The Duties of a Fiancé and a Garden of Poison
Unable to endure the suffocating silence, I was just about to open my mouth and ask what on earth this was all about when Raymon spoke in a flat, composed voice.
"I shall keep in mind that such is Your Imperial Highness's wish."
"……Yes."
"However, whatever may happen in the future remains strictly in the future."
Raymon's gaze lingered for a fleeting second on the ragged, torn hem of my skirt. Without a moment's hesitation, he unfastened the cloak draped over his shoulders.
Like most ceremonial cloaks, it lacked any practical utility whatsoever, meant only for formal appearances before the Emperor. Even though I was already wearing Gloriana's Insignia wrapped around my shoulders like a short cape, he paid it no heed, draping his own mantle over me and securing the knot with practiced ease.
The sensation of the heavy, stiff fabric settling around my shoulders felt utterly foreign.
"At this very moment, Your Imperial Highness is my one and only fiancée."
"……."
Raymon asked no questions about why I was cradling a suspicious sword stained with Lisianthus's blood, nor why Lisianthus's hands were in such a mangled state. He didn't show the slightest curiosity about any of it.
"Therefore, protecting you and showing concern is by no means an excessive favor. It is not an act done on behalf of my family, but something I do personally, as your fiancé."
"……."
The weight of the cloak shielding me from outside eyes felt terribly awkward.
Yes. He had always been the very incarnation of duty.
No matter how vile Titania's tantrums had been, he had always come when summoned. He had never once raised his voice in anger at the torrential abuse she hurled his way, nor had he ever uttered a harsh complaint about her barrage of letters or the sinister trinkets that were closer to assassination attempts than gifts.
Of course, his unyielding composure had only driven Titania to lash out even more violently in a desperate bid to provoke a genuine reaction from him…….
I knew all too well what people called this sort of treatment.
Torture by false hope.
I looked up into his golden eyes—eyes that, to the original Titania, must have looked like dawn breaking over the horizon or the solitary moonlight shining through a pitch-black night. If he was never going to take responsibility for her heart, it would have been far kinder if he had simply been cruel.
What becomes of a moth once it realizes neither the sun nor the moon was ever meant for it? Does it drown trying to catch the moon's reflection on the water, or burn to cinders flying toward the midday sun? Rather than coveting a light never meant for its grasp, it would have been far better off stealing a bit of warmth from the campfire of a passing traveler.
"My, is that so?"
When I offered him a placid, polite smile, the man blinked a couple of times as if taken off guard. He seemed to have braced himself for sharp retorts like 'I find your undue favor burdensome' or 'What gives you the right to act like this?'
Well, I had already made my stance abundantly clear. With this, at least no one could look back later and dismiss my actions as a petty scheme to worm my way into the young duke's favor.
"The future young duchess will surely be very happy."
Instead of denying my words, Raymon merely lowered his gaze and fell silent, his face caught in a strangely inscrutable expression.
A suffocatingly thick scent of flowers hung in the air.
The Havilios Marquisate residence stood on the outskirts of the capital. Prestigious families with lineages dating back to the dawn of the Empire invariably maintained lavish mansions in the very heart of the capital's prime estates. By comparison, Havilios's location bordered on shabby.
While it could not rival Duke Castrein—the Empire's sole ducal household—Havilios was nonetheless one of the few surviving marquisates in the land. Setting aside the Lacerta Marquisate, which had been wiped out generations ago for treason, only three remained: Marquisate Integria, the Landt Marquisate, and Marquisate Havilios. Just those three.
Yet compared to Integria producing the Empress and Landt producing an Imperial Consort, the Havilios Marquisate was astonishingly quiet, almost utterly devoid of political presence. To be fair, heirs were scarce in their house; they lacked even a daughter to present to the imperial court. Nor were they particularly wealthy.
Their fief lay at the Empire's southernmost tip. While mild weather yielded bountiful harvests, there were no rare specialties capable of generating immense fortunes. A family content to preserve its standing, living quietly with held breath—that was their public image. If there was anything slightly unusual about them, it was merely that the garden cultivated at the marquis's residence was extraordinarily vast and breathtakingly beautiful.
"Father."
Parting the branches of trees grown as tall as a man, a girl with tumbling hair dark as black roses offered an utterly charming smile.
"Ah, you're here, Lilium."
Marquis Havilios, absorbed in his labor, lifted his head to welcome his daughter. To an uninformed observer, they would have looked like nothing more than an earnest gardener and his child, so plain was their attire. Wearing coarse cloth garments fit for common laborers, stain-splattered aprons, and towels draped around their necks, the father and daughter looked entirely at ease in such garb.
"Prim told me these cyclamens bloomed today."
Lilium handed a small woven straw basket to the marquis. Inside rested a cluster of cyclamens bearing deep blue petals. Parting the fresh blooms revealed a pitch-black egg nestled at the bottom. Its dark shell was so paper-thin that the interior faintly showed through, crisscrossed with delicate hairline fractures as if it might shatter at the slightest touch.
The marquis narrowed his eyes, peering into the shell. Looking at the faint reddish hue swirling inside, the girl pouted softly, though her grumbling voice rang out as cheerful as silver bells.
"After all that effort, germination failed."
"As expected, lower-grade demonic beasts have their limits."
"I was hoping Imperial Consort Cleo would show a bit more initiative this time, so it's quite disappointing that things turned out like this. I truly thought we would obtain some decent materials."
The girl sighed and casually crushed a vibrant blue cyclamen petal between her fingers. Inky, dark blue juice dripped down her pale skin. A lone beetle crawled over, lapped up the floral sap, and shuddered violently. Its vivid blue carapace instantly darkened into a bruised, blackish-blue.
Skitter, chitter, screeech!
The insect wheezed and clicked until it turned completely jet-black, then fluttered up to circle affectionately near Lilium's cheek. All around them, tiny creatures resembling gnats, mice, or hummingbirds remained concealed among the dense foliage, their crimson eyes gleaming faintly in the shadows.
The marquis tapped his lower back, his tone sounding troubled.
"Indeed. If things had gone smoothly, we wouldn't have had to worry about materials for quite some time. And with the Castrein Duchy suddenly tightening internal discipline, finding decent specimens on our end has become rather difficult as well……."
"What should we do about our support for the workshop, Father?"
"Ah, that mad old fool." Whatever crossed his mind, the marquis scowled in distaste. "He spouts the same nonsense every time: 'Bring me a direct bloodline of the Castrein Duchy, and I can present the research results this very instant.' When in truth, we were the ones almost caught red-handed through the merchant guild because of his blunder. Careless old wretch."
"Still, isn't he a genius? They said without him, the refinement of the Arlene flower would never have succeeded."
"His rashness is the problem! He threw a fit demanding slaves, so I assumed he was at least capable of procuring them quietly on his own. Tsk. If left to his own devices, he would have caused another disaster! Claiming no one suited his fancy, talking about kidnapping……"
"Who did he have in mind?"
"The youngest daughter of House Castrein."
Lilium tilted her head, her voice turning curious.
"Didn't they say she was adopted? I thought she didn't share their blood."
"I thought so as well, but apparently that is not the case. He lamented bitterly about how close she was to his grasp, weeping over the missed opportunity. At my age, having to watch an old fossil my own age cry like a child…… what an unsightly mess."
The marquis clicked his tongue. A soft rustling broke out, and a black rat scurried forward to lick up the remaining floral sap spilled across the dirt. The beetle circling Lilium's cheek darted forward in a blur, sinking its mandibles deep into the rat's tail.
Squeeeaaak!
A shrill screech pierced the tranquil garden. The girl, lovely as a rose in full bloom, watched the creature thrash without batting an eye.
"Come to think of it, it really is a pity. House Castrein possesses the very people who could achieve perfection if only they set their minds to it. To think they cannot share our ideals."
"We are gardeners, Lilium. We prune branches, lay down compost, and exterminate pests all to harvest the fruit. How could we ever be the same as fools who would blindly set the entire tree on fire just because the fruit bears poison?"
"You're entirely right, Father."
Lilium smiled sweetly.
"Still, one never knows what may happen. Yes…… it wouldn't hurt to take a hand in the matter. We happen to have a plausible pretext this time, after all."
"Yes."
The girl answered meekly. She was happy.
The breeze was refreshing, the garden was exquisite, her father was gentle and diligent, and the flowers offered by the maid who served her with blind devotion were lovely. Everything about today felt like a blessing.
A blessing.
Indeed. No word suited the Havilios Marquisate better.
The people residing in the Havilios territory often told one another that being born in this fief was a true blessing. And it was true. The sunlight was warm, water was plentiful, and the climate was delightfully mild. Vegetation and fruit flourished in abundance, and livestock fattened easily.
Above all else, demonic beasts never invaded.
Even in neighboring territories, lower-grade demonic beasts breached the borders from time to time. Yet within the lands of Marquis Havilios, not a single common demonic beast dared show its face.
It was unnatural.
Almost as if wild beasts were fleeing far into the distance, desperate to avoid the nest of their natural predator…….