Chapter 10.
Cassielope smiled faintly, as though grateful for Yulia’s vow.
When she reached out her hand as if to bid her rise, Yulia — who had been kneeling all along — reluctantly stood up.
Not long after Yulia’s arrival, someone knocked on the door again.
It wasn’t Countess Teshana Mardia.
The presence beyond the door was quite different — familiar, even daily so.
“It’s Ian. May I come in, Your Majesty the Empress?”
Ian, the Emperor’s personal secretary.
Though young, his ability was exceptional, which was why Cassielope had handpicked him herself.
He was often looked down upon by the nobles for being a commoner, but he paid them no mind and carried out his duties with flawless precision.
When Cassielope granted permission, Ian opened the door and entered.
He bowed politely as their eyes met.
His long ash-gray hair was tied neatly back, and a monocle adorned one eye, for his eyesight differed between the two.
There was not a single wrinkle out of place — the same composed figure as always — which made Cassielope smile faintly.
“You haven’t changed a bit.”
“……Wasn’t it Your Majesty who valued that constancy?”
“Indeed.”
Ian never wavered, no matter the situation.
He was the very image of what an imperial secretary should be — and Cassielope cherished him for it.
And so Ian, too, devoted himself to acting as though nothing had changed.
Even though the sovereign he had once served as Emperor now sat as Empress — that was the only loyalty he could show.
Lifting his emotionless face, Ian met Cassielope’s gaze squarely.
It was something that, by all rights, a vassal should never do before his ruler — yet his eyes did not tremble.
“Look me straight in the eyes, Ian.”
“How could I dare look directly into Your Majesty’s eyes…?”
“You must look at me if you are to stand firm before those nobles.
If you can meet the Emperor’s gaze so calmly, what are a few aristocrats to you?”
Those had been her own words in the past.
Whenever the nobles saw Ian, they would shout, “How dare you look your betters in the eye!”
Cassielope had always silenced them by saying:
“If he can look his Emperor in the eye, why should he not look at you?
Honestly… it’s hard to tell who the real ruler is here.”
Her title might have changed, but her relationship with Ian had not — nor should it ever.
Meeting his steady gaze, Cassielope spoke softly.
“How could I not cherish you, when you’re like this.”
“……”
“Now then — what brings you here?”
Cassielope’s station had changed, but Ian’s had not.
He was still the Emperor’s direct secretary.
Which meant his coming here could only be at Regis’s behest.
“……His Majesty requests that Your Majesty attend the imperial council.”
“Requests, you say. Not commands?”
“He said he would leave the choice entirely to Your Majesty.”
What was this now?
Regis’s intentions were becoming more unreadable by the day.
Cassielope was silent for a moment, then answered by rising from her seat.
“Very well. Lead the way, Ian.”
As she began to walk, Ian and Yulia followed.
But Cassielope paused and turned toward Yulia.
“It would be best if you remained here, Lady Icart.”
The council chamber would certainly include Duke Icart.
There was no good reason for Yulia to face him.
Thus Cassielope went on with Ian alone.
✦✦✦
The council chamber was deathly quiet.
Nearly twenty nobles were present, yet not one dared speak.
Or rather — none could.
The Emperor, Regis, sat with a dark expression, an icy tension emanating from him.
The only sound was that of papers turning in his hand.
He was holding a dossier concerning trade with the Kingdom of Ehmet — a matter Cassielope had always handled herself.
But today, the name written as chief official in charge was Marquis Rothes.
The moment Regis saw that name, his cold blue gaze slid toward the marquis.
That chill alone made the man flinch involuntarily.
“Do you believe you can manage this, Marquis Rothes?”
“You may trust him with it, Your Majesty. The marquis is the perfect candidate,”
answered Duke Icart instead.
Regis turned his eyes toward the duke.
“Perfect, is he? Tell me — are you fluent in Ehmetian?
Last I checked, the marquis knew not a single foreign tongue.”
“……Well, that is—”
“A man who cannot speak the language of a trade partner is ‘perfect’ for diplomacy?
Are you truly serious, Duke?”
“……An interpreter can be hired. That’s hardly unusual.”
“Unusual, indeed. Has that ever been done in the Clemens Empire?
I’ve neither seen nor heard of such a thing.”
Duke Icart’s forced smile twitched irritably.
But Regis paid his discomfort no mind.
He tossed the documents onto the table with a sharp thud.
“You all know perfectly well who the rightful person for this task is.”
Every noble in the room froze — they all thought of the same name.
And at that exact moment, a knock sounded.
Ian, the Emperor’s secretary, stepped inside.
Behind him came a woman with crimson hair.
Gasps rippled through the nobles.
“I was told Your Majesty summoned me,”
Cassielope said, bowing gracefully.
Regis acknowledged her with a mere tilt of his head — no more.
“Oh? Must I now be the one to offer greetings first?”
“……W-we pay our respects to Your Majesty the Empress!”
The nobles, flustered, scrambled to their feet and bowed in haste.
Cassielope’s eyes swept the room before she approached Duke Icart, seated next to Regis in the place of highest honor.
She stopped in front of him, tilting her head slightly.
“What are you doing, Duke?”
“Diplomacy is not merely about knowing foreign tongues, Your Majesty.
Marquis Rothes—”
“What are you talking about?”
The duke blinked, startled that she had interrupted him — she shouldn’t have known what had been discussed.
All negotiations with Ehmet had once been her charge.
She was fluent in their language, and when she oversaw trade, the Clemens Empire had always profited greatly.
But that, the duke thought, was the past.
Surely there were others now who could replace her.
“I only meant that Marquis Rothes will handle the Ehmet negotiations well, Your Majesty.”
“Is that so? I didn’t ask, but thank you for informing me what today’s council is about, Duke.”
“……”
“If you’re done speaking, would you kindly move aside?”
“Move… aside?”
“As you can see, there’s no empty seat.
Surely the Empress cannot stand while you nobles remain seated?
Be courteous enough to offer your place.”
Duke Icart’s face turned visibly red.
Grinding his teeth, he rose from his chair.
Cassielope sat down in it as if it were only natural.
The nobles, sensing the tension, began to shuffle uneasily, half-standing as though to make room.
But Cassielope spoke as she picked up the dossier.
“No need to trouble yourselves. This won’t take long.
Isn’t that right, Your Majesty?”
“……If the Empress takes this task herself, the council will certainly not drag on.”
Without replying, Cassielope extended her hand toward Ian.
He wordlessly passed her a quill, as if long accustomed to the motion.
The nib struck the parchment — two firm lines crossing out Marquis Rothes’s name, and beneath them, her own signature.
“……W-what in the world—”
one of the nobles whispered in shock.
Official documents were always rewritten after a council’s conclusion, reflecting the agreed revisions.
Cassielope knew that perfectly well — and yet she had crossed out the name openly, before all of them.
Just like that, the meeting was effectively over.
It had taken all of two minutes.
Two minutes from the moment she sat in the duke’s chair to the meeting’s conclusion.
Duke Icart’s face flushed red and pale by turns as Regis abruptly stood.
“That will be all for today.”
It was as if he had been waiting for that moment — he strode quickly out of the chamber.
Cassielope followed at once.
Just now… from Regis…
She thought she had smelled blood.
Faint, but unmistakable — the scent of iron.
Her pace quickened in alarm.
