Chapter 34

After the quarterly briefing ended in what could only be described as a crushing defeat for the Red Knights, Ryan Diepelt was trembling.

“T-This badly…?”

He hadn’t expected the difference to be this devastating.

He had always been someone who rated himself generously—but this time, no matter how kindly he tried to spin it, it was an utter loss.

Compared to the Azure Knights, the only advantage the Red Knights had was a slightly lower total damage cost.  

But the Azure Knights had not only dramatically reduced their own damage costs—they had also implemented civilian support measures that earned the Emperor’s approval.

What was with that satisfaction survey?

Clutching his head, Ryan hurried to get out of the imperial palace.

But just before the door of his carriage could close, someone caught it.

“Lord Ryan Diepelt.”

He had heard that cold, emotionless voice before.

“You have been named the next Chancellor.”

He remembered the first time he heard it—when he was desperately clawing his way up to avoid fading into obscurity as just another noble from a middling aristocratic family.  

That was when he caught the eye of Duke Benerix.

It was the voice of the Duke’s favored handmaiden.

“He wishes to see you.”

There was no need to ask who “he” was.

‘So it’s come to this.’

Ryan shut his eyes tightly.

“…Lead the way.”

The handmaiden had him board a different carriage.

The windows were covered with black cloth, preventing him from seeing where they were headed.

Eventually, the carriage stopped in front of a manor—likely a villa owned by one of the nobles aligned with the aristocratic faction.

Beneath it, in the underground level, a group had gathered.

“You’ve arrived.”

Creak—

The moment the door opened, Ryan’s entire body tensed.

At the far end of the longer-than-expected room hung a veil, and behind it—shrouded in shadow with not a single light—he could barely make out the silhouette of a man.

The figure was unmistakably that of an adult male.

Duke Benerix.

The nobles lined up on either side of the room gave the scene the distinct air of an imperial audience chamber.

‘If I become Chancellor… I’ll be able to sit among them too.’

No—his position would likely outrank most of them.

It was a blissful daydream, but in this cold, oppressive atmosphere, it was hard to hold on to it for long.

The reason being…

“If you show results like this, don’t you think the Duke would be disappointed in you?”

A cold reprimand dropped immediately from the darkness.

Silence followed.

It was so heavy that even the rustling of fabric sounded thunderous.

—Shff.

The sound that stood out most came from beyond the veil.

Though Duke Benerix said nothing, that alone was enough to stoke Ryan’s unease.

Just as he swallowed hard—

“The only obstacle standing between you and the position of Chancellor is that woman, and yet your performance was this dismal.”

One noble finally spoke, and others quickly joined in like a dam had burst.

“We’re throwing our full support behind you, and yet you’re still outdone by some commoner-born woman parading around as a ‘new noble’?”

“……!”

To Ryan, it was a humiliating blow.

Then a voice rang out from behind the veil.

“She was born different. What did you expect?”

The room quieted again at the sound of the Duke’s voice—low and heavy, filling the space with a quiet authority.

“Lord Diepelt, surely this was not your full strength?”

“Th-That…”

Ryan couldn’t answer.

If he said it was his best, he’d be admitting that this was the extent of his abilities.

If he said it wasn’t, then he’d be admitting to slacking off when they were banking everything on him.

Either answer was damning, and he was fumbling for words when—

“But I trust you’ll come up with a solution. Otherwise, how could I call you a worthy candidate for Chancellor?”

At that, Ryan visibly trembled.

—Shff.

Beyond the veil, there was movement.

Duke Benerix was leaving.

“Safe travels, my Lord!”

Everyone stood and bowed as he passed, while Ryan felt his heart plummet.

‘I can’t be cast aside by him…!’

Now wasn’t the time to be flaunting his future title. First, he needed to secure the seat.

That desperation fueled his resolve.

He needed a plan—anything!

He had always been good at scheming.

Once the Duke had left, Ryan looked around at the remaining nobles.

“May I ask for a small favor?”

“…Hm?”

They looked skeptical, unimpressed by his performance.

But then—

“Well, the thing about the knights’ performance data…”

As Ryan laid out his plan, one by one, interest began to stir on the nobles’ faces.

Especially among those from the Ministry of Internal Affairs, who had backed him and were now at risk of being dragged down with him.

“Then I leave it to you.”

He bowed his head.

The very nobles who were used to seeing him flaunt his title as the Duke’s appointed heir watched in satisfaction as he finally showed them ‘proper’ decorum.

“…Yes, it may be worth trying.”

As he heard that reluctant approval, Ryan thought: ‘All this bowing and scraping—once I become Chancellor, it ends.’

He clenched his fist.

* * *

“There has been a special order to escort you to the detached palace, in recognition of the effort you put into preparing today’s report.”

Not every kindness brings happiness.  

Neither does every favor make one feel fortunate.

On any other day, Rodella would’ve been thrilled to have caught the Emperor’s eye—but right now, she was feeling pressed.

“To the detached palace?”

She managed to keep her expression under control, but the situation was far from ideal.  

There was only so much Aivert could do to match her movements—if they stayed out too long and made a mistake, it’d be a disaster.

She had just finished stomping on Ryan, after all.  

The last thing she wanted was to hand the Red Knights gossip fodder like “Oops, a couple in handcuffs” right after a major victory.  

‘I’m seriously turning into a true Azure Knight now…’

“Yes. His Majesty has asked that you rest comfortably.”

The Chamberlain spoke respectfully. She couldn’t show any signs of discomfort now.

“…Understood.”

But the Duke—perhaps unsurprisingly—was different.

Aivert suddenly asked, “Staying over is fine, but will there be any other plans?”

It was common in such cases to dine with the Emperor, hence the question.

“There is a dinner invitation as well.”

Of course.

Dinner in this state? Even if Aivert was ambidextrous, it would be hard not to draw attention.

Then Aivert abruptly spoke.  

“As grateful as we are, I’m afraid that might be difficult. I had a bit too much to drink last night and got terribly sick.”

In other words—any misstep at dinner might be a grave offense.

The Chamberlain visibly hesitated. Rodella turned to look at Aivert.

Of course, his “hangover” face was nothing but brazenly calm.

“Then perhaps the Quartermaster alone could—”

As if anticipating that, Aivert smoothly pulled Rodella closer.

“Surely you’re not suggesting I drank alone?”

He was making full use of the rumors that they had grown much closer recently.

“…Ahem. In that case…”

Just then, someone approached the trio.

“What’s this about? Does His Majesty’s Chamberlain have business with my beloved Quartermaster and Vice-Commander?”

Latiné looked in exceptionally good spirits.

But—

“His Majesty graciously permits them to spend the night at the detached palace.”

That made Latiné’s cheerful face almost crumble.

Rodella swore she could hear the tension forming between his furrowed brows.

‘No. Absolutely not. No way! But they can’t refuse! Then what do they do—?!’

“Oh, how generous indeed.”

“Then I’ll show you the way.”

The Chamberlain, face now more relaxed, turned to lead the way.

At that moment, Latiné leaned in and whispered just loud enough for the right ears to hear: “I’d never dream of disturbing a newly engaged couple—be sure to give us separate rooms.”

‘There’s no way I’d share a room with the Commander!’

But her rising panic vanished the moment the Chamberlain answered: “But of course, three rooms have been prepared for the three of you.”

‘Three? So… three rooms? Me and Aivert in separate rooms? No way!’

As Rodella struggled to keep her face composed, Latiné gave her a conspiratorial wink and said, “What, are you really going to make this madly-in-love couple spend the night apart?”

“A-hem!”

Latiné winked again at both Rodella and Aivert.  

‘Didn’t I do great?’

Rodella nodded enthusiastically.  

Aivert offered a crisp salute—full of gratitude.

Of course, the meaning of that “gratitude” was slightly different for each of them.