How About a Drink?
"How about a drink?"
I quickly schooled my expression.
"Wow. Must be nice now that things are looking up for you, huh?" I crossed my legs and lifted my chin. "The sun hasn't even fully set yet, and you're already in your pajamas getting ready for bed."
"Even I need days like this sometimes."
Giselle readily agreed and settled onto the sofa across from me.
I clicked my tongue. "So, what brings the high-and-mighty Grand Duchess herself to visit me?"
What could the reason be? Was it because I'd summoned those four traitors to the annex a while back? I'd kept it secret, but it would be stranger if the actual owner of the Grand Ducal Castle didn't know. Of course, that was exactly what I'd been aiming for. It wouldn't be bad at all if Giselle started thinking, Cael has colluded with Baron's remnants! If I'd truly wanted to keep it hidden, I would've called them to a shady back-room tavern like before.
But.
It turned out very different from what I'd expected.
"I thought we could have a drink together."
"...A drink?"
"Yes. Don't you like drinking?"
"Hah. You're seriously asking me to drink with you?"
"Why are you so surprised?"
Giselle wore a subtle, probing expression. "Even if it's only in name, we are a married couple. It's perfectly normal for a husband and wife to share a drink alone at night."
"......"
Drinking alone at night with my favorite character—and a beauty in that mature casual look, no less? There was zero reason to refuse.
But.
Giselle wouldn't do something like this without a reason. It was painfully obvious she was trying to sound me out.
To be blunt, there wasn't much I stood to gain from her. But I had far too much to lose.
If Giselle showed even the slightest hint of favor toward me, I knew I'd proudly spill everything from start to finish.
So this was what it felt like to lose the moment you fell first.
Giselle Claude. Damn. She's one terrifying woman.
I clicked my tongue inwardly and threw up my usual flippant, sarcastic wall.
"Hah. What an honor. The Grand Duchess herself—the very ice wall of the North—personally offering me a drink."
I snorted, uncrossed my legs, and tilted my head sideways. "But what can I say? No matter how crazy I am for women and booze, I still have standards."
Giselle's brow twitched.
"Married couple? Since when did we get close enough to use sweet words like that? Why the hell would I drink alone with a wooden bitch who's only here to dig up dirt on me? I'd rather drink with a third-rate whore from a back-alley brothel. A hundred times better."
My deliberate insult made Giselle's face turn icy.
But what else could I do? I was freaked out too, so this was my only move.
I stood up and jerked my chin toward the door. "So if you're trying to squeeze anything out of me, give it up and get lost. I don't want that backwater stench all over my precious new sofa."
"...You're refusing."
"Are my words going in one ear and out the other? I'd appreciate it if you showed yourself out before I have to tell you to fuck off."
Giselle stayed silent for a moment at my sarcasm. Her red eyes bored into me as if trying to pierce straight through, then she let out a small sigh.
"...I see. It seems I was too hasty."
Giselle stood and turned away. I watched her leave the annex without a shred of hesitation, and only then did I finally release the breath I'd been holding.
Bang.
The door slammed shut, and silence settled over the annex once more.
"Shit, my heart's pounding."
Meanwhile, just outside the firmly closed annex door.
Giselle didn't walk away immediately. She stood there, staring at the door for a long moment.
Even after being insulted with vulgar abuse and driven out, her face held no anger—only suspicion.
Had he truly been so disgusted by her hidden motives that he'd chased her away?
It was possible.
But to Giselle's eyes, Cael's attitude just now had looked like a man desperately throwing up walls to hide something.
What is he so afraid of?
Was it her own misunderstanding? Or was he simply the trash everyone claimed, and she was overthinking it?
"...Cael Edgar."
She murmured quietly toward the door, then slowly turned away.
It seemed she wouldn't be falling asleep anytime soon tonight.
Imperial Capital, Imperial Palace. The Emperor's office.
"...Baron is dead?"
The Emperor, leaning lazily on his throne, frowned as he asked.
The head of the Imperial Intelligence Bureau, prostrated in the center of the room, broke out in cold sweat and bowed deeply.
"Yes, Your Majesty. He took advantage of the demonic beast wave in the North to launch a rebellion and seize the Grand Ducal Castle, but was immediately suppressed and executed."
"Hah."
The Emperor let out a hollow laugh, utterly dumbfounded. "I didn't have high expectations for that worm, but still. He always threw tantrums demanding military funds, and in the end he dies like the pathetic worm he was."
The Emperor clicked his tongue and tapped the table with his fingers. Then his eyes suddenly sharpened.
"Wait. No—this might actually be an opportunity."
The corners of the Emperor's mouth curled upward. "Either way, a rebellion broke out inside the Northern Grand Duke's territory, and the armory was nearly raided. If we use the excuse that Giselle, that bitch, neglected her territory's management..."
"Th-that is, Your Majesty."
The intelligence chief carefully cut in and continued his urgent report. "The one who personally suppressed and executed Baron was none other than His Highness the 8th Prince."
"...What?"
Bang!!
The Emperor slammed his fist on the armrest. In an instant, the old man's face flushed crimson with rage.
"That fucking bastard!! He fell for Giselle's skirt, betrayed me and the Empire, and suppressed the rebellion?! Assemble the imperial army immediately! Cut that trash's head off first and hang it in the square—!"
"N-no, Your Majesty!! It is not betrayal!!"
The intelligence chief shouted, face pale as death. "What are you saying! He killed my pawn Baron, didn't he?!"
"Th-the situation is as follows. When His Highness the 8th Prince encountered the rebels, Baron first stabbed His Highness in the abdomen with a dagger!"
"...What?"
"His Highness, having suffered a critical wound, flew into a rage, lost all reason, and severed Baron's head on the spot! He rampaged wildly, shouting, 'How dare you point a blade at me?!'"
"............"
The Emperor's face, burning with fury, instantly shifted to pure bewilderment.
"Baron stabbed him first?"
"Yes. The rumor appears to be true."
The Emperor stroked his chin with a dumbfounded look. He knew better than anyone just how irredeemable a scoundrel the 8th Prince Cael was—a mad spendthrift who would rampage without restraint the moment his mood was spoiled.
If a knife went into his own gut, what would he care about imperial plans or anything else? Of course his eyes would roll back and he'd slice the bastard apart.
The Emperor could picture the scene perfectly.
"Haa..."
The Emperor sighed and shook his head. "That Baron really was more of a worm than I thought."
He waved his hand in irritation. Self-defense. On top of that, it was the punishment of someone who had attempted to assassinate an imperial family member. Any justification the Emperor might have had to blame Giselle or find fault had completely vanished.
"Can't be helped. We'll pretend this incident never—"
Creak.
At that moment the office door opened, and a smooth voice flowed in.
"Your Majesty. From what I overheard outside, it seems something quite interesting has happened."
The man entered with a faint smile. It was the 1st Prince Arzen, the Empire's next ruler who enjoyed the respect of all its citizens.
"Oh, Arzen. You've come at the perfect time. As you heard, that scoundrel Cael caused another mess. Since Baron stabbed first, there's no justification, so I was about to let it go."
"No justification, Father? How can you say something so disappointing?"
Arzen approached with elegant steps, dismissed the intelligence chief, and stood beside the Emperor.
"Imperial Law, Chapter Four, Article Twelve. 'When a noble commits a crime, they must undergo judgment by the imperial tribunal before execution.' No matter how enraged the 8th Prince was from being stabbed, executing an imperial noble on the spot without first clarifying the truth of the treason is a clear overreach and violation of the law."
Arzen smiled brightly and continued. "If we use this as a pretext, it would make for an excellent justification to dispatch the Imperial Audit Team to the North, would it not?"
The Emperor paused.
"Hmm... With Cael having been stabbed, wouldn't citing that legal clause seem too forced? That Giselle bitch will certainly push back."
"What does it matter if it's forced?"
Arzen shrugged casually. "If it succeeds, we gain control over the Grand Ducal Castle. If it fails, we lose nothing. From the imperial family's perspective, it's a transaction with zero downside."
The Emperor's eyes wavered. Listening to his son, he could find no flaw in the logic.
After all, applying political pressure on the North while it was exhausted from the demonic beast wave couldn't possibly hurt.
"...Now that you mention it, you have a point. You're right."
The Emperor smiled with satisfaction and clapped his hands.
"Attendant! Bring the 3rd Prince at once!"
The 3rd Prince. The leader of the Imperial Audit Team.
As he listened to the Emperor's command, Arzen smiled inwardly.
The situation in the North is twisting in strange ways.
The noose the imperial family had so carefully tightened around the North's throat somehow refused to snap and kept holding on with stubborn tenacity.
On top of that, at the exact moment Baron attempted his rebellion, he had been swept up in Cael's rampage and met a futile dog's death.
There's no way that irredeemable brother of mine possesses any real intelligence.
Was it simply that the mad dog's rampage had coincidentally timed itself perfectly?
Or was there some fatal variable hidden on the side of Giselle Claude—the one called the Iron Blood—that they didn't yet know about?
Either way, it didn't matter.
This is the perfect chance to properly investigate what kind of rats are hiding in the North and shaking things up.