~CHAPTER 8~
To my dear Rision,
How fares your Catalos? I can hardly remember the last time I set foot on that land.
The thought of seeing the Imperial Palace of Catalos again excites me greatly.
If nothing else, your ancestors truly knew how to build.
I wish the Arasas I will rule had at least one church built in the Catalos style.
And how is my bride? Never in my life have I hung my heart on a woman who dislikes me so much.
Staring only at the same portrait every day makes my situation feel pitiful beyond words.
Please send me a new one.
It’s embarrassing to call it a token of gratitude, but I’m sending my newly painted portrait with this letter.
It may not please the princess who grew up looking at your face, but at least, for the sake of the effort I nearly fainted from boredom while posing, I hope you won’t burn it.
I count the days until we can truly be brothers.
If I hear good news before the year ends, I will ask for nothing more.
P.S. When is that Emperor planning to marry, anyway? If you suddenly die without an heir, my father will be overjoyed to raise a campaign. Must I really sit by and watch such madness? Get yourself together, my friend.
— With sincerity,
Labelan Arasas.
“He certainly knows how to curse, and still has terrible handwriting.”
Rision tossed the letter aside without getting up from the long chair.
His secretary, Nairon Berdian, swiftly picked up the letter and threw it into the fire.
It was poor treatment for a crown prince’s personal letter, but for the sake of security, there was no helping it.
“Will you write a reply, Your Majesty?”
Rision laid an arm over his throbbing eyes.
Even the sunlight streaming through the window made his headache worse.
He wanted to reply, but there was nothing to say.
Even if he ignored the absurd nagging at the end, there had been no progress in the matter of Elpenlira.
“Read the report you brought.”
“Are you sure, Your Majesty? You don’t look well.”
Nairon looked worried, ready to summon the chief chamberlain if Rision so much as sneezed.
Rision didn’t like showing weakness, but he couldn’t help it.
There was little he could hide from this capable secretary.
Nairon Berdian was the illegitimate son of a notorious marquis.
He had lived in poverty with his mother, nameless and destitute, until Rision took him in and gave him a university education.
It was not out of kindness, but out of strategy.
Rision had gathered and placed in key positions several people who would be unconditionally loyal to him.
Nairon was one of them, and so was the chief chamberlain.
“You gave me a life fit for a human being when I should have died like a rat in the gutter. My life belongs to Your Majesty. Use and discard me as you wish.”
That was how Nairon had sworn his loyalty, kissing Rision’s foot right after the coronation.
For the past six years, he had repaid that grace with consistent skill and devotion.
The problem was that his intelligence and perception could sometimes be inconvenient.
“It’s only a headache.”
“The chamberlain says you’ve been sleeping poorly and little these days.”
“So you’ve joined forces to nag me now.”
“It’s a servant’s privilege to worry about his master.”
Rision waved a hand as if swatting away a fly.
Nairon sighed but opened the stack of documents tucked under his arm.
It was a report from the inspector he had dispatched to the south the previous year.
Reading through the disastrous tax records of the southern nobles did nothing to ease Rision’s headache.
The southern lords, led by Duke Roderick of Velua, were earning enormous profits through trade, yet widespread fraud and tax evasion filled their ledgers.
Though Rision knew well of this corruption and disloyalty, he could not punish them.
Arresting the entire southern aristocracy would collapse Catalos’s economy—if rebellion didn’t break out first.
The empire was vast.
No matter how strong imperial authority was, a single emperor could not rule it all.
The more power was divided, the more parasites grew around it.
“What would Labelan have done?”
He pondered but found no answer.
Just as Rision had inherited a beautiful palace, Labelan had likely inherited a sophisticated and efficient administration.
“Still, if I had to choose one thing, it would be governance.”
Rision’s father, the former Emperor of Catalos, had ruled in what was kindly called peace and more truthfully called stagnation.
Rision loved and missed him as a parent, but he did not think he had been a good ruler.
By doing nothing, he had allowed men like Duke Roderick to build their power unchecked.
What was broken must be fixed, and what was rotten must be cut away.
A man holding a hammer and blade who did nothing was committing a sin.
That was why Rision had to see this plan through.
As long as the hammer and blade were in his and Labelan’s hands, he would find a way.
* * *
By the time Nairon finished reading, his throat was half gone and the six o’clock bell was ringing.
The chamberlain entered the office.
“Your Majesty, Lady Adelaisa of Velua requests an audience.”
Rision reluctantly rose.
The chamberlain helped him straighten his disheveled attire.
Barely fit to greet a lady, Rision said to Nairon:
“Glory to the Sun of Catalos.”
Nairon bowed deeply and vanished like the wind.
His wife had recently given birth to a daughter, and Rision still found it hard to believe a man his own age had become a father.
Most of his childhood friends had long since married and started families.
No wonder Labelan clicked his tongue at him.
“It’s not that I don’t want to… what am I supposed to do?”
He couldn’t blame Elpenlira.
He too had failed to fulfill his duty.
With complicated feelings, Rision entered the reception room.
Lady Adelaisa of Velua was seated on the guest sofa, gazing out the window.
Rision rose and kissed the back of her hand.
“It’s been a while, Lady Adelaisa.”
“I hope I’m not disturbing Your Majesty during your busy affairs.”
Rision shook his head.
“I was just about to take a break.”
The chamberlain brought in tea and sweets.
As the tea table was set, Adelaisa looked at Rision’s face and spoke.
“You look tired, Your Majesty.”
“And you, Lady Adelaisa? I heard you haven’t gone out for some time.”
“It can’t be helped when one’s health is poor.”
She spoke calmly, taking a sip of tea.
Her thin wrist, visible through her sleeve, looked fragile enough to break.
Born frail, she still suffered from frequent illness even as an adult.
Every time he saw Adelaisa, Rision was reminded of how blessed Elpenlira was with her robust health—
and how ruthless Duke Roderick was to insist on making such a fragile daughter the Empress.
Sometimes, Rision imagined the duke’s wish fulfilled.
He and Adelaisa could have made a good, exemplary couple—without passion, perhaps, but full of respect and care.
But her body would never survive childbirth.
Rision would not push one of the few people he respected and cared for to the brink of death.
He knew it.
She knew it.
Only Duke Roderick desperately refused to see it.
Adelaisa lowered her eyes.
“The truth is, I came to see Her Highness the Princess today. I’ve written several letters, but since I received no reply, I dared to knock on the doors of Oak Palace myself.”
Rision rubbed his eyelids.
“But Countess Ornin greeted me instead. She said Her Highness… was unwell?”
“…That is true.”
Adelaisa, one of the few who had been close to Elpenlira, surely saw through that poor excuse.
Rision was almost relieved he couldn’t lie to her.
Adelaisa looked at him quietly before asking gently.
“I don’t know what trouble you’re facing, Your Majesty, but is there any way I might help?”
Rision shook his head.
He knew she meant it sincerely, but as Duke Roderick’s daughter, there was nothing she could do except act as his spy.
And since Duke Roderick would have to be eliminated someday, Rision refused to use her.
“Just attend the Founding Anniversary banquet. If I must dance, I’d rather it be with you, Lady Adelaisa.”
She smiled faintly.
“My father will get his hopes up.”
“Better that than the hopes of other ladies. At least your father can be scolded.”
Adelaisa gladly promised she would.
Rision escorted her to the palace entrance.
Before they parted, she seemed to remember something.
“Come to think of it, did Her Highness recently take in a new lady-in-waiting?”
“What?”
“I ran into a lady I’d never seen before while leaving Oak Palace.”
A face Rision had forgotten amid endless duties came to mind, and he couldn’t help but smile faintly.
“What was she doing?”
“Pardon?”
“When you saw her—what was she doing?”
He was simply curious about what the tutor’s daily life was like without a student. Nothing more.
Adelaisa looked at him strangely.
“…She was braiding her hair.”
“Her hair?”
“Yes. Perhaps it had come loose during her walk. She was braiding it like this.”
Adelaisa gathered her long hair to one side and mimed a casual braid.
Rision fell silent in thought.
Dianu Ortensa had once given him a gift—though she had no idea it was him she gave it to.
He had considered telling her they had met before, but for some reason, he wanted to keep that memory to himself.
The rose she had offered in place of Erin had long since withered, but the ribbon still rested in Rision’s desk drawer.
He sometimes looked at it without meaning to.
Finally, he spoke to Adelaisa, whose expression was still puzzled.
“I’ve just thought of a way you can help me, Lady Adelaisa.”
He simply wanted to return a gift—one that had come unexpectedly on a spring day and delighted him all the more for it.
That was all.
