#071. “Even Your Brother Never Said Such a Thing”
“Does she think I’m some soft-hearted, fragile boy? Someone so helpless that he can’t even deal with political enemies without her help?”
Rachia, unaware of just how tangled Melchizedek’s thoughts were, only chuckled lightly as she sipped her tea.
Of course, Rachia knew perfectly well that Melchizedek was no fragile child. What resided within him was something far more dangerous—perhaps even more dangerous than Verken himself.
But unlike the seasoned and shrewd Rachia, the emperor-like and imposing Verken, or Liana who was born a natural predator, Melchizedek at times appeared delicate and frail.
He seemed like the kind of person others could easily underestimate if they weren’t careful. So it wasn’t strange that Blanche might have misunderstood him.
“Well, I doubt someone as perceptive as Blanche would fall into such a misunderstanding.”
But Melchizedek thought differently. He had often spoken candidly in front of Blanche, with little restraint. She wouldn’t have misunderstood.
And that was precisely the problem. She wasn’t mistaken, nor was she pitying him. She saw exactly what he was—and still worried. That was what reminded him so much of that person.
“So it’s just affection, then.”
Was it, really? If that were the case, things would be easier. After all, countless people in this world lost their minds to love and did foolish things.
If that was all it was, then Melchizedek felt confident he could separate Blanche from that person in his mind.
“My daughters-in-law must all be destined to love my sons dearly, it seems.”
Since Melchizedek didn’t bother correcting her, Rachia’s misunderstanding hardened into certainty.
And in any case, as Melchizedek’s mother, it wasn’t unpleasant to think that her son was so loved.
Watching her smile so contentedly in her misconception, Melchizedek decided there was no need to set her straight. If a misunderstanding could improve their bond as family, why ruin it?
“For the record, I’ve already given my permission. What about you?”
It wasn’t because he lacked power that Melchizedek allowed nobles to lash out at him with their displaced fury.
He let them do so because it simply didn’t matter. Even if the whole world turned against him, he could still sleep soundly.
“This is the first time Blanche has taken the initiative to do something for me. I suppose I’ll just let her try as she pleases.”
Of course, it wasn’t as if he insisted on letting grudges fester. He simply couldn’t be bothered to deal with them. So for now, he decided to watch how Blanche handled things.
“Do you really think she can manage the Marquis of Chase?”
Rachia knew Blanche was clever. Exceptionally clever.
But still, Blanche was young. And most importantly, she had lived nearly her entire life within the imperial palace, with limited social interactions.
Could such a sheltered girl—however sharp—really make a seasoned noble of the marquis’s rank bow his head?
At her concern, Melchizedek let out a faint laugh.
“Even ten Marquises of Chase wouldn’t be able to stand against Blanche.”
He believed that aside from Blanche’s nurse, he knew her best.
She was calm far beyond her years and had a sharp eye for people. Most of all, she possessed an uncanny knack for spotting weaknesses.
He didn’t know exactly how she would humble the Marquis of Chase, but he was certain she would never take on a fight she couldn’t win.
And even if she did somehow falter, Melchizedek was more than capable of cleaning up after her. After all, he had let the marquis bluster all this time not out of weakness, but out of choice.
“Still…”
When his mother continued to look uneasy, Melchizedek cheerfully changed the subject.
“Anyway, it’s a little embarrassing to be receiving such ardent displays of affection even before our engagement. Should I prepare a wedding gift in advance?”
If it were just an ordinary wedding gift, he wouldn’t have mentioned it to Rachia. The subtle dissonance in his tone immediately made her set aside her worries for Blanche and glare at her son.
“What exactly are you plotting?”
Melchizedek flashed her a bright smile.
“Blanche’s homeland.”
For a moment, Rachia doubted her own ears.
“…Even your brother never said something as outrageous as offering a nation as an engagement gift.”
“Isn’t it refreshing?”
Rachia could only sigh. “And what if Princess Blanche doesn’t want it?”
“I haven’t asked, but I doubt she’d refuse. She doesn’t hold any attachment to her country.”
It wasn’t baseless speculation. It was the conclusion he had reached after years of quietly observing the relationship between Blanche and the Kingdom of Lamore.
He had realized that aside from the empty title of “peace envoy,” there was nothing between them.
Lamore didn’t care about the life or death of the royal hostage they had sent, and Blanche herself didn’t seem to think of the land she barely remembered as her homeland.
After all, she had grown up in a palace built in imperial style, under imperial skies, wearing imperial clothes.
The fault lay with Lamore, who had sent off a child too young to retain memories or affection for her country.
“Surprisingly, Lamore hasn’t yet dared to use Blanche as leverage to meddle in imperial affairs.”
Even if they didn’t know she was a candidate for the position of Grand Duchess, surely after ten years they would know she was close to the imperial heir.
Yet Lamore had made no move toward her—not even the smallest attempt.
Still…
“The problem is we don’t know how long that will last.”
Of course, Blanche would handle it with tact. Even if her homeland made unreasonable demands, she would block them herself.
And that was precisely what worried him.
Melchizedek had no trouble rejecting outrageous demands. If Lamore tried to whine through Blanche, he could easily cut them off without regret. Blanche was Blanche, family was family, her homeland was her homeland.
But Blanche would not be like that. She would be caught between a kingdom making unreasonable demands and an empire unwilling to concede. She would suffer for it.
That was what he wanted to prevent.
“Blanche may think she’ll be fine, but you and I know, Mother—sooner or later that kingdom will drag her down.”
“So just for that, you would reduce a kingdom to a duchy?”
Rachia gave a wry smile. Yes, this was the son she knew. Despite his delicate appearance, his mind was sharp as a fox’s, his eyes far too cold for his age.
“An empress can’t hold the crown of an independent kingdom. But a duchy? A duchy she can rule.”
It was sound logic. And turning Lamore into a duchy would not be all that difficult.
The real problem lay in what came after.
“You know, of course, there’s a reason Lamore has survived as a kingdom until now.”
“Of course.”
Melchizedek smiled easily.
“Because Lamore serves as a buffer state between our empire and the Kingdom of Kartian.”
“Exactly. So you must also realize that making Lamore a duchy under the empire could be taken as a declaration of war by Kartian.”
She knew her brilliant son understood this perfectly.
Reducing Lamore to Blanche’s duchy would indeed prevent anyone from making demands of her. But the moment Lamore was absorbed, the empire and Kartian would become direct neighbors—a far messier situation.
So this was less a question of knowledge than of intent. Was he truly willing to take on such a thorny, exhausting conflict—for his fiancée?
Rachia wanted to know.
“Mother.”
Melchizedek grinned.
“You may not believe me, but defusing military tension is the thing I do best.”
Of course, she didn’t believe him—not because she doubted his ability, but because he had never once been tested in such matters.
Still, she noted the resolve in his eyes.
“Very well. If you can handle it, try. Just don’t forget to discuss it with the empress.”
After all, military matters were not under the dowager empress’s jurisdiction, but under Liana’s. Any such decision would require her involvement.
“Yes, and I wasn’t planning to give it as an academy entrance gift anyway. There’s plenty of time.”
Having confirmed Blanche’s plans and secured his mother’s tacit approval, Melchizedek rose lightly to his feet.
