Back to the North (3)
As with most festivals, the first and last days were the most important. After all, these social gatherings were meant to foster camaraderie. They crammed all the hectic events into the opening and closing days, leaving the middle to eat, drink, and mingle. Of course, business talks happened on the side.
I've wrapped up everything I needed to do in the capital, so now it just feels like I'm killing time until I leave.
The deal with Geltner was done, and he'd picked up the spirit mage Aisha. Now, the only things left were the occasional late applicants who'd finally made up their minds. Even then, his knights handled the initial screening for any aspiring ones who showed up in person, so there wasn't much for him to do.
During the intervening days, he made appearances, exchanging a word or two with other nobles. He didn't particularly enjoy it, but regardless of his inner feelings, he'd even joined the crown prince for drinks.
It had been an excruciating ordeal, far from pleasant. The crown prince didn't seem to like him much either, for whatever reason, which made it worse. He comported himself just carefully enough not to give anyone cause for complaint, carrying on through the multi-day banquet without incident.
"Your Grace."
"What is it?"
In the center of the prepared stage, as usual, Helena spoke up mid-dance.
"Once the Founding Festival ends, will Your Grace return straight to the grand duchy?"
"I will."
"No plans to stay longer in the capital?"
"Time constraints make that difficult."
He'd already been away for quite some time. He'd rushed here in a week by changing horses frequently, but the return trip with the larger entourage would be slower. The front lines were a place where monsters could strike at any moment—it wasn't right to be absent for over a month.
"Hmm, that's a shame. My father seemed keen on arranging a private meeting with Your Grace after the festival."
"...Duke Iliad?"
"Yes."
He paused mid-step in their dance. Duke Iliad—Helena's father, and politically, someone on the opposite side from him.
He responded reflexively. "If your father and I met alone behind closed doors, I doubt anything good would come of it."
"That's why Father was hesitating too. He said he ought to set something up, but it was obvious there'd be talk."
"He wants to arrange a meeting? Tricky."
"I'm not passing on a message from Father or anything. I just happened to overhear it yesterday, so don't misunderstand, Your Grace. I know better than that."
Whether it was from dancing several times already, Helena moved naturally with the music. He matched her while pondering.
Duke Iliad wanted a private audience with him? To borrow an analogy from his past life, their relationship was like the heads of rival factions—Noron and Soron during the Joseon dynasty. Not quite at the level of bloody purges, more like the everyday WWE-style rivalry under King Jeongjo. Unless they were scripting a pro-wrestling match, there was no reason for a one-on-one.
What to do about this?
After a moment's thought, he replied. "Then why don't you pass a message to Duke Iliad for me?"
"If it's a request from Your Grace, I have no choice. What should I say?"
"Arranging a meeting outright would be awkward for both sides, so if he has something to say, have him send a quiet letter through a discreet messenger. That should get the point across without issue."
"Got it. I'll tell Father that."
Helena smiled faintly as she answered. Fair enough. Jumping straight into a meeting just because there was something to discuss would invite rumors. The last thing he needed was some old noble crying, "You, of all people? Aaargh, I trusted you! I curse you!"
The capital really wasn't a place to linger. Once the festival ended, he'd head back north without a backward glance.
As he mulled that over silently, the orchestra's languid melody came to an end. Releasing her hand to finish the dance, he met the gaze of Helena, who was staring at him intently.
"Oh, and Your Grace."
"Yes? Lady Iliad."
"It's been days since I became your partner—how long do you plan to keep calling me Lady Iliad?"
"Doesn't suit you?"
"From tomorrow, call me Helena. Just my name. Lady Iliad feels too stiff; I don't like it."
"It was fun today too, Your Grace."
With that, Helena turned and clicked away before he could respond. Watching her retreating figure, he tilted his head.
Why were her shoulders hunched up like that?
* * *
I should have sounded a bit more haughty.
Helena berated herself as she walked away. Days had passed, and there was zero progress. Every night after the banquets, she'd tear her hair out in frustration, but Estiang had remained utterly indifferent from start to finish.
How could anyone be so dense?
They said even a tree would fall after ten strikes, but their relationship showed no signs of budging.
What's wrong with me?
Helena pouted. She was beautiful, wealthy, from a fine family with impeccable status. With all the other boxes checked, it was only natural for a beautiful flower to have thorns—hence her romanticized nickname, Iliad's Rose. That was why suitors from across the empire never stopped coming.
Of course, a big factor was that she was the Iliad duke's only daughter and current sole heir.
The empire's top bridal prize, dubbed the Golden Bride, and yet the one man she wanted showed zero interest.
"I'm done for, seriously."
Today's theme had been haughtiness. A spectacular failure.
Asking him to use her name, then turning away proudly after the dance—good in theory.
"...Didn't seem to have much effect."
She muttered, scrapping the haughty act. Her experiments over the past days had all flopped. The only option left was outright seduction.
But her lingering shred of pride wouldn't let her throw everything away like that. She gnawed at her lip instead.
"Only a few days left now..."
The festival was truly winding down. Fail through the end, and she'd have to pack her bags and chase him north.
Just a handful of chances remained. Leaning against a wall in thought, a shadow fell over her.
"Helena."
"Yeah? Oh, Dad."
The man had the same fiery red hair as her—a sturdy middle-aged figure, current head of House Iliad and Duke Iliad himself.
The duke hurriedly pressed a finger to his lips. "Ahem, Helena. There are others around. Even here, call me Father, not Dad..."
"Dad, the grand duke said if you have something to say, send a letter through a messenger."
Helena cut him off without a care.
"...What? Berg did?"
"You were saying yesterday you needed to set up a meeting but were worried about appearances. I overheard and passed it on for you."
Caught off guard by his daughter's words, the duke blinked before lowering his voice.
"If Berg said that, it means he wants to avoid a fuss—send a quiet letter, nothing more."
"Yeah, probably. Awkward for both sides, so keep it discreet."
"Hmm..."
The duke let out a small groan. Like father, like daughter—his pale green eyes, identical to hers, studied her fondly. No other children, good marriage, yet only this one daughter. He'd spoiled her rotten, giving her that infamous temper across the empire, but she was still the apple of his eye.
And the man she had her sights on was Berg's grand duke.
"Urgh."
Just thinking about it gave him a headache. At first, seeing his wild filly flustered in front of others had shocked him. Only after hearing the full story from the butler did it click.
"Why him, of all people..."
"What, Dad? Why the look?"
"Nothing, nothing..."
The duke apologized inwardly while grumbling to himself. Plenty of suitors could fill this hall—some not quite Berg level, but matching Iliad's stature. If only she'd pick one she liked.
She'd rejected them all, only to fixate on Berg—who barely seemed interested in her?
Marrying off his only daughter was proving harder than expected.
"Sigh... Understood. If that's what the grand duke said, I'll send a discreet letter via messenger."
"Don't write anything weird."
"...I won't."
The duke was a seasoned noble; he wasn't foolish enough to miss Estiang's intent. But how to broach the topic, what to write—it grew complicated. Seeing his headstrong, arrogant daughter's face only made it worse.
She'd probably puffed up her shoulders trying to act aloof. For some reason, his own slumped in proportion.
"...So, you'll keep partnering with Berg for the dances until the festival ends?"
"Yep. That's why I endured that humiliation on the first day. Promised to do it for the rest."
One corner of Helena's mouth curled up.
"Some girls didn't know their place on day one? Figured they'd flirt since he seemed interested. I overheard—hilarious. Told them to shut it, and they did."
"..."
The duke fell silent, slowly stroking his chest. He'd once regretted not having a son. Not anymore. If she'd been born a pretty-faced boy instead of a daughter, she wouldn't even have a reputation left in high society.
...Thank you, Goddess.
The duke offered silent gratitude in his heart.