Chapter 16
After putting Vendy firmly in his place, Aileen’s steps toward the palace felt noticeably lighter. More and more knights were approaching her with friendliness, and after observing Cylas and Siran’s swordsmanship up close, she had found new insights—making her even more eager to train.
“My lady, the Duke is asking for you.”
Just as she was enjoying a rare moment of quiet, sipping her tea, Sera approached to deliver the message.
“What for?”
“I’m not sure. But… it seems the Duchess is there too.”
What’s going on now? Aileen tilted her head curiously. It hadn’t been long since her father reentered central politics—was something already happening?
Draining her tea in one gulp, she rose and made her way to where the Duke of Revart awaited.
“My daughter, you’re here!”
The Duke stood up as soon as she entered, his expression lighting up.
“You called for me?”
Aileen asked calmly as she took a seat on the sofa across from her parents. The Duke plopped back into his seat, and the Duchess quietly raised a teacup to her lips, a gentle smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
“You’ve been so busy lately, it’s been hard to see your face,”
The Duke said, his eyebrows drooping in mock sorrow.
“You’ve been just as busy, Father. I heard you’ve been tied up discussing matters with His Majesty about the northern tribes.”
“Was it Ashite who told you that?”
“Who else would it be?”
The Duke groaned softly, then fell quiet—his expression turning serious, as though preparing to say something important.
But despite his determined look, he hesitated to speak. Eventually, Aileen prompted him.
“I’m a knight now, Father. I’ll find out eventually, so I’d rather hear it from you than from someone else. Please tell me.”
He couldn’t resist his beloved daughter. After a moment’s pause, he tapped the table with his finger and finally began.
“There’s something odd going on lately. The new leader of the northern tribal union—a young chief named Santinu—is… unpredictable.”
“…”
“By now, they should’ve attacked already, but it’s strangely quiet. From what we’ve gathered, it seems he may want peace with the Empire, but we can’t be sure.”
“…”
“Even if that’s his intention, we don’t know how the other tribes feel.”
The northern tribes were a coalition state bordering nearly three-quarters of the Empire. Since ancient times, harsh winters and barren lands had forced them into frequent raids for food. They operated under a unique system where six tribal leaders would rotate annually to take charge of the union—and depending on which tribe held the mantle, the Empire’s confrontations with them varied in form.
This time, the leader was from the Nitu tribe—warriors who favored swords. That made them more similar to the Empire and, comparatively, easier to deal with.
“Still better than that old crone, Zivita,”
The Duke muttered with a shudder, shaking his head at the memory.
“The Tanil tribe is full of shamans. They’re a nightmare to deal with—so eerie.”
The Tanil tribe was unique among the six in that its leaders were always women, passing their authority down matrilineally. And what made them especially troublesome was their devotion to forbidden sorcery.
While sorcery didn’t tip the scales of war singlehandedly, it was more than enough to bridge the power gap between the technologically superior Empire and the tribes. Unlike southern nations that had long abandoned such practices, the northern tribes still believed in offering sacrifices and channeling magic. From summoning fireballs to raising the undead or casting curses—none of it was easy to deal with.
“Anyway, the current calm is a good thing. But since no one knows what they’ll do next, His Majesty is considering reinforcing the army.”
“…”
“You won’t be sent to the front lines, Aileen, so don’t worry.”
“I’m not the one who’s worried. You are.”
She ended the sentence playfully. The Duke cleared his throat, embarrassed, and changed the subject.
“That aside—His Majesty has tasked Marquis Hessiden with resolving last month’s fire at the western vineyard estate.”
“The vineyard fire?”
“Yes. His Majesty has ordered the Marquis to cover the damages.”
The Duke looked particularly satisfied as he said this. Even the Duchess, though elegantly sipping tea, couldn’t quite hide the amused twitch of her lips.
One of Marquis Hessiden’s pet ventures was in wine sales. Wine, though inexpensive and popular among commoners, made up for its low price in sheer volume—yielding steady profit.
The problem had begun with the fire.
A serious blaze had broken out at the vineyard supplying grapes for wine production.
As a result, a significant portion of the crop was lost—meaning far less wine would be available in the market this year.
“I bet the Marquis isn’t thrilled about this. Not that I want to take his side, but if I were him, I’d probably push back too.”
“His Majesty did offer to extend one of the Marquis’ business monopolies in return. The extension is only a fraction of the usual term, though. The Marquis hesitated for a while but eventually accepted.”
“Knowing His Majesty, I doubt it’s a highly profitable business.”
“Exactly. That’s why it was offered. Of course, it was less an offer than a demand.”
“His Majesty must really be at odds with Marquis Hessiden.”
“When were they ever on good terms?”
The Duke chuckled gleefully.
The Duchess, who had been silently listening, gently tapped her husband’s arm and smiled softly.
The scale of the vineyard fire had been quite severe. Matching demand without increasing prices was almost impossible. Demand remained the same, but with supply reduced, prices were bound to go up.
If wine prices rose too high, only the wealthy—merchants or nobles—would be able to enjoy it.
Ordinary people, who often ended their day with a modest cup of wine, would no longer be able to afford that small happiness.
Yet not raising the prices wasn’t an option either. The vineyard owner had already suffered a heavy loss. If not compensated, the wages of everyone working under him would also shrink.
To bridge that gap, the Emperor had essentially ordered the Marquis to bear the burden.
If the Marquis absorbed the financial blow, wine prices wouldn’t have to rise dramatically, and both the market and producers could maintain relative stability.
In the past, the Emperor likely wouldn’t have made such a direct demand—even with their rocky relationship. Pushing a powerful noble like Marquis Hessiden too far served no benefit.
But now, the situation was different. The Duke of Revart had chosen to stand with the Emperor.
With that shift, many nobles had begun leaning toward the imperial faction, creating a growing foundation of support—and, more importantly, a solid counterbalance to the Marquis’ growing influence.
“The Marquis’ power has already grown too much. The amount of coin passing through his hands isn’t something to overlook. From here on, His Majesty will be keeping a much closer eye on him.”
A flicker of barely-contained fire crossed the Duke’s hardened expression before fading.
“But enough business talk. Esilly, didn’t you say you had something to mention to Aileen?”
The Duke gently placed his hand atop the Duchess’ folded hands and turned the conversation.
“I didn’t want to interrupt.”
“I’ve said all I needed. You go ahead.”
The Duke of Revart adored his wife. From mundane details of his day to the broader state of imperial affairs, he shared everything with her.
So naturally, the Duchess already knew all about the vineyard fire and its implications. She had simply listened quietly, letting the conversation flow.
Aileen watched her parents with a curious expression. The Duchess, sensing her gaze, brushed aside her husband’s hand and turned to her daughter.
“Aileen, you’ve been quite immersed in your work with the Order lately.”
“It’s been a while since I’ve felt this motivated. I guess I’m just enjoying it.”
“It’s good to see you doing what you love. But I do worry that you might pick up too much of those rough knights’ ways.”
Though the Duke and Duchess generally respected Aileen’s choices, they were still nobles at heart.
The Duchess had been one of the first to support Aileen’s path as a knight—but that didn’t mean she approved of her daughter sacrificing the dignity expected of a noble lady.
Aileen understood her mother’s concerns. So she simply waited for her to continue.
“I know you’re not fond of these things, but… how about attending Lady Tales’ garden party with me? It’s in two weekends.”
“…”
“Only if you’re up for it, of course.”
“I’ll come. Let’s go together, Mother.”
The reply came quickly and without hesitation. The Duchess blinked, briefly surprised, then smiled.
“You’ll be returning to the palace the day after tomorrow. So tomorrow, go to the dressmaker with Sera and have something tailored.”
“…”
“Styles have changed again recently. And I want my Aileen to shine the brightest.”
With her mother putting it that way, there was no room to decline.
Aileen knew very well this was all part of her mother’s strategic pressure. But she accepted it without complaint—after all, it was thanks to the Duchess that her return to the capital had gone so smoothly.
“Alright, Mother.”
“Oh, and if you need a new sword or sparring gear, get it while you’re there.”
The Duchess smiled, raising her teacup again with unmatched grace.
