When my comment was posted in the opinion section, the rapidly updating comments came to a halt for about three seconds.
Those who had been crying over the newsletter, those gritting their teeth and attacking the duke and me, and even those defending us, all seemed to stop simultaneously as if it were prearranged.
‘Was it really this intense?’
Ian’s right to succession was certainly a sensitive topic. Everyone was aware of it, but it was one of those taboo subjects no one dared to speak of. So, in a way, I had just thrown a bomb into the center of the newsletter.
I rested my chin in my hand and waited, amused, for several seconds until the comment section began to update again.
– Well, isn’t it a well-known fact that Grand Duke Cloud has no interest in the throne? Why else would he leave the palace as soon as he came of age?
– Subversive forces always pretend to be loyal until they strike.
– Are you comparing the grand duke to a subversive force? Aren’t you afraid of imperial law?
– Who said the grand duke is? It’s just a metaphor, don’t you get it?
– If you’re that picky about it, what you just said could be considered treason against the royal family.
– If he really wasn’t interested in the throne, he would have renounced his right to succession long ago. He’s waiting for a potential situation, that’s why he’s held on until now.
– All he has to do is renounce his succession, but he’s dragging it out.
– Exactly.
– The emperor, really, how long is he going to protect him?
– Renouncing the succession isn’t that simple. It’s a royal right! Why are people telling him to give it up?
– Anyway, I’m sure the emperor knows Princess Louisa will inherit the throne.
– Does that mean the grand duke isn’t a threat? Aside from Princess Louisa, there’s only Grand Duke Cloud, and no one knows what might happen.
The comments started flooding in at a rate of three to four per second, as if the eerie silence never happened. It made me wonder if this was what people meant when they said even text could become chaotic.
– But this current issue isn’t necessarily about the right to succession, is it? Why are you muddying the waters and spoiling the discussion?
– Exactly.
– Don’t you be the one muddying the waters.
I silently clicked my tongue at some of the more over-the-line comments.
‘Good thing the Aria newsletter doesn’t track IP addresses. If this were 21st-century social media, the police would already be at your door.’
Another selling point of the Aria newsletter was its complete anonymity.
No matter what you wrote in the opinion section, it was impossible to trace back to the writer.
Once your letter was submitted, no trace or evidence remained. No one could figure out who had written what, and the emperor couldn’t possibly round up all the aristocrats subscribing to the newsletter, given that a significant portion of the empire’s nobility were readers.
The editor of the Aria newsletter might as well have been a phantom to most, though to me, he was a mere 2.5-second carrier pigeon.
In short, the system of the Aria newsletter was entirely untraceable, allowing nobles to speak freely without worrying about consequences.
‘Kyle really had his wits about him.’
A clever, cunning mind.
“Hmmm…”
As I skimmed through the posts again, I picked up my quill.
Sure, I don’t know who these people are writing in the opinion section.
But conversely, this means they can’t know who I am, either.
– From what I see, the grand duke doesn’t seem like someone interested in the right to succession. As far as I know, he’s petitioned the emperor several times before.
– Oops, is that a secret? In any case, it might not be entirely the grand duke’s will that he hasn’t given up his right yet, right?
With a casual toss of this piece of information, the comment section fell into silence once more.
But this time, it didn’t last long.
Debates over the truth of what I’d just said began to erupt almost immediately. People questioned where I’d heard this, speculated that the emperor was the one stopping the grand duke from renouncing his rights, wondered if someone from the grand duke’s camp was deliberately stirring the waters, and so on. They debated that anonymous information should always be taken with a grain of salt.
As I watched the opinion section descend into further chaos, I shut the newsletter with a satisfied smack and stood up.
“This should be enough.”
The bait had been set.
Now, let’s see when they’ll bite.
❖ ❖ ❖
And the response came faster than expected.
A few days later, a letter arrived from the imperial palace. It was an order from the emperor, summoning both of us to the capital immediately.
On the surface, it seemed like a graceful and refined invitation, but after reading through it, it was clear that Elisio was absolutely furious.
‘I knew this would happen.’
I waved the letter that had arrived early in the morning, a sly grin spreading across my face.
Beside me, Vivi, who had been quietly making the bed while glancing at me, flinched.
“Um… My lady?”
“Hm? What is it?”
“You’re not… thinking of doing anything bad, right? Not that your expression looks strange or anything…”
Ah, I must have made that sly, scheming villain face again.
This darn expression control is still difficult, even after all these months. I quickly folded the letter and flashed a shameless smile.
“It’s nothing. His Majesty the Emperor has summoned the duke and me to the capital. I’m just a little nervous at the thought of seeing him again.”
“Oh my, so the letter really was from the palace! Have you been invited together again?”
Yes, although technically it’s not an invitation but a summons.
Stretching nonchalantly, I stood up.
“Since we’ve been summoned immediately, we should hurry and prepare. Find me something appropriate to wear. Oh, and nothing too extravagant.”
After all, we’re going to get scolded, and it wouldn’t do to dress too ostentatiously.
“Yes, my lady. I’ll prepare it right away!”
I watched Vivi dash off, and then stretched one last time.
Ah, what perfect weather for getting scolded.
❖ ❖ ❖
“…You’ve certainly stirred up quite the amusing situation.”
When Ian and I entered the reception room of the Sun Palace, Elisio was already rubbing his forehead.
His usual hearty laughter was gone, replaced by a look that said he was utterly fed up. Seeing the exhaustion etched all over his face, I briefly wondered if I had gone too far. But I quickly brushed that thought away.
The emperor let out a deep sigh that was almost a groan as Ian and I sat down across from him.
“So, you two have conspired together, have you? Since when did you become so in sync? Hmm?”
At his question, I tilted my head and glanced sideways at Ian.
Since receiving the emperor’s letter up until we entered the reception room, Ian hadn’t said a word about anything related to this matter. Judging by his calm demeanor, it was clear he knew I was behind it all but chose to keep quiet.
‘I did talk openly about it during breakfast, after all. There’s no way he wouldn’t know.’
If anything, Ian had probably known from the morning the newsletter was published.
Mistaking our silence for affirmation, the emperor slapped his chest in frustration.
“Oh, good grief.”
He rubbed his temples again, as if another headache was coming on, and spoke.
“Alright, I understand what you were aiming for. Seeing how well this clever and audacious plan was devised, I’m sure it came from the grand duchess.”
Sharp as always.
I shamelessly shrugged my shoulders at him.
The emperor’s expression turned one of exasperation.
“Well, well…”
My plan had been simple.
If the emperor wouldn’t give us his approval, then we would make the first move. After all, public opinion is a powerful weapon, regardless of the time or place.
Issues that can’t be resolved on an individual level often get a response once they’re brought into the public spotlight.
It’s not for nothing that people post things on Twter or on Never forums.
‘There’s no way the emperor could continue to ignore the situation when the Aria newsletter is buzzing like this.’
In truth, it had been a bit of a gamble. But now that we had a reaction, it seemed my bet had paid off.
“So, even though I didn’t approve, you went ahead and did this. Huh? But what’s impossible is still impossible.”
He closed his eyes tightly, then opened them.
“Ian.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Even if you have no intention of inheriting the throne, this matter is not so simple. You know very well what the significance of the right to succession is, don’t you?”
The right to succession was a direct testament to the royal bloodline. According to the laws of the Levant Empire, no cadet branch could inherit the throne. Thus, having the right to succession was proof of being of royal blood and carried immense power.
By not stripping Ian of this right, the emperor was essentially asserting that, despite being born to a concubine, Ian was no less of a direct royal descendant than the others. However, this also paradoxically positioned Ian as a potential threat in the eyes of certain imperial loyalists, as he could, at any time, raise a rebellion.
In short, it was a much more complex issue than it appeared on the surface.
“…”
A moment of silence passed before Ian finally opened his tightly shut lips.
♧♧♧
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