. If she stands her ground, the Crown Prince won’t be able to force things. The social world has too many eyes watching. The ships detained at Pero Island will soon be released, too. Prices of luxury goods are rising, and the Imperial Family won’t want to take the blame for that.”

“Then why stir up trouble when it’ll all resolve itself?”

“Because nothing is truly resolved, Brother. Nothing has been fixed at the root.”

“What do you mean?”

The unease that had barely settled inside Roderick began to rise again. Edna sighed softly.

“Don’t pretend not to know. The reason the Imperial Family keeps harassing the Whittegars is money. Every year, we pay enormous amounts of gold to the Empire—not just taxes, but all kinds of ‘customary tributes.’ Even when there’s no reason, we’re still expected to send gold, just because it’s tradition. And it’s not only the palace—every institution, every bureaucrat treats Saluga’s wealth as their personal purse.”

She met his gaze. His eyes—so much like hers—were trembling, betraying the weakness behind his usual composure.

“How long must we keep paying tribute to the Empire? Do you think greed ever ends? The Imperial Family spends that gold like water because it isn’t earned—it’s taken. If they demand more, they’ll just sacrifice another of us, threaten us, and take more again.”

Roderick’s eyes shook violently.

“Brother.”

The brother who always seemed aloof and indifferent was, in truth, terrified. Edna realized that the man she had always seen as a steady adult—eight years her senior—had been just as scared as she was.

“How long must the Whittegars endure this? Now that Father is gone, who will they target next? Brother, we’re their golden goose. As long as we keep laying golden eggs, we live. But even if we do, one day they’ll cut us open to see what’s inside.”

Edna smiled faintly.

“If the Crown Prince decides to target me and propose marriage, I’ll have no way to refuse. I don’t have a public sweetheart like Marian, and I’m not nearly as beautiful as she is. He’ll be ashamed even after choosing me.”

She added with a smile, “Because it won’t be a proposal made out of love.”

Roderick looked at her. True, she lacked the fiery beauty of their red-haired sister Marian, but Edna was a fair, golden-haired girl of striking purity. Still young, but sure to grow into a woman as beautiful as their mother.

“They’re saying you’ve fallen for Ian Lombardi and chased after him.”

At his frustrated tone, Edna burst out laughing.

“I told them to say that. If money suddenly flows to us, the Crown Prince and the Empress will be suspicious. I didn’t think people would really spread it like that, though.”

“Sir Tennyson Franz came running into my study, practically dancing with joy when he heard!”

Roderick’s face darkened at the memory.

“Brother, I haven’t fallen for Ian Lombardi—and neither has he for me. Love at first sight is rare outside of novels. The Duke holds a claim to the throne. That’s why the Empress and the Crown Prince torment him.”

Edna lifted her teacup. The cooled tea was bitter on her tongue. She frowned slightly, and Katrina poured her a fresh cup.

“Thank you, Mother.”

“You say such strange things, child.”

Though they didn’t look alike, the gentle air between them made them seem like true mother and daughter. Roderick looked at them and asked quietly,

“Are you truly planning to marry the Duke of Lombardi?”

Edna shook her head.

“I can’t say for sure yet. But it’s quite likely. The Imperial Family won’t change overnight.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

Roderick’s voice was heavy. He felt like a fool who couldn’t even protect his little sister.

“There is.”

Her answer lit up his face.

“What is it? Just say the word.”

“Introduce me to Sir Tennyson Franz.”

“What? That scoundrel? Why?”

“I hear he’s the biggest womanizer in the Empire.”

Roderick’s face turned crimson. Tennyson Franz was the last man he’d want his innocent little sister to meet. The man’s reputation for womanizing was infamous throughout the Empire.

“Why on earth would you want to see someone like that?”

“Oh, there’s been a misunderstanding. I won’t exactly be meeting him—well, maybe I will—but it’s not for me. The Duke will need him.”

She was speaking nonsense. Roderick’s expression hardened.

“No. Absolutely not!”

Even by accident, Edna must never meet that man. And now she wanted to seek him out? Over his dead body. Roderick was firm this time.

“Brother.”

Her voice was soft, almost melodic. Something about the way she said his name made Roderick’s chest tighten oddly. He sighed lightly, as if to dispel that ticklish feeling.

“For Ian Lombardi to help us, he can’t stay as he is now. Some products need refining, don’t they? Tea leaves must be picked, cleaned, and roasted. Coffee beans must be harvested, pulped, dried, and roasted, too.”

Roderick thought of Ian Lombardi—the man who always lingered in the shadows of banquets, the so-called “Duke in name only,” the Empire’s disgrace, the Crown Prince’s shame. Every insult imaginable was tied to that name.

A headache was coming on. Roderick stood up abruptly and began pacing.

“Edna, must you really go through with this marriage?”

It was his last plea. He desperately wanted to stop it—especially after hearing Tennyson’s name involved.

“Roderick, please help her,” Katrina said at last.

With even their mother siding with Edna, he had no choice but to surrender.

Tennyson Franz stepped down from his carriage, pulling his hat low to cover his face. The streetlamps were beginning to flicker to life in the dusky evening as people hurried home.

Though it was spring, the air had turned chilly after sunset. Tennyson raised his coat collar and hunched his shoulders. With his hat pulled down, his face was barely visible. Tilting his head slightly, he looked across the street toward a narrow, grimy alley.

He quickly checked both directions. The street was busy, but no one was paying attention to him. After a black public carriage rolled past, he crossed the street and slipped into the alley.

The stench of rot and urine hung thick in the unlit passage. Though it was only early evening, drunk vagrants already lay sprawled in the corners.

Holding his breath, Tennyson wound his way through the alleys until he stopped in front of a large brick building. It was plain and ugly, no different from the others—just rows of red bricks stacked without care.

As soon as he stopped at the entrance, a few of the “drunks” nearby sprang to their feet and approached. They staggered as if drunk, but there was no trace of alcohol on their breath.

“Has Father come here tonight?”

At his question, one of them chuckled and motioned with his hand. The others returned to their spots and lay down again, pretending to sleep.