Finding Weakness

Iyana was weaving her way around backstage, looking every bit annoyed after interacting with the arrogant grand duke. That was when Easton spotted her.

"Iyana!" Easton called out, trotting over to her. "Congratulations on the award."

"Thank you, Your Imperial Highness," she responded, her voice devoid of any emotions.

"Are you mad at me? I know it has been a rough patch for you. Being in the war must have been... quite the ordeal. Oh, I also heard about your memory loss. That's, um, rough. I have been really worried about you. How are you now?"

"Thank you for your concern, Your Imperial Highness. But I am alright," her tone was once again as flat as a pancake.

"Please call me Easton. We have been childhood friends before we were engaged, after all. No need for formalities," he urged, trying to sound casual. "By the way, I am really glad you didn't sustain any grave injuries in the war—"

"Why? Would it have made any difference?"

Her words hit him like a bucket of cold water. "Pardon?"

"I mean, if I were gravely injured, would you have come to visit me?" she asked, her eyes boring into his soul.

"I—of course, I would have come."

She let out a small, mirthless laugh. "Really? But I don't think so. You didn't show up when I lost my memories nor when the tide of the war turned against us and your fiancée could have died."

"Iyana, I can explain—"

"Pardon me for cutting you off, Your Imperial Highness, but what could you possibly explain? That you were busy? Too busy to even send a letter for an entire year?"

"No, but, I…" Easton stammered. 

How on earth could he explain the chaos that was going on here without sounding like a whiny brat—a prince who couldn't efficiently take care of his empire? The war had turned his desk into a paper jungle, and the palace had its own issues popping up like mushrooms after rain. 

"I cannot explain it to you," he ended up saying.

"Thought so." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and his eyes lingered on that small movement. 

"Look," she continued, "I don't remember what our relationship was like before my memory did a disappearing act, but I do know most arranged marriages are about as affectionate as a handshake. I am cool with you not being particularly affectionate towards me. Really, I am."

She took a deep breath, glancing around as if she were about to drop a bombshell—which, in a way, she was. 

"But when I hear people snickering about how my fiancé could not care less about my life or that he is relieved I was out of sight, it gets under my skin. So you need to understand, people are watching us like hawks all the time," she exhaled a sigh, expressing the quiet torture she went through all by herself. 

Easton felt terrible for being unable to the bare minimum as her fiancé. Work always kept piling up and he found no other way.

"You need to do some things just for the sake of showing them. You could have sent me blank envelopes, and it would have saved me from a thousand of mocking words."

"I am sorry. I didn't realize that," he mumbled.

"Yes. Please realize it now. If you are going to fake concern for me, do it in public, not in private."

"I was not faking—" Easton's protest was cut short as Iyana's attention shifted to Vyan, who was stepping down from the stage while conversing with the emperor.

———

"Did you find out which family is lending money to the Estelles?" Vyan asked Clyde once they were in the carriage after the award ceremony.

"Yes. You were right. The Marquess borrowed money from another house to repair the fire damages," Clyde responded. "It's House Clipton."

"Count Clipton… Isn't he one of the wealthiest businessmen in the empire?" Vyan asked.

Clyde nodded. 

A smirk formed on Vyan's lips. "Imagine the scandal if everyone found out that the prestigious Estelles, the in-laws of the imperial family, are broke—too broke to even repair their own burnt down manor. They would become the laughingstock of the empire."

"But Count Clipton and Marquess Estelle are good friends. He wouldn't spill the beans," Clyde commented, looking puzzled.

"Not unless Count Clipton finds out something that turns him against the marquess," Vyan said, a mischievous glint in his eye.

"What are you planning?" Clyde asked, his curiosity piqued.

"I will tell you once we get home," Vyan said, his lips curling into a smug smile. "Oh, by the way, I talked to Princess Althea on my way out. We are meeting the day after tomorrow at the same market we planned to."

"I see," Clyde murmured, trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably.

"Don't sound so upset. I asked if I could bring my aide along, and she agreed."

Clyde's face lit up like a child on his birthday. "You are the best!"

Vyan shook his head, smiling faintly. "Don't blame me if she hates you, though."

"I will be the perfect gentleman," Clyde declared confidently.

"Sure, sure," Vyan replied, chuckling. "Just try not to trip over your own feet, lover boy."

———

The next afternoon, Count Marlo Clipton and his only daughter Kaya were in the carriage.

"Father, in my opinion, the products can be improved—" Just then, the carriage came to a screeching stop.

"What is going on?" Marlo hollered.

The door to the carriage swung open, and a man wearing a black ski mask appeared. A little bit of golden blonde was peeking out from the hem of the mask. With a strong tug, he pulled Kaya to him.

"Hey, let go of my daughter!" Marlo shouted. "Where is everyone? Come out and protect us!"

"There is no one, Count. Every one of your men is down and you are completely surrounded with no escape," the assaulter laughed, and it was true. 

All of the knights on guard were on the ground, injured or dead, and the carriage was surrounded by men in similar masks.

Marlo panicked and asked desperately, "What do you want? I will give you all the money you want in exchange for my daughter."

"Good. Because that's what we want," said the hooligan holding his daughter. "Meet us in the Valley of Divos at midnight with fifty thousand gold coins."

"Yes, okay. But no harm should come to my daughter."

"I assure you of her safety as long as I get the money. So long, Count." 

Marlo barely had time to react before the gas filled the carriage. His vision blurred as he tried to reach out for Kaya, her terrified eyes the last thing he saw before everything went black.