Ch#76
“No point in debating it further. I’ll take this protection issue straight to the Grand Duke.”
With that pronouncement, I pivoted to depart, but Tiern closed the distance in an instant.
“I’ve already consulted the Commander.”
His tone rang with resolve, as though mindful of my past jibe that he lacked the nerve to approach the Grand Duke.
“And… did the Grand Duke give his blessing?”
“……He emphasized that Your Highness’s pardon takes precedence.”
Interesting. So he had humbled himself before the Grand Duke after all.
Perhaps it was the absence of his typical defiant spark, but Tiern struck me as strangely forlorn that day. A quiver in his brown eyes stirred a pang of sympathy in me.
‘Is he wielding his handsome features as a tactic now?’
Tough luck—I’d been utterly captivated by our Grand Duke’s visage for ages, rendering such ploys ineffective!
Yet… witnessing him bow his head like that, perhaps I could overlook it this one time?
Even the 9th Division knights, who often resembled rugged outlaws, appeared deflated, and it softened my resolve.
For a knight, after all, honor reigned supreme.
Nor would it serve them well to earn the label of “the division despised by the Grand Duchess.” Such a stain might erode the unit’s morale entirely.
“No reason for such gloom.”
I offered a poised smile, the epitome of magnanimous grace.
“Mishaps simply demand better prevention going forward. I trust the 9th Division’s prowess, so if you assume guard duty, I’ll welcome it with open arms.”
Then I faced Norton, who seemed to be stifling his retort.
“I’d already fretted over the 1st Division bearing the load exclusively. Rotating duties will lighten things. Wouldn’t you say so, Sir Norton?”
“It poses no hardship whatsoever, Your Highness. The 1st Division stands ready to manage it solo…”
I interrupted with gentle firmness.
“We’ll have outings aplenty before the envoy’s arrival. And safeguarding me isn’t your sole responsibility—you can’t be tethered to my side around the clock, after all?”
Under my calming words, Norton drew himself up and replied crisply:
“As you wish, Your Highness.”
“Thank you, Sir Norton.”
With the issue resolved, an uneasy quiet settled over us.
It carried the faint awkwardness of a love triangle—me caught between Tiern and Norton—while Cecilia, observing with keen interest, sidled closer.
“Your Highness, so… which division will escort you today?”
Her so-called whisper boomed clear enough for both knights.
Norton and Tiern fixed their eyes on me simultaneously.
‘What am I meant to make of those stares?!’
Their resolute gazes, brimming with expectation of my verdict, rendered me utterly at a loss.
‘Is this truly acceptable?’
No sooner had we reached the lakeside promenade than I exhaled wearily.
Norton had consented to shared rotations, yet he balked at yielding today’s duty.
“The 1st Division holds today’s assignment. My team stands prepared.”
Tiern proved just as steadfast.
“The 9th Division is equally set. The 1st Division has toiled without respite lately. They deserve a break.”
Ultimately, we settled on a joint effort: both divisions would protect me in tandem.
‘One might assume we were heading into battle.’
En route, the thunderous hoofbeats from vanguard and rearguard had rung deafeningly.
Even dismounting the carriage, Norton and Tiern extended hands in unison.
‘What on earth do they expect?!’
In the interest of equity, I grasped one from each and alighted—like a prisoner flanked by escorts.
The absurdity peaked when one realized the lakeside remained closed to visitors.
Thus, Cecilia and I strolled amid a throng of knights, the pair of us alone. How absurd we must have appeared?
Enolius, who’d preceded us, made no effort to conceal his amusement upon our arrival.
“We’re the sole souls here… What peril are they shielding Your Highness from, clustering like that?”
“Greetings, Enolius.”
I sidestepped his quip, cheeks aflame, and steered toward business, guiding him lakeward.
“So, music every hour to sync with the fountain?”
Enolius arched a skeptical brow.
“Not merely music. I envision the water choreographed to its rhythm—a spectacle.”
I gestured animatedly, mimicking the patterns from a musical fountain I’d once admired.
“And illumination as well.”
“Lights?”
“Precisely, for nighttime brilliance. Shifting hues in harmony with the melody. It must dazzle, the crown jewel of the evening panorama.”
“A colossal fountain mid-lake, pulsing to music and radiating colors?”
“Above all, immense—visible lake-wide. Jets soaring skyward, as if grasping the heavens.”
Enolius craned his neck, visualizing, then murmured:
“That sounds utterly bizarre.”
“Not at all. It’ll be majestic, awe-inspiring.”
I asserted with conviction.
“Why? Because you’re an artist, Enolius.”
“Spare the flattery.”
Suppressing a grind of my teeth, I coaxed him softly.
“I’m sincere. That conviction struck me the instant I beheld your streetlamps.”
“…The garden entrance ones?”
“Exactly. Others possess talent, but none craft such elegance. I stake my faith on it.”
A subtle flush colored Enolius’s cheeks.
“What? Such acclaim is rare for you?”
He seemed so unaccustomed to praise that I cocked my head.
“No need for it. I know my worth.”
He scuffed the turf, then added gruffly:
“And you’re off-base on one point.”
“Oh?”
“No one surpasses my skill.”
I masked my chuckle with a composed smile.
“Then I eagerly await the fountain.”
“I’ve never failed a commission.”
“How comforting, Enolius.”
“…Enol will do.”
He paused, then grumbled with a sulk.
“Pardon?”
“My name. Enol’s fine.”
“Goodness, granting me a nickname? I hadn’t realized you held me in such regard.”
So predictable—a single compliment, and he’s offering pet names!
“It’s merely that ‘Enolius’ drags on. Folks dub me ‘Mage’ regardless.”
Like addressing someone as “Clerk” rather than by name. How impersonal!
“Very well, Enol. Henceforth, I’ll honor you with it.”
“It’s not a pet name.”
For the first time, the surly mage appeared almost endearing.
Once he’d agreed and departed, I examined the lakeside construction supplies when:
“Your Highness.”
My aide Perel, fashionably late, approached with evident distress.
“I’ve just come from the Merchants’ Guild…”
He faltered before continuing.
“No applications for the new marketplace stalls.”
“…What?”
A incredulous sigh escaped me.
“My apologies, Your Highness.”
Perel brimmed with remorse, as if personally culpable.
“Nothing to regret. They’re the fools spurning such fortune.”
Perel had cautioned from the outset about Goldrain merchants’ fierce pushback.
“They’ll decry it as a threat to their trade. Protests could erupt.”
A strike during the envoy’s visit would spell disaster.
To blunt resistance, we’d offered them first dibs on stalls.
Beyond that: zero entry fees, no commissions, three months’ rent-free.
An unparalleled bargain.
Yet zero applicants.
Which pointed to only one conclusion—
‘Someone influential is orchestrating this.’