Hollin and Davion.

Ask anyone in Bariel to name the two most prominent noble houses, and these are the names they would speak in unison.

House Hollin had built a formidable fortune by acquiring all the prime real estate surrounding the Imperial Palace, while House Davion had solidified its influence by occupying key positions within the palace itself. The debate over which held superior standing was fierce and unending, but the rivalry found its sharpest edge in the young, marriageable daughters of each family.

“Chloe, are you alright?”

“Yes, Father.”

“You look exhausted.”

“Do I? That will not do.”

Count Reglid Davion sighed softly, watching his daughter maintain her impeccable posture even in the swaying carriage. They were on their way from the palace, having failed to exchange a single word with Crown Prince Jin during the coming-of-age ceremony. The heavy gown and elaborate hair ornaments must have been draining, yet Chloe simply smoothed her reflection in the mirror, betraying no hint of fatigue.

“You saw the Hollin girl earlier, did you not?”

“I did.”

The Count had just come to a stark realization: as formidable as his own daughter was, the other was her equal. He could still see her, her eyes burning with a fierce intensity, not so much as a fingertip out of place. It was enough to make one’s tongue run dry.

“It is an unfortunate truth that we are at a slight disadvantage,” Chloe said, her voice even.

“Chloe…”

“You are well aware of it, Father. The Hollins are a ducal house; we are merely a county. A single rank separates us, yet for decades, we have been unable to bridge that gap. And now, with war against Burgos on the horizon, it is inevitable that the Hollins, as the primary arms suppliers to the region, will draw more of His Highness’s attention. It is only natural.”

Chloe swept a hand through her long, straight red hair and gazed out the window. Dawn was breaking, and the early risers were already hurrying through the streets. Her sharp, canary-yellow eyes missed nothing.

“Unless the gods themselves intervene, striking Prince Jin with an arrow of affection the moment our eyes meet, a direct confrontation is a losing battle.”

“Do not worry, my daughter,” her father soothed her gently. “I will speak to your brothers and arrange a private audience with His Highness. We will secure it before the Hollins have a chance.”

A faint smile touched Chloe’s lips. “Thank you, Father. But more important than a simple meeting is proving my worth to His Highness. I must make him see that an alliance with me, with our family, will be of greater benefit to Bariel than any other.”

“Hmm. I will gather opinions on the matter. The Judiciary and the Administration will naturally recommend our house. We are still in negotiations with the other departments.”

“The Ministry of Magic,” Chloe said, her voice dropping slightly.

“The Ministry?”

“Yes. Minister Ian Hielo has returned, has he not? I hear His Highness holds him in the highest confidence and follows his counsel implicitly.”

“That is true. Their bond is a special one. The fact that His Highness proceeded with the construction of the annex even in the Minister’s absence is proof enough. I cannot explain the details, but… there were extraordinary events in the palace in the past.”

“To neglect even his own once-in-a-lifetime coming-of-age ceremony for this matter… I believe I understand its significance. Therefore, rather than focusing on the other departments, what if we were to direct our efforts toward the Ministry of Magic?”

“Oh?”

“If Ian Hielo were to recommend me to the Prince as a suitable candidate for Empress, I believe His Highness would consider it very seriously.”

Reglid Davion nodded slowly. It was a sound strategy. From what he had heard, the Minister of Magic’s presence at the emergency conference had been overwhelming. He had summarized the situation with perfect clarity and steered the meeting with an informational prowess that defied his decade-long absence. With the Crown Prince’s unwavering trust, it was clear the palace would now revolve around the Ministry of Magic.

“Very well. I will look into it.”

“The annex construction,” Chloe murmured, turning to her father with a slight tilt of her head. “What if we were to resolve that issue for them? It has been a persistent concern for His Highness, has it not? I hear he grows weary each time it is raised in conference.”

“That is true, but our family has consistently supported his position on the matter. I’m not sure what more we could do.”

“Is it not the duty of a true vassal to anticipate the burdens of their lord and seek to resolve them on his behalf?” Chloe countered, her eyes gleaming. “Father, we must take control of the annex project. Honestly, if not us, then who? Am I wrong?”

Reglid understood her intent immediately. The project had been able to inch forward, however slowly, only because the Davion faction had supported Jin. Therefore, if the Ministry of Magic did not support House Davion, there was no reason for them to continue extending favors to the Ministry. Even if it displeased the Prince, that was a secondary concern if the seat of the Empress was at stake.

“I understand. I will see what can be done.”

“Thank you, Father. And… I noticed earlier that the Duchess Hollin’s hair ornament was most peculiar. I suspect it may have come from Burgos. Please confirm if it was imported through official channels. If so, I should like to purchase one for myself.”

The Count agreed and pressed a kiss to the back of his daughter’s hand. Only then did Chloe seem to relax, letting out a small, delicate yawn and leaning back against the carriage seat.

***

Twinkle.

Ian’s eyes fluttered open, drawn by the sunlight streaming through the window. The first thing he saw was a brilliant, cloudless sky. Then, the gentle sway of the curtains. And finally, on the adjacent sofa, Haile, fast asleep with his legs crossed.

Ian turned his gaze back to the ceiling, wiggling his fingers. Had it truly been this long since he’d experienced such a deep, restorative sleep? His entire body felt not just refreshed, but as if it had melted and reformed anew. He savored the soft, plush feel of the blanket against his fingertips and closed his eyes again. Ah, I want to sleep more.

CRASH!

“Beric, I told you to stop causing trouble!”

“Then don’t give me things to do!”

“Honestly, I must be an idiot. Just put that down and get out!”

The commotion from outside shattered the peace. Ian considered ignoring it, hoping he could drift back to sleep, but it was no use.

Screeeak.

“Ugh, how am I supposed to get this approved?”

“Take it to Lord Romandro.”

“It just came from him.”

“What? Why is it coming from him?”

Sigh.

That was enough. Realizing sleep was a lost cause, Ian rose from the bed. He draped a blanket over the still-unconscious Haile and opened the door to a scene of utter chaos. The office was a disaster zone of paper, and the mages, buried amidst the stacks, turned to stare at him with wide, startled eyes.

“Ian! You’re awake!”

“You’re up!”

“…How long was I asleep?” His voice was thick with sleep. He figured it had been a day at most, but the answer was shocking.

“A week.”

“…What?”

“To be precise, one week and about nine hours.”

“That’s… problematic.”

“It’s fine! Kids your age are supposed to grow in their sleep.”

“Haile is still out.”

“Yesterday, or was it the day before? He tried to force some of his own mana into you since you weren’t waking up and ended up knocking himself out. Tsk tsk. Lord Ian, there’s a log and reports on your desk. You can catch up with those. I just need to pop over to the Administration. Oh, wait!” Akorella, who had been bustling out, spun back around. “About the Prince of Clifford, Prince Noah. He’s been waiting for you to wake up. You should summon him when you have a moment. The mages stationed in Clifford still haven’t returned. I’ve checked the regular dispatches; they haven’t been detained, but they keep saying ‘incidents keep occurring.’ Whether it’s coincidence or something more, who knows. Anyway, I’ll be back!”

“M-me too! Hey everyone, Lord Ian’s awake!”

“Oh, he really is! Did you sleep well, Lord Ian?”

“Yes, thanks to all of you.”

Mages passing by the open door poked their heads in to greet him. Ian offered a small smile and began flipping through the documents. A whole week. It was unbelievable. In a place like the palace, where a dozen crises could erupt in a single day, what could have transpired in his absence?

He shrugged on his outer coat, and Beric’s eyebrows shot up.

“Huh?”

“What is it?”

“The sleeves are shorter. And the hem. Did you get taller while you were sleeping?”

Did I? Ian couldn’t tell. He simply shrugged and turned his attention to the log. Fortunately, it seemed nothing major had occurred since the coming-of-age ceremony. Work had progressed steadily, centered on preparations for the war with Burgos.

– Burgos delegation formed. Departure date being coordinated. 

– Wanted orders issued for the Gypsy Who Ate Secrets and Melania. 

– Word received that the Dera tribe has departed from Mount Raza.

These were the three most critical items. The rest were minor details that would be helpful to know. There were two requests for an audience with him. One, as Akorella had mentioned, was from Clifford. The other was from Count Davion.

“…Count Davion?”

Ian’s eyes narrowed, a keen light flashing within them as he repeated the name. He couldn’t be sure if this was a political maneuver or a genuine request, but he intended to find out. He tapped his finger on the name a few times before closing the file.

“Beric, tell Lord Romandro to come in.”

“Are you really going to start working the moment you wake up? How much of your strength has returned? Let me see. Huh?”

Beric hovered around him like an annoying fly, but Ian ignored him and picked up his pen.

“I feel excellent.”

“That’s it? Give me some details. That Akorella, she’s a quack. I bet she just put you in a coma.”

“You want me to be honest? About how good I feel?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Ian swept a hand through his hair, a playful glint in his eye. It had been an eternity since his body had felt this good.

“I feel well enough,” he said, his voice a low murmur, “to walk into Burgos alone and bring you back Rutherford’s head.”

“…That’s a disturbingly vivid explanation. Fine, fine! Lord Romandro! Romaaandrooo!”

Bang!

The door flew open the instant he called, and Romandro rushed in, dripping with sweat. He had clearly been running before Beric had even shouted.

“Oh! Ian, you’re awake!”

“How did you know?” Beric asked.

“I heard the mages talking. How are you feeling? Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine. But there’s something else. The Dera tribe is expected to arrive at the capital soon.”

“Ah, yes. We’re expecting them either today or tomorrow.”

“I need you to retrieve my belongings from your mansion. The things I brought from Hielo. Do you remember an item called a Dripper? A small machine made of metal.”

“A Dripper? Ahh! I know the one. That lump of scrap metal whose purpose I can’t even begin to fathom.”

At Romandro’s assessment, Beric clicked his tongue and wagged a finger with an air of sudden, inexplicable superiority. Oblivious to Romandro’s narrowing eyes, he cleared his throat importantly. “Hmmph. Lord Romandro, if you said something like that in front of a dwarf, you’d get a hammer to the head.”

“What are you babbling about? In any case, understood. I’ll send someone to fetch it.”

“Ah, and one more thing.” Ian sorted through a stack of documents, pulling out a few. “Count Davion has requested a meeting. Have you heard anything about it?”

“No, he merely expressed a desire to congratulate you on your return. You can refuse. It’s not as if you two were ever close. And we’re busy enough as it is.”

It was likely related to the matter of the empress selection, but he couldn’t be certain. Ian simply said, “I see,” and moved the Davion request to the bottom of the pile.

“Very well. Once the Dera tribe arrives, discussions regarding weapons production will begin. Duke Hollin is the one currently in control of that industry, correct? It would be best to meet with him before Davion. Please contact his house and arrange a meeting.”

“Hmm. I’ll see to it. But His Highness has tried to pressure him before, and he wouldn’t budge. It won’t be easy.”

“How will it look, for a noble to refuse to cooperate with his country on the eve of a war? I will meet with him myself. If he refuses… well, then there’s nothing to be done.”

Tap.

Perhaps it was the long sleep, but Ian’s skin seemed to have taken on a radiant glow, which made his smile all the more brilliant.

Beric scratched his head. “If there’s nothing to be done, what happens then?”

“Beric, have you forgotten?” Ian asked, his voice smooth as silk. “What happened to the nobles who opposed the Imperial Family in the past?”

“…Off with their heads?”

“Well, that’s more or less correct.”

With an elegant flourish, Ian unfolded a fresh sheet of parchment. It was a letter, addressed to Duke Hollin.