CH 22.1

The imperial capital’s upper echelons were abuzz with the news of the empress’s call for aides. The mere act of recruiting assistants was enough to pique everyone’s interest, but the fact that the empress herself, a formidable striker who had shattered the tower just the day before, had issued the announcement had the nobles on the edge of their seats. Prince Baldr was no exception.

“What is this announcement all about?” Michael Rosen, the duke’s chief secretary, mused as he perused a single document, swiping back and forth over it. Theseus sighed, his shoulders drooping.

“If we lay down too many stipulations, we’ll never get the person we want. Sometimes, it’s best to keep things simple.”

“But, your grace,” Michael pressed on, “don’t you think this is rather vague?”

Theseus rubbed his temples and pursed his lips. This was going to be a headache.

“Is the empress looking to challenge Her Majesty’s rule or to establish her own power base against Diane Poitier?” he pondered aloud.

He looked up at his younger brother, Lionel, who was sitting across from him, his arms folded and eyes fixed on the announcement.

“Lionel,” Theseus called out to him, hoping to get his opinion.

Lionel turned his gaze toward his brother, his deep blue eyes meeting Theseus’s.

“What do you make of all this?”

“Well, why not both?” Lionel replied with a shrug. “Or maybe she just wants to have some fun and pick someone she likes.”

The duke’s secretary interjected. Theseus and Lionel remained noncommittal.

“There’s very little information on Empress Adelaide,” Theseus mused, rubbing his chin.

“But is it true that Her Majesty single-handedly destroyed the tower?” Michael asked, breaking the silence.

Lionel nodded. “Incredible, isn’t it? Whether it was wizards or knights, none of them looked like they belonged to any organized group, but to think that the former princess empress is a striker… It’s simply astounding.”

“You can’t judge a wizard solely on their appearance,” Theseus remarked.

“Quite right. And to destroy a tower like that, she must have quite a bit of combat experience under her belt,” Lionel added.

The duke cleared his throat, bringing the conversation back to the matter at hand.

“Regardless, the empress has put out a call for aides, and we cannot ignore it. Whom should we entrust with this task?”

Their eyes met, each one pondering the same question: who could be entrusted with the crucial task of serving as the empress’s aide-de-camp? With the Gongjia under attack from the emperor, finding a trustworthy individual to assist the empress was of the utmost importance. The chosen candidate would need to meet a specific set of requirements: a close bond with the Baldr family, approval from the empress, the ability to devise a plan to challenge the emperor’s power while serving as an aide, being an unmarried man over the age of 20 without a fiancé, and the fortitude to endure the inevitable loss of honor that comes with such a position.

Michael furrowed his brow, knowing that it would be a tall order to find someone who met all of these conditions. Even after searching through his extensive biographical dictionary, he couldn’t think of a single individual who fit the bill. It was impossible to recommend an heir from a royal family, so who could they possibly suggest? The answer eluded them, but the sense of discomfort in the air suggested that the solution was close at hand.

The brothers sat in silence, lost in thought. Meanwhile, Michael’s subconscious was working overtime, trying to find the perfect candidate for the position. As he pondered the dilemma, his gaze fell upon the Duke and his younger brother. They were a stunning pair, with handsome features and an air of nobility that made Michael’s heart skip a beat.

Suddenly, a spark of inspiration ignited within Michael. Could it be possible? He knew it was a long shot, but the more he thought about it, the more convinced he became. This was the answer they had been searching for. With a deep breath, Michael raised his head and looked at the Duke and his brother with newfound determination.

Michael’s eyes narrowed as he scrutinized Lionel from head to toe, his gaze turning grim.

“What?” Lionel muttered, tilting his head to the side.

“Isn’t there anyone who meets the first four conditions perfectly? It’s the fifth that’s the hardest.” Michael paused, contemplating the predicament they found themselves in.

“He’s not the eldest son, but…” he trailed off, lost in thought.

As if on cue, Lionel’s mind wandered to the events of the previous night. The golden eyes and cool voice of the mysterious woman lingered in his memory, leaving him restless and unable to sleep. And when he learned of the empress’s search for a reliable aide, a sense of urgency overtook him, like a bell tolling loudly in his mind.

Breaking the silence, Lionel spoke out of turn, causing Michael and Theseus to look at him quizzically.

“Her Majesty gave Count Calvin a gold bar. Her Majesty must have been very displeased,” he said, his words seeming to have no connection to the topic at hand.

Perplexed, Theseus asked, “What do you mean, Lionel?”

“It’s an aide notice from the empress,” Lionel replied, his voice steady and calm.

“Perhaps Her Majesty’s view of the tower is different from the current wizards.”

As Theseus mulled over Lionel’s words, Lionel turned to Michael and asked, “Do you have someone to recommend?”

Michael, feigning uncertainty, scratched his chin and shook his head. The three sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

“The three sons of Count Verdi are quite close in age,” Theseus stated, nonchalantly.

“The youngest hasn’t even reached twenty yet.”