The Majesty of Duke Randert
Duke Randert had undone the top few buttons of his shirt. A dry breeze stole in through the gap of the open window. The imperial palace had always been parched, but with summer in full swing, the air felt drier than ever.
"...Yvette would have hated this."
The Duke murmured quietly to himself as he gazed absently out the window. She had loved the rain with a particular devotion — had she still been at his side, she never would have consented to come to the palace at all.
Just as it was for him, there was nothing in this place that Yvette would have cared for.
I wonder what Bayul is doing right now....
His thoughts kept drifting to the son he had left behind in Hamilton. It was a good sign, certainly, that some progress had finally been made between a father and son long estranged — but he could not shake the image of Bayul weeping at the riverbank where he had sent Bail off.
That he had not cared for the boy sooner, that he had not embraced him earlier — those regrets gnawed at the Duke without pause.
Perhaps Yvette will scold me for it someday.
And yet, if only he could see her again, he would gladly be scolded a hundred times, a thousand times over. That was his one wish.
"Hoo...."
Letting out a long sigh, Duke Randert brought a hand up to his collar. The necklace usually hidden beneath his uniform caught the sunlight and glittered as it coiled around his long fingers.
It was a slim, understated, elegant piece — remarkable only in that a ring hung from it where a medallion might be.
A blue jewel gleaming with radiant light — a ring that looked, at a glance, immeasurably precious. It was the Eye of the Ocean, the very treasure Quinn had been so desperately searching for.
Just as Bayul would caress his pendant in moments of trouble, Duke Randert would clasp the ring in his hand and find a measure of comfort there. The more he did, the deeper the longing grew — but it was a memory he could never shake off anyway. All he could do was endure.
"Your Grace, it's Sadad."
How long had he been sitting there? Sadad arrived for the morning report, and his face was unusually grave.
"What is it?"
The Duke asked at once, sensing that something had gone wrong.
"News came in at dawn. It's...."
"That's unlike you."
Hesitating like this was hardly Sadad's way.
"Out with it, then. Did someone die in the night?"
"...!"
He had said it offhandedly, yet Sadad's reaction was anything but ordinary. The Duke's eyes narrowed.
"...Not in the night, but someone has died."
"Who?"
"Barachel... Your Excellency."
"...Is that true?"
Duke Randert asked again, as if he could not believe it. He had personally crippled the man with his own blade, but Barachel was not meant to die so soon.
The former Emperor Barachel had never reached the realm of a Sword Meister, but he had wielded strength that rivaled one. His body might have been broken, yet he should still have outlasted any ordinary man by years. That such a man should suddenly die — the Duke found it hard to credit.
"It seems one of our people overheard the Dwyer Empire's delegation whispering about it in secret."
"When?"
"I don't know precisely, but it doesn't appear to have been long ago."
"Still, this is too much. Why are we only hearing of this now? Did no word come from their side?"
"My guess is that Emperor Royan's faction is keeping silent about Barachel's death."
A son concealing his own father's death.
Why?
The former Emperor Barachel had once been called the Mercenary King, a man who had shaken the very continent. He was the unprecedented emperor who had raised Dwyer — then a weak, minor state — until it rivaled the Polska Empire itself.
Granted, he had lost the war and stepped down from the throne. But hiding his death?
Even if no grand state funeral was held, the proper formalities should have been observed at the very least. Something was deeply wrong.
"Look into it further."
"Yes, Your Grace. I've already ordered it done with all haste."
"So the son who lost his father has come to offer congratulations at the place of the man who crippled that father...."
Does any of this truly make sense?
"Have you noticed anyone in particular who draws the eye?"
Sadad was watching the delegations not only from the Dwyer Empire but from every kingdom in attendance. No reports of suspicious movement had come in yet, but his lord was a man who saw what others could not. Hence the careful question.
"Not that I've seen. If there were, I'd have said so already."
"Could they be hiding somewhere?"
"It's possible."
The imperial palace was vast, and there were plenty of places to conceal oneself. Duke Randert could hardly comb through every corner of that expanse and every soul within it.
"Hayes tells me the Dwyer Empire's delegation has a large number of masters arrayed within it. Far more than I could sense myself — it took me off guard, frankly."
"A sword may snap, but its edge remains. Emperor Royan's accomplishments are considerable indeed."
Whether he had inherited his father's talent whole, Emperor Royan was a born warrior. When he had reappeared before Duke Randert as a mature man, he had managed his expression flawlessly — had even extended his hand for a handshake.
The Duke, for his part, had received him without letting his discomfort show, but the tension crackling between the two was something everyone around them could feel.
The Emperor's wedding had been held immediately after, so no lengthy conversation had been possible. Still, as the ceremony proceeded, an enormous tide of attention had gathered on the pair.
It was a solemn occasion, so no one had dared whisper — but of everything at yesterday's imperial wedding, the meeting between those two had drawn the most interest by far.
"What will you do about today's banquet?"
Days of lavish festivities had been planned. Duke Randert would have to attend at least one of them — which meant avoiding Emperor Royan altogether was out of the question.
"Shall we push it to tomorrow?"
"Then they'll only gossip louder."
"Well... yes."
"I'll see to some work during the day and attend after sundown."
"Very good. I'll pass the word to Lord Liam as well."
Whenever they came to the imperial palace, it was Liam whose burdens grew on the Duke's behalf. He had accompanied them to the capital, but since arriving, the Duke had barely laid eyes on his younger brother. A distant glimpse at the Emperor's wedding yesterday had been the extent of it.
"We have a visitor."
Just as Sadad's report was winding down, the expected guest arrived.
"Then I'll take my leave."
Duke Randert gave a nod, and Sadad strode to the door and opened it.
"You've come."
With a face carved from stone but flawless courtesy, Sadad bowed to the man who had just reached the threshold.
"He's inside, I trust?"
Sadad stepped aside, and the man strode boldly into the palace wing. His retinue moved to follow — and Sadad blocked their way.
"...And what is the meaning of this?"
"His Grace has words to exchange with this gentleman alone. You'll wait outside."
"I can't allow that. I don't know what might happen in there—"
"Do you dare doubt His Grace the Duke to his face?"
At the bite in Sadad's voice, the man flinched. The Full Moon Knight Order was fearsome enough on its own, but it was already common knowledge that Sadad — the Duke's personal aide-knight — was no one to trifle with.
It was said that whoever earned the displeasure of that man, who held the Duke's absolute trust, would find it difficult to keep a foothold in the imperial palace for long.
"I am fine."
His lord's command came from within, sparing the situation from further unraveling. The man withdrew obediently, and the door swung shut behind him.
"Now then. Why did you ask to see me?"
The man who had come seeking Duke Randert was Duke Hector — chairman of the Council and Jared's father. Unlike Randert, he wore magnificent formal dress, and he settled onto the sofa, crossing his legs with an air of arrogance.
"It seems you've come straight from the banquet hall."
"There are rather more people awaiting my greetings than one or two."
"My apologies for troubling a busy man, then."
"In truth, I'd meant to call on you tomorrow, but you seemed in rather a hurry, so I made the time."
"Did you? Well, I'm not so pressed myself. Tomorrow will do."
Duke Randert smiled as he met Hector's gaze head-on. The man already knew exactly why he had been summoned. Had his conscience been clear, he would never have answered the summons — Hector knew it, and so did the Duke.
"...Since I'm here, let me hear it first."
The corners of Hector's mouth trembled, ever so slightly. But he forced his composure and looked back at Randert.
"I'm grateful for such a ready response. Then I'll be direct. Withdraw it. Immediately."
"...Withdraw what, if I may ask?"
"You already know."
"And what exactly is it you suppose I know?"
"The Crown's accounts fall under the jurisdiction of the Chancellor's Office. They are no business of the Council's chairman."
"A perfectly reasonable statement — which makes your continued obfuscation all the more baffling. Heh. I'm afraid I haven't the faintest idea what you mean."
Hector opened with a transparent deflection. To admit anything before a shred of evidence had been laid on the table was the folly of fools. Playing dumb and stonewalling was the easiest road there was.
"Do you truly mean to say so?"
Randert had anticipated this posture as well.
"Then I suppose I'll have to file a formal request for an audit with the Chancellor's Office."
"...!"
"And raise the matter before the Council itself."
"N-now, hold on! Duke Randert!"
"Speak, Duke Hector."
Where Hector faltered, Randert remained perfectly calm.
"Have you forgotten what times these are? It has been a single day since His Majesty wed. To stir the Emperor's temper at so auspicious a moment — that is no duty of a faithful subject!"
"Is that so?"
"It is the gravest of impieties!"
"And who, precisely, is committing that impiety? I, or you, Duke Hector?"
Hector could not find his tongue.
Damn it all! I thought there was no way — no possible way—!
It had been an operation executed with the utmost secrecy. Not even an official notice that Carrington Academy's funding would be cut had been sent yet. How on earth had he found out? A sudden summons had brought him here half in dread, and every premonition had proven true.
"I was sorry to hear about young Jared. I understand as well as any father the love a parent bears a child. But there are limits, Duke Hector. You would do well to keep them."
If you don't, I won't stand idly by either.
Randert said nothing more — but that was exactly how Hector heard it.
Those eyes, cold and still as deep water.
The bearing of a young man in his twenties, yet carrying the presence of someone who saw through everything.
It was the majesty Hector most despised — and could never, ever defeat.
"Anything further to say?"
It was an unmistakable command to leave. Hector rose from the sofa, lips pressed into a white line, and walked out of the room — his face burning scarlet with humiliation and shame.