#46. What Is the Matter?
The treaty from the former king’s reign was about a completely unreasonable port docking right.
Having caused the mess himself, the late king had no way of cleaning it up and ended up signing all sorts of unequal treaties with his in-laws, including marrying only princesses from Brynwell. Unsurprisingly, this ruined the kingdom’s finances as well.
After ascending the throne, Idren had worked tirelessly, day and night, to correct these injustices. If he hadn’t, Aglante would’ve been swallowed up by Brynwell within a few years.
Even so, despite months—over a year—of struggle, there was still one thing he hadn’t been able to sever: the port docking right.
Normally, foreign ships needed the king’s permission to enter and dock. But for Brynwell, if the visit was for a celebration or mourning, they were allowed to dock at Aglante’s ports without any approval.
The other unfair treaties had expiration clauses tied to the deaths of the late king or queen, so he’d managed to terminate those. But this particular docking right had no such time limit.
There was only one way to dissolve this treaty: if Brynwell failed to send a delegation even once for a celebration or mourning in Aglante, the treaty would be automatically nullified.
That’s why Brynwell was even more desperate to gain entry into Aglante’s ports.
Salode added,
“Brynwell has made a discreet offer. They say they won’t exercise the port docking right if we hand over the southern plains—Queen Isde’s former territory when she was alive.”
“How shameless, asking for such a vast land. It wasn’t even land that belonged to Queen Isde to begin with.”
“Your Majesty is correct, but if a political settlement isn’t possible, the only way to stop the Brynwell delegation would be through force. And that could spark a war.”
Salode fell silent there, but Idren understood the part his financial advisor had swallowed. A smart man like Salode surely wanted to say how dangerous a war would be at this time.
Moreover, it hadn’t been long since the former Lord of Lohos—Idren’s main political support—had died. His daughter Annika was trying to secure her position, but she still needed time.
So using force wouldn’t be a wise move right now.
Still, if war was inevitable in the future anyway, taking a hardline stance could be a valid option.
The key issue was whether he could sway the Elder Council before the wedding. And unless he slaughtered every last one of them, he knew better than anyone how impossible that would be.
Even after returning to this time, the Brynwell problem continued to gnaw at him.
If it were possible, Idren would have dragged the late king out of his grave and demanded he fix what he ruined. That rotting-minded king wasn’t even worthy of a burial plot.
The only reason he left the former king’s tomb undisturbed was because digging it up would produce nothing but rotting bones.
Letting out a small sigh, Idren spoke to his aide.
“Either way, we must revoke Brynwell’s port rights. We can’t let them in this time—no matter what. If needed, we’ll use force.”
And if they were forced to use military strength, he would have to make deals with the Elder Council. It was unavoidable, considering the risk of war.
Since Aglante was the one in a rush, the negotiations would inevitably lean in the Elder Council’s favor. And the more he gave in to their terms, the harder it would be to reclaim the upper hand later.
But no matter how much he thought, no solution came to mind. Idren furrowed his brows.
It was a situation where either choice led to loss. Having to pick the lesser evil only made his stomach churn.
He stood from his seat and told Salode,
“I’ll be heading back now. Inform me if there’s any news. We’ll talk again tomorrow.”
When he returned to his room, Ophelia was, of course, not there.
Though they’d shared a room on the way here, this was Sigdrasil Castle. Naturally, she would’ve gone to the room prepared for her.
Even so, the bed felt oddly empty. Sitting down on it, Idren reminded himself not to get the wrong idea.
During their previous marriage, they’d used separate rooms for all three years. No one could say what would happen this time, but getting his hopes up already would be a mistake.
Still, the untouched bed felt unsatisfying. Idren pursed his lips and stared up at the ceiling.
In his entire life, the days he slept alone far outnumbered the days he didn’t. And Ophelia had always been so silent—almost like a doll. Not even a single instance of talking in her sleep.
For someone like that to be gone, and for him to feel awkward about it—how uncharacteristic.
That’s when someone knocked on the door.
“Who is it?”
His voice came out a bit sharp. He was already dealing with enough bad news today.
From beyond the door came a simple reply.
“It’s me.”
Only Ophelia would have the audacity to knock on someone’s door and not even give her name.
If she did that to anyone else, it would be a problem—but for him, it was fine. Idren stood and opened the door. Ophelia stood there, draped in a robe over her sleepwear.
“What is the matter?”
Instead of answering, she gave a small cough. Before she could catch a cold from hesitating, Idren pulled her inside.
“It’s cold in the corridor. Come in.”
He sat her down by the fireplace and looked around for something she could cover herself with. But the room was designed entirely for him, and there wasn’t even a spare blanket.
In the end, he picked up his own robe and sat across from her.
“It’s something I’ve worn, so it might be unpleasant—but there’s no blanket in here. I’ll make sure one is placed here tomorrow. Please bear with it for tonight.”
“I don’t mind.”
Ophelia pulled the robe over herself. As Idren stoked the fire a few times, he asked,
“Try not to wander around at night. You’re from the south—you’ll catch a cold easily.”
“I’ve lived here before, you know. I’m aware.”
Then she snatched the poker from his hand. Idren glanced at her as she stabbed aggressively at the flames. Her pale cheeks were glowing red in the firelight.
After stirring the coals a few more times, Ophelia planted the poker upright and pulled her knees up under her chin.
“……What did you talk about with the financial advisor?”
Red flames flickered in her blue eyes. Idren stared into them, the color reminding him of a sunset.
“Why do you ask?”
“Am I not allowed to ask?”
She was unusually snappish tonight. Staring at her with a puzzled blink, he wondered if he’d done something wrong.
But if she was truly displeased, someone like Ophelia would’ve ignored him altogether. She wouldn’t have come looking for him.
Unable to respond, Idren fell silent. Ophelia turned away and added,
“You’re the one who told me to start paying attention to public sentiment.”
Though her words skipped some steps, Idren understood what she meant. She remembered what he’d said and was trying to get involved in politics.
Only then did he realize—she wasn’t angry, just embarrassed.
Moved by this realization, he looked at her. In their previous life, this would’ve been unthinkable. Ophelia had never once used her initiative for anything like this.
He paused, caught up in the emotion of her change. Ophelia prompted him.
“You’re not going to tell me?”
“No, of course I will.”
“……Don’t look at me like that.”
Don’t look at me like a parent seeing their child finally live up to expectations.
Strictly speaking, he’d never had any expectations for her—but Idren roughly agreed with her request.
His earlier gloom had vanished completely. Not a single problem had been solved, yet oddly, he felt lighter.
Knowing she didn’t know much yet, Idren began from the basics.
“Did you know that Aglante has poor relations with two countries?”
“Yes. Tessedot and Brynwell.”
And Tessedot was where Deus Lachmata was. Ophelia, remembering the woman who had once been so kind to her, shut her mouth tightly.
In her past life, after destroying Reden, she had returned the ring Haslen had given Deus. A ring that no longer fit her finger.
Idren continued.
“Correct. But unlike the weakened Tessedot, Brynwell is constantly watching for a chance to cross our border. The son of my late brother is in Brynwell, and they want to make him the new king. Do you remember the war in your previous life?”
“I remember.”
The mood in the castle had been terrible then. Both sides were in the castle, and though they usually had dinner together, Idren didn’t show up at all during that time.
Because she had connections outside the castle, Ophelia had a general idea of what was happening. But no one inside the castle told her a word.
Recalling that time, Ophelia spoke without thinking.
“No one ever told me what was happening back then.”
