'Maybe I should get back to Pradour.'

Walking frantically back and forth, Vance was at his wit's end.

No matter how hard he tried to be as composed as possible, he simply couldn't. When he heard from Ayland earlier about where the poison came from, he instinctively knew that it wasn't meant for the duchess—rather, it's meant to be a message for him. The letter from Pradour came from a supporter of his, and since he left with Priscilla, he never got in touch with them anymore. The news of his current whereabouts might've been leaked that his distant cousin was able to track him, but there's only less than a handful of people who knew about where he's currently at.

Unless one of that handful of people squeaked.

When Vance left his empire, he still received news of what was happening there. And though it was unfortunate that he could not attend his father's funeral, he was still well aware that the late grand duke heeded his recommendation to give his cousin the position. But to think that fate would play a bad joke on him and bring back the predicament in his hands made Vance rethink everything.

He couldn't just pack and leave Amelia—she's his only family left. But he also couldn't allow the position that his father held with pride—the one he also worked hard to inherit—to be left to ruin. The last news he heard from Dehstun was that his distant cousin, Uric Gyttins, was planning a coup to overthrow the imperial family on the premise that they have abused too much of their power and that the people were left to suffer from nothing to eat and no better homes to live in. He's trying to appeal to the lower classes and those that were forced out of their lands.

"The floor would bore a hole soon if you don't stop prancing," Vernon said.

Vance glowered at him and said, "It's from Pradour, Vernon. The poison's from Pradour—my empire!"

"I know. I heard it too. And I'm just as shocked as you are, but you don't see me going back and forth. It won't change anything." The advisor stopped and looked at the duke for a second before exhaling sharply. He ran his fingers through his thinning hair and places his hands on his hip.

"Maybe I should get back to Pradour." He said, and Vernon's eyes grew.

"What? Go back?" Vernon slammed his hand on the wooden table, "And how is that going to solve your problems? What are you going to tell Lia? How would you explain it to her? Do you think that you could just casually tell her that she's your granddaughter and that she almost died because of you? I don't think so."

For a moment, Vance closed his eyes. It's certainly too much for the duchess to take in. It would seem that everything she grew up to believe in, were nothing but lies. He couldn't hurt like that. Not when her birthday's coming, and not to mention she also has to worry about receiving the emperor's blessing for her engagement.

He hasn't spoken with Alexander yet about his plans on how to tell the emperor about it—which he probably already knew at this point. There's also the thing about the letter that he hasn't told Vernon about. He thought there was no need to tell him since he had no plans on letting even a single gray hair of his fall on Pradour's soil. But seeing as Uric's made an effort to provoke him, he had no other choice but to spill some blood again.

"I don't think that going to Pradour now would solve any problem," Vance said as he finally sat opposite of the duke.

"Good that you're thinking straight now."

"I should have some of my men travel here so we could discuss it properly. Ask what's really happening back there."

"And do you have any form of communication with these so-called supporters of yours?" Vernon faced him, and the advisor stared silently back at him. "Thought so."

"I'll send a messenger to Dehstun. He's currently traveling through the Capital. I could ask him to—"

"Or you can ask your future grandson-in-law to make an exemption at the port. Who's better than the supposed 'guardian of the sea'? His sister had you investigated. I was surprised that she found out in such a short time. And her little brother came to me like a raging bull asking about you. You're not as invisible as you think you are."

The old advisor only stared blankly at the duke. He knew that something was off with Clement when they were sitting at the dining hall as Ayland gave his report. To think that he found out about it, and his sister, nonetheless, was nothing short but amazing—probably not the young duke, but his sister.

When Vance came to Creador, he made sure to cover his and Priscilla's tracks carefully. With the help of Nathan, Vernon, and the emperor, he was able to live all these years peacefully and not worry that a single thing about his past coming to haunt him. But those times were just a pretense to what was about to happen in the coming days.

Vance let out a sigh as he lowered himself to sit, then Vernon spoke.

"I got a letter from the Order. They want to meet as soon as possible regarding the threats on Lia's life," he said.

"Oh, they're making a move now?" He asked back sarcastically.

Vernon shrugged his shoulder and massaged his chin, "Well, the first one was taken care of peacefully, so there was no need for the Order to be involved. Though I am the highest-ranking member, I don't get to decide things by myself. I'm thankful for their respect, but my rank is just a rank."

"I'm not questioning the decisions of the rest of the Order. It was peacefully resolved because they weren't there to meddle."

"But this time, with so many people witness to what happened to Lia, there's no way the Order—and the emperor—would stay out of it."

"I know," Vance replied, his palm running down his face. "I received a letter earlier from the emperor. He wanted to meet with us on our way home to Osmea. He wanted to know what really happened to Amelia herself."

"He did?" Vernon sounded a little surprised. Aside from the gathering, the emperor never once did ask for Amelia to appear in court. Even after she came back from Vernon's care, and there's a certain reason for that. "You don't think he's—" Vernon let his question hang as the advisor inhaled sharply before he stood to leave.

"He has no right to." Vance plainly answered, and he turned his back to the duke, twisting the knob of the door open, "Let's have a meeting with Alexander Clement later before we meet with the rest of the Order."

"Are you going to tell him?"

"No." Vance firmly answered. "I am going to tell him how to make the emperor agree to give them his blessings."

**********

Mildolde boasted an assortment of entertainment from the get-go. With traveling merchants, peddlers, and performers here and there. On one street, where the biggest fighting arena can be found, a lot of people also gathered. And because of the arenas, Aclador's never short of foreigners coming to either watch or compete.

Some bet on their favorite fighters and a fee with a minimum of three silver jeras were to be paid upon entering. It's a fun place—hot and loud and crowded, but the action-packed rounds were all worth it.

And, of course, more visitors meant more business. And more business meant more merchants; more merchants meant more goods to be found from the smallest ornament to the most intricate and most expensive ones.

Amelia smiled to herself. She used to enjoy walking down the cobbled streets in disguise. She would usually be dressed in Piers' clothes and her hair hidden by a hat. Sometimes Piers came with her, but at other times she'd sneak out of her training and wander around. She'd always be caught not long after, though—the longest being an hour. Amelia suspected that Piers told the guards where to find her since she'd always see him nowhere when she's been brought home—probably being punished elsewhere.

"Something interesting caught your eye?" Amelia grimaced. She got distracted by the lively crowd that she forgot Alexander was behind her.

Well, she wouldn't be out of the palace if it weren't for him, so the least she could do to repay him was to be a little friendly. Then Amelia remembered the time they spent getting to Mildolde. Him ignoring her and not correctly explaining things—it's not something that she should repay him kindly with. Perhaps she should be a little less nice to him, after all.

The duchess only looked at the duke briefly without saying anything, then she went on to walk towards the bazaar. And when she was finally among the rows of specialty stalls, Amelia stood like a statue when she felt warm, huge hands caged hers. She looked down at it and saw Alexander's hand holding hers. The duchess tried to pull it away, but the duke only smiled at her, gripping it even tighter. Just when Amelia thought it would get much worse, Alexander forced her hand to open so he could intertwine his fingers with hers.

"I don't want you getting lost," he beamed, and Amelia's eyes widened in disbelief.

She kept on swallowing nothing but air and saliva as her eyes shifted uncomfortably from one point to the other. Though she felt like a puppet being dragged from one place to another, it didn't take her long to feel comfortable enough to pull at his hand whenever something interesting caught her attention. Amelia also listened as Alexander talked to some merchants—as expected of a businessman such as himself.

The talks were all small and short, not even five full minutes per person. And when they have taken a peek at every stall on their way, the duke looked back and asked, "We should grab something to eat. Do you know any place here with good food?" Alexander released her hand.

"Yes…" was Amelia's meek reply as she slowly brought her hand back to her side. She shouldn't feel disappointed, but she was.

Unexpectedly so.

The duchess wanted to enjoy herself, but it seemed as if the duke was the only one living up to expectations. Following a little behind him, her eyes fell on the hand she was holding onto earlier. A part of her wanted to reach out, but a huge part of her rebelled at the thought.

Alexander's hand was huge and a bit rough, but they're warm. At some point, Amelia blushed when the duke suddenly asked her if she's been training lately because her hand had healing blisters. Blood rushed to her face as she kept her hand close to her chest. Glaring at the duke for the inconsiderate question, Alexander only laughed it off as a response.

After a few more minutes, standing at the far end of one of the alleyways in Mildolde, a good meters away from the crowd, both rulers stared at the tall, opened, wooden door with a sign on top of it that read, 'LaDru.' It's a small eatery that Duke Mulford brought her to and has the best-tasting selection of stews that were all to die for.

Before entering, Amelia pulled her hood over to hide her hair. If only she remembered to bring with her the fake hair Janina gave, she would've been able to roam a lot freer.

From the outside, LaDru was just like another commoner's shop—dull, rough, and a little broken, but inside was a different story. Clay bricks and intricate wooden carvings made up most of the posts. Hardwood beams supported the upper floor, where small hanging lights were also attached. At the far corner of the eatery, there were casks of ale and wine all stacked and labeled. A number of long wooden tables and a few round ones were placed here and there. The walls were decorated with a handful of mounted animal heads that have gathered dust over the years.

The eatery's usually packed with locals and foreigners alike, but since it's already past lunchtime, most people were inside the arenas, gambling or just roaming around. So, Amelia and Alexander came at the right time. Scanning the room, there were only eight more people—thirteen if the owner standing behind the small bar counter, his cook, and waitresses were counted.

"Let's take that table," Amelia heard, and she reddened as Alexander pulled her with him to an empty round table at the far corner of LaDru, near the windows that gave them a peek of the people on the streets strutting about.

Following timidly, Amelia felt relieved, and she hated herself for feeling so. In just a couple of hours, she's felt like she was on a rollercoaster of feelings and thoughts that were all hard to grasp.

All new and confusing. Like earlier, when Alexander let her hand go, Amelia felt a sort of freedom that later turned to disappointment then slowly fell into a feeling of solitude. She's not sad that the duke let her hand go, but since the winter season was slowly creeping in, his warm hand was a source of comfort.

Yes, it was comfortable for her to have such a fine walking hand warmer that's able to adjust accordingly.

Yes, Alexander's Amelia's portable hand warmer now.

Amelia nodded discreetly. Satisfied with her childish justification.

A few minutes after they sat down, a young lady, looking like she's around Laila's age, came and asked them sweetly what they wanted to order. By then, Alexander pulled off his hood, and the lady smiled even brighter. The duke smiled back rather pleased too.

Just looking at the two of them casually talking to each other made Amelia look the other way so she could tend to her tightening chest. Regulating her breathing, the duchess tried to recall what could've caused it. She hasn't eaten anything yet, so poison's out of the question.

Then what could it be?

"Cice?" Amelia blinked twice as she returned her gaze back to Alexander. "I'm having a root vegetable soup. How about you?"

"Ah, yes. Uhm…" Amelia's eyes darted at a wall where their menu was written in huge bold letters. "I think I'll have a pottage stew." Alexander smiled, looking rather amused. His eyes stared at the duchess, not even looking back when the lady said that she would be back with a cheerful tone.

"Pottage stew, huh?"

"What? You didn't expect that I'd order it?"

"No, not at all." He flashed another playful smile. "It's understandable. You must be quite famished since you haven't eaten anything. Anything's fine." He continued as he placed his crossed arms on the table's edge when he leaned over.

"Just so you know, this place serves the best pottage stew in Aclador."

"Oh? And I assume that you went here with Piers? Or maybe Elias? Osmund doesn't seem the wandering type." Amelia just stared at the duke and didn't say anything. "You seem pretty close with Piers. Must be the age?"

"Well, I experienced a lot in Aclador thanks to Piers always taking me everywhere."

"You like him?"

Amelia's raised a brow, "More like I love him. He's family. The Mulfords are all my family."

"Family, huh?" Alexander leaned back on his chair and nodded, looking around.

There was only silence for a few minutes until Amelia broke it, saying, "Tell me about yourself." And Alexander looked at her, tilting his head slightly to the left.

"What do you want to know?"

"Hmm…" Amelia looked at the customer that entered and then back to the duke, "What was your childhood like?"

"Being a duke?" Alexander chuckled before leaning on the table. "I took the position when I was fifteen when my father died. And it's been like that ever since. Before that, I was a fairly good kid. I've been praised for my brain. My father often has me tag along with him in whatever he did, like attending galas, border patrol, meetings, and whatnots. I study. I train. Just, you know, basic heir life. How about you?"

"I don't know," Amelia smiled faintly, looked at her hands, and continued, "I don't remember much of it because of the incident. I do remember some parts of it, though. I remember my parents and how they doted on me greatly. I wasn't allowed to meet just anyone because they said that there would come a time when I'd be surrounded by so many people that I'd wish to hide. That's why I've always been away from the public's—" Amelia straightened up and looked confused as her voice turned to a whisper.

Something didn't feel right.

"Cice? Are you okay?" she heard Alexander asked. His hand felt on top of hers, but she was too preoccupied with her own thoughts to even respond.

Amelia remembered how she's always kept out of the public's eye when she was little. Whenever they had visitors over or parties, she would always be kept in her room and told that good girls obey her parents. When her parents were invited somewhere, she would be left with her governess for days. And she's only allowed to roam the garden if her parents, Vance, or her governess were there. They didn't trust the attendants that much, and she's always followed by knights personally picked by her father.

And because she's always been praised as a very good girl for behaving, she would just bottle her curiosities inside and look at the people gathering at the entrance from her room's window. She didn't even know what beyond the palace gates looked like.

But Vance was her savior. He's the one who often brought her past the gardens and sometimes lets her play at the stables. He'd always be scolded by her mother later, but she also listened to him very well. It's the same reason that she was thrilled for her tenth birthday because she got to attend a party and meet all sorts of people like her mother and father.

Amelia's recollection of her childhood was cut short when she twitched at the sudden pang on one side of her head.

"Hey, Cice!" The duchess heard the duke's chair screech against the floor and felt his hands on her shoulders. "Are you alright? Answer me."

The Duchess shook her head slowly, her eyes shut closed as her palm tried to massage her temples. The heaviness in her head that started from one side slowly crept to another and then to her whole head.

It's a memory she never remembered having before. Did she just regain a bit of her lost memory?