Back to the North
"I'll hire your daughter. Of course, she's an illegitimate child you don't even treat as one."
"My... daughter?"
He nodded instead of answering. It was striking how awkwardly he said "daughter," a word he probably never used for her in everyday life.
The Leste Duke asked with a puzzled expression.
"Berg Grand Duke, this is so sudden I can't quite grasp it. What do you mean by hiring my daughter all of a sudden?"
"Exactly what I said. Your daughter seems to have a real talent for spirit magic."
"It's just a minor trick, nothing more. Rare, perhaps, but it can't compare to a proper mage's spells."
The Leste Duke's gaze turned toward Aisha with the look of someone eyeing a bug. At that contemptuous stare, Aisha shrank back.
It was easy enough to guess the situation. The classic tale: abused at home day in and day out until she's completely cowed.
He'd said it to persuade Aisha, but it was like a cow backing up and accidentally catching a mouse. The Leste Duke was at fault for failing to recognize the gem right in front of him.
Still, just as he'd told Aisha, grabbing the duke by the collar would lead to all sorts of headaches.
He replied with feigned innocence.
"I see it differently. I thought her abilities could be put to good use up north."
"That dimwitted girl?"
"She can handle all four elemental spirits, or so I'm told. I was just looking for someone versatile. And of course, I've already gotten her consent."
"Versatile? More like useless at everything."
Evidently thinking this was turning into a hassle, the Leste Duke trailed off while glaring at Aisha. She predictably shrank even further. At this rate, she'd pull her head in like a turtle.
The Leste Duke, still glaring at Aisha, spoke up.
"In the end, she's just a lowborn wench tainted with common blood. I doubt she's suitable to keep at your side, Grand Duke."
"I judge people by one standard alone—not their background or status, but whether they're useful to me. When monsters are swarming right in front of you, bloodlines don't mean much."
"I understand. You bear a heavy burden, Grand Duke, so I suppose that's to be expected. But this is so sudden; I'd like some time to think it over..."
The Leste Duke, who had been showing reluctance, suddenly paused. In that fleeting moment, a flurry of expressions crossed his face—like he was punching numbers in his head. Then, a smile spread across his features.
"Actually, on second thought, there's no need to deliberate at length."
"Quick on the uptake, Duke."
"She's just a bastard I never cared about anyway. To be frank, I'm rather pleased at the chance to get rid of the dimwitted girl right in front of my eyes."
"More than that, you like the idea of holding a debt over me."
"Straight to the point, as expected of a northerner. I won't deny it. Of course I'd factor that in."
"Doesn't matter. What I need is your daughter—even if she's a bastard. It's only right to pay a price if necessary. To be precise, it's her abilities I need, not her as your daughter."
"Do as you like. Didn't you say the girl agreed? She can fend for herself."
The Leste Duke extended his hand with a smile. It didn't sit entirely well, but Estiang met it with his own handshake.
If he could hire a promising spirit mage in exchange for a minor debt to the Leste Duke, it was a profitable deal.
"If we're done here, I have someone else to meet, so I'll take my leave. Hopefully we'll cross paths again in the capital sometime."
A greasy smile, slick as butter.
"Farewell, then."
The Leste Duke turned away without so much as a glance at Aisha to the end.
Turning to look at her, Estiang found Aisha wearing an indescribable expression. The casual stream of abuse, as natural as breathing, and the conversation treating her like an object being handed off. Even without being some romance novel heroine, anyone with feelings would be hurt.
But she doesn't look wounded.
Not the tragic heroine drowned in sorrow, but something truly hard to pin down. A complex mix of sadness, joy, relief, and more.
Aisha spoke in a small voice.
"Thank you, Your Grace."
"I didn't do anything worth thanks. I hired you out of necessity, that's all."
To avoid an awkward atmosphere, he jerked his chin toward the banquet hall door.
"My adjutant will be waiting outside. Go explain everything to her. She'll handle the paperwork."
"...Yes."
Aisha nodded and left the banquet hall. Watching her back, Estiang let out a small sigh.
He already had mountains of work waiting back north.
Still, since the emperor had insisted, he'd at least make polite introductions to the princesses as a courtesy.
"And one more thing to take care of."
He could count on greeting the princesses naturally during the banquet and building some rapport that way.
Having handled all the urgent matters, he scanned the hall.
There, at a corner table: red hair, sulky face, chin propped on hand, surveying the room.
Approaching Helena, he asked,
"Sorry for being late. Were you waiting for your partner?"
"You seem awfully busy, Your Grace. First His Majesty summons you to a private room, and now you're chatting with the Leste Duke."
She must have fixed her makeup; the smudged eyeliner from earlier was gone. But her tone made it clear she was displeased, so he chuckled.
"Plenty of people seeking me out here and there. I don't come to the capital often, so I have to knock out as much as I can while I'm here."
"...Now I get why you haven't proposed yet, Your Grace."
"Rulers always put governing first; everything else takes a backseat."
Still, this wasn't even prickly enough to count. From what he remembered of the original story, she'd been downright vicious to Aisha. This was just mild petulance, like I'm sulking.
He'd kept her waiting, after all, so he'd indulge her a bit.
Extending his hand, he said,
"Lady Iliad. To be upfront, I've never danced in a place like this."
"A Sword Master like you won't trip over your own feet, surely?"
"No chance of that."
"Then we're good."
Helena smirked, rose from her chair, and took his hand.
Estiang and Helena moved naturally to the center of the banquet hall, where couples swirled in dance.
The Berg Grand Duke and the Lady Iliad. An unlikely pair, naturally drawing all eyes.
"The Berg Grand Duke... with Iliad's Rose?"
"Figures. Only someone like him could handle those thorns."
Every whisper from the nobles made Helena's shoulders tense instinctively. A familiar situation.
All eyes on her alone, commanding the spotlight.
At first, she'd been grinding her teeth over how long he'd make her wait after finally agreeing—flitting about busily. But as always in festivals and banquets, standing center stage melted those feelings like snow.
Can't be helped. I'll have to lead.
His claim of no experience wasn't entirely false; for a Sword Master, his movements were stiff and ungraceful. Helena sighed inwardly and guided him smoothly to follow her lead.
But it didn't take long for her sigh to turn to surprise.
Glancing sideways at the others, Estiang quickly seized control. Before she knew it, Helena—who had been leading—was forced to follow his steps.
"Wha—huh...?"
"Something wrong, Lady Iliad?"
"Your Grace, you said you'd never danced...?"
"It's not some wild routine. You can mimic the basics after watching others."
Estiang chuckled.
"The Sword Master title isn't handed out lightly."
"Huh... I see...?"
Helena blinked in bewilderment but kept pace with the court orchestra. Following Estiang's lead, she moved like a puppet on strings, her pale green eyes flickering.
How many minutes passed?
As the grand music swelled to its climax...
"......"
Helena blinked rapidly. Coming to her senses, she found Estiang holding her waist with one arm, gazing down at her as her feet dangled in the air.
Their eyes met in midair for a moment.
Her face flushed crimson, and only then did Estiang set her down.
"Satisfied?"
"Y-yes... I mean, already over?"
Helena, who had dazedly nodded, startled and asked back.
"I need to pay respects to the princesses and other royals now that I'm here. Separately, I liked the gift you gave me, so I should discuss exactly what it can do."
"Gift... right."
Helena's brow furrowed slightly.
What was with this man?
She'd swallowed her pride and practically begged for this dance partner spot.
And after just a few dances, he was off to handle "work" like some workaholic?
How could anyone be so oblivious? Earlier on the terrace, he'd ignored her like she wasn't there, focusing solely on that bastard girl.
Normally, she'd snap—but picking a fight with Estiang meant dealing with the fallout.
Swallowing hard, Helena forced a bright smile.
"So, Your Grace, you'll attend tomorrow's and the day after's banquets too, right?"
"Probably until I head north."
"Then I'll be satisfied for today. But until you leave for the north, you'll keep partnering with me?"
"Continuously until departure? The whole time?"
"Yes. Every banquet until you go."
Adjusting her silk glove, Helena smirked with one corner of her mouth.
"Partners for banquets need to be selective, don't they? You can't just take any woman."
She gave what seemed a reasonable excuse, one corner of her mouth lifted. Regardless of her true motives, it wasn't wrong.
The nobles' stares weren't welcome, but Estiang nodded lightly.
Helena beamed radiantly. Her plan to extend it had worked.
Estiang wrapped up the first night's banquet there.
Helena had earnestly reminded him to attend tomorrow before scampering off with a satisfied look.
After that, he exchanged greetings with the emperor's youngest princess as mentioned, and light pleasantries with other royals, finishing his tasks.
The youngest princess, as the emperor said, had noble ladies swarming her like subordinates, so it was just introductions and polite nods. The girls squealed at Estiang's every word, leaving no room for real talk.
One unwelcome part: meeting the crown prince.
"Ah, Grand Duke Berg."
The crown prince greeted him with exaggerated flair and a smile.
"I've heard so many rumors about you. First time seeing you since your title succession ceremony."
"I trust you've been well, Your Highness."
"No need for such stiff formality between us. We're distant kin, after all—let's keep it casual."
The crown prince smirked slyly, and Estiang donned his mask thoroughly.
Yang Guang.
Estiang's takeaway from the original novel was simple: the crown prince was like Emperor Yang of Sui, a pretender to benevolence.
Yang Guang had played the wise prince early on, but revealed his true colors upon ascension. At least this crown prince was purely incompetent and greedy—not murderous toward kin. Small mercies.
He was all chummy smiles now, but Estiang caught the chilly glint in his eyes.
Not a masked ball, yet both wore masks in this bizarre exchange.
Estiang kept his on through the pleasantries, flattering just enough before withdrawing. The crown prince saw him off with the same false smile.
"Time flies when you're having fun, they say—and it's true. We seem to have much in common. How about sharing a drink at tomorrow's banquet?"
"An honor, Your Highness. I have a prior engagement with Lady Iliad, but may I join you after?"
"Can't be helped if it's prior. I'll prepare my finest bottles. Look forward to it."
"My thanks, Your Highness. I'll eagerly await tomorrow."
"See you then."
The crown prince gave a beaming glance; Estiang bowed politely.
Flawless etiquette.
Thirty out of a hundred.
Estiang thought as he turned away. Judging without original-story bias, as objectively as possible.
No reason to antagonize the crown prince, so he'd projected near-perfect courtesy.
But the crown prince already eyed him with disfavor—not mere wariness of a powerful noble, but something more primal.
Unable to guess the reason, Estiang tilted his head in mild confusion.