Chapter Nine
The next morning, the tyrant, Charlemagne Kalior, summoned his most trusted men to order a reexamination.
“Yes, and I also have things to report, Your Majesty…”
With his green hair and bottle-green eyes, Clover, the chancellor, staggered into his office, disheveled. In his skinny hands were two piles of neatly stacked paperwork.
“It’s barely morning.”
“It wouldn’t take you long to go through this, Your Majesty. You’ve just had your morning meal, so you should get to work,” the chancellor responded with a sour smile, dark circles looking like a brand under his eyes.
Charlemagne glanced at the paperwork stolidly, then nodded once. If he complained any longer, he was sure to hear the reproach of how the chancellor had only two hours of sleep last night.
The chancellor put the paperwork on his desk and let out a long sigh. At that moment, the communicator on his desk flashed blue.
“Is this Ruman?” Charlemagne asked.
“Yes.”
His closest aides were Chancellor Clover and the Minister of Information, Count Ruman. He planned to assign them Scarlett Arman’s investigation. A while later, Charlemagne opened his mouth, speaking in his typical coldness.
“Look into her again.”
“Was there something wrong with my report?” the Minister of Information said.
Charlemagne frowned a little at the quiver in his voice.
How could you make him cry!? Why did you have to be so harsh!? Clover mouthed on the side, his wide eyes and flailing hands giving an even clearer message.
Charlemagne sighed to himself.
“Do it. Again.”
Sniff. There was a reason why Ruman had burst into tears.
The Arman family. They had no real skills, no money, nothing special. Yet there they were, standing proud thanks to their great forefathers. Their progenitor was worthy enough to stand shoulder to shoulder with the Kalior and the Rashahel families’ progenitors. He had been called a hero.
The honorable name that the hero had bequeathed upon his descendants was difficult, even for the tyrant’s aides to penetrate. Ruman had only been able to obtain the information in the report he had presented to Charlemagne because the Arman mansion’s servants lived in the capital rather than in their master’s estate. And because Scarlett had been particularly fond of outings.
There had already been so much work because of the enforced engagement. The additional discreet investigation had caused at least three clumps of hair to fall out of Count Ruman’s head.
“Useless. Are you sure you looked carefully?”
So cruel you are, my liege. When he saw tears beginning to leak from the Minister of Information’s eyes, Chancellor Clover shook his head. He’s going to make me do it.
Honestly, Clover didn’t mind Count Ruman’s tears. The problem was that the tyrant would pass him the work when the count started crying. As he expected… Click. Shutting the communicator off, the tyrant looked at his chancellor.
“You can choose first.”
“Uh, I beg your pardon?”
But today was different. He was given a choice this time. When the chancellor faltered uncertainly, the tyrant continued.
“An investigation of the Arman family. Or an investigation of Scarlett Arman.”
Choose.
“I… would, of course, like to look into Lady Arman!”
Was he… ordering a deep investigation into the lady who was chosen to be his fiancée weeks ago? Completely out of the blue? Why? What for? Was she up to something?
The chancellor, who had slept in rather than attending the ball yesterday, could not understand what was happening. But his lips were quick in choosing the easier option.
“What would Your Majesty like me to find out about the lady?”
“I have heard enough about her reputation. Find out everything else.”
“It is difficult, but…”
Much better than the impossible. He thought of Count Ruman, who would have to take on the impossible option—the investigation of the Arman family—for the crime of his tears.
“I will do my best!” He nodded enthusiastically.
Charlemagne watched the chancellor with a faint smile playing on his lips. “Yes, Clover. Find out about the things I would want to know about. Keep in mind that I won’t be happy if you get me something of no interest.”
“Yes, Your Majesty!”
Although he had been handed yet another job, Clover’s eyes were shining at the thought that at least he had picked the better option. It wasn’t a pleasant sight considering the man was over thirty, but Charlemagne simply watched him with a rare smile.
“Your Majesty.”
The chancellor, who had been thinking earnestly of how he should get the job done, asked, “Would it be all right if I had the royal schedule?”
“The schedule?”
“You will have to see her twice a month, as it always has been.”
“Right.”
“I thought it may help me gather information if I was nearby when you meet her,” Clover continued, taking a desk in the office’s corner and organizing his paperwork.
“Indeed.”
The chancellor paused and glanced at Charlemagne. He appeared to be in a good mood. It was strange and quite rare for the tyrant to show such pleasure.
“I haven’t decided on a day yet, so you can make plans and tell her. I will let you record the meetings at least once a month.”
So he is happy. Had it been any other day, he would’ve told me off for tiring him with his sword. There must be something different about the lady. Or has she done something? Clover tilted his head, vaguely unsettled.
***
I rubbed my eyes and then looked at the letter in my hand again.
“A… schedule.”
For the entire month.
“He wants to see me for another month?”
Why? Even after seeing me like that? It seemed that an ordinary human like me would be unable to keep up with the tyrant’s thoughts. Was he saying he wasn’t frivolous enough to dump me for doing something weird once? Thanks. A lot. But it wasn’t too shocking.
“Well, I’d expected this.”
I just thought that he’d give me the week’s schedule and order me to pick a day. So that he can get it over quickly, the way he did with the other fiancées. I scanned the schedule, disinterested until I saw the few sentences written at the page’s bottom and smiled.
“I knew it.”
Even though he’d sent me the schedule for the month, the first line read tomorrow. He would be seeing me at the palace. I scanned the schedule, looking for the time he had set for us to meet.
It was the emperor’s schedule, but there were a lot of blank spaces. Only the official events he would be attending were listed. And he had nothing scheduled for that time. Not that I had a way of knowing if he arranged his schedule for me or if he just happened to be free then.
The most important part, however, was the sentence written beneath that. You are to walk your way. What was this, some sort of puppy training?
The palace was closer than the hall where they’d held the ball, so it wasn’t impossible. Yep. He was too extraordinary for me to understand. Continuing the train of random thoughts, I tried to calm my trembling heart. I had known the day I would have to face the tyrant on my own was coming. The opportunity had presented itself earlier than expected.
“Now, let’s see.”
What should I do next? I’d made an impressive first impression with the red dress, so it couldn’t be anything less than that. I fell deep in thought, but only a minute later, I grinned to myself.
“It would be rude to show up at someone’s house without a gift, wouldn’t it?”
What if I gave him a heartfelt present that just happened to be the things he didn’t like? He’d start thinking that he shouldn’t marry me!
“Yes, that’ll do.”
From that moment on, I stopped caring altogether about the dignity that befits the nobility.
Comments (2)
See all