Alxinfield, Venningham Manor, Year 079 Y.D.
The big marriage is coming in just ten days. Ilayan has, therefore, pleaded a two-week break from his commissioned office and the barracks to attend his wedding's preparation. A sentimental man that he is, his marriage is regarded a huge significance. Despite his limited knowledge in the fancy details and related formalities, and although the Duke has expressed his disagreements in his actions, believing that men as they are, do not have to condescend to such matters that are better left off for the ladies or seiths of the household; still, he wanted to be personally involved in the plans. After all, it is his marriage.
Ilayan paid Duke Hugo no mind, defying him as he is now sitting on a cushioned couch, beside Lady Esmeralda in corseted crimson velvet who, perhaps, believes that her awkward enthusiasm and gracious smile manage to mask her disgruntled mood. Had he not known their mother and son are aiming for the Dukedom of Venningham? Certainly, his union with the Seventh Prince is of absolute disadvantage to their side, yet, they remain suspiciously silent. Not only them but also, all of the nobles whose interests must have been placed in jeopardy after his dazzling betrothed. They remain passive—or only Ilayan had thought. He is now too preoccupied with the Duke of Kienfolk's case and the marriage preparations that he owns no time to entertain political intrigues.
It might be of his ignorance and obliviousness to such underhand methods—and only he had known the extent of his self-deploration over his capitulation to another marriage—that he must still admit that his father was right. The life of a noble is in thrall to political and social machinations, which he believes should not be. In his three years to Gedeva, he had seen many of the real problems that those who eye a position in court should be prioritizing. Unfortunately, profit had been too fragrant for most to resist.
Standing before them are five ladies in white dresses and blue aprons, two are diligently brewing a tea for their refreshments, and the remaining three stands as firmly as they can behind a flamboyant man in a gaudy, vibrant rose tailcoat gathered by a beige leather belt. Lady Esmeralda calls him Mr. Laroise, the son of the owner and designer of the capital's most famous boutique, Lé Rio. From time to time, he raises his round glasses before answering the Duchess' inquiries; materials about the materials, costs, and other matters that Ilayan finds difficult to understand.
"This… Madame, General, I suggest," he says, pointing at a painting of a delicate white robe embellished by royal blue fabric. It is in no absence of elegant minimalist golden accessories, nor the intricate cloud embroidery. "The Seventh Prince always had the innate airs of the royal family, he would look stunning regardless of his clothes. Yet, in my humble opinion, he would look best if he appears natural and elegant on the day of his marriage. His appearance and stance is, after all, his greatest accessory."
Lady Esmeralda holds up her silence. She frowns, tapping the table, deep in her thought. "Do you perhaps mistaken the Prince and my household's marriage a banquet on the streets?" she snorts. "This… and this…" she proceeds, pointing at several robes that are at a glance, flashy and jeweled in rhinestones and warm colors. "Let's not decide on the Prince's wedding garments, these should be enough for his choices right, Ilayan?"
As a man who grew up in the barracks, surrounded by bland brutes with no exceptional sense of fashion, Ilayan is utterly clueless about the basis for such designs to be regarded as beautiful and pleasing. And perhaps, his taste in clothes had also grown bland that he agrees with Mr. Laroise's preference. "Then gather those designs and the robe that Mr. Laroise suggested, let Rionne choose the clothes he's more comfortable with."
The matter of the wedding garments took its time at the sophisticatedly styled Lé Rio building, Ilayan had no opinion of his own clothes, choosing a black tuxedo in which lapels, pockets, and sleeves are embroidered by a golden thread. It will also be Ilayan's first time wearing a white ruffled shirt since he only wore his military uniform when he married Erin. The real reason for his delay was Lady Esmeralda's finicky preference. She keeps on demanding more designs, although a bunch has already been presented to her.
"The wedding is only a week and a half away, Madame. We apologize that we might not be able to design and create a dress that can fit your demands," Mr. Laroise says as patiently as he can.
Ilayan admires his restraint; Lady Esmeralda is certainly deliberate. Perhaps, she finds this a perfect channel to vent her frustrations. It is only unfortunate that it has to be received by the flashy, all-smiling Mr. Laroise.
Alxinfield, Royal Estate, Year 079 Y.D.
At three of the afternoon, Rionne would usually enjoy the gentle air of the blossoming buds at the courtyard's flowerbeds. But today, Mr. Laroise, the peacock of a man, requests his company. He summons him to his privy chamber. The last time he had seen him, it was before the summer season completely swallows the spring; he came to accept his new batch of seasonal clothes. With his unannounced visit at this moment; Rionne already catches the reason.
"Greetings, Your Highness," he says, bowing to Rionne as steadily as he can, disregarding his sweaty forehead and tensed voice. "I have come by General Ilayan and Lady Esmeralda's order."
Rionne regards him carefully. "You seem nervous. It's a rare sight."
Laroise registers an awkward smile. "Pardon my unpleasant state, Your Highness. Perhaps it was the heat."
Rionne persists not anymore, shifting his gaze at the stack of parchments in the other's hand. He beckons Sol to help the Laroise, and throws a look of command to the two servants who are among them inside the homely chambers in simple, royal tapestries and minimalist decors and furniture. The servants are quick to understand his drift, fetching them a cold orange juice instead of a warm tea.
"These are the designs that were personally chosen by Lady Esmeralda and General Ilayan. They mean that your preference must still be abided."
Scanning over the exaggerated drawings, most are which should be worn in a grand masquerade or festival instead of a wedding, he raises his brow, not even bothering to hide his faint disgust. "Ilayan chose this for me to wear?"
"In all honesty…" he tells him, sliding a piece of paper on the smooth, wooden table towards the Prince's direction. "I recommended this design, and the General expressed his agreement. It was Lady Esmeralda who asserted not to wrong Your Highness. Therefore, she included the other designs for you to have a variety of options."
"Lady Esmeralda?" Rionne repeats, registering a smirk. He is not the kind of person to step into a territory that is completely unfamiliar to him. The things and events he had witnessed and experienced in the royal backhouse: framing, poisoning, and underhand schemes had sharpened his vigilance and trained his cunning mind. In all certainty, the Venningham Manor is not a peaceful household. Duchess Hara Esmeralda herself is an opportunistic, grasping lady from an upstart, second-class household. She had an average beauty and mediocre scholarship compared to other noble daughters of her generation, yet, she was able to claw his way above the marriage market and snare an excellent betrothed to Duke Hugo. He must remember, of course, that this Duchess must be more than what she presents herself to be.
"Then I'll follow my fiancée's arrangements," he says.
After exchanging some words and details; measuring his size and discussing the events when Ilayan and Lady Esmeralda went to the Lé Rio. Rionne had conducted himself indifferently, even if inwardly, he mocks the absurdity of Lady Esmeralda's pettiness. When Laroise bids his farewell, Rionne orders Sol to escort him out. And as the well-carved door closes, he is left alone inside the room. It is quiet and the space seems to have been magnified.
His thoughts drift far. The marriage coming smoothly and unhindered had bothered him these days. Things cannot be too simple. He is certain that the Emperor, as wise and sly as he is had his reasons. But unlike Ilayan, whose mind is simple, he also doubts the elders of the Venningham Manor. After his marriage, his status as a Prince will only be of courtesy and he'll be reduced to a noble's consort. He must, therefore, gain a higher authority than Lady Esmeralda if he desires peace in his own household.
The key for that to happen is Duke Hugo.
The Duke of Venningham, for all the years of Ilayan's futile attempt to prove himself worthy of his recognition is now making no secret of regarding Ilayan as his presumptive heir. All of that simply because of Ilayan's successful undertaking at Gedeva? Had he not known that when they were young, even how much Admiral Leonard misconducted like a spoiled child, the Duke unconditionally favored him, the legitimate son. And even if Ilayan accomplished honorable military achievement, the Dukedom of Venningham can still be passed on to the Admiral if Hugo decides to, as what typical aristocrats do. He is suspicious, yet he had not told Ilayan; something must have happened for the Duke to switch his side.
He has to figure it out. Only then, he can have his way to bring the Duchess down.
----End of Chapter----
—noir_alois—