Chapter 5
“Thanks to you.”
“Thanks to… me?”
Perdia couldn’t understand.
She had believed her entire family had died because of her.
So how could they all still be alive because of her?
She needed an explanation.
Her eyes lit up.
Ereb let out a quiet chuckle.
“Because I need you.”
“You… need me?”
“Yes. I need you.”
“I need the woman named Perdia.”
“Why? I was the Knight Commander of an enemy nation. I cut down a thousand Imperial soldiers. Keeping me alive won’t benefit anyone.”
“From the Empire’s point of view, that’s true—for now.”
“But from my point of view, it’s completely different.”
“And what exactly is your point of view?”
The increasingly complicated conversation made Perdia frown.
She felt like he kept talking in circles.
She withdrew the hand resting on the table, crossed her arms, and spoke firmly.
“Get to the point.”
“It sounds like there’s something you really want to say.”
Ereb uncrossed his legs and planted both feet on the floor.
Resting his elbows on his knees, he leaned forward.
His long hair slipped down, brushing against his ears.
“It was my proposal.”
“The proposal to save your life.”
“It wasn’t easy.”
“But once I said I’d handle it, who could stop me?”
His confident expression made Perdia narrow her eyes.
“There’s a lot I could explain.”
“But none of that is what matters most to you, Fedi.”
“So I’ll tell you the important part.”
“I’m listening.”
She nodded.
Ereb spoke calmly.
Very calmly.
“Marry me.”
“That’s the only way to save your life.”
“…What?”
Why had the conversation suddenly gone in this direction?
Perdia stared at him with a puzzled expression.
She tilted her head.
“…What did you just say?”
“I asked you to marry me.”
“Marriage?”
She frowned.
Surely she hadn’t misheard.
Could it be that the Empire used the word ‘marriage’ differently than the Kingdom did?
Or maybe the grammar was different?
Maybe ‘marriage’ meant something completely different here?
After desperately searching for another explanation and finding none, she cautiously asked,
“…When you say marriage…”
“You mean a man and woman who love each other, date, receive both families’ blessing, hold a grand wedding surrounded by everyone’s congratulations…”
“…then live together under one roof, have children, and spend the rest of their lives happily together…”
“You don’t mean that kind of marriage…”
“…Right?”
“That’s exactly what I mean.”
“You know it well.”
“For a moment, I thought the Kingdom might have a different definition of marriage.”
“What a relief.”
“…”
A relief?
How is this a relief?
What kind of nonsense is he talking about?
Perdia wanted to yell at him to stop talking nonsense.
But reason barely managed to suppress her emotions.
Holding back the words that threatened to burst out, she slowly asked,
“Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Why did marriage suddenly come up?”
“And how is that supposed to save me?”
“What do you mean?”
“That’s more than one question.”
“But that’s fine.”
“The answer is simple.”
“Because that’s the proposal I made before His Majesty and the Senate.”
“What?”
“If you want, I can explain all the political, territorial, and geographical reasoning behind it.”
“Would you like to hear it?”
“…Is it long?”
“Very.”
“It took an entire week.”
Perdia shuddered.
That sounded horrible.
She immediately shook her head.
As if he’d expected that answer, Ereb continued.
“Then here’s the important part.”
“If custody of Lady Perdia is transferred to me…”
“…the entire Poeheim family will be guaranteed survival.”
“And the method of transferring your custody…”
“…begins with our marriage.”
“Why would transferring my custody have anything to do with marriage?”
“Because it represents the union of our families…”
“…and the integration of your house into the Empire.”
There were probably countless complicated explanations behind those words.
But Perdia’s mind couldn’t process any of them right now.
She pressed a hand against her aching forehead.
Seeing her confusion, Ereb patiently simplified it further.
“Simply put…”
“If you marry me…”
“…the Poeheim family will officially be recognized as an Imperial noble house.”
“You’ll no longer be a criminal.”
“You’ll live as my bride.”
“And as my wife.”
“I think that’s a pretty good summary of an entire week’s worth of discussions.”
“Do you need more time to understand?”
She didn’t.
Still pressing two fingers against her temple, Perdia carefully spoke.
“So…”
“If I marry you…”
“…my family lives.”
“And I live too.”
“That’s what you’re saying?”
“Exactly.”
“And this is a national project.”
“To absorb the Kingdom of Artia into the Empire.”
“Right?”
“I like how concise you are.”
“I don’t dislike intelligent people.”
His praise did nothing to improve her mood.
Holding her throbbing head, Perdia lowered it before slowly lifting it again.
“…Is there another way?”
“No.”
“If you refuse…”
“…there’s nothing more I can do.”
“It was the only way to take you away from those stubborn senators…”
“…and from that snake of an emperor.”
“And even then…”
“…it took an entire week.”
“…Ha.”
Perdia sighed deeply.
Then something he had said caught her attention.
“The only way…”
“…to take me away?”
“…Let’s skip that.”
“That’s not important.”
“No.”
“It is important.”
“You said something similar earlier.”
“You said the Empire would naturally want me dead…”
“…but from your perspective, that would be difficult.”
“What exactly does that mean?”
“Isn’t it connected to what you just said?”
Pressed by her questions, Ereb looked unusually flustered.
His eyes darted around awkwardly before he deliberately looked away.
Noticing his strange reaction, Perdia narrowed her eyes.
His wandering gaze eventually settled on the innocent teacup sitting on the table.
“This is an Imperial national project.”
“No.”
“I think you’ve got another motive.”
“…Why would you think that?”
“Are you underestimating a woman’s intuition?”
“That intuition isn’t exactly—”
“From where I’m sitting…”
“…it seems surprisingly accurate.”
Perdia stared at him like a bear refusing to let go of its prey.
Ereb finally turned his head away with an exhausted sigh.
“What answer do you want?”
“You only get one question.”
“I’ll answer it.”
“What? That’s such—”
“I’m counting.”
“Five.”
“Four.”
“Three…”
“What kind of—”
“Two.”
“One.”
Startled by how quickly he counted down, Perdia scratched her head before blurting out,
“Do you need me?”
The question came out before she could stop herself.
Even she looked surprised by what she’d asked.
She quickly closed her mouth.
Ereb, however, seemed delighted by the question.
The surprised expression vanished from his face.
The corners of his eyes softened.
A warm smile slowly spread across his lips.
His entire atmosphere changed.
“…Huh?”
Had this man always looked like this?
Still staring blankly at him, Perdia watched as Ereb smiled gently.
“I need you.”
“I need you.”
“Very much.”
“What is that man thinking?”
The rough voice made Marquis Hallian turn his head.
He looked at Count Passen, who had been grumbling nonstop beside him, before answering leisurely.
“Watch your tongue.”
“We’re still inside the Imperial Palace.”
“So what if we are?”
“What difference does it make whether we’re in the palace or in a collapsing shack?”
“It means there are many ears listening.”
“Then we should cut off all those ears.”
Count Passen smiled coldly as he glanced around.
The servants and maids passing nearby flinched and hurried away.
Once the room was empty except for the two of them, Count Passen spoke again.
“What is Duke Gryxia thinking, Marquis?”
“How should I know what that madman is thinking?”
“A madman…”
Chuckling, the count lifted an elegant wine glass with his thick hand—a strangely mismatched sight.
“Is he still as insane as ever?”
“It’s the curse of the bloodline.”
“Nothing can be done about it.”
“In fact, it’s fortunate that a man who normally locks himself away at home joined this war.”
“We escaped defeat.”
“And he got to satisfy his endless thirst for blood.”
“Isn’t that why we won?”
“Because of that greedy sword of his.”
“There’s no denying he claimed the greatest military achievements.”
“But we should still be grateful that he saved us from disaster.”
“And yet…”
“With all that influence…”
“The only thing he demanded was to make a prisoner who should’ve died…”
“…his bride.”
“It’s absurd.”
“I thought the same.”
“If it were me…”
“I would’ve demanded land and had my territory promoted into a duchy.”
“What a foolish man.”
“He spent more than a week explaining obvious things…”
“…talking endlessly about Imperial law…”
“…all just to obtain one woman.”
“It’s laughable.”
Unlike Count Passen, the marquis elegantly lifted his wineglass and savored its aroma.
He admired the rich crimson color before taking a slow sip.
Smacking his lips in satisfaction, he asked,
“This is the finest wine that arrived this season.”
“A forty-year vintage.”
“What do you think?”
Count Passen’s eyes sparkled as he searched the marquis’s expression.
He looked exactly like someone waiting for praise.
The marquis glanced sideways before smiling.
Whether it was because the wine was excellent…
Or because he enjoyed the count’s flattering behavior…
Only he knew.
“It’s excellent.”
“I knew you’d say that!”
“You see, this wine is made from red grapes grown in a village called Narting in the northern Empire.”
“Since the area borders my own territory, I personally oversee—”
The count eagerly began listing the wine’s virtues, hoping to receive more praise.
The marquis watched him quietly before letting out a faint chuckle.
His long years in politics had taught him that the nobility always behaved this way.
The power of those who possessed everything.
People constantly bowed before them.
They desperately sought opportunities to speak with them.
Some traveled thousands of miles just to attend his birthday celebration and present expensive gifts.
It was a life he had grown thoroughly accustomed to.
A life made possible by the power of his family.
Hallian von Nedberg.
Although House Nedberg was only a marquis family, its influence rivaled even that of ducal houses.
The reason was simple.
The Crown Prince’s wife—
the future Empress of the Empire—
was his daughter.
As the father of the woman destined to become the Empire’s mistress, his authority had only continued to grow.
Within the Senate, he always possessed the first right to speak.
Even the Emperor frequently sought his opinion.
But—
Duke Gryxia…
That brat.
Or, as the marquis preferred to call him—
that arrogant twenty-five-year-old upstart.
Again and again, the duke ignored him.
Even during Senate meetings, Duke Gryxia would calmly shake his head whenever he disagreed.
If he believed something was wrong, he never voted in favor of it.
One might think a single opinion meant little in a council governed by majority rule.
Unfortunately…
House Gryxia possessed even greater authority than House Nedberg.
The reason was simple.
Founding Merit.
Since the founding of the Empire itself, House Gryxia had stood unwavering as the Empire’s sword.
Although the family was forbidden from maintaining a private army…
Imperial law decreed that in times of crisis, command over the entire Imperial military would naturally fall into the hands of House Gryxia.
That law alone demonstrated just how overwhelming the Gryxia family’s influence truly was.
