TMWDS Chapter 38

"Yes."

"Well then. It won't be so easy for her to come up to the capital, sent off somewhere far. A wise decision."

Ionna wasn't going anywhere outside the capital, but Rihardt kept his silence.

To get the Empress to accept this marriage, a little deception was going to be necessary.

"I've told you this all along. Keeping a girl like that so close, watching over her so closely—that was always your flaw. She's a woman, and young besides. There was no way a scandal like that wouldn't spread."

"I've already told you it wasn't that kind of relationship. That's exactly why I'm having her married off."

Rihardt denied it, out of habit.

He knew exactly what his mother tended to do with women who got in her way.

'She'll have to be at least a duchess before she's not so easy to touch.'

With that thought, Rihardt took an unbothered sip of his tea.

House Hance was still lying low, still recovering from what had happened in the past, but it wouldn't be many years before it reclaimed its old standing.

House Hance in particular had become an uncomfortable rival for the Crown ever since the incident seven years ago.

Once the marriage was properly settled, even the Empress wouldn't be able to lay a careless hand on Ionna.

Naturally, the Empress found this state of affairs entirely unwelcome.

She replied, coldly:

"A match well above what she deserves, though."

"We could hardly hand over a young lady who'd be of use to House Hance."

"I wasn't scolding you for doing it wrong. It's simply how I feel about it."

She seemed to feel the need to calm herself, because she fell silent for a moment and only drank her tea.

The cup emptied quickly.

While the maid poured another cup, the Empress asked, her voice somewhat settled now:

"How does the Duke feel about it? Will he accept?"

"I'll have to make him accept. Once the subject's been raised, this marriage has become a contest of strength between the Imperial family and the duchy. And of course, losing isn't part of the plan."

Rihardt held a card that could shake Leroy up quite thoroughly.

Viviana Schmidt.

A woman who had lost her family and her rank both, to a false and wrongful accusation.

She was the last surviving hand of House Schmidt—and the Duke's former fiancée.

Ever since learning of Viviana's whereabouts, Rihardt had kept her firmly under his control, managing her all this time. He'd anticipated she would prove useful, someday.

A reasonable prediction, and his instinct was soon proven right.

If the Duke refused the marriage, he intended to threaten her safety to change his mind.

'Well—hopefully it won't come to that.'

It would be a shame to spend a card that valuable on something so trivial.

He did have some intention, someday, of arranging a moving reunion between Viviana and Leroy—but that was a matter for later.

"Yes. I trust you to handle it properly."

The Empress's voice softened at her son's dependable manner.

She seemed, unusually, to be in good spirits today. Though that was no reason for him to let his guard down.

"If that's all you wanted to say, I'll take my leave now."

"So cold. Can't you spare even a cup of tea with your mother?"

"I've already had my fill."

"You haven't touched the dessert I prepared for you."

Saying this, the Empress pushed the plate of refreshments toward him with her thin fingers.

"Here—biscuits made with figs. You never liked sweets, but even as a boy, you always ate these without complaint."

"You remember."

"Of course. Which is why every time we went to see you and Tess, she'd make them with her own hands——"

The Empress, wearing a gentle smile as she drifted into the memory, stopped short.

The situation was familiar enough that Rihardt didn't even trouble himself to look startled.

The Empress slowly raised her hand, fumbling over her face beneath the veil, then scraped at the rough, uneven flesh with her fingernails, letting out a low groan.

"Get out."

It was a sound like a strangled hag's voice.

Rising from his seat, Rihardt rested a hand on her shoulder as if to hold her back.

"Mother."

"I said get out."

"Calm down. There's no need for you to be more agitated than this."

"I said leave, now!"

The Empress shrieked and shoved her own son away.

But a woman's body that had spent so long without ever leaving her chambers was far too weakened for such resistance to mean anything at all.

Rihardt caught her wrist without any trouble.

At this close a distance, even he could see past the veil.

Rihardt met her eyes and murmured, gently:

"Why so distressed. Over a woman already dead."

And then, even—

"Wasn't it your own hands that made her that way?"

Her eyes went slowly, wide.

Rihardt simply let go of the wrist he'd been holding.

She let out a strange, animal sound, and then began screaming, all at once, like something gone mad.

"No, no, NOOO! Get away! Leave me alone, all of you, get out!"

The plates decorating the tea table began falling to the floor, one after another, shattering as they went.

The fig biscuit she had offered her son had already been crushed beneath the heel of her own shoe.

As his mother wished, Rihardt left her behind and went out.

The moment the door shut, every sound from within was cut off, and quiet fell.

Louisa, his attendant waiting outside, approached as though she'd expected exactly this, holding out a handkerchief.

Wiping the tea that had splashed onto his face, Rihardt murmured, in a weary voice:

"Feels less like an imperial palace, more like a madhouse."

His grandfather, the former Emperor, was also holed up somewhere, having lost his mind, waiting only for the day he'd die.

With the blood of madness running evenly through both his maternal and paternal lines, perhaps his own day for going mad wasn't so far off either.

'Might already have happened, for all I know.'

Glancing briefly at Louisa's face, Rihardt asked, on impulse:

"Has Ionna not fully recovered yet?"

"No, my lord. I believe her wound still hasn't fully healed, so she's on paperwork duty with the knights."

"There's something I need to discuss with her in person. Call her in if she's still around."

"She's off duty today. She won't be there."

By then Rihardt's reason had more or less returned to him.

"Shall I tell her the moment she's back on duty that Your Highness wants her?"

"No, never mind. Forget I said that."

Settling the matter without much fuss, Rihardt began walking straight toward the Crown Prince's residence.

It irritated him that Ionna went wandering about outside without his knowledge, but it wasn't as though he could keep her locked up inside the palace forever, either.

Even a man as self-willed as he was needed to exercise restraint, at least where Ionna was concerned.

'Father, Mother, and now Nils Modrov as well... At minimum three deaths, and there might finally be some hope.'

Having finished this gruesome calculation, Rihardt let out a short, dry laugh.

He had no intention of laying a hand on his parents, so it would likely be a long wait—but either way, time was on his side.

He could still afford to play at patience a while longer.

Ionna woke to find herself, overnight, the capital's newest VIP. And this wasn't an exaggeration.

"Or, my lady, how about this? A draped skirt made generously with silk from Agenta. The fabric moves so beautifully with every step, it gives such an elegant impression. If that's not quite your taste——"

Ionna watched with a glazed expression as the woman seated across from her pulled out yet another swatch of fabric.

Honestly, she could barely follow half of what the woman was saying.

Ionna was, admittedly, an early riser by nature—but even so, she'd never in her life gone in for this kind of full-scale shopping the moment the sun came up.

Feeling the dizziness creeping in, Ionna hastily cut the woman off.

"Wait—that's enough. I get the idea. I'll just take the one you just mentioned."

"Oh, thank you so much, my lady. Then let me go ahead and explain the next item as well."

The salesperson answered in a bright, ringing voice—all the while never once forgetting to pull out the fabric she'd already been reaching for and spread it out in front of Ionna.

Ionna's lips moved, weakly.

"……I only wanted to order the one."

"Oh, that won't do at all, my lady! The client specified a minimum of twenty pieces for this season alone. Now, shall we push through together just a little more?"

'Twenty pieces?'

Ionna's face went pale.