Elvin made a strange sound at Rishar’s words. He had been about to ask how His Grace could possibly know that, but at the sight of Rishar’s hardening face, he asked respectfully instead:
"What should I find out?"
"Everything."
Rishar answered as though the question were obvious. After a brief pause in thought, he spoke again.
"Focus on whether he’s close with Etienne, and what happened with Etienne while I was away from the hall."
"Understood."
Elvin accepted the added order without a murmur. He knew well that Rishar was peculiarly sensitive when it came to Etienne.
"You are here, Your Grace."
Once they were outside, Jade bowed with crisp precision. Behind him, the knights and mages of House Eckhart saluted in unison.
"Where is Stella?"
Rishar swept a glance over those who greeted him and spoke lazily. One person who ought to have been beside Jade was missing.
"Well… she was too drunk… She insisted on staying in the hall, so I stuffed her into the rear carriage."
"Well done."
At Jade’s answer, Rishar gave a slight nod and stepped into the prepared carriage.
"Set out."
Climbing in after him, Elvin signaled the driver. At the same moment, Jade gave orders to the knights.
Feeling the carriage start to move, Rishar looked out the window. His gaze fixed on the inner palace, a blur in the distance.
He had thought Etienne would be in the hall if the Empress had summoned him, but since he hadn’t been there when Rishar returned, the odds were high he had gone to the inner palace.
"Hmm."
Rishar hummed low, thinking of Etienne disappearing with Ben. In such a rush—he hadn’t so much as turned his head when Rishar said they should meet later.
"…A pity."
What a pity. Rishar murmured to himself, rubbing his jaw. They had exchanged a few words on the balcony, but it would have been better not to; it had only worsened the thirst.
"Tsk."
When the inner palace vanished completely from sight, Rishar clicked his tongue softly. It was a habit of his when something displeased him.
All day, Rishar’s nerves had been oriented toward Etienne. Even when the Emperor dragged him around the hall, he watched Etienne whenever he found a spare moment.
He had wanted to speak to Etienne, no matter if it displeased the Emperor or what others thought—but he could not.
Etienne sat alone in a corner throughout the banquet. For a prince being mentioned as the next owner of the throne, it was ill-suited behavior. The man himself showed no sign of minding.
Etienne, wearing the bored look of a child dragged out against his will, nursed a glass alone. A few nobles hovered near him, but he didn’t spare them a glance.
Watching him, Rishar felt a strange relief. To be reassured that no one was at Etienne’s side—he felt a disgust at himself.
But what could he do? He was made this way.
While perfunctorily receiving greetings and small talk, Rishar kept cutting glances at Etienne. When he saw Etienne heading alone toward the balcony, he made an excuse about stepping out for a moment and followed. If he didn’t go now, he felt he wouldn’t get to exchange a single word with him before the triumph banquet ended.
"Why do you keep pushing me away!"
"Let go!"
"Give me a reason I can accept!"
There had been an uninvited guest on the balcony where he had expected to find only Etienne. Seeing Theodore clutching Etienne’s arm and shouting, Rishar felt fury.
"What do you think you’re doing?"
Before he could assess and think, his body moved first. Rishar seized the wrist of the man clutching Etienne’s arm.
How dare he.
Rishar felt his vision flush scarlet with rage. His pheromones surged savagely with anger he couldn’t master. If Etienne hadn’t restrained him, he would have slammed Theodore to the floor.
"Are you all right?"
"I’m fine."
Etienne seemed a little surprised by Rishar’s sudden appearance, but he quickly regained his composure. When they were alone on the balcony, he looked at Rishar with his characteristic indifferent face.
"How did you know to come here?"
Etienne didn’t sound pleased to see him. His voice, lower than usual, carried discomfort.
"At last we are alone, Etienne."
Rishar pretended not to notice Etienne’s unease. He could not waste the hard-won chance. When he addressed him shamelessly, Etienne’s brows pinched by a hair’s breadth.
After a brief back-and-forth, Etienne gave up trying to throw him out. Only then could Rishar speak at ease.
"Did you receive the letters I sent?"
There were so many things he wanted to say when he saw Etienne again. But with Etienne before him, he didn’t know what to begin with.
After a moment’s thought, he brought up the letters. It was the subject of their last conversation when they had parted.
"…I did, up through last year."
At the mention of the letters, Etienne’s lashes trembled slightly. Rishar didn’t miss the flutter of those long lashes.
"I wanted to send one this year as well… but circumstances moved too quickly. Things were a bit chaotic."
It sounded plausible, but it was a barefaced lie. This year, Rishar had refrained on purpose. The more letters he sent to Etienne, the deeper his longing grew.
Etienne had kept what he said three years ago. He truly had not sent Rishar a single reply.
It would be a lie to say the silence hadn’t stung, but in a corner of his heart he felt it was just as well.
Even writing to Etienne left him frantic to go to him; if a reply had come, he likely would not have been able to restrain himself.
Expedition or no, he might have ridden straight for the capital. Rishar was sure of it.
"I told you I wouldn’t reply."
Etienne accepted Rishar’s lie. Scowling, he grumbled at the flimsy excuse.
"The content was the same every time…"
"You read my letters."
When he learned that Etienne had read them, Rishar was truly glad. In truth, he had thought Etienne might not read them—more so with no reply ever arriving.
Even so, last year he had sent letters regularly. At first, that alone eased the longing. Then the longing grew until it was unbearable, and he stopped.
There had been a reason the letters were always the same. He had too much to say to Etienne; once he started, the letters grew endlessly long. If he cut them down, he couldn’t tell what to keep and what to omit.
So he stuck to formal inquiries after his well-being. Instead, he put his whole heart into those lines. He didn’t know whether the worry and longing packed into every character reached Etienne, but at the time, it was the best he could do.
He had regretted not being able to write more then, but thinking back now, he was glad of it.
There was no way the Empress would have left his letters to Etienne alone. She had likely checked them first.
It was, at least, a comfort that the letters had reached Etienne at all. Given her nature, it wouldn’t have been strange if she had simply discarded them.
"I missed you, Etienne."
He had promised restraint, but the joy that Etienne had read his letters pried loose the feeling he had held down.
As expected, Etienne was uncomfortable with him. When Rishar begged to be called “Sha” as in the past, Etienne’s face hardened. And in a tone stiffer than ever, he said:
"…I have no intention of indulging your childishness. We aren’t children anymore."
It was a plain rejection—one that meant they could never go back to what they had been.
"…How did we end up like this."
Rishar recalled Etienne’s blatant discomfort and spoke with self-mockery.
"Sir? What did you just say?"
"Never mind. Just talking to myself."
Rishar answered Elvin’s question with indifference and followed his own thoughts again.
When had Etienne stopped smiling at him? And when had the serious face become more familiar than the smile?
With a bitter expression, Rishar searched his memory. The relationship between them had shifted sharply three years ago, on the day Etienne held his coming-of-age ceremony.
In keeping with imperial tradition, on the second day of the new year, Etienne came of age—and began little by little to distance himself from Rishar. There had been signs before, but that was the first time he had drawn a line overtly.
When Rishar formally succeeded to the grand-ducal seat, Etienne’s one-sided distancing worsened. Attending the investiture, Etienne offered a perfunctory congratulation and made it plain that he would keep his distance thereafter.
Then, Rishar had clung to Etienne, who was raising a wall. He knew why, and still could not understand.
"Don’t call me Etienne anymore. We’re not in that kind of relation now."
Etienne had been firm. He truly wished to become strangers with Rishar. But Rishar could not accept it. To him, it was a death sentence.
"If it’s because of the rumors around me… you needn’t mind them."
Rishar believed Etienne’s distancing was because of the Emperor and the Empress. The Emperor, once a benevolent patron, revealed an ambition to make Rishar his heir when Rishar distinguished himself at the Imperial War College. The Empress’s hostility dated from then.
"I’ll be the Grand Duke of Eckhart until I die. Whatever you may do, I will not be swayed by the adults’ affairs."
Rishar knew exactly why the Emperor favored him and why he intended to make him crown prince instead of Etienne. Which made him dislike it all the more.
The Emperor’s obsession and vindictiveness, the Empress’s ambition—none of it had anything to do with Rishar. But apparently that wasn’t true for Etienne.
"Rumors? I don’t know about that. I simply think this is right."
Etienne denied him. But Rishar knew why Etienne sought to step away. He couldn’t not know. He had grown up with Etienne.
Rishar’s thoughts slid further back, to a more faded past.
"From today, this is your home."
From the day the funerals for his parents ended and he entered the palace by the Emperor’s hand until he entered the Imperial War College, Rishar had lived in the palace without a break.
"Home?"
"Yes. Until you come of age, I will be your guardian. We will be family in all but name."
"Family…"
Rishar repeated the word the Emperor used, as if it were unfamiliar. To him, the Emperor could never be family.
"The palace where you will stay is the one I used in my own days as prince."
The Emperor bestowed on Rishar the palace he himself had used as a prince. It was right beside the palace Etienne used.
"I’ll introduce you to the Empress and the Prince later. Mm, how old is the Prince this year… You are close in age; you will be fast friends."
"The Prince? I know who he is. It’s Lord Etienne, isn’t it?"
"Hm? You know the Prince?"
"Yes. I saw him when I came with my mother."
"I see. Well then… That makes this easier. Chamberlain, bring the Prince."
At Rishar’s words that he knew the Prince, the Emperor ordered the chamberlain to fetch Etienne. Then he introduced the two.
"Prince. This is Rishar von Eckhart. You’ll be living together in the palace from now on, so get along."
"Yes, Father."
"…Very well. I have a council meeting; I will go. Show Rishar around the imperial palace."
Etienne, brought by the Emperor, seemed somewhat cowed. The Emperor, too, was stiff with Etienne in a way unlike how he was with Rishar. Leaving Rishar to Etienne, he withdrew.
"Greetings, Your Highness the Prince."
Watching Etienne’s mood, Rishar dipped his head. He had seen Etienne with the Empress several times when he visited with his mother, but this was their first actual conversation.
"Hi!"
Etienne, who had been hunched as if frightened, brightened like a clearing sky once the Emperor left.
"What’s your name?"
Planting himself in a seat, Etienne looked at Rishar with shining eyes. The quiet from moments ago was a lie; the turbid sky-blue of his eyes brimmed with curiosity.
"Rishar. Rishar von Eckhart."
"Rishar? Shar… That’s hard to say. Can I just call you Sha?"
Frowning as he tried Rishar’s name a few times, Etienne clapped his hands and spoke.
"Sha…?"
"Mm. Sha. How about that as a nickname?"
Pleased with the nickname he had coined, Etienne asked with sparkling eyes. The dull sky-blue glinted with new life; it was rather pretty.
"What’s a nickname?"
"It’s something close people call each other. You shorten a name and use it intimately. Don’t like it? If you don’t, I won’t call you Sha."
"No, I like it. Sha is good."
Rishar shook his head at once. He was suddenly anxious that Etienne might change his mind and insist on calling him simply Rishar. When Etienne had his consent, he beamed.
"Then I’ll call you Sha from now on. No taking it back later!"
"Mm."
"Good. Sha."
Sha. Following Etienne, Rishar murmured his own nickname to himself. For some reason, his chest tickled.
"Are you going to live here from now on?"
"No. Only until I come of age."
"Come of age? How old are you now?"
"Seven."
"Then I’m the older one! I’m nine."
"Older?"
"Right. Call me Etienne from now on."
Etienne cleared his throat pompously and lifted his shoulders. But Rishar wanted to address him differently.
"What’s Your Highness’s nickname? I want to call you by a nickname too."
"Me? I…"
At Rishar’s question, Etienne was thrown. Rishar tilted his head, watching him fumble without answering at once.
"I don’t have a nick— No, you’re younger than me! Nicknames are for friends."
Etienne, about to answer honestly, changed his words midstream. Rishar pretended not to hear the first part and asked again.
"Is that how it is?"
"Yes. So call me Etienne. Understood?"
"Yes."
Etienne gripped Rishar’s shoulders in both hands and glared. Cowed by Etienne’s force, Rishar nodded.
"Good."
Having got the answer he wanted, Etienne released his shoulders with a satisfied face.
"Let’s see. If you’re seven… there’s a long time until you come of age. We’ll live together at least ten years!"
Finishing his calculation at once, Etienne held out his hand to Rishar—an offer to shake.
"I look forward to it. Let’s be close."
"Yes, Etienne."
With a mild face, Rishar took Etienne’s hand. For a moment, he wondered whether, if Etienne had no nickname, he might give him one—but he discarded the thought. If he said he wanted to give Etienne a nickname, Etienne might be angry; Rishar was afraid.
Though this was the first time they had properly spoken, Rishar had wanted to be close to Etienne for a long time. So he held himself back. He didn’t want Etienne to dislike him.
But he couldn’t abandon the desire entirely, and so he nursed one secret wish: someday, he would call Etienne “Eti.”
"We’ve arrived."
Lost deep in reminiscence, Rishar surfaced at the driver’s voice. They had arrived at the grand-ducal residence before he knew it.
"We arrived faster than I thought."
"It isn’t far."
Elvin, who had risen first, opened the carriage door. Then, placing one hand over his belly and the other behind his back, he offered a playful salute.
"Welcome home, Your Grace the Grand Duke."
Rishar let out a brief laugh and stepped down from the carriage. The moment he did, the servants of the grand-ducal house, who had been waiting on word, bowed to him in a wave.
"Welcome home, Your Grace the Grand Duke!"
Three years, has it been? With eyes touched by feeling, Rishar looked upon the bright-as-noon grand-ducal residence. It was just as he remembered it.
"The night air is chill—let’s go in."
With a moved face, he patted the butler’s shoulder lightly as the man bowed, then started forward. Jade, Stella, and Elvin followed behind.
When will I see him next.
Walking toward the residence, Rishar cast a sidelong glance at the imperial palace in the distance. He had told Etienne they should meet with more leisure next time, but he had no idea when that would be. Even if he requested an audience, Etienne would likely refuse.
"Hmm."
Should I move the Emperor? Pondering how to meet Etienne again, Rishar entered the residence. Etienne would not want it, but Rishar had no intention of giving him up.