Chapter 86 Engagement Party
“I knew the Duke of Drea was a clever man, but I didn’t realize he was also a master manipulator.”
“What do you mean, manipulative?”
Sandra stopped laughing at the outburst and looked at Tate. Tate’s expression was grave as he watched Sandra wipe the tears from her eyes.
“Isn’t that right, mother and father have always been wary of him, and I’m sure you’ve been worried about him too, even if you don’t show it on the outside.”
“…”
“The Duke of Drea wields unrivaled influence within the Empire. If the Duke were to marry a princess from the Kingdom of Hisric, his influence would extend far beyond our borders.”
“Hmm… So what you’re saying is, you think the Duke of Drea is trying to pull a fast one, to catch the imperial family off guard?”
“Yes.”
Tate looked quite convinced at Sandra’s question. But Sandra shook her head in disagreement.
One corner of her mouth curled up.
“The Duke of Drea is quite the purist. A romantic, that is. He’s intelligent, and he’s quick, but he’s not the kind of man who would use marriage as leverage.”
“…”
“I know that from the way he looked at Veronia, especially considering the duke went berserk when that stupid bitch died…”
It wasn’t hard to guess that he was definitely not the kind of man who would use a marriage to let down the imperial guard. Hoo-hoo-hoo, Sandra said with a leisurely laugh.
“I’m sure the little duke is in love, and I can’t wait to see what a fine commoner she is that has caught the Duke of Drea’s eye.”
Things were getting very interesting. Sandra rolled her eyes.
“The acquisition of something precious is the acquisition of a weakness. Perhaps I should take this opportunity to flatten the Duke of Drea’s nose and remind him of his rightful place.”
Her crimson lips moved smoothly, as if they were laced with blood.
“Tate, use your head. Isn’t there anyone else as gifted as you in the imperial court?”
“Yes, I’ll try my best, mother.”
Sandra and Tate looked at each other and giggled. It was a sinister-looking grin.
Just then, a knock sounded, and the door opened, and the maid who had been waiting outside entered.
“Your Majesty, the head of the Second Order of Knights has arrived.”
“Yes? Let him in.”
Sandra’s eyes lit up with anticipation.
“Welcome, Sir Ryan. I’ve been waiting for you.”
“Their Majesties the Empress and the Prince.”
The Templar bowed stiffly, then got right down to business.
“We have discovered the identity of the silver-haired healer: a woman by the name of Nia Lampert, who lives in a town called Rosler, adjacent to the capital.”
“It doesn’t matter where the healer lives or what her name is, now. I assume that’s why you brought her here, Lord Ryan?”
“I apologize, Your Majesty. The healer had already left.”
Sandra’s eyes, which had been shining with anticipation, quickly turned cold, and she asked in a voice that could not have been more icy.
“Leaving? Where?”
“They say she’s traveling south for a while.”
“Traveling? Are you sure about that?”
Sandra asked, her entire face contorting into a scowl, her cheeks now flushed bright red. The Templar’s shoulders tensed slightly as he continued his report.
“Yes. We have information from the councilman’s colleagues where the healer works and from her grandparents at home. She also left a note to contact her as soon as she returns from her journey.”
“Lord Ryan, are you asking me to wait for a commoner healer who doesn’t know when she’ll return?”
“What? That, that’s…”
As the flustered Templar stuttered for words, Sandra spoke up, her disappointment evident on her face.
“Sir Ryan, you must not have understood my orders, I do not want to know the whereabouts of the woman, I wanted her brought before me.”
The atmosphere in the room was becoming increasingly tense, and the Templar, realizing his error, immediately bowed his head.
“I apologize, Empress,” he said, “but I will go south immediately to fetch a healer.”
“Quickly, as soon as possible, you must bring her before me!”
“At your command, Your Majesty.”
With a hasty bow, the Templar stretched his legs and quickly left the room. Sandra watched the Templar’s huffing and puffing retreat, still fuming.
Tate, who had witnessed the spectacle, clicked his tongue inwardly.
‘You’re getting older and less in control of your emotions. Pathetic. Tsk.’
***
In the conservatory garden of the Duke of Drea’s house, the godmother and her sister, the Countess of Miller, were drinking tea.
“I was surprised to see him,” said the Countess, “but you must be more surprised; how can they look so alike!”
She was referring to Jediel. Countess Miller said, her eyes still wide with amazement, ‘How strange that the child I met for the first time yesterday should look so much like my nephew as a child.’
“Yes, I was very much surprised, too, and wept like an old man at the sight of a child I had never seen before.”
“Well, that explains why you say you fell in love with the child first, and then the mother.”
“…”
At that, the godmother narrowed her brow and sipped her tea. The countess, watching her closely, added.
“Still, my dear Killion, the Duke of Drea, is a great pity, for this is a surprise to all the world. I would have expected Killion to marry a princess of some country.”
“…”
Looking at her godmother, who was still speechless, Countess Miller let out a shallow sigh and spoke again.
“But what can I do, it’s come to this. I can’t stop them from liking each other.”
“…Yes, you’re right, they are, and what can I do?”
Finally, the godmother nodded. She remembered the look on Killion’s face when they’d bonded. He had never been so sure of anything in his life, and what parent could stop their son’s determination after hearing such words?
“I’m afraid there will be a lot of stomach aches.”
“I know.”
The godmother nodded in response to the countess’s concern.
It only takes a moment for admiration to turn to hatred. Jealousy, compounded by jealousy, can eventually turn into irritation, anger, and even hatred. Especially in an aristocratic society that loves to talk.
The Godmother swallowed the sigh that threatened to escape and curled the corners of her mouth.
“So the only thing you can do is put your heart and soul into this party.”
“I’ll help a lot. Just say the word, sis.”
“Thank you.”
***
The Duke of Drea’s servants were busy preparing for the first party in a long time.
The house had to be deep cleaned, the old carpets and curtains replaced. They shopped for fresh, high-quality ingredients and carefully prepared the food they brought back.
Still, the faces of the employees were all smiles.
It was a matter of great pride for the noble family’s servants to throw a grand and luxurious party, and so they all lit up, rolled up their sleeves, and got to work.
Veronia, meanwhile, was distracted by the tailors.
It was awkward, as it had been a long time since she’d allowed herself to be touched by another, but it had to be done, for such were the rules of the world she’d decided to return to.
“This is too much.”
Veronia grumbled to Killion, who stopped by on his hourly break.
She’d spent the last hour dealing with tailors from one wardrobe, and there were five more waiting, meaning she’d be stuck for at least another five hours.
Hearing Veronia’s frustration, Killion came up with a solution.
“Then I’ll instruct them to stay in each dressing room for only half an hour. I’m sure they can handle the next two and a half hours.”
“Killion, are you sure…”
Veronia called his name in an almost sobbing voice. As cute and adorable as she looked, Killion had to use all his strength to resist the urge to hug her and kiss her right then and there.
Kilion, finally free of the shackles of impulse, spoke in a polite, firm voice.
“Nia, you’re going to be the Duchess of Drea, and you know very well that in aristocratic society, how you look is very important, among other things.”
“…”
It was an irrefutable statement, so Veronia simply shut her mouth and looked up at Killion. Kilion resisted the urge to speak again, and again.
“Unless you want to start rumors that Mansion Drea is leaning, I suggest you have as many dresses and jewelry as possible.”
“…Yes, okay, but don’t forget the instructions that we have thirty minutes for each wardrobe room.”
“Of course.”
With a cheery smile, Killion left the room. Veronia’s eyes narrowed as she watched his graceful retreat.
‘I’m angry, but he’s too handsome to be angry. What is this…’
As Veronia sat pouting her lips to herself, a maid came to her side.
“Lady, the tailors are now ready.”
“Yes, let’s go.”
The brief respite, barely enough to relieve her fatigue, was over. Veronia pushed her heavy body to her feet and followed the maid.
