GDTEA Chapter 112

Soon

The Marquis House of Knocharff was a newly risen noble family with barely any history to speak of.

Though they had been granted a small territory by the Emperor, they were no different from honorary nobles.

The gazes directed at ‘Eris Biyan,’ who had taken her first steps into the social circles of the Great Empire of Neweiton as the fiancée of Marquis Knocharff, were far from kind.

[I heard she’s the fiancée of a traitor who sold out his homeland? Where could she possibly be from? Is there even a noble house with the surname Biyan?]

[I’ve never heard of one, but if he swore loyalty to the Empire out of greed for power, you’d think he’d at least have chosen a woman from within the Empire.]

[Oh, do stop. Even speaking of a woman like that out loud makes us look beneath ourselves.]

With every step ‘Eris Biyan’ took, she was trailed by ill-natured curiosity, or pity, or outright contempt.

The only saving grace was that ‘Eris Biyan’ was well-versed in noble culture and the manner of speech used in social circles, and carried herself with a refinement visible in every gesture and expression—so at the very least, her origins were accepted as noble.

Damned lot.

Arisviyan, who had laundered her identity as an imperial citizen under the alias ‘Eris Biyan,’ ground her teeth as she thought of the insufferable imperial nobles.

If she followed her instincts, she’d have poured wine directly into the faces of those tactless nobles whispering behind her back—but reality was merciless.

How dare they laugh at me, whose bloodline is incomparably more exalted than any of theirs?

If only Krianet Kingdom hadn’t lost the war. If only her foolish father hadn’t gone up against the Empire, she could have remained the sole princess, the most beautiful woman in the world, untouchable and sublime.

Arisviyan flung her earring aside with irritation.

“Ah-Shall I bring you another pair, my lady?”

The maids helping her dress trembled and hastily laid out an array of jewels before her.

They kept their heads bowed low, afraid of accidentally meeting Arisviyan’s eyes in the mirror.

The corner of Arisviyan’s eye twitched as she looked over the jewels.

“Never mind.”

Arisviyan dismissed the jewels with an icy gaze.

They were all pieces she had worn back when she was a princess, but their designs were hopelessly out of fashion. And the jewels that Gederus Knocharff had presented to his fiancée were, without exception, of far too poor a quality.

For a princess accustomed only to the finest things, the jewels of ‘Eris Biyan’ were utterly beneath her.

“……”

Arisviyan gazed at the beautiful face reflected in the mirror.

She could say with confidence that she was more beautiful than any woman in the Great Empire of Neweiton.

To think that a man like him can’t even choose a single piece of jewelry worthy of someone like me.

Gederus Knocharff had been a penniless count back in the days of Krianet Kingdom.

The only thing he had ever been good at was putting together a modest merchant enterprise, attaching himself to high-ranking nobles, and whispering flattery into their ears.

She had assumed that given how badly he indulged in extravagance and vanity, he would at least know how to keep up appearances.

“Clear it all away.”

The engagement to Gederus—a man she wouldn’t have spared a single glance for back in her days as a princess—had been a means to an end, undertaken purely to launder her identity smoothly.

She had taken her first steps into the social circles of the Great Empire of Neweiton as planned, so now all she had to do was find a match befitting her station.

The sooner I break off this hollow engagement and leave this shabby estate, the better.

All she had was her noble blood and this face of hers, and without jewels worthy of making her shine even brighter, her irritation only grew.

“My lady, a gift has arrived for you.”

Just then, one of the maids stepped carefully into the room.

“If it’s from my fiancé, just leave it there.”

The maid, shoulders hunched at the cold rebuke, held out an elegantly wrapped box.

“It is said to be from Marquis Bridend, my lady.”

“Oh my, the Marquis?”

Using a title of address she would never extend to Gederus, Arisviyan sprang to her feet.

A card was visible right away, but Arisviyan tore open the wrapping and lifted the lid of the box first.

Inside lay a necklace and earrings adorned with a large ruby—red and lustrous, shimmering like her own eyes.

“Rubies, of all things. Such an extravagant gift.”

A smile bloomed naturally across Arisviyan’s face as she reached for the card.

<In place of an escort.>

Seeing the scorpion-motif seal stamped at the bottom of the card, Arisviyan curved her lips upward.

The man with auburn hair and reddish-brown eyes—the leader of the noble faction. He was the most powerful noble in the current Great Empire of Neweiton, second only to the Emperor himself.

“Since I’ve received the gift, I ought to wear it out at once.”

Arisviyan pressed a light kiss to the ruby necklace before holding it out to her maid.

“Oh, and change my dress as well—something that complements this necklace. See to it.”

The maids moved in swift unison.

Sitting once more before the mirror, Arisviyan gazed at her own crimson eyes—more beautiful than even the rubies—then lightly touched the beauty mark beneath her eye and smiled.

“Do hurry.”

The fact that he had sent a gift to arrange their meeting suggested that Darhan had something good in store for her.

And Darhan Bridend truly did bring good news.

Seated in a premier opera box perfectly suited for a clandestine rendezvous, Arisviyan was enjoying a pleasant time with Darhan when she gasped and raised her fan to cover her mouth.

“Pardon? Adoption into the House of Chelonar?”

She had let her voice ring out louder than intended in her moment of shock, but thankfully it was swallowed up by the singer’s voice onstage and did not carry beyond their box.

Darhan simply smiled and lightly tapped the ruby earring she was wearing.

Arisviyan glanced about and carefully lowered her fan.

If I recall correctly, the House of Chelonar is the noble family that leads the neutral faction…?

She had already thoroughly memorized the noble factions and their relationship charts within the Great Empire of Neweiton.

Naturally, she had memorized the most powerful players she was considering as potential matches, and so the House of Chelonar came back to her quickly enough.

I heard Count Chelonar lost his wife but dotes on his only daughter as the apple of his eye—is he suggesting I marry into that family or something?

Of course, even so, it was a tempting match. The child was a girl, not a boy, so there would be no particular complications with the question of succession.

Even still, it couldn’t be compared to Marquis Bridend, sitting right before her eyes.

After all, that side had a count burdened with a child, while this side had a marquis with not a single illegitimate heir to his name.

Arisviyan fixed Darhan with a cool, composed gaze.

“I had the impression that the Marquis was rather taken with me.”

Her fingers trailed softly along the line of Darhan’s jaw.

Darhan gave a faint smile and took a light sip of his champagne. An ease that flowed naturally from his arrogant, lofty bearing.

Ah, I want it all.

The man before her eyes. The seat at his side. And all the wealth and power that came with him.

“The position of Countess Chelonar is quite alluring in its own right, but… it would fall short of being the heir to a count’s house, wouldn’t it?”

“……!”

Darhan leaned in slightly closer and whispered into her ear with low intimacy.

“What do you say, young lady? Would you not like to become the heir, and thus a woman far more appealing to me?”

“Is that truly possible?”

Arisviyan’s blood-red eyes gleamed with an unsettling light.

Darhan ran his fingers over the ruby necklace he had gifted her.

“Soon enough.”

“I love it!”

She smiled—bright and bewitching, the same smile that had once brought the young men of Krianet to their knees in an instant.

She had no interest in what it meant, or how she was to become the heir.

What mattered was that a man of power, sweetly whispering that he could make it happen, desired her.

Darhan drew Arisviyan into a heated exchange of breath, then pulled her into his arms.

“Count Chelonar will be arriving in the capital before long. I shall introduce you to him then. We ought to at least let him see your face before the adoption is formalized, don’t you think?”

“How wonderful. To think I shall have a father.”

Arisviyan giggled.

Then her laughter cut off abruptly.

She looked up at Darhan, only the corners of her mouth lifted while her eyes held no smile.

“But… if I become the heir, the Count’s own daughter will be devastated, won’t she?”

Surely a man who doted so much on the daughter born of his lawful wife would have named her the heir without question.

“Who can say? If Eris is the one who becomes heir and stays by the side of a father left all alone, perhaps she would be glad of it.”

“……”

A curious light passed through Arisviyan’s eyes.

Darhan reached over with a look of gentle sympathy and ran his fingers over the ring finger of her left hand.

“You must make the effort so that the Count can spend what little time his daughter has left by her side. For when the daughter dies, and the Count—broken with grief—takes his own life, you will remain as the sole heir to the House of Chelonar to carry the family forward.”

“My, my… What a terribly sad and heartbreaking affair that would be.”

Arisviyan lowered her gaze and arranged her expression into one of pitiful sorrow.

The performance was transparently false, but every time she played the part of the forlorn beauty, her looks only grew more striking—so neither the Marquis nor she herself paid it any mind.

Mistress of the House of Chelonar.

She hadn’t assumed the Count’s daughter had been handed a death sentence.

Nor did she have the slightest interest in what cruel thing had been done to that young lady.

What mattered was that the power and wealth of a house capable of leading the neutral faction would soon be falling into her hands.

“The singer’s voice sounds especially sweet tonight.”

As if singing in praise of the future that awaits me.

Arisviyan smiled with her eyes and clinked her glass against Darhan’s.

The bitter taste faded quickly, leaving only sweetness behind.

****

Sharti had been able to rent out a corner of an herb shop near an inn in District D, thanks to the support of the Singd Merchant Guild.

After breakfast, once Ren had called for the Singd Merchant Guild and left for the Chelonar estate, Sharti promptly shut herself inside the herb shop.

The table was laid out with a variety of ingredients the Singd Merchant Guild’s man had gone to purchase for the preparation of the antidote.

The symptoms were said to closely resemble sleepwalking, weren’t they?

[The sleepwalking was so severe that she couldn’t even feel it when she injured her bare feet walking on the streets, and apparently there were violent episodes on top of that. Then come morning, she’d remember none of it and could barely stay awake.]

“Groaning all through his sleep and then every night trying desperately to go somewhere…”

It was at a level where someone had described it as though his personality completely changed—as if he were being controlled by someone.

“Yet they say it isn’t dark magic.”

When a mage was brought in and nothing was detected, there was no choice but to believe it was an illness.

Sharti propped her chin in her hand and reviewed the antidote formulas likely to have already been tried at the Count’s estate. Every one of them was designed for poisoning by toxic substances.

Among them, there was none intended for a poison that damaged the mind.

“Is there even a poison that could break a person down in that way?”

Sharti crossed her arms and furrowed her brow.

Mind, psyche, memory, magic, antidote…

“Memory?”

At the sudden thought, Sharti immediately reached for the violet poisonous herb.

The symptoms were clearly different from Ren’s, yet the mention of not being able to remember left a nagging discomfort that brushed the back of her neck.

Sharti stopped her train of thought and immediately rolled up her sleeve.

“Let’s try making it.”

Her heart was anxious and time was scarce, but the ingredients and conditions were perfect.

Sharti began to jot down each ingredient she needed and quickly started preparing them. She also readied the violet poisonous herb in several different forms depending on its intended use.

I can make it.

The eyes of Sharti—dark rose-red and bright—gleamed as she steadily completed a new formula.

Meanwhile, Ren, who had been making his way to the Chelonar estate alongside the Singd Merchant Guild’s man, sensed the restless atmosphere in the bustling streets.

The Singd Merchant Guild’s man also seemed to notice the strange air, and rubbed his round chin.

“Hold on a moment. Stay here while I go find out what’s—”

“—The Grand Duke is dead!”

“I know. It was all over the newspapers.”

“Dead?! Who?!”

The Singd Merchant Guild’s man, passing by a tavern, abruptly cut into the conversation that had drifted out to them.

Ren had been on the verge of leaving him there and moving on, as it was of no particular interest to her.

“Grand Duke Gwendhill, the traitor! They say his body has finally been found!”

“……Gwendhill?”

Ren stopped dead in her tracks.

The Singd Merchant Guild’s man returned just then, having gathered what information there was regarding the death of Grand Duke Gwendhill.

“Well, they called him a Sword Master, and yet the moment he was branded a traitor, he died just like that.”

“Do you know much about Gwendhill?”

“Pardon?”

Ren turned and looked at the Singd Merchant Guild’s man.

Ren’s teal eyes darkened with depth as he recalled the conversation he’d had with the Tower Master.

The Tower Master had said it clearly. That he was a criminal of the House of Gwendhill.

[Right now, ‘Gwendhill’ is in crisis because of you.]

[To the extent that if your name were to come out of ‘Gwendhill’s’ mouth, it would mean an immediate trip to prison—he is a criminal who has committed a truly grave offense.]

Ren swallowed hard against the tightness in his throat and parted his lips with effort.

“I want to know more about Gwendhill.”