'Don't tell me you fell in love'

The duchess' face warmed up.

"I—" Amelia started, but she was cut off.

"To set the record straight, I was serious back then—about the proposal." The amber eyes that took her breath away at the banquet hall pierced her with a seriousness she wasn't prepared to receive. Alexander leaned over the table, resting his chin on his clasped hands with his elbows on the table supporting it.

The cake that was supposed to enter the duchess' mouth fell on her lap.

"Goodness," the duke panicked as he quickly fished his handkerchief from his coat to hand it over to Amelia, but the duchess lightly brushed his hand away.

"No, no. It's fine. I'm fine. It's just crumbs," Amelia awkwardly smiled as she wiped her dress, not even looking at the duke. "This is nothing compared to being covered with dirt and mud."

'Dirt and mud,' Alexander repeated to himself but soon shook his head clean of any malicious thoughts.

The duke leaned back in his chair. Any closer, and he'd have the gap between them close again.

"I don't think it would be a loss for an old but influential House such as the Florence's to marry—unite—House Clement." Alexander started.

Amelia held her teacup with both hands, taken aback by his earlier statement.

"Osmea has rich soil and vast fortress-like forests and mountains," Amelia nodded. When she was younger, she thought how wise the first duke must had been. It was etched in the history books of Creador that in return for the gratitude of helping the imperial family, the first duke took the privilege to choose which duchy he would like to rule over, and he decided on Osmea.

Rich soil and an abundant thick forest.

Osmea had never experienced drought before and always helped other duchies go over the dry season and during winter ordeals. It's not a wealthy duchy, but it can sustain itself longer than the rest of the empire.

"As you know," the duke continued," Thuenia's primary source of income is our monopoly of the port. As one of the biggest exporters of produce, I can give Osmeans access to the port free of tax for local goods and lesser tax for luxury goods." It was as if the duke read Amelia's mind.

She couldn't believe that the reasons she told Mr. Vance were also the conditions that Duke Clement's laying out for her. She wasn't expecting the conversation to be—easy.

'But was it really supposed to be this easy?' There's a growing uncertainty budding from the pits of her stomach.

"Would this be okay with you?" the duchess asked after she sipped her tea to calm herself.

Alexander's stare made her shift awkwardly in her seat.

"Of course, we would need to draft proper conditions for it, and I would have to ask my council. I can already foresee the disapprovals, but it is my word against theirs."

"Also," there's more? "Aside from the ports, my duchy is also well known for the various merchant and mercenary guilds who bring business all over the empire and neighboring foreign countries. This is possible because of their easy access to the port. As you know by now, House Clement takes full monopoly of these guilds too. By our marriage, Osmean merchants can now enjoy the privileges of a guild. I can establish a mercenary guild in Osmea for those who wish to join. Still, because Duke Mulford oversaw most of your House's military affairs years back, it's difficult for the nobility to easily accept mercenaries. And I don't wish any conflict to arise from this."

Amelia's heart beat faster. She suddenly felt dizzy and parched. She clasped her trembling hand and hid it from the duke's sight. She scanned the table and then looked at the person across her.

"Duchess? Are you okay?" the duke asked worriedly; his brows furrowed.

"This is all… just hard to take in." she massaged her temples for a few seconds before she took a deep breath and straightened herself.

'You're used to this. This is a crucial time; bear with it for a while.' She repeatedly told herself.

"As I was saying, regarding the merchant guilds," Alexander's eyes stayed on her, which made Amelia even more uncomfortable. "Unlike wandering merchants who look for sales and patrons themselves, members of a guild are privileged to choose from the hundreds of requests that come in."

"The merchant guilds sound promising, but mercenaries can easily betray their master. I don't really trust them." was her only reply.

Alexander tilted his head.

"Why do you think mercenaries betray their masters?" Amelia grew quiet at the stern voice as she stared back at the eyes of a duke, not the Alexander Clement who made a scandal out of his proposal a few weeks ago.

There was growing tension between them, and the silence was deafening. But the duchess couldn't utter a word. She didn't have an excellent memory with mercenaries—it's not like Osmea doesn't have wandering mercenaries here and there, but she doesn't trust them personally.

'But why?' she ended, doubting herself.

"Because they're not receiving enough? Because they had a change of heart?" she gave a vague reply.

"And why did they have a change of heart? Was it their fault that they were not receiving enough? Mercenaries have a contract-based relationship with their master. That contract is the same as a knight's sword; it's their pride. And people don't like it when their pride is being trampled. Of course, that's not always the case, but, well… you know, it's a possibility."

Amelia sat still as the duke's eye never left hers because as much as she didn't want to admit it, the more Duke Clement asked her for clarity, the more his ideas seemed plausible.

A mercenary knight, who saved the eighth emperor's life during the Great War, built House Clement. It would be understandable that a descendant of the same house would side with the mercenaries—they had the one thing that the other duchies didn't have—and that was a genuine connection to the common people, just like they once were. Other Houses were looked up to, but House Clement's with them instead.

"Having mercenaries is good too. Even Aclador has several wandering mercenaries. Unlike knights who are drafted, mercenaries are hired. They need to be good at what they do if they want to be accepted. Thuenia doesn't have any mercenary groups other than that of the guild; that way, there's less conflict."

Alexander Clement, who's called the Rebel Duke with a streak of scandalous habits, suddenly looked like someone with authority. His proposals sounded too promising not to consider.

And as if the duke hasn't made it clear enough, he leaned on the table yet again and reiterated, "By our marriage, House Clement will waive the taxes for local goods exported through the port and a lesser tax for the luxury one. Thuenia will establish a branch of its main merchant guild in Osmea, so it's easier access for your merchants. Those who wish to join the mercenary guild can come to my duchy. I will also offer financial aid to your future endeavors for your duchy. I will not restrict you from your responsibility nor take away your position as the duchess or force you to take Clement's name. Though…" For the first time in a while, Alexander broke off his gaze and looked the other way.

Amelia swallowed air, 'What more can he add to his conditions?' Isn't it more than enough of what she initially thought of?

Alexander shifted awkwardly in his seat, "If you give birth, please allow our firstborn to be at least a Clement. I'll—need an heir too, of course."

'Our…' Blood rose to Amelia's face.

'How can he suggest something so far into the future? And how can he be so sure of himself that I would just agree to marry him? Why was everything happening so fast?'

"If those conditions aren't enough, I could—" he looked back at Amelia with a more serious gaze. "I could help you with finding out about what happened seven years ago."

Amelia's breathing hitched. She stared back at the duke with a hint of madness in her eyes. Has she heard him right? Does he know what happened then? How much does he know? Does he know the people behind that night?

A continuous streak of questions filled Amelia's mind. How could he bring this condition to the table, knowing full well that she would do anything just to find it? That it had always been the one reason she's doing all these things?

All these years, she had been looking for even the tiniest scraps of information she could get her hands on that incident—and this person, this Duke of House Clement, claimed that he could solve that problem for her just like that!

The duchess swallowed hard as she continued to tightly clasp her trembling hands.

"H-how can you do that? How can I be assured that you will do it? There's no telling if you're true to your words once we're married."

"I have eyes and ears everywhere, Duchess. I am quite sure that you are already well aware of that."

True. Though House Clement wasn't a military house like House Mulford, they're famous for their outstanding spies, mercenaries, and even assassins. Gathering scarce information was like picking gossip for them.

Amelia had a long pause. This was all too good to be true. How convenient would it be to marry a man with the wealth to support two Houses and put an end to her suffering?

What did she do to deserve this? Did the Heavens pity her so much that she could only do so little for all these years?

Amelia forced a smile, "A-and what do you ask of House Florence in return, your grace?" She tried to hold on to what's left of her composure. But Amelia's chest suddenly felt heavy. Her heart started to race, and she had trouble keeping it to herself. She's tired, and the lack of sleep didn't help.

"You."

Amelia blinked, dumbfounded.

"Me? Don't tell me you fell in love with me after what happened at the banquet hall," she kidded, but Alexander didn't refute her. And just when the duke opened her mouth, she waved her hand to stop him.

"Ah, don't answer," she chuckled. "People like us are too busy and too calculating to even find love. We just don't have the time for that. There's no such thing as love between us rulers, don't you agree?"

Amelia's smile slowly faded when the duke answered her with silence. And just then, the growing discomfort crept in again. She clenched her skirt under the table.

"Marrying someone from a House as old as the empire itself isn't so bad, right?" The duke looked at the distant budding flowers.

Amelia stiffened, and her heart sank.

She nodded to herself. Amelia heard people talking. They talked about how it would be possible for her House—for her—to claim the throne; all she needed was supporters, which the duchess knew had been gathering silently over the years. Especially when the current Crown Prince of Creador's incompetence became known after the scandal at the capital a few months ago.

There was a long pause between the two rulers. There wasn't any pressure–just nothing.

She was the one who asked about it so nonchalantly; was she expecting too much? She was the one who said that they're too busy and calculating to have the time to fall in love, so why does she feel dejected? What was she expecting to hear from him?

"I don't--" The duchess spoke first but cut short, and Alexander wondered as Amelia looked back at the entrance of the inner garden. "It's Arabella," she whispered, which confused the duke. The only sound he could hear was of the wind outside and their own breathing. "When I leave, stay here and don't go anywhere."

In a moment, the door swung open, and a panting Lady Arabella came in.

"Duchess, you have to go to the drawing room. Quickly!" Arabella hastily went beside her and grabbed her hand. She stole a glance at the duke and was surprised to see that he was already staring at her.

"Manners, Arabella. I have a guest," Amelia said when she withdrew her hand.

"No, no. You must go—like right now. Quickly, quickly! Ah, and you have to change too! You can't meet the Crown Prince like this."

"Duncan is here?" the duchess immediately rose and looked back to her prior guest to say, "Stay here as I have said. Don't go anywhere."

"You lot," the lady called at the maidservants that she came with, "Assist the duchess to her room. Laila is waiting there." She ordered. "Now, now, duchess. I will take care of things here. Just go." Arabella sounded too excited as she pushed her towards the door.

Arabella's gaze followed the maidservants hastily ushering Amelia away from the garden, leaving her lady-in-waiting behind to clean up and close the door, but before she did, she went back inside to greet the duke.

"Greetings, my Lord." Arabella bowed her head as she placed her left hand on her chest.

It's the greeting of the Order of the Void.