Within a week, Duke Atlas had successfully conducted his investigation, quietly gathering all the necessary evidence. The following day, just before the council meeting, he requested a private audience with Lyra.
Sitting across from Duke Atlas, Lyra maintained her serene composure, her smile pure and calm as she sipped her tea. She didn't show the slightest hint of concern, though Duke Atlas continued to scrutinize her, still unable to understand what the Crown Princess was truly plotting.
"Brief me, Duke Atlas. What brings you here? How can I assist you?" she asked, her tone as casual as ever.
"I came to inform you of the results of the investigation," Atlas replied, his eyes narrowing slightly as he awaited her reaction.
Lyra's emerald eyes flickered briefly, the sunlight glinting off them like the reflection of a precious gem.
"Oh? Why me?" she asked, her curiosity genuine, though there was an underlying sharpness in her voice.
"You were the one who informed me about my assistant secretary. It felt right to brief you on what I have uncovered," Atlas explained.
"And what have you uncovered?" Lyra inquired, her voice steady and calm.
"All the stolen funds were funneled into a single account, controlled by one person. Whether it was money conversion or illegal smuggling, everything leads back to this account."
Lyra raised an eyebrow. "I see. So, your assistant secretary isn't involved after all, correct?"
"It's not him," Atlas confirmed. "The funds are being funneled through a woman named Nova."
"A woman?" Lyra repeated, her interest piqued.
"Correct. But Nova doesn't actually exist. It's just a front. The real person behind the transactions is a man who handles everything at the bank—he's the one who signs all the papers."
Lyra leaned forward, intrigued. "And do you know who this man is?"
"It's Sir Hubris," Atlas stated, his eyes searching her face for any signs of recognition.
"Oh?" For the first time, Atlas noted a slight flicker of surprise on Lyra's otherwise composed face. She had seemed to expect this person to be Wily, but not Hubris. Letting out a small scoff, she leaned back in her chair, smirking. "How interesting."
Atlas hesitated for a moment, then spoke cautiously. "But I suspect there's more you wish to say. Something else is troubling you, isn't it?"
Lyra's lips curled into a knowing smile as she set her teacup down. "Shall I alleviate your uncertainty, Duke Atlas? Are you wondering how I'll extricate myself from this situation, considering that the blame will surely fall on me? Given that I've been the one handling the accounts recently, am I right?"
Atlas nodded, surprised by how accurately she had guessed his thoughts.
"Don't worry," Lyra said smoothly, "I have it all under control. But allow me to ask you something in return, Duke Atlas. Why did you share all this with me? You could have handled it independently and presented it in tomorrow's council meeting without involving me. Can I take this as a sign of your position?"
Atlas paused, considering her words carefully. "I think it's time for me to make my stance clear. This is the year that you, Your Highness, will ascend to the throne. It's inevitable, isn't it? Just as you are taking steps to secure your position, I'm doing the same."
Lyra met his gaze with an inscrutable expression. "If that's how you wish to think, then you're free to do so."
Duke Atlas blinked in surprise. For a moment, it seemed as if Lyra wasn't particularly eager to accept the throne. Why go through all this trouble if she didn't want it?
"You seem not too keen on the idea of taking the throne," Atlas remarked.
Lyra simply responded with an indifferent smile, "Is that so?" She elegantly sidestepped his probing question.
Sensing her unwillingness to engage further on the subject, Atlas decided to change the topic. "My daughter, Aelia, has mentioned you in her letters. It seems you are still in contact with her. I thought it was prohibited for the princesses to send and receive letters, given the threats of poisoned flowers being delivered?"
Lyra's expression softened slightly at the mention of Aelia. "How is she doing? It's been years since she went to Gaia for her health issues. I hope she's faring better now."
Atlas's face brightened, and he spoke with a mixture of hope and fondness. "She's doing quite well, Your Highness. Thank you for your kind wishes. Aelia misses you terribly. You were always her sole friend. Given her frail health, she cannot leave her room, and I know how much she longs for your company. I do hope that one day soon, you two can reunite."
"I hope so too," Lyra replied softly, her voice tinged with nostalgia. "I plan to visit Gaia soon, in fact. I'm sure you've heard the news."
A slight pause followed as Duke Atlas collected his thoughts. "I have a favor to ask of you, Your Highness, if you would be so kind."
Lyra gave a small nod, gesturing for him to continue.
"I have some gifts for Aelia, and I was hoping you could deliver them for me. It would be a great comfort to her, and you would be able to meet her in person as well."
Lyra's smile grew warmer, and she inclined her head. "I had already planned on contacting her, even without your request. But I will certainly deliver your gifts. I'm happy to oblige."
Atlas bowed his head in gratitude. "I am deeply appreciative, Your Highness. You have my eternal gratitude."
As Lyra stood to leave, she felt a sense of satisfaction. The pieces were falling into place. Despite the subtle exchanges and careful maneuvering, she was still one step ahead, orchestrating everything with a quiet, confident control. She had learned to trust her instincts, and they told her that soon, her moment would come.
Atlas averted his gaze, his eyes darting here and there, as if searching for the right words. Before Lyra could probe him, he suddenly stood up and knelt before her. Lowering his head in a sign of deep respect, he declared,
"I wish to vow an oath of loyalty to her highness."
"Huh?"
Lyra blinked in surprise but immediately reached out to pull Duke Atlas to his feet. She smiled, though her voice was calm.
"I appreciate your kind gesture, but there is no need for you to go this far. You are a Duke, not a Knight."
"I comprehend that, but still, I wish to show my sincerity with this oath. I am a man of principles, and I wish to follow this rule."
Lyra sighed, a thought flashing through her mind. She allowed a subtle smile to spread across her face.
"If you truly wish to do so, then do not do it right now. I require you to wait until another time. If you do it then, on that day, I will accept that you truly mean it."
"Another time? When?"
"I will let you know soon."
Duke Atlas was taken aback by Lyra's words, realizing she had already devised a plan of her own. His curiosity was piqued, but he said nothing, waiting for her to continue.
"I know you might be wondering how I will contact you. Do not worry—I have my sources. I will send you a letter soon, though not too soon, as there are still things that need to be taken care of."
"I understand. Your wish is my command. I will wait for that day."
Duke Atlas bowed low, and Lyra nodded in acknowledgment.
The fateful day of the council meeting arrived, and Solon was pacing around in the office Lyra had set up in the private library her father had built for her years ago. His face was drawn with exhaustion, eyes weary and bloodshot, as if he had not slept a wink the night before, too anxious about the events to come.
"What are you so worried about?" Lyra asked, humming cheerfully as she sketched something on a piece of paper. The soft chirping of birds filled the air as she sat comfortably on the cozy sofa, the cramped space made up for by the warm, welcoming ambiance created by the bookshelves and the light filtering through the windows.
"Your Highness! You should at least be a little nervous. They are bound to frame you. What if our plan doesn't work? What then? Duke Nabal will never listen to anything against his family. Your Majesty, even the king may not support you. If that happens, the situation could turn dire."
"Is that so? And so what?"
"The coin may flip to the wrong side," Solon said, exasperated. "I think it's too soon for this plan. We need to gather more allies before we go ahead with this."
Lyra's voice remained calm, almost dismissive, as she placed the sketch aside and stood up, her smile unwavering.
"Let me ask you something. Why do you suppose most of the nobility slavishly follow Aunt Medea?"
"Because they've sworn loyalty to her?" Solon replied, stopping in his tracks, his mind whirling at the unexpected question.
"Not at all," Lyra answered, her eyes sharp. "They aren't loyal to her. They are only loyal to their money. That's why, despite being humiliated and treated like objects, they keep crawling back to her. They're all slaves to capitalism. With just a little more money, they'll betray Aunt Medea without even blinking. I don't need to form alliances with such snakes. If I need allies, I want them to come to me, not because I'm chasing after them."
"...While that may be true, they are still supporting her. We cannot ignore that fact."
"Then so be it," Lyra said nonchalantly, her gaze cold. "It's not like I'm expecting them to face punishment for their crimes."
"???"
Solon was taken aback, confusion written across his face as he waited for her to explain. Lyra placed her sketch aside and stood, her smile returning.
"I'm just offering them a humble teaser—a preview of what could happen if I decide to take action in the future. Now, come on. It's time."
Skipping lightly, Lyra moved forward, her steps light and merry, while Solon trailed behind, clearly confused. His gaze flickered to the drawing she was working on, a sketch of a woman standing on the edge of a cliff. The woman, instead of looking out over the ocean, was gazing behind her, where the sun's rays were blazing. Though the scene was meant to be breathtaking, something about it felt off—an underlying darkness that Solon couldn't quite grasp. The woman's face, so eerily blank, gave the unsettling impression that her eyes were hollow, staring straight through him, as if she were gazing into his very soul. A shiver ran down his spine. He turned away quickly, following Lyra, still unnerved and uncertain about what would come next.
Lately, it had become a habit for Lyra to sit alone with Solon, no one daring to join her. It was an unspoken rule that those who didn't belong to her faction kept their distance, choosing the neutral ground in the middle.
But today, something unexpected happened. Duke Wren, with an air of quiet defiance, walked straight to Lyra and sat beside her. A ripple of whispers filled the room as people scrutinized the change.
With a respectful bow, Duke Wren settled in next to her, his aide following suit.
Lyra's lips curled into a knowing smile.
"It's a surprise to see you here."
"I simply needed a change of pace," he replied smoothly.
"It seems Duke Atlas has been speaking with you."
"Do you suppose he has?"
"It must have been something compelling enough to bring you here. Although, I must admit, you may be sending the wrong signals, sitting next to me. People may think you're part of my faction."
"I wouldn't call it excessive. Let's just say I'm neither here nor there. I sat because I wanted to sit."
Her smile wavered slightly, and her tone turned sharper.
"Let me be clear. I do not have much patience for people who cannot decide what they want. If you're unclear, you'd do well not to attract attention to yourself or to me."
"Why is that?" Duke Wren asked, intrigued.
Lyra paused for a moment, then turned inward. Perhaps she disliked indecision because it mirrored a part of herself that she couldn't shake off. It was a trait she loathed in others, perhaps because she couldn't escape it within herself.
"I'm sure you already know why," she replied coolly, her gaze moving past him to Wily, who had just entered with his entourage. As the door closed behind him, it was time to start the meeting.
In past sessions, Lyra had always been the one to introduce the discussion. As Crown Princess, it was her prerogative. But Wily and his followers had always ignored her, never greeting her, never acknowledging her words properly. She didn't speak first out of a desire for recognition—it was about control. She didn't trust Wily and his faction. She had to steer the conversation, to keep things from slipping out of her grasp.
Today, however, she wasn't eager to start. She held back, waiting. Despite the polite bowing from the neutral faction, she glanced at Wily's group, expecting them to acknowledge her first.
But they sat in silence, eyes on her, waiting for her to begin.
Wily finally broke the silence, turning to her with a slight smile.
"Lyra, I think you can begin now."
Lyra's sharp gaze fixed on his men, none of whom met her stare, instead looking at her in confused indifference.
"Lyra?" Wily repeated.
"I believe something is missing," she said coolly, her eyes still locked on his faction.
"And what is that?" Wily asked, his patience beginning to wear thin.
Lyra's silence was her only answer, her eyes narrowing. Finally, Wily sighed in resignation.
"Well, whatever it is, forget about it. If you're not going to proceed, I will."
As Wily began presenting, Duke Wren leaned in, his voice low.
"Aren't you going to reprimand him? For his disrespect?"
Lyra turned to him, her expression unreadable.
"Do you think I should?"
Duke Wren studied her, trying to gauge her thoughts, but found no clarity in her gaze. He responded cautiously, "It goes without saying. You are the Crown Princess."
"And yet you never did anything about it," Lyra mused, her voice soft, almost wistful. "You've been a witness to this behavior for years, and still, you never condemned it."
"I..."
"You can't hide behind excuses. You're a Duke, aren't you?"
"I apologize," he muttered, his head bowing slightly.
Lyra regarded him for a moment, her gaze unfathomable. "It's good you know how to apologize. But don't worry. I'm not criticizing you. I understand you wish to remain neutral. But if that's the case, then perhaps you should avoid sitting next to me in future meetings."
With a slight nod in Duke Atlas's direction, Lyra made her point clear.
As Wily finished his presentation and others began to speak, the room settled into a tense quiet. But just as Wily was about to make his announcement, Duke Atlas interrupted.
"I have something to report."
Wily looked up, slightly taken aback. "Please, go ahead."
"A week ago, one of my former assistant secretaries was found to be involved in illegal transactions through TWIST. I wanted to know how much money he had stolen, so I investigated the bank."
Wily flinched, his face tightening as he asked cautiously, "And what did you uncover?"
"A substantial sum of money from the Royal treasury was also being illegally moved using TWIST," Atlas revealed, his voice calm, but carrying the weight of the revelation.
A deep, heavy silence settled over the room, every eye instinctively drawn to Wily. Lyra, her voice breaking the stillness, exclaimed, "Oh my! What an utter calamity! This demands our immediate attention. Duke Atlas, please, the documents you have uncovered—let me peruse them myself."
Wily's complexion had turned an ashen hue, his hand coming down upon the table with force, his finger jabbing towards Lyra as he hissed through gritted teeth, "You! It is your fault, every last bit of it. You were entrusted with a singular task—to examine these papers—and yet, look at this!" His voice trembled with indignation, but the undertone of fear was unmistakable.
"I beg your pardon," Lyra replied, her tone the epitome of grace, though the fire beneath her calm exterior was undeniable. "If this is indeed my fault, I shall bear the consequences, and I will personally investigate the matter further."
Duke Atlas, ever the gentleman, placed the documents into her hands with a measured gesture. As Lyra began to study the papers, Wily, impatient, snatched at them, his eyes wide with panic.
"No, give them to me!" he insisted, his voice rising in pitch.
Lyra, ever the picture of composure, feigned distress, her voice thick with sorrow as she replied, "Oh, but how can I? It is my duty. I shall read every word aloud to ensure no error goes unnoticed."
Wily's temper flared once again. "Shut your mouth! You shall do no such thing!" His voice held the unmistakable bite of authority, but his face was twisted with fear.
The room was still, every onlooker—those loyal to Wily included—watching the drama unfold with open-mouthed astonishment. There was a flicker of sympathy for Lyra, but the tension was palpable.
A lone voice cut through the murmurs, a soft plea for reason. "Sir Wily, please, do not scold Princess Lyra. Allow her to do what is required."
Wily's gaze turned icy, his words a biting command. "Silence."
Lyra, unperturbed by the rising tension, continued to read the documents aloud, each amount more damning than the last.
"Seventy million karaken, transferred. Signed by Brother Wily."
"One hundred and thirty-five million karaken, transferred. Signed by Brother Wily."
"Thirteen billion karaken, transferred. Signed by Brother Wily."
The words hung in the air, a damning litany of signatures, as Lyra's voice rang out, steady and deliberate, with Duke Atlas offering the occasional confirmation of the amounts. The documents were displayed for all to see.
Wily's patience was exhausted. "Enough! We understand the point! I confess, I may not have examined the papers thoroughly. But do cease this ridiculous display!"
Lyra, her expression unreadable, offered him a smile that was nothing short of serpentine. "Ah, but I do have a question, if I may."
The room held its breath as Lyra turned her gaze to Wily, her voice lilting but pointed. "If I may ask—just out of sheer curiosity—are these amounts truly intended for charity? For a single woman, no less? Brother Wily, moments ago, you assured us that Hubris had produced this account and entrusted it to Miss Nova, to provide charitable funds on our behalf. Yet these sums—are they not a tad extravagant?"
Wily's brow glistened with perspiration, his grip tightening on the arm of his chair. He forced a response, though it came out strained. "Nova… she did not use all of the funds herself. She distributed them to others, in our name, for charity."
"How... generous of her," Lyra mused, her voice sweet but tinged with suspicion. "And yet, one must wonder. Miss Nova passed five years ago, yet this account was transferred only three years ago. How curious, that a deceased woman should still hold ownership over a bank account. Would it not then suggest... that this charity, noble though it may seem, could indeed be something less than lawful?" Her smile deepened as she leaned forward, her gaze unflinching. "And where, I wonder, is the proof of the charity Miss Nova supposedly distributed?"
Wily's expression darkened, but Lyra was not finished. Her voice was soft, almost pitying as she added, "I'm not accusing anyone, of course. I simply wonder, out of curiosity, so that such... errors do not repeat themselves."
Wily's lip curled in anger, though he held his tongue. With a final, venomous glance at Lyra, he declared, "We shall reconvene in court tomorrow. No word of this is to be spoken outside these walls."
The silence that followed was thick with tension. As Wily stormed from the room, Lyra stood, her back straight, her face a portrait of composed satisfaction.
She allowed herself a moment to reflect, her voice a mere whisper. "I wonder… did I say anything... untoward?"
Duke Wren, his gaze contemplative, spoke up, his voice smooth and reassuring. "Your questions were entirely reasonable. We must uncover the truth. This is no small matter."
Duke Axel, who had been silent until now, added his voice to the conversation, "Indeed, this is something that must be addressed. That bank has long been a source of irritation for us. It is fortunate that Duke Atlas has uncovered this."
"I never would have known had it not been for that rogue assistant secretary of mine," Lyra confessed, a rueful smile tugging at her lips. "A happy accident, it seems, but a fortuitous one."
She was silent for a moment, pondering her next words. "Or was it truly a coincidence?"
The whisper was quiet, but it did not go unnoticed. The room exchanged a few knowing looks, but none dared interrupt as Solon moved to approach Lyra.
Before he could speak, a maid entered in haste, her presence an unwelcome distraction. She leaned in, her words hushed but urgent. "Duchess Medea requests an audience with you, Your Highness."
Lyra arched an eyebrow, her voice light, though her expression remained unreadable. "That was swift," she remarked, her gaze flicking briefly toward Solon, who stood at attention.
He leaned toward her, speaking in a quiet murmur. "I overheard that the relationship between Duchess Medea and Her Highness is… shall we say, less than cordial."
Lyra gave a small nod of acknowledgment, dismissing the maid with a glance. "Inform her that I am occupied. I cannot attend to her at present."
The maid hesitated, her unease evident, but Lyra's command was firm. The woman hesitated but finally acquiesced.
Once the maid had departed, Lyra exhaled softly, turning to her companion. "I do wonder what she wants, but alas, it will have to wait."
She retired to her private residence soon after, the weight of the day settling upon her. Her room was serene, and as she sank into the sofa, she allowed herself a brief moment of introspection.
Her mind, however, was far from calm. Solon, ever attentive, noticed the subtle shift in her demeanor, though he made no remark. It was only when he placed the last of the documents away that he hesitated, voice soft with curiosity.
"If I may, Your Highness... I still fail to understand your motives. What is it you seek to accomplish with these... carefully posed questions?"
Lyra turned to him, her smile tinged with something unreadable. "Should I tell you?"
He gave a respectful bow. "Only if you wish to share, Your Highness."
Her eyes glinted, revealing a flicker of something more beneath the surface. "I simply wished to see how certain parties—particularly my father—would react. It is time I learned where his loyalties truly lie."
Solon nodded in quiet understanding, his heart heavy with the weight of her unspoken thoughts. He hoped, for her sake, that her father's loyalty would prove true.
Before he could speak, Lyra's attention shifted once more, her gaze alighting on the letter Solon had brought her. Her face softened with genuine delight.
"A letter from Boreas?" she asked, her voice light, a smile playing at the corners of her lips.
The joy in her eyes was unmistakable as she took the letter from Solon's hand, the weight of the world momentarily forgotten.
As she read, her whispers to herself held a fondness that contrasted sharply with the calculating nature of her earlier questions.
"I am not frightened of horses. Who told you that?" she mused aloud, her eyes sparkling as she read the words of Boreas.
"Do I miss you?"
Her heart fluttered, the warmth of the letter filling her thoughts as she whispered, "Of course I do... Your letters are the only bright spot in my life. I miss you more than I can express, but I fear my feelings are too muddled to give you any clear indication of what lies within my heart."
The letter was reread, again and again, until the words blurred together, and at last, exhaustion claimed her. She fell into a peaceful slumber, the letter still clutched tightly in her hands, her thoughts lingering on the man whose words had brought a fleeting moment of happiness.