Chapter 64: – The Prince and the Noble Lady
The only sound was the quiet turning of pages.
Flip.
Flip.
The rhythm continued at steady intervals.
His eyes followed the words, carefully digesting the knowledge and stories woven from them.
Reading slowly, savoring every line, was a luxury beyond compare.
In the past, most of his reading had consisted of military strategy, history, and statecraft.
He crammed information into his head relentlessly, forcing it in through sheer effort.
He had studied desperately, as though being chased.
When he had first been confined to the VIP prison, anxiety and despair had alternated endlessly.
Only shame filled his heart.
His spirit had sunk to its lowest point.
But eventually that despair transformed into resignation and regret.
He resolved himself to quietly accept the consequences of his actions.
His appetite vanished.
His motivation disappeared.
He spent his days staring blankly around the narrow room.
At first, his mother, Meserin, came to visit.
She lamented what had happened and blamed Lucas.
Yet there was no concern for her son in those tears.
Only self-pity.
Making Lucas Crown Prince had been her lifelong ambition.
If that happened, Meserin would become the Mother of the Nation.
Some time later, slipping past surveillance as quietly as possible, an unexpected visitor appeared.
His half-brother, Leold.
Though Leold had received punishment as well, it was nowhere near as severe as Lucas’s.
Beneath his sarcastic remarks and cynical glances lingered unmistakable concern.
His visits were always brief.
He never stayed long.
After exchanging a few words, he would carefully select and leave behind information Lucas would want to know.
The direction of Lucas’s future treatment.
The baron’s daughter Lenaria, whom Lucas had loved to the point of obsession.
Meserin’s activities after she stopped visiting.
And the schemes of Graham, once one of Lucas’s closest retainers.
Because Lucas was isolated within the VIP prison, such information was difficult for him to obtain.
Leold quietly provided it piece by piece.
Those who had once praised Lucas as the First Prince vanished the moment his position in the line of succession plummeted to the bottom among King Lauzes’s direct descendants.
They turned their backs and left.
At first, the betrayal angered him.
Now, however, he found it oddly refreshing.
He had wanted to become Crown Prince.
Perhaps his obsession had only grown stronger because Lenaria constantly insisted:
“Lord Lucas is going to be Crown Prince!”
It was less insight and more misunderstanding on her part.
Once he gained free time, he initially struggled with boredom.
Recently, however, that had changed.
Lately he had immersed himself in reading.
It was one of the few hobbies available within the prison.
Count Kreutz was an obsessive collector of books.
Magic tomes.
Historical records.
Fairy tales.
Myths.
Even romance novels popular among young women.
And adventure stories beloved by children.
Lucas had rarely read fiction before, aside from heroic epics and myths tied to national origins.
Yet even among those, regional variations fascinated him.
Comparing them to historical records often revealed political influences.
Religious beliefs.
Regional traditions.
The differences were subtle but intriguing.
The most obvious example was how a deity regarded as an evil god in one country might be revered as a benevolent god in another.
The reasons always lay in the people who lived there.
For example, the Kingdom of Goyuran was dry and filled with deserts.
Naturally, spirits and gods associated with water were treated as forces of good.
The Sun God was absolute and powerful.
Sometimes cruel.
The Moon was portrayed as a gentle and compassionate goddess.
Meanwhile, in coastal regions, water was both a blessing and a merciless force.
Stories always reflected the lives of those who told them.
They were adapted to resonate with local people.
When Lucas shared this observation, Leold’s eyes lit up.
His younger brother apparently possessed extensive knowledge on such subjects as well.
Sometimes Lucas wondered whether Leold visited him more for the books than for him.
Apparently, Leold disliked Count Kreutz quite intensely.
Certainly, the count resembled Duke Latitche greatly.
After all, he was the duke’s younger brother.
Yet the atmosphere surrounding them was entirely different.
Lucas had feared him at first.
But after several meetings, he gradually came to understand the man.
Count Kreutz was capable.
Humorous.
Quick-witted.
Gentle and loyal.
Well-connected.
Many nobles were selfish.
Kreutz was not.
In fact, he lacked ambition almost entirely.
If anything, he was a family man.
Whenever the topic arose, he would laugh bitterly and admit he simply wanted to return home to his family.
With a little effort, he could easily earn a higher title.
He was highly competent, skilled with people, and greatly valued by Duke Latitche.
Despite his close ties to House Latitche, even members of House Fortuna never antagonized him.
That alone spoke volumes about his character.
The reason such a man remained in the capital was because of the chaos Lucas had caused.
The political landscape had shifted.
Numerous nobles had been punished.
New appointments required careful management.
Though Count Kreutz preferred a quiet life in the countryside, his reputation for fairness and competence dragged him back into public service.
Furthermore, he was one of the few people capable of criticizing Duke Latitche without being crushed.
Countless terrified individuals had written letters.
Some begged.
Some groveled.
Some even resorted to tears.
Eventually they practically dragged him to the capital.
One could argue he had drawn the shortest straw imaginable.
Whenever he visited Lucas, exhaustion was written all over his face.
More than half the time he looked ten years older.
Even though he resembled Duke Latitche physically, those weary expressions constantly reminded Lucas that Count Kreutz was profoundly human.
Duke Latitche, by contrast, was so beautiful and ageless he seemed almost otherworldly.
“Your Highness Lucas, Lady Almandine has arrived.”
“…Show her in.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“She has also brought flowers as a gift. Where would you like them placed?”
“In the study.”
“As you wish.”
The knight bowed respectfully, though somewhat coldly, before departing.
After asking his father to allow him to begin his studies anew, Lucas’s collection of books had steadily expanded.
Alongside textbooks came volumes collected purely for enjoyment.
At this rate, Count Kreutz had joked that either the floor would collapse beneath the weight of the bookshelves or the study would become completely buried.
The count had apparently experienced something similar himself.
Naturally, Lucas still lacked access to highly sensitive state documents.
Even so, broadening his reading had allowed him to view matters from many different perspectives.
Knowledge truly enriched a person.
He understood that now.
As though trying to reclaim lost years, Lucas devoted himself to study.
Massaging his tired eyes, he let out a quiet sigh.
The Lady Almandine in question was, of course, his fiancée.
Vivian von Almandine.
Golden curls.
Eyes like blue sapphires.
A beauty of overwhelming presence.
A fair-skinned noble lady of exceptional elegance.
Born into one of the Four Great Ducal Houses, she possessed one of the highest pedigrees among noble ladies close to Lucas’s age.
If ranked purely by status, Albertina Latitche would naturally occupy first place.
And among royals, Princess Elmedia still held noble standing.
Though that was virtually her only strength.
Vivian was graceful.
Intelligent.
Diligent.
Influential in high society.
Dedicated to her education as a future princess consort.
A true lady in every sense.
And one of the greatest victims of Lucas’s mistakes.
While infatuated with Lenaria, he had treated Vivian terribly.
All because she had repeatedly attempted to correct him.
He remembered that clearly.
He had sent flowers.
Letters of apology.
Many attempts at reconciliation.
No reply ever came.
Given his past behavior, she would be entirely justified in despising him.
Vivian was everything a noble lady should be.
Yet Lucas had slandered her unfairly.
Not once.
Not twice.
Many times.
She had never looked away.
Always meeting his gaze directly.
Always trying to guide him back to reason.
Back then, he thought her boring.
Proper.
Proud.
A typical noblewoman.
He had grown tired of her lofty demeanor.
Now he understood.
Almost no one else had been willing to confront him.
Some had simply abandoned him.
Swallowing his bitterness, Lucas stood and took a deep breath.
At first, he had despised this prison.
It felt cramped and impoverished.
Recently, however, he had begun appreciating its simplicity.
No matter how one looked at it, it was still a prison.
Even a VIP prison remained far humbler than royal reception rooms.
Yet when Vivian sat upon the leather sofa, back perfectly straight, she transformed the entire room.
Simply by being there.
“Your Highness Lucas.”
“It has been some time.”
“I am delighted to see you again.”
Her refined movements were as flawless as ever.
Watching her perform a graceful curtsy stirred a strange nostalgia within him.
Lifting her skirt.
Bowing elegantly.
The motion seemed simple.
It was not.
For noblewomen, it was an essential social skill.
One that could determine their standing among peers.
“Indeed, it has.”
“I hope you have been well—”
Lucas paused.
“No.”
“I am hardly in a position to ask that.”
“You must have endured much because of me.”
“I know apologies alone cannot make amends.”
“But I would still like to apologize.”
“No, Your Highness.”
“I have already received sufficient apologies.”
“From His Majesty as well.”
So the letters had reached her.
Yet hearing her say she needed no more apologies only reinforced the feeling that it was too late.
As a future Crown Princess, Vivian had endured immense pressure.
From House Almandine.
From Queen Meserin.
From every direction.
Lucas could easily imagine it.
“No.”
“I must apologize personally.”
“Not as a prince.”
“But as Lucas.”
“Whether you choose to forgive me is entirely your decision.”
“Perhaps this is selfish.”
“But I must acknowledge that my actions hurt you.”
“And I believe I owe you a proper apology.”
“…Your Highness.”
Vivian’s voice trembled.
Unlike her usual composed self.
For the first time, Lucas heard weakness there.
He lowered his head.
Deeply.
“I am sorry.”
“Lady Vivian von Almandine.”
“Your words were correct.”
“Yet instead of correcting myself, I criticized you.”
“I repeatedly damaged your standing.”
Princes rarely apologized.
Even public apologies were uncommon.
Personal apologies were rarer still.
He remained bowed for several moments.
Eventually, Vivian spoke hesitantly.
“Please.”
“Please raise your head, Your Highness.”
When he did, he found her staring at him helplessly.
As though she had no idea how to respond.
The ironclad smile she usually wore was gone.
Instead, she looked like an ordinary girl her age.
“I apologize.”
“It seems this was merely self-indulgence.”
“I never intended to trouble you.”
Vivian was far too polite to demand an apology from a prince.
Even one who had fallen so far.
Though they had been engaged for years, Lucas realized there had always been a distance between them.
“No, Your Highness.”
“Your words are more than enough.”
“Simply knowing that my advice reached you…”
“That you understood it…”
“That alone makes everything worthwhile.”
Tears glistened in her blue eyes.
Her awkward smile was breathtakingly beautiful.
The usual stern Vivian seemed like a different person.
Fragile.
Yet dazzling.
For the first time, Lucas felt as though he had truly met Vivian.
Not the duke’s daughter.
Not his fiancée.
Not a noble constrained by rank.
Just Vivian herself.
Guilt rose within him.
So did another emotion.
Something warm.
Something painful.
Yet reason immediately buried it.
He recognized the feelings hidden behind her tearful gaze.
And because he recognized them…
He knew he must never respond.
It was too late.
Anything else would only bring Vivian suffering.
Spilled milk could never be recovered.
“I heard you brought flowers.”
“Thank you.”
“I can see a little of the garden through the window.”
“But it has been a long time since I enjoyed their fragrance.”
“I am glad if they can bring you comfort.”
“The orange roses I brought today are considered especially beautiful, even by my family’s standards.”
“Then I look forward to them.”
“I plan to place them in my study.”
“It’s terribly dull otherwise.”
Blushing slightly, Vivian smiled shyly.
Lucas returned her smile.
Despite being a prison, the room filled with warm conversation.
Neither of them realized it.
But now that Lucas had been removed from the brutal succession struggle, much of the tension surrounding him had vanished.
Vivian’s own nerves relaxed in response.
Before, they had constantly worried about appearances.
Who might see.
Who might hear.
Any mistake could become a scandal.
Now, things were different.
Lucas also knew that Queen Meserin stubbornly refused to dissolve his engagement with Vivian.
House Almandine, however, gained little from marrying their daughter to a prince who had effectively lost his claim to the throne.
Even if they lowered her status, they could likely secure a more advantageous match elsewhere.
Perhaps even with a younger noble.
Vivian was already seventeen.
Only one year remained before graduation.
In noble society, women usually married earlier than men.
By this age, most advantageous engagements had already been arranged.
Realistically, few desirable prospects remained.
Good families arranged engagements early.
And the best candidates were fiercely contested.
Exceptions existed.
Men like Count Domitrius.
Or Kishtaria Latitche.
Neither had fiancées.
Both were enormously popular.
Yet everyone understood that Duke Latitche held ultimate authority over their marriages.
House Domitrius had nearly collapsed years ago due to illness within the family.
Duke Latitche had rescued them.
Funding.
Connections.
Business partnerships.
Guidance.
Everything.
Thanks to Mikaelis’s efforts and the duke’s support, the house flourished once more.
If Duke Latitche personally recommended a bride, refusing would be nearly impossible.
As for Kishtaria, Duke Latitche’s decision alone would determine his marriage.
Lucas suspected Duke Almandine would love to marry Vivian to either man.
Both were talented.
Both had ignored Lenaria completely.
Yet while they treated Vivian respectfully, their relationships remained strictly formal.
Truthfully, Vivian should not have been visiting Lucas anymore.
Yet seeing her smile so softly made it impossible for him to say so.
The Vivian he remembered always wore a noblewoman’s mask.
Strict.
Composed.
Distant.
If he was not being arrogant…
She cared for him far more deeply than mere duty required.
“Your Highness.”
“Lady Almandine.”
“Your allotted time has nearly expired.”
The guard’s voice pulled Lucas back to reality.
A mixture of regret, guilt, and relief washed through him.
“Oh my.”
“Has so much time already passed?”
“It seems so.”
“Thank you for coming.”
“I would escort you further if I could.”
“But the best I can offer is the doorway.”
He extended his hand.
Vivian blinked in surprise.
After a brief hesitation, she placed her delicate fingers into his.
Even accounting for their former engagement, her hesitation revealed how deeply his past behavior had wounded her.
The realization filled him with disgust.
Not toward her.
Toward himself.
As they walked toward the door, Lucas carefully concealed his inner turmoil.
“Please return safely.”
“The palace has been rather chaotic lately.”
“…About that, Your Highness.”
Vivian’s expression darkened.
“What happened?”
Lowering his voice, Lucas asked quietly.
Vivian nodded.
“Do you remember Lady Albertina Latitche?”
“Of course.”
“Albertina von Latitche.”
“If the opportunity ever arises, I would like to apologize to her as well.”
“Though whether Duke Latitche would permit such a thing is another matter entirely.”
“I suppose persistence is my only option.”
Lucas remembered perfectly how disgracefully he had treated her.
Albertina was the daughter of Duke Latitche’s late wife, Christina.
Christina had been Lucas’s cousin.
A woman famed for her beauty.
Though he barely knew her, many said Albertina resembled her greatly.
Lucas had seen portraits of Princess Sistina.
Golden hair.
The Eyes of the Royal Family.
Extraordinary beauty.
Albertina shared much of that elegance, despite inheriting her father’s coloring.
“Lady Albertina has been revealed to possess the Eyes of the Royal Family.”
“…What?”
“Wait.”
“If memory serves, her eyes were blue.”
Even after years of royal training, Lucas couldn’t keep the shock from his voice.
He never doubted Vivian.
Unlike Graham.
Unlike Lenaria.
Vivian had always been sincere.
Always honest.
Recently, Leold had reported that Graham refused even to listen anymore.
The situation was becoming increasingly indefensible.
Lucas had already warned the king that Graham might flee.
Though he suspected King Lauzes was already aware.
After all, Duke Latitche stood behind him.
“She apparently used a magical artifact to conceal them.”
“During the recent gathering at House Latitche…”
“Or perhaps it was a tea party…”
“A large group of attackers infiltrated the estate.”
“And one of their objectives was her assassination.”
“…That is a serious incident.”
“Fortunately, Duke Latitche was away on another campaign.”
“Lady Latine and Lord Kishtaria hosted the event in his place.”
“It was also intended to celebrate the recent crackdown on slave trafficking.”
“Slavery.”
“No matter how often we suppress it, it never disappears.”
“In Goyuran, many have built fortunes through the slave trade.”
“With increasing trade in spices and textiles, it was only a matter of time.”
“Indeed.”
“This was apparently the largest operation in years.”
“Numerous nobles and merchants from our own kingdom were implicated.”
“Along with slaves, large quantities of contraband were seized.”
A depressing reality.
The quality of the nobility had declined in recent years.
As a result, competent people worked harder while incompetents gathered together and committed crimes.
Duke Latitche continued purging the worst offenders.
Yet even he couldn’t solve everything alone.
People called him a monster.
A demon king.
And he certainly inspired fear.
Yet surprisingly, he cared little for prejudice.
He valued ability above all else.
Aside from his beloved daughter, everyone else was little more than background noise.
He was dangerous.
Like a powerful medicine.
But in the right circumstances, there was no one more valuable.
Difficult.
Temperamental.
Hard to handle.
Some mocked King Lauzes as mediocre.
Yet Lucas increasingly suspected otherwise.
Managing a man as terrifying and capable as Duke Latitche without ever earning his genuine wrath was an achievement few could appreciate.
Though the royal family often angered the duke, Lauzes himself rarely seemed to.
Likewise, Duke Latitche treated Queen Meserin and Queen Ophir harshly.
He was severe with Lucas as well.
Yet never quite the same with the king.
Despite appearances, perhaps they got along rather well.
“Fortunately, Lady Albertina survived.”
“And that was when her royal eyes were revealed?”
“Yes.”
“However, Duke Fortuna escorted her to the palace.”
“I heard she was deeply shaken.”
“Now she remains secluded within Vayu Palace.”
“A sheltered young noblewoman, then.”
“Such an experience would leave anyone traumatized.”
After the academy incident and an assassination attempt at home, it was hardly surprising.
Having one’s own residence invaded by enemies would destroy any sense of safety.
“Your Highness…”
“Are you concerned about Lady Latitche?”
“I would be lying if I said otherwise.”
“I am still a prince.”
“Both as a servant of the kingdom and as an individual.”
“I owe her an apology.”
“Her opinion of the royal family must already be abysmal.”
A daughter of that bloodline.
Possessing the Eyes of the Royal Family.
The succession order would undoubtedly be overturned.
Yet Lucas could not imagine Duke Latitche surrendering his beloved daughter willingly.
The royal family and House Latitche might very well clash.
And honestly…
Lucas suspected the royal family would lose.
“That isn’t what I meant…”
“I do not desire her.”
“I am in no position to say such things.”
“To be honest, I am tired of power struggles.”
“My mother will undoubtedly try to bring her into our faction.”
“But that would only deepen our disgrace.”
“I refuse to sink that low.”
“I see.”
Relief flickered across Vivian’s face.
“If my mother approaches you, think first of yourself.”
“And of House Almandine.”
“I do not wish to burden you any further.”
“Please tell your father the same.”
The meaning behind those words struck Vivian immediately.
“Your Highness!”
“I have no intention of breaking our engagement!”
“There is no need for you to share my punishment.”
“Your words may have sounded harsh at times.”
“But you were right.”
“Everyone knows that now.”
“Your Highness…”
“I am sorry.”
“Lady Vivian von Almandine.”
“You are a noble lady of extraordinary grace, beauty, and dignity.”
“Far too good for me.”
“Now go.”
“There is nothing here that can bring you happiness.”
Carrying feelings he could not express, Lucas gazed at her.
He never noticed how much affection filled her eyes.
The door closed.
For a while, he could still sense her presence lingering outside.
Only after it finally disappeared did he place a hand against the door.
Resting his forehead against it, he released a long breath.
Everything was too late.
Lenaria.
Albertina.
Vivian.
Driven mad by fleeting passion, he had lost sight of what truly mattered.
He had disrupted the order he was meant to protect.
Grinding his teeth, Lucas wondered why he always realized things only after it was far too late.