Chapter 31: The Grand Duke Reads an Ancient Name (3)

A direct strike. Nice one, little puppy.

Perhaps my words last night had indeed done some damage.

Marcellus did not falter. "It is merely routine preservation, Your Highness. Nothing of note."

"So I was told."

"Old relics require careful attention and care. It is imperative that we pay attention to regular maintenance."

"Indeed. Then I would like to inspect them."

The nearby scholars became very still.

Marcellus smiled but there was nothing warm about it.

"I fear the deeper vaults are unsuitable for visitors at present."

"I am not a visitor."

A pause.

The Crown Prince’s voice remained calm, but something harder had entered it.

Not bad. Not bad.

The puppy had teeth after all and he was learning how to bite.

Marcellus lowered his head slightly. "Of course, Your Highness. However, Her Majesty instructed that the lower sections remain sealed until the preservation work is complete."

Tsk. The empress again.

How troublesome.

The Crown Prince’s fingers curled slightly at his side.

Before the silence could sharpen further, I spoke.

"That’s unfortunate."

Both men looked at me.

I smiled at the keeper. "I had hoped to see the deeper vaults myself. House Konstantin has always valued proper preservation of historical records."

Marcellus turned his pale gaze toward me. "A noble sentiment, Your Excellency."

"You flatter me. It’s not sentiment. This is just the standards we uphold."

His smile thinned faintly.

Struck a nerve, huh?

"The imperial archives maintains the highest standards as well," he said.

"Does it?"

A delicate silence followed my question.

Abi’s eyes gleamed in approval. The Crown Prince looked like he was deciding whether to stop me or watch the carnage.

Wise boy.

He chose to watch.

I gestured toward the hall. "There is a misattributed ceremonial blade in the second display. The eastern campaign tablet was catalogued improperly. The founding oath contains invocation lines that most of your scholars apparently dismiss as poetry despite their legal placement. And your archivist just informed us of restricted fragments that relate to the same terminology. If this is the highest standard, I fear for the lower ones."

The hall became silent enough to hear a noblewoman’s fan snap shut.

Marcellus stared at me.

I smiled beautifully in return.

One cannot slap a smiling face. It felt nice to annoy people and watch them be helpless about it.

No wonder Abi likes got addicted to doing it.

There are few pleasures in life more refined than insulting a man with perfect manners and undeniable evidence.

The keeper bowed.

"I will have those matters reviewed."

"That would be right. How reassuring."

"Your Excellency’s expertise is impressive."

"Yes."

The Crown Prince made a sound suspiciously close to a cough.

Marcellus straightened. "As for the deeper vaults, perhaps a private viewing can be arranged once the current work is completed."

"When will that be?" the Crown Prince asked.

"In three days."

"Tomorrow," I said.

The keeper’s gaze returned to me. "Your Excellency?"

"I leave room for one night of frantic organization. That is generous enough."

His expression did not crack but his eyes cooled.

"Such matters are not so easily arranged."

"Then perhaps the imperial archives truly is as inefficient as it appears."

Someone gasped.

I scoffed internally. How dramatic.

Marcellus bowed again, lower this time. "I will consult Her Majesty."

"Do that."

The Crown Prince looked at me, something like astonished amusement flickering in his eyes. I ignored him.

This was not merely arrogance on my part.

Though, to be fair, arrogance came naturally and I carried it well.

No, this was pressure. The pressure from the ruler of the East, himself.

If the keeper refused, the Crown Prince would know who blocked access. If the empress refused, she would reveal her interest and cause a conflict with Sonomi. If they agreed, I would see the deeper vaults.

No matter what I still win in the end. Therefore, all options were useful.

It was perfect little trap.

How villainous of me.

Marcellus excused himself shortly after, taking half the room’s breathing with him.

The exhibition resumed, though the atmosphere had lost its gentle scholarly polish. Everyone now pretended not to have witnessed a confrontation between the Grand Duke of Sonomi and the Lord Keeper of the imperial archives.

Naturally, they had witnessed everything.

I let them whisper.

The Crown Prince stepped closer, lowering his voice. "You do enjoy making enemies."

"Enemies tend to clarify the room better than friends."

"That is one way to view it."

"It is the correct one."

I looked toward the doors Marcellus had exited through. "If Her Majesty refuses access, there may be consequences."

"For you?"

"Perhaps."

"And yet you pressed him."

His jaw tightened. "Because I am tired of being told which doors I may look at inside my own palace."

Oh, another crack showed itself in the perfect gilded appearance.

I studied him.

A young man crowned by expectation but fenced in by invisible hands. Sick, watched, managed, and yet still reaching for forbidden doors.

He really was becoming interesting.

Interesting people became troublesome.

"Then you should learn which doors to open quietly," I said. "And which ones to kick open with witnesses present."

His eyes shifted to me.

"Which was this?"

I smirked. 𝑓𝑟ℯ𝘦𝓌𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝑐ℴ𝓂

"Both."

For a moment, he looked as if he wanted to laugh.

Instead, he bowed his head slightly.

"I will remember that."

Abi leaned toward me. "You are tutoring him again."

"Silence. You’ve been doing good all this time. Don’t break your streak."

"Hmmp. You are a very generous teacher."

"I will poison your dessert one of these days."

"Don’t waste dessert. It wouldn’t work on me."

Unfortunately, he was correct.

The exhibition continued for another hour. I inspected more artifacts, corrected three labels, offended two scholars, impressed one elderly historian to the point of tears, and found six additional references to old eastern terminology that had been softened in modern translations.

They were little modifications. For example, watchers became witnesses. Bindings became treaties. Offerings became taxes.

And fusk-born became hostile tribes.

What a covenient way of alterations.

History was not merely written by victors. It was also edited by cowards who feared what the old words might wake.

By the time I left the palace, I had more questions than answers.

I despised that.

Questions multiplied like badly supervised rabbits.

The Crown Prince escorted us to the outer hall himself, which was another political statement everyone would pretend not to understand.

"Your Excellency," he said, "if the deeper vault access is granted, may I ask that you attend?"

"I thought that much was obvious."

His smile softened faintly. "I did not wish to presume."

"You invited me by going through all this trouble. Presumption is already dead between us."

The Crown Prince smiled despite himself.

"Then I will send word."

"Alright."

"And Your Excellency."

I paused.

His gaze turned serious. "About what you said yesterday. Regarding making people want something only my reign can provide."

"What about it?"

"I have been thinking about it."

"Good."

"I do not yet know what that is."

"Also good."

He looked surprised.

I smiled faintly. "A foolish man thinks he knows too quickly. A wiser one is disturbed by the question long enough to find a better answer."

The Crown Prince was silent for a moment, then he bowed.

"Thank you."

I frowned slightly. "Do not thank me too much. It gives people the wrong impression."

"What impression?"

"That I am helpful."

This time, he laughed. It was quiet, but real.

We left the palace after that.

Inside the carriage, Abi stared at me with his chin propped on his hand.

I ignored him.

He continued staring.

So I continued ignoring him.

He smiled.

I felt my eyebrow twitch ominously.

"What?"

"You like him."

"He is useful alive than dead, I could say that much."

"You like him."

"He is interesting."

"That is worse."

"No, it is not."

"For you? It is."

I turned toward the window. "You have no evidence to back that statement."

"I have centuries of experience."

"And yet you still lack tact."

"Tact is dull."

"And silence is golden."

"Then you should be wealthy in it."

"Abi."

He only laughed. I, once again, held back the urge to punch him and remind myself that it would be futile.

I looked out at the passing streets, but my thoughts remained in the archives.

Lorillis that was treated as a name of a person possibly and not a place.

A so-called witness beneath gold.

The Dusk-born and whatever sealed doors somewhere.

The Crown Prince’s hidden sickness. If it really was sickness in the first place. I highly doubt it.

The empress’s approval and her involvement to all of this.

The keeper’s smooth lies that was so obvious to me. I felt like I should be offended.

And beneath all those matters was something else entirely. Something I couldn’t put a name to.

But for the briefest moment in that hall, I had felt something brush against the edge of my memory.

Except it was gone before I could grasp it.

I disliked it intensely.

A man should own his own mind. Anything hiding in mine without permission would be evicted eventually.

Violently, if necessary.

When we returned to the Elysian Estate, Spiro was in the inner garden as instructed. He stood beside a fountain, looking down at a map spread over a stone bench. Bernard was with him, patiently answering questions.

The moment Spiro saw me, his face brightened.

I stepped down from the carriage.

"Father, you’re back before dinner."

"I did say I intended to."

The child nodded, "You did."

Such simple trust.

I approached and glanced at the map. "Still studying geography?"

Spiro nodded. "Sir Bernard showed me the trade routes."

"Did he now?"

Bernard bowed. "Only the public routes, Your Excellency."

"Good. The private ones are family property."

Spiro looked up. "There are private routes?"

"Many things are private."

"Will I learn them too someday?"

"When you are ready."

His eyes shone. "Then I will work hard, Father."

I flicked his forehead lightly.

He blinked, stunned.

"Did I not tell you? Your current work is eating, sleeping, growing, and being a child."

"But learning is also part of growing, ah."

I stared at him.

This little thing.

Using logic against me again.

Abi laughed behind me.

I sighed. "Fine. But no more than an hour of maps before dinner."

Spiro smiled. "Yes, Father."

I looked at the map again, and my gaze fell unconsciously on the eastern region where Sonomi spread across the Lorillis Desert.

Golden ink marked the dunes.

A decorative choice, likely. It has always been that way.

Yet after what I had read today, the color bothered me.

I touched the edge of the map. And for a moment, the garden seemed quieter.

Then Spiro’s small hand slipped into mine.

"Father?"

The silence broke.

I looked down at the child. He seemed concerned.

I smiled automatically. "It is nothing."

He did not look convinced.

Truly, this child was too sharp.

I patted his head.

"Come. Let us eat or your uncle will become unbearable if he is not fed."

Abi gasped. "Don’t talk as if I am a pet."

"No. A pet would be better behaved."

Spiro giggled.

And just like that, the thoughts withdrew from my mind, buried once more beneath noise, warmth, and the absurdity of my household.

But I did not forget it.

I never forgot fun, interesting things. Especially if I could cause havoc with them.