RAMHM Chapter 65

When You Step Out from Your Uncle's Shadow

Novian watched Bliea eating in silence. The feeling was strange. Something he couldn't put into words churned beneath his feet. When she seemed to sense his gaze—when her eyes turned toward him—he found himself dropping his own gaze to his plate before he could stop himself.

The moment his vision filled with nothing but the plate instead of Bliea's face, Novian berated himself for acting like some adolescent fool. He forced down food that wouldn't go down, swallowing it with water, and met Bliea's eyes—still watching him.

"As you well know, your reputation isn't particularly... favorable."

Bliea shrugged as if she knew, continuing her meal. His gaze followed—the cutlery her hand touched, the napkin, even the edge of her plate. Novian didn't even recognize how relentlessly his eyes pursued her when he spoke again.

"To be precise, no one welcomes our union. At least not among my vassals."

"......"

"So until the Grand Duchess's funeral is completely finished, I'd like you to refrain from going out."

"I understand."

The answer came back so light, so obedient, it felt hollow—all his previous fury at her recklessness suddenly meaningless. Novian narrowed his eyes briefly, studying Bliea's expression, but found no malice there. No resentment. Perhaps that was why—

"If you just get through this period well, I'll make sure you can be added to the family register as quickly as possible once the funeral ends."

For Novian, this was extraordinarily unusual. Promising something without a solid plan yet in place. Bliea's fork, which had been moving busily, stopped abruptly. He watched as she chewed what was in her mouth for a long moment, then swallowed, then took a light sip of white wine. Bliea was smiling—smiling so broadly he wondered if she'd smiled this genuinely even once since Adrienne's death.

Novian couldn't tear his eyes from that face for some time. That face he'd thought of as a substitute, that face he'd never once equated with Adrienne—it looked so much like her now, after yesterday's hallucination, as if Adrienne herself sat before him.

"When you answer my heart like this, I want to study hard and become your strength too."

"Mm, if it's just bridal lessons, you don't really need to—"

"I think I'll need an office where I can study the Grand Duchess's basic duties."

"... I'll think about it."

He couldn't look away from those bright, sparkling pale green eyes.

'I want to get healthy quickly too, so I can become your strength.'

It felt exactly as if Adrienne were making the request, and there was no way he could refuse it.

"Discuss it with the butler first."

And strangely—as if bewitched by something—he thought the time spent having this meal together, having these conversations, wasn't bad at all.

The improved mood from yesterday didn't last long. He'd been satisfied watching Bliea retreat to her bedroom without complaint, but the moment the meal ended, he had to face vassals whose expressions suggested they were marching off to war.

The Crown Prince had personally urged him to meet with his vassals, so he could no longer ignore them. He dismissed most of the servants in the annex and put a cigar in his mouth. He didn't normally smoke indoors, but he couldn't very well drink or take medicine from the afternoon, could he?

Dealing with them sober consumed tremendous energy, so this was the minimum self-defense he could manage. The words on the paper they thrust at him—having stormed in huffing and puffing—were remarkably polite.

"What is all this?"

"Look closely."

From young ladies whose faces he knew well, to noble wives. A list packed with names of every variety. All names with the surnames of the vassals who'd rushed here en masse attached at the end.

"Are you trying to solicit favors?"

"These are the candidates we've considered for the next Grand Duchess."

"Vassals so concerned about my bedroom arrangements—I'm moved to tears."

Several vassals' faces flushed bright red in an instant. Rumors had spread among them that Novian had gone completely mad over some substandard widow.

"As you all know, I'm remarrying. Do you want to push your precious daughters into a remarriage position with someone my age? I'd like to ask if your daughters share that sentiment."

"Your Grace hasn't even reached thirty yet. Are you joking about this situation?"

Count Raelon, whose eyes burned most fiercely, didn't hide his anger. As the most powerful among the vassals, he'd naturally placed his own daughter Kanna Raelon's name at the very top.

"Two years ago, when you suddenly brought in that Grand Duchess from the East, we all accepted it. Not because we knew how much Your Grace loved the Princess, as the rumors said, but because she was a suitable match."

Everyone nodded at Raelon's words.

"The match was a Princess. The Pirreta Princess whose name was once mentioned as a Crown Princess candidate. That's why we set aside our minor complaints. We thought Your Grace was drawing a larger picture for His Imperial Highness the Crown Prince."

Doris Castagna from the West as Crown Princess, Adrienne Pirreta from the East as Grand Duchess of Trovika, leader of the Crown Prince's faction. With the chance to catch two rabbits, what could they have said?

"But a widowed woman who lost her husband? A Grand Duchess from common origins without any foundation?"

"The Grand Duchess position isn't one you can claim through love alone."

"Don't you understand the significance that single position holds?"

"How can you throw away the greatest advantage for His Imperial Highness with such petty emotions?"

Vassals in name, elders in reality. Novian cut his burnt cigar and simply let them prattle on. He couldn't tell them about Duke Castagna and risk splitting the Crown Prince's faction between East and West. That's why he'd judged it better to position himself as the Grand Duke of Trovika pushing through an unsuitable marriage because he was mad with love. But why—

'You said you couldn't understand what I was thinking? I've always told you. I just love you and want to sit beside you.'

'You should be good to me while I'm still interested in the Grand Duchess position.'

'When you answer my heart like this, I want to study hard and become your strength too.'

Bliea's past voices felt closer than the voices of these people shouting above and below, insisting they were right. He even felt as if Bliea's sparkling eyes from this morning still remained lodged in his chest.

"I'll think about it. So don't reproach your lord too harshly—just go home for now."

"But...!"

"Or stay and offer condolences one more time."

Perhaps even they thought it was too much to come to a house in mourning and harass their lord like this—most of them bowed their heads and left. However, Count Raelon and a few others remained, adding final pleas for careful consideration before departing. Novian knew it was Count Raelon's warning, but watching the carriages leave the annex one by one, he couldn't help but sneer.

"I wonder what expressions you'd make if you knew my will is Bardenaldo's will."

Crown Prince Bardenaldo's concerns didn't include distributing their profits. They didn't know that, so they dared pressure him under the pretext of serving the Crown Prince.

"I can only hope you'll realize someday that all this struggling is useless."

A strong cigar burned completely in a short time. Novian didn't even cut the last part—just threw it straight out the window. He knew a spark that small wasn't enough to burn down the Grand Ducal Estate.

The great noble called the King of the West. The Crown Princess's father. The Crown Prince's father-in-law and left arm. Duke Castagna was, to properly describe him, one great noble among great nobles that couldn't be captured in a single line.

Having finally gained an audience after requesting it for days, he did his best not to show contempt for the Crown Prince who—unlike his own burning insides—strolled through the garden teaching him plant names. The corner of his mouth forcibly pulled up, trembling. Eyes he occasionally lowered, unable to look pleasantly. But when he heard that Novian Trovika was elevating the maid Bliea Acacia to Grand Duchess not through his recommendation but because he'd fallen into 'new love,' his patience reached its limit. Hearing it once through Doris hadn't lessened the shock.

'That snake Novian Trovika finally made his move.'

Duke Castagna, returning from an utterly unrefreshing walk, realized it was time to speak plainly to his son-in-law, whose face showed not a trace of worry.

"I hear rumors that Prince Epero in Ellaconia longs for his homeland."

Duke Castagna dropped the bomb he'd prepared toward the Crown Prince, who was still offering tea, saying the Ellaconians had responded well this time.

"... Duke?"

His insides twisted at that innocent expression asking what could possibly be wrong when he'd done as requested. He was finally beginning to understand Doris, who complained of stress despite living with the famously gentle and kind Crown Prince. A person who drove others mad with a kind face. That was his son-in-law and this country's Crown Prince.

"Her Majesty the Empress also misses her son."

"Didn't you notice the Grand Duke made quite a concession this time?"

"What I wanted was to establish a new relationship with the Grand Duke as that noblewoman's patron or lord. Your Highness may pretend not to know because you're so upright, but the Grand Duke isn't like that. He definitely knew and still did it."

Duke Castagna drained the tea the Crown Prince had offered like it was liquor.

"If your trust in me amounts to only that, I have no choice but to make this request seriously."

"... You're saying you'll bring back the Ninth Prince after all?"

"No. Since the Grand Duke has made such concessions as you mentioned, I should make a different request this time."

The Duke smiled with complete confidence that there would be no escape this time.

"You must absolutely produce an heir with Her Imperial Highness."

"!"

"If I can just hear good news within this year, what more could I want?"

He'd held back until now because he knew Crown Prince Bardenaldo's private life was excessively clean. But to gain certainty from a Crown Prince who couldn't abandon his uncle, didn't he need insurance too?

"You're both very young, and after living together that long, others would have easily had two or three children. If the Empire's citizens learn you continue to keep Her Imperial Highness in a cold, empty bed despite having no health problems, how ridiculous will the Imperial Family and Castagna look?"

"Duke, that's..."

"Castagna values heirs greatly, so to see a grandchild... I might have to change Doris's husband."

The Crown Prince froze with his teacup still in hand.

"Remarriage is legal in Ronteaux, and there's a plausible reason since there are no heirs between Doris and Your Highness."

It was clearly a threatening statement. Given that Bardenaldo's mouth only moved without producing any sound. Duke Castagna's words meant that if they divorced somehow, he would pull down the Crown Prince and elevate another Prince to Crown Prince. For example, Second Prince Rhodness, who had high prestige in the West, or Ninth Prince Epero, the legitimate son of the current Empress.

"... What do you want?"

At the words the Crown Prince finally managed to squeeze out after freezing for a long moment, Duke Castagna smiled, baring his teeth.

"It's time for you to step out from your uncle's shadow, Your Highness."

The Duke felt he should have done this long ago—he'd been too considerate until now. As the Emperor's strategist, Novian Trovika had repeatedly blocked the West's path, and he couldn't let that continue as the Crown Prince's strategist, allowing him to wield power. An Imperial who should have been eliminated or sent far away long ago, along with the Emperor's other brothers. If he couldn't place Novian Trovika beneath Castagna...

"You should let him go from your hands entirely. That would be cleanest."