Chapter 77

When the emperor asked if he remembered Patricia, Daniel answered calmly, "No, Your Majesty. I don’t remember."

If the emperor had simply asked if he knew Patricia, he would have answered affirmatively. After all, he knew the name of the Countess of Bütein, the emperor’s mistress. However, the question about remembering left only one answer: he did not. There was no reason for her to be etched in his memory. When Daniel showed no intention of picking up the tea, Frieda subtly pushed the teacup toward him. The familiar scent of herbs from the castle of Mühnheim wafted from the cup.

"Daniel?"

Frieda glanced around and called him softly. As soon as their eyes met, Frieda smiled. "Drink it before it gets cold."

Daniel obediently lifted the teacup and took a sip, then set it back on the table. His expectant, bright purple eyes were still filled with Daniel.

"How does it taste? Is the aroma good?"

The taste of tea was all the same; there was nothing particularly good or bad about it. Instead of giving a meaningless compliment, he gently lifted the corners of his mouth. It seemed to be the answer she wanted. Satisfied with his faint smile, Frieda beamed and lifted her own teacup.

‘Thank goodness.’

Her words, quietly held in her mouth, seemed to echo in his ear. Daniel’s lips curved a little higher. He knew Leopold was observing him, but he didn’t care. He might even have preferred it to be openly revealed. He intended to make a clear warning: if Leopold was preparing some unfunny joke as usual, he would have to bet everything.

‘I’m willing to bet everything too.’

Turning his head, Daniel met Leopold’s gaze, who was watching him over the teacup. The cold blue eyes that young Daniel once desperately wanted to have were looking at him. Leopold, who had been sipping tea with a composed and dignified posture, slightly relaxed his lips.

"Patricia would be greatly disappointed. She seemed to be looking forward to seeing you."

Leopold set his teacup on the table and chuckled, glancing at Frieda. Despite not showing it outwardly, the mutual wariness and cold animosity could not be completely hidden. Two fierce beasts sitting side by side, yet displaying such innocent expressions.

‘That’s why I keep wanting to play tricks on you.’ Leopold beckoned to Count Binderman.

"Since the topic came up, we should call Patricia to taste the tea."

The magnanimity of bringing his first love directly in front of his mistress. Wasn’t he truly deserving of the adjective ‘merciful’? He bit the tender flesh inside his mouth to suppress a chuckle.

"You’ll recognize her as soon as you see her. She used to visit Schendal Castle frequently, just to catch a glimpse of you, like the other young ladies."

Leopold winked at Frieda.

"She was in love with you, our brother. Ha ha. Even before marriage, you were quite popular, Daniel. Sebastian, go and call Patricia..."

"Forgive me, Your Majesty."

Just as Leopold was about to give instructions to Count Binderman, Daniel’s low, calm voice interrupted him.

"May I, a humble servant of the empire, make a request to the sun of the empire, Your Majesty?"

"A request?"

It was an unfamiliar word, enough to make Leopold unconsciously frown. A request from Daniel? When was the last time he heard this word from him?

‘Ah! That was it.’

The day came to mind.

"Mr. Leopold, please save my mother. I beg you. Please persuade the duchess."

Long ago, on the day his mother suddenly declared she would kill Lady Laura. A few days after Leopold’s severe cough had finally subsided, leaving him feeling weak. The day he learned his mother had been using digitalis poison on his father for a long time. The day he heard that she was so poisoned that she would soon die. The day he felt deeply disgusted when told it was all for his future. Anyway, what did he answer to Daniel’s request? Tapping his fingers on the armrest, he tried to recall, but it was hazy and unclear.

"My wife is the only duchess of the once-great Rihard family, which also bore the name of Your Majesty."

Hearing the phrase ‘once-great Rihard family’ from Daniel’s mouth, Leopold struggled to suppress his lips from twisting in mockery. Despite receiving the title of a great family without a word of gratitude, he now acted so pretentiously. What was he trying to say with such a grand introduction? Curious, Leopold closed his mouth and listened to Daniel.

"Treat her with the proper etiquette befitting that name."

Swallowing hard, Frieda was tense. Her husband usually spoke with a serious face, regardless of the other person’s feelings. But this... it was dangerously close. It was as if...

"Brother, your words imply that I did not treat the duchess with proper respect."

‘My words, indeed.’ Daniel was essentially pointing out the emperor’s rudeness outright. Leopold, who had been staring intently at Daniel, shifted his gaze to Frieda.

"If you say so, I must have shown great disrespect to the duchess."

His lips were smiling, but his eyes were not.

"No, Your Majesty."

Frieda, unable to grasp her husband’s intentions, stared at Daniel, forgetting to blink. The man who had turned the room’s temperature to winter was still as calm as ever.

"As you well know, the Sveergen royal family has been sustained by the bloodline of the ‘Twelve Dukes,’ descendants of the first emperor, Karl I."

Thanks to his father, Duke Bruno Rihard’s stubbornness, Daniel, despite being a bastard, received the same education as Leopold. On the day he learned about the history of the empire and the family from a tutor selected by his father, he felt a sense of pride at being part of such a great family. He didn’t know then that he would see so much bloodshed for dreams he shouldn’t have had and things he shouldn’t have seen.

"There are now four surviving families of the Twelve Dukes. Excluding Her Majesty the Empress and Her Majesty the Empress Dowager, my wife, the Duchess Rihard, is the third in rank among women in the empire."

The name ‘Rihard’ and the title of duchess were cumbersome and gave Daniel no thrill. But if they meant something to Frieda, he would live up to them from now on. As a great noble of the empire, ‘Daniel Johannes Rihard.’

"None of the families, including von Haim, Reiningen, or Weyzen, can surpass the Rihard family, which was once part of Your Majesty’s family. Am I wrong?"

Daniel asked calmly, staring directly at Leopold. His eyes carried a silent pressure, demanding that Leopold, as the emperor, clearly define Frieda’s position. The question also implied a request to elevate the Rihard family above the other three.

Leopold, who had been meeting Daniel’s challenging gaze, let out a bitter smile.

‘You know everything, yet you ask? Sly bastard.’

Leopold knew he would never place the Rihard family below the other three, especially below Weyzen, but Daniel had clearly seen through it.

"No, you are right. The Rihard family, which produced an emperor, cannot be placed on the same level as other families."

"Then, please retract your intention to call the Countess of Bütein here. No matter how much she is favored by Your Majesty, she is still a mistress."

Despite his calm expression, his strangely reddened eyes seemed to mock Leopold. No, they definitely were mocking him.

"It is not fitting for my wife, who holds a legitimate title, to sit with her."

‘Ah...’

Leopold finally remembered his response to Daniel’s request.

‘You did a terrible thing, so you will die. What if my mother, who holds a legitimate title, also did something to lower her status by speaking ill of a mere mistress?’

His vivid, clear answer came back to him.

‘How surprising. Daniel, you followed my mother more than Lady Laura. Wouldn’t it be better if your lowly mother, who only hinders your future, were gone?’

***

At the port of Kupfen in the southern part of the land of Weimar, the territory of Duke Andrea, merchant ships from the East have been increasingly arriving over the past few years. Kupfen port has become a stopover or final destination for those who prefer the southern sea route of the Roschman continent to the northern sea route. As a result, accommodations and restaurants catering to merchants from the East have sprung up, giving the port a distinctly Eastern feel. About a month ago, a merchant ship from Turc arrived at this port. Among the sailors disembarking, three particularly robust men stood out. One of the men carried a large sack on his shoulder. The sailors stretched their legs as they set foot on land.

"Ah, land, how good to see you. Tonight, I’ll finally be able to sleep on solid ground."

"Come on, let’s hurry. Let’s finish quickly and get drunk."

The three robust men, with their hoods pulled down, walked in a different direction from the busy sailors. They pushed through the colorful buildings and crowds until they stopped in front of a building. A piece of fabric with traditional Turcian Ghiordes knots, made of blue-green and red threads, was draped over the wooden door of the building. Knock, knock. One of the men knocked on the door, and after a moment, it opened. A man with black hair and a loose caftan rushed out, beaming.

"Yamur, Buran! You finally made it. How long has it been, ha ha."

Yamur, who was called by name, pushed past the man and entered the house.

"It’s been a while. Meral."

As Buran followed and hugged Meral, the man at the back also entered. The tallest of the four men removed his hood, and Meral bowed deeply.

"Welcome, Orhan. Thank you for visiting my humble home."

Among the men with various hair and eye colors, Orhan’s appearance stood out. He had dark brown hair and rare, blue-green eyes reminiscent of the stones from the Horan region. With a scruffy beard, he nodded lightly in response to Meral’s greeting and asked bluntly.

"If we leave now, when will we arrive in Utrecht?"

Buran, who had a fair complexion, blue eyes, and blond hair, opened his mouth wide as he removed his hood.

"N-now? Orhan, did you say now? We just arrived. We’ve been at sea for almost a month and just stepped on land a little while ago."

Yamur, with black hair and brown eyes, put his hood back on and grabbed Meral’s shoulder.

"Where are the horses?"

"Yamur, what’s wrong with you too!"

Ignoring Buran’s outburst, Yamur tried to pull Meral by his caftan. Just then, Orhan plopped down in a chair on one side of the room.

"Sit down, Yamur. We’ll leave as planned tomorrow morning."

Orhan, who had been shaking his head to remove the dust from his scruffy hair, raised his blue-green eyes.

"Is it true that Daniel Rihard has come back to life?"