“Ah, so you’re suggesting that the Duchess of Biflten is lending her support to the Acid?” The ambiance of the lively banquet refused to settle down easily.
“No, no, I’ve heard the rumors. They claim that the Duchess herself made an appearance. Is it true?” Viscount Lloyd interjected abruptly, his curiosity getting the better of him. Viscount Arlen, standing by his side, wasted no time in responding.
“Oh, I witnessed it firsthand,” Arlen chimed in eagerly, as if he had been eagerly awaiting this moment to share his tale. “I heard the Duchess… no, the Duchess of Biflten introduced herself as ‘El’. She mentioned being the Northern Distribution Manager…”
As he spoke, Arlen stumbled over a particular name, something like El, a woman of high standing… or so he believed. His voice trailed off, leaving his audience intrigued.
Viscount Lloyd regarded him with a puzzled expression, yet Arlen’s mind was lost in contemplation, oblivious to the viscount’s gaze. Who could be the woman named ‘El’ elevated by the duchess to be introduced in such a manner?
His gaze shifted towards the Duchess of Biflten, and there, standing beside her, was another individual he distinctly remembered.
“Isn’t that man a prominent figure of Acid?” Viscount Lloyd inquired, his support directed towards the influential Lore upper ranks, who held sway over the central business district. Thanks to this connection, he possessed knowledge about the affairs of the merchants.
Arlen stole a glance at Milo’s face and nodded in affirmation. “It certainly appears so.”
“Indeed, the relationship between the Duchess of Biflten and the Acid…” The murmurs among the attendees swelled, becoming more audible and animated.
Milo, a member of the esteemed Acid, abandoned the facade of addressing the Duchess of Biflten as the “Northern Distribution Manager.” It was clear that the charade had been exposed. Subtle gestures of deference toward a person of higher standing were now unmistakable.
You must be a cruel father, Milo thought, to have mercilessly abandoned your daughter.
Duke Leon’s voice interrupted his thoughts as he approached them. Startled, both Viscount Lloyd and Arlen instinctively lowered their heads in deference.
“It is an honor to have this close encounter with you,” Arlen spoke, attempting to regain his composure.
“Why so formal in your greeting, as if it were our first meeting?” Duke Leon’s warm smile disarmed them.
Only then did Arlen realize that he ought to act as if he were Duke Leon’s vassal. Certainly, he should have exercised greater caution in his words, despite being an invited guest. It dawned upon him that Leon had deftly concealed his true emotions, contrary to what Arlen had initially believed.
Leon had launched an attack on the Acid, even calling Viscount Arlen as his vassal. If one of the upper ranks were to vanish, it would cause no harm to Duke Leon. However, if the entire foundation of the Acid were to crumble, it would be easier to extract Arlen’s daughter, the peculiar woman endowed with foresight, from within.
But the daughter was none other than the formidable Duchess of Biflten. It appeared that they would have to devise a more circuitous plan to achieve their goals.
“Why didn’t you introduce your beautiful daughter earlier?” Duke Leon’s voice carried a tinge of disappointment, his expression gentle. Yet, Arlen’s shoulders visibly tensed at his words.
“First, allow me to bring Ilyin here, to create a suitable setting,” Arlen replied, drawing confidence from his earlier conversation with Duke Leon.
“My daughter has always followed my guidance. If you were to engage her in conversation, I believe everything would fall into place,” he asserted, his conviction unwavering.
Indeed, wouldn’t it be more advantageous for Ilyin to marry into a noble family rather than wed a man from the upper ranks of a mere merchant company? Even if she wasn’t the firstborn, it would establish a marital connection with Duke Leon himself.
“I will persuade her to join us,” Arlen declared, his confidence momentarily restored. After all, in his mind, their opponent was merely a merchant at best. However, reality proved to be quite different, causing Arlen’s head to spin with intensity.
Duke Leon smiled and placed a reassuring hand on Arlen’s shoulder. “I heard she possesses enough knowledge to engage in delightful conversations, is that correct?” The mere mention of it sent chills down Arlen’s spine. He understood why Duke Leon chose to employ this indirect approach in their conversation.
Now that Ilyin had ascended as the Duchess of Biflten, assuming her position as the esteemed hostess of Biflten, it would be awkward for Duke Leon to openly discuss meeting her. Yet, by utilizing his role as a concerned father to create an opportunity, the dynamics shifted entirely.
“I’m looking forward to having a conversation,” Duke Leon’s gentle words served as a subtle invitation. Arlen found himself compelled to move closer to where Ilyin stood.
Ilyin was surrounded by members of the Biflten household, forming a protective formation akin to that of safeguarding a precious individual on the battlefield. The Duchess of Biflten stood faithfully by her side, while one of the three attendants displayed a noticeable vigilance towards their surroundings.
One of the attendants, resembling a maid, delicately tended to Ilyin’s hair, while another woman fetched a wine bottle directly from a passing servant’s silver tray, filling a glass with utmost care. As a nobleman, Arlen lacked the discernment to perceive the subtle wariness emanating from the maid holding the wine bottle. However, he did observe the profound respect exhibited by all four individuals standing in Ilyin’s immediate vicinity.
“Ilyin,” Arlen called out, causing a momentary falter in her voice.
“…Father,” she responded, her tone slightly uncertain. Arlen raised the corners of his mouth, mustering a smile.
“I sent a letter, but there was no response. Did you not receive it?” Arlen posed the question, aware that admitting its non-receipt would cast doubt upon the competence of the Acid.
“I received it.”
The conversation should have naturally progressed towards discussing the reasons behind her lack of response. However, Ilyin’s response abruptly ceased, leaving Arlen with a furrowed brow.
“I assume you were too occupied to compose a reply. Am I correct?” Arlen posed the question, awaiting Ilyin’s response. However, she remained silent, prompting Arlen to redirect his gaze towards what unfolded behind her. Duke Leon’s watchful eyes were fixed upon them.
Aware that Duke Leon’s line of sight did not encompass him, Arlen narrowed his eyes at Ilyin—a habitual gesture laden with meaning. It was an unspoken signal she had always understood, compelling her to bow her head and comply without question.
Yet, this time, something was different. Ilyin merely tightened her grip on her hand, defying the expectation of obedient submission. Her resolute demeanor caught the attention of those standing by her side, their whispered prayers undergoing a subtle shift.
“If you wish to meet with me, request an audience with the Duke and venture to the Biflten estate,” Ilyin declared, knowing full well that no foolish individual of lower rank would dare to grant such a request. She turned her head away, signaling her unwillingness to prolong the conversation.
Arlen was taken aback by her actions. It felt as though a different woman, someone other than his daughter, occupied the seat before him. Even in the presence of Duke Leon’s watchful gaze…! Arlen clenched his fists, his body trembling with a mixture of shock and indignation.
“…Very well. I understand that you must still be occupied. Perhaps we can arrange a personal meeting at a more opportune time,” Arlen stated, ensuring he preserved his dignity until the very end.
With those words, he turned his body and made his departure, determined not to let his composure falter.
“Ah, so you’re suggesting that the Duchess of Biflten is lending her support to the Acid?” The ambiance of the lively banquet refused to settle down easily.
“No, no, I’ve heard the rumors. They claim that the Duchess herself made an appearance. Is it true?” Viscount Lloyd interjected abruptly, his curiosity getting the better of him. Viscount Arlen, standing by his side, wasted no time in responding.
“Oh, I witnessed it firsthand,” Arlen chimed in eagerly, as if he had been eagerly awaiting this moment to share his tale. “I heard the Duchess… no, the Duchess of Biflten introduced herself as ‘El’. She mentioned being the Northern Distribution Manager…”
As he spoke, Arlen stumbled over a particular name, something like El, a woman of high standing… or so he believed. His voice trailed off, leaving his audience intrigued.
Viscount Lloyd regarded him with a puzzled expression, yet Arlen’s mind was lost in contemplation, oblivious to the viscount’s gaze. Who could be the woman named ‘El’ elevated by the duchess to be introduced in such a manner?
His gaze shifted towards the Duchess of Biflten, and there, standing beside her, was another individual he distinctly remembered.
“Isn’t that man a prominent figure of Acid?” Viscount Lloyd inquired, his support directed towards the influential Lore upper ranks, who held sway over the central business district. Thanks to this connection, he possessed knowledge about the affairs of the merchants.
Arlen stole a glance at Milo’s face and nodded in affirmation. “It certainly appears so.”
“Indeed, the relationship between the Duchess of Biflten and the Acid…” The murmurs among the attendees swelled, becoming more audible and animated.
Milo, a member of the esteemed Acid, abandoned the facade of addressing the Duchess of Biflten as the “Northern Distribution Manager.” It was clear that the charade had been exposed. Subtle gestures of deference toward a person of higher standing were now unmistakable.
You must be a cruel father, Milo thought, to have mercilessly abandoned your daughter.
Duke Leon’s voice interrupted his thoughts as he approached them. Startled, both Viscount Lloyd and Arlen instinctively lowered their heads in deference.
“It is an honor to have this close encounter with you,” Arlen spoke, attempting to regain his composure.
“Why so formal in your greeting, as if it were our first meeting?” Duke Leon’s warm smile disarmed them.
Only then did Arlen realize that he ought to act as if he were Duke Leon’s vassal. Certainly, he should have exercised greater caution in his words, despite being an invited guest. It dawned upon him that Leon had deftly concealed his true emotions, contrary to what Arlen had initially believed.
Leon had launched an attack on the Acid, even calling Viscount Arlen as his vassal. If one of the upper ranks were to vanish, it would cause no harm to Duke Leon. However, if the entire foundation of the Acid were to crumble, it would be easier to extract Arlen’s daughter, the peculiar woman endowed with foresight, from within.
But the daughter was none other than the formidable Duchess of Biflten. It appeared that they would have to devise a more circuitous plan to achieve their goals.
“Why didn’t you introduce your beautiful daughter earlier?” Duke Leon’s voice carried a tinge of disappointment, his expression gentle. Yet, Arlen’s shoulders visibly tensed at his words.
“First, allow me to bring Ilyin here, to create a suitable setting,” Arlen replied, drawing confidence from his earlier conversation with Duke Leon.
“My daughter has always followed my guidance. If you were to engage her in conversation, I believe everything would fall into place,” he asserted, his conviction unwavering.
Indeed, wouldn’t it be more advantageous for Ilyin to marry into a noble family rather than wed a man from the upper ranks of a mere merchant company? Even if she wasn’t the firstborn, it would establish a marital connection with Duke Leon himself.
“I will persuade her to join us,” Arlen declared, his confidence momentarily restored. After all, in his mind, their opponent was merely a merchant at best. However, reality proved to be quite different, causing Arlen’s head to spin with intensity.
Duke Leon smiled and placed a reassuring hand on Arlen’s shoulder. “I heard she possesses enough knowledge to engage in delightful conversations, is that correct?” The mere mention of it sent chills down Arlen’s spine. He understood why Duke Leon chose to employ this indirect approach in their conversation.
Now that Ilyin had ascended as the Duchess of Biflten, assuming her position as the esteemed hostess of Biflten, it would be awkward for Duke Leon to openly discuss meeting her. Yet, by utilizing his role as a concerned father to create an opportunity, the dynamics shifted entirely.
“I’m looking forward to having a conversation,” Duke Leon’s gentle words served as a subtle invitation. Arlen found himself compelled to move closer to where Ilyin stood.
Ilyin was surrounded by members of the Biflten household, forming a protective formation akin to that of safeguarding a precious individual on the battlefield. The Duchess of Biflten stood faithfully by her side, while one of the three attendants displayed a noticeable vigilance towards their surroundings.
One of the attendants, resembling a maid, delicately tended to Ilyin’s hair, while another woman fetched a wine bottle directly from a passing servant’s silver tray, filling a glass with utmost care. As a nobleman, Arlen lacked the discernment to perceive the subtle wariness emanating from the maid holding the wine bottle. However, he did observe the profound respect exhibited by all four individuals standing in Ilyin’s immediate vicinity.
“Ilyin,” Arlen called out, causing a momentary falter in her voice.
“…Father,” she responded, her tone slightly uncertain. Arlen raised the corners of his mouth, mustering a smile.
“I sent a letter, but there was no response. Did you not receive it?” Arlen posed the question, aware that admitting its non-receipt would cast doubt upon the competence of the Acid.
“I received it.”
The conversation should have naturally progressed towards discussing the reasons behind her lack of response. However, Ilyin’s response abruptly ceased, leaving Arlen with a furrowed brow.
“I assume you were too occupied to compose a reply. Am I correct?” Arlen posed the question, awaiting Ilyin’s response. However, she remained silent, prompting Arlen to redirect his gaze towards what unfolded behind her. Duke Leon’s watchful eyes were fixed upon them.
Aware that Duke Leon’s line of sight did not encompass him, Arlen narrowed his eyes at Ilyin—a habitual gesture laden with meaning. It was an unspoken signal she had always understood, compelling her to bow her head and comply without question.
Yet, this time, something was different. Ilyin merely tightened her grip on her hand, defying the expectation of obedient submission. Her resolute demeanor caught the attention of those standing by her side, their whispered prayers undergoing a subtle shift.
“If you wish to meet with me, request an audience with the Duke and venture to the Biflten estate,” Ilyin declared, knowing full well that no foolish individual of lower rank would dare to grant such a request. She turned her head away, signaling her unwillingness to prolong the conversation.
Arlen was taken aback by her actions. It felt as though a different woman, someone other than his daughter, occupied the seat before him. Even in the presence of Duke Leon’s watchful gaze…! Arlen clenched his fists, his body trembling with a mixture of shock and indignation.
“…Very well. I understand that you must still be occupied. Perhaps we can arrange a personal meeting at a more opportune time,” Arlen stated, ensuring he preserved his dignity until the very end.
With those words, he turned his body and made his departure, determined not to let his composure falter.
