Previously
Sienna spends her days in the monastery bonding with Jane, a former priestess-in-training who was cast out for unknown reasons. An Imperial Guard member arrives to deliver a letter from Joseph ordering Sienna to return to the capital, causing her great anxiety.
How to Break Up with You Completely Episode 21
The army arrived in the capital late at night, one week after departing Lopawell.
Custom dictated that the supreme commander returning from war should proceed directly to the Imperial Palace for an audience with the Emperor, but given the late hour, all official business was deferred to the following morning.
And so, after disbanding the troops on the capital's outskirts, the supreme commander, Declan, made for his townhouse on the edge of the city rather than setting foot into the capital proper.
Situated in a quiet retreat slightly outside the capital, the grand ducal residence boasted a majestic scale worthy of any high nobleman. Even so, it could hardly compare to his main seat in the Grand Duchy of Monferrato.
Lords with territories maintained townhouses near the capital to use as the season demanded, and the grand ducal house was no exception.
While the suburban residence was not quite as lavish as the palace or the great estate in the Grand Duchy, it exuded a dignity befitting a lineage steeped in long history.
Its distance from the bustling city lent it a characteristic stillness that heightened its stately presence.
Enveloped in the usual heavy, solemn quiet, Declan paused just past the entrance and looked out over the empty halls. A deep navy banner, bearing the crest of the grand ducal house, hung heavily against the stark white wall.
The atmosphere felt somehow bleaker than usual.
“It's quiet.”
The murmur was almost unconscious, but the count trailing a few paces behind seized the opening.
“See what I mean? It really is time you started a family. Almost every eligible lady in the capital will be at the upcoming banquet, so you should take this chance to take a Grand Duchess, Your Grace.”
It was a habitual piece of advice, but this time it was also a test. Yet when Declan showed no reaction at all, Leo narrowed his eyes.
‘Could he really have a woman hidden away somewhere?’
“I must go to the palace first thing tomorrow morning, so things will be hectic for a while. You should retire for the night as well, Count.”
‘If someone has caught his eye, why delay? It's not as though anyone would ever turn him down.’
By the time the count pulled himself from his thoughts, the Grand Duke was already striding far ahead. The count moved to follow, then checked himself.
‘Then again, he just endured three years of war.’
On the battlefield, even the highest nobles were reduced to soldiers scrambling merely to stay alive and seize ground. The count was no exception, nor was the Grand Duke.
Any human being was bound to be exhausted. Offering a crisp bow of acknowledgment, the count took his leave.
* * *
Even after returning to the townhouse, Declan took not a single moment of rest, shutting himself directly in his office.
Starting by having the servants stack the paperwork that had accumulated in his three years at war in neat piles beside his desk, he spent the entire day absorbed in backlogged affairs.
Because the war had lasted three long years, the documents awaiting his review formed a towering spire of parchment.
Most were dispatches forwarded from military headquarters or reports sent by the steward of Monferrato.
When he finally looked up after hours of single-minded work, the sun had long since slipped below the horizon. Only then did Declan lay down his pen and press the heels of his hands to his eyes.
His body was weary, yet his mind remained lucid to a fault.
Glancing toward the paperwork once more, Declan let out a faint sigh and rose to his feet. He opened the doors and stepped onto the terrace, where the scent of cypress drifted up from the gardens. Resting his hands on the stone railing, Declan stared out into the dark cypress grove.
The unsettling silence of the residence was familiar, yet now it struck him as strangely foreign.
There had once been a time when the laughter of a child filled this house.
There had truly been a time when a wooden swing he built with his own hands hung from the sturdiest branch of the ancient zelkova before the garden bench, surrounded by a profusion of the lilacs his wife so loved.
He used to sit on that wooden bench, reading to the child from books filled with vivid illustrations. Yet that past lingered now in his memory alone.
After gazing blankly at the garden for a long while, he buried his face in one hand with a motion laden with weariness.
The residence remained dead quiet.
And within that hush, Declan felt an agonizing sense of loss.
* * *
At the first light of dawn, Declan donned his immaculate dress uniform and set out for the Imperial Palace.
Save for his golden hair that reached down to his shoulders, he appeared flawless in every respect. A striking countenance that betrayed not a shred of emotion, paired with an unwavering stride. He was the very picture of the Grand Duke of Monferrato that everyone remembered.
As he followed the Chamberlain down the corridors, silent glances darted back and forth behind him.
The bustling footmen and maids subtly slowed their pace, sneaking peeks at him before exchanging whispered looks among themselves. Their expressions all conveyed the same message:
The Grand Duke had finally returned to the capital.
Vague rumors had run rampant, but today they solidified into undeniable truth that would soon reach every noble ear in the city.
With the May social season just beginning, it was obvious where high society's focus and fascination would fall.
When the two reached the grand mahogany doors of the imperial office, two standing attendants pulled them open.
With an entire wall dedicated to full-length windows, the Emperor's office was bathed in brilliant sunlight. Everything in the room was brightly illuminated without the aid of lamps.
“His Majesty is coming straight from the training grounds, so he may be slightly delayed.”
“Understood.”
Declan inclined his head at the Chamberlain's explanation.
With a heavy thud, the double doors closed, leaving him entirely alone in the office.
Rather than taking a seat by the table, Declan looked up at the massive portrait of a man hanging upon the inner wall.
Perhaps because it had been painted just after his coronation, the man looked far younger than Declan remembered.
He had always been a man of cold, severe features with an irritable cast to his brow, but the youth in the painting was haughty and bold. A dazzling, radiant beauty.
Declan superimposed a woman's face over the canvas. Father and daughter, sharing completely opposite colors and temperaments.
As the imagined image of the woman grew sharper than the painted form before him, Declan came to a dispassionate conclusion.
Whatever else she lacked, her haughty gaze was undeniably inherited from her father.
“His Majesty arrives.”
Only then did Declan turn away from the portrait.
Unlike the woman dominating his thoughts, a radiant young man bearing an uncanny resemblance to the figure in the painting entered, his face breaking into a bright smile upon spotting Declan.
“Duke Monferrato.”
“I greet Your Majesty the Emperor.”
Declan molded a thoroughly courteous smile onto his lips. A remarkably convincing expression settled over his usually detached countenance.
“I heard the news of your arrival. It brings me immense joy to see you return safe and sound.”
That sentiment, at least, appeared sincere, as his face beamed with good cheer.
Declan took a seat on the sofa at his gesture, and the Chamberlain promptly brought in refreshments and a tea that gave off a rich, sweet fragrance. The Emperor personally recommended it, explaining it had been imported from a nation with whom they had recently forged a trade agreement.
The reddish brew carried the bittersweet aroma of ripe mandarins.
Declan cared little for sweets, but Sienna had adored fruit teas of this sort. Her tastes had always run that way: the sweet lilac scent blanketing the front yard, and treats so sugary they left the tongue coated.
Even while his mind wandered to another, Declan offered a smooth smile and answered the courtesy.
“I am humbled that Your Majesty would welcome me in person.”
“Of course I would. The Duke is far too precious an asset to this empire.”
Declan curled the corners of his lips in response to the hearty voice. The Emperor bit down on a cigar and offered one to him. When Declan politely declined, the Emperor pressed no further and lit his own.
“So, tell me. How were things out there?”
“Not much different from the reports.”
Declan recounted what he had witnessed without the slightest exaggeration.
Those who had starved to death sprawled in the streets, and the miserable malnutrition of the surviving residents. After delivering a concise summary of conditions that needed no hyperbole to sound appalling, he appended a brief remark of his own.
“It did not appear that the relief provisions Your Majesty sends each year are being distributed properly.”
“I shall have to dispatch someone shortly to see that proper measures are taken.”
The Emperor nodded, indicating that he would handle it appropriately. That was more than enough for such a matter.
Declan was well aware that the Emperor cared nothing for the corruption of a remote monastery; his true focus lay entirely upon the woman residing there.
“And?”
There was no mistaking what the terse question was truly asking. Declan offered a hollow reply in a flat, mechanical tone.
“The Second Princess was unwell, so we did little more than exchange greetings.”
“Unwell? What ails her?”
“I was told she caught a fever from the rain.”
“Dear me….”
Contrary to the lament dripping with pity, a gleam of keen interest sparked in the Emperor's blue eyes. Yet deeming it unimportant for the moment, he wiped the look from his face just as quickly.
“I have been waiting eagerly for your return, Duke. In truth, there is a favor I wish to ask of you.”
The Emperor's tone was breezy.
“I am looking for someone.”
Declan's purple eyes shifted slowly toward him. As their gazes met, the Emperor offered a genial smile.
“I know it is hardly a task worthy of your station. It is almost shameful of me to trouble the hero of the empire with something so trivial.”
“Not at all, Your Majesty.”
The Emperor studied him closely, as though attempting to gauge his true thoughts. Yet to his eyes, the Grand Duke's demeanor showed not the slightest trace of displeasure.
“Whatever titles I may bear, I remain nothing more than His Majesty's loyal servant.”
Declan offered the expected answer with a polite smile. The Emperor let out a breath that sounded like a chuckle and returned the cigar to his lips.
‘Though whether he means a word of it is another matter.’
As the Emperor exhaled, a thick plume of gray smoke drifted through the air.