As the three regrouped outside the palace, a playful glint appeared in Kiara's eyes as she turned to Akira, who stood so close to Ramone even the wind could slip between them.
"So, Akira-chan," Kiara began, her voice laced with a teasing lilt. "You and Mari-san seem quite close. Always together, even back at the academy. Are you two… an item?"
Akira's cheeks flushed a delicate pink, and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat.
"W- what? No, don't be ridiculous!" she stammered, avoiding Ramone's gaze. "We're just… friends. Close friends."
Ramone chuckled, a hint of amusement in his voice. "We've known each other since we were kids, Kiara. We're practically siblings."
Kiara raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Siblings who exchange meaningful glances every two minutes. How… quaint."
She leaned forward, her eyes twinkling.
"Come now, don't be shy. There's no shame in a little romance, especially with a future king."
Akira's blush deepened, and she glared at Kiara. "He's not the future king—and even if he was, it's none of your business!"
"Oh, but it is," Kiara retorted, her smile widening. "As a potential ally, or perhaps… a rival, I must know the lay of the land. Besides," she added, her voice softening slightly, "I'm simply curious. You two have a certain… chemistry."
"Still gathering information?" Ramone sighed, shaking his head. "Just so you know, she's already promised to someone." His smile faltered for a moment—just long enough for Kiara to notice.
"And who might that be?" Kiara asked, eyes still on Akira.
"The great and merciful Earl of Hajimebasho, Julius Aurelius," Ramone said dryly.
"Ah, the Aurelius family, I've heard of them. Atteria's version of Eiria's Maison Desolcnel—always trying to sneak someone onto the throne."
Akira, still flustered, muttered, "Just leave it alone, Kiara."
Kiara chuckled, leaning back in her seat. "Very well, I shall refrain from further… inquiries. But don't think I won't be watching. You two are far too interesting to ignore."
Ramone adjusted his collar, sighing. "Let's focus on surviving this meeting first. Then you can get back to matchmaking."
As they entered the palace foyer, Ramone immediately felt out of place. The corridor glittered with chandeliers and golden trim, the kind of ostentatious wealth that made him itch. Rows of Atterian guards flanked the entrance, standing so still he wondered if they had been replaced by statues.
Ramone tugged at the stiff collar of his ceremonial coat, adjusting the embroidered sash slung diagonally across his chest. This place wasn't built for people like him—it was a gilded cage, no matter how polished the bars.
"This sash is choking me," he muttered, trying to loosen it. "Remind me why I'm even wearing this thing?"
Akira glanced over, barely containing her laughter. "Because you're attending a diplomatic meeting, not a street brawl. And because you lost a duel in front of half the academy—can't show up looking like a beggar now."
Ramone groaned. "I liked the beggar look better. This thing smells like it's been in a closet since the Irie civil war."
Kiara, walking a step ahead, turned with an icy smile. "You know, in Eiria, wearing a red sash to a political summit is considered a declaration of intent to duel."
Ramone stood still. His sash was red.
"Wait, what?" He looked down, eyes wide. "You're joking."
Kiara didn't answer. She kept walking, her expression a mystery.
Akira tried and failed to hide a snicker. "Oh no, she's absolutely serious. You've basically declared war on everyone here."
Ramone started fumbling with the sash, attempting to pull it off mid-stride. "Why didn't anyone tell me this earlier?!"
"You've always been a trendsetter," Akira said dryly.
One of the palace guards, noticing Ramone's distress, raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
Ramone glanced around in panic, then spotted a junior aide with a blue sash. "Hey, you—trade me."
The aide stared at him, confused. "Lord Mari, this sash indicates rank—"
"Please, I'll give you seventy dorus," Ramone begged.
The aide hesitated.
"Ninety-five. In gold. And I won't duel you."
"…Deal."
Moments later, Ramone straightened, now donning the blue sash of a junior diplomat.
Akira blinked, impressed. "You just bribed a royal aide."
"No," Ramone said confidently. "I engaged in proactive peacekeeping."
Kiara allowed herself the faintest chuckle. "Well done, Mari-san. Now you have signaled that you are here in an unofficial capacity—which means you cannot sit near the front."
Ramone blinked. "W- wait, what?"
"At least it'll keep you out of the spotlight," she said, already gesturing toward the massive double doors ahead. "Shall we?"
Out of the spotlight.
He tried not to look too relieved. That sounded perfect—until he realized he hadn't actually prepared to sit anywhere else.
As the doors opened, the grand hall beyond loomed vast and austere, the hum of voices ceasing as the last of the dignitaries took their seats. The air thickened, heavy with the weight of diplomacy, old wounds, and unspoken ambitions.
Beyond the banners, beyond the gilded walls and polished marble, the storm was already brewing. Somewhere far away, a message was racing toward them—one that would shatter the fragile peace this meeting pretended to uphold.
As everyone took to their seats, it was quite clear something was off.
At the very front of the ceremonial assembly, facing the gathered crowd of nobles and delegates, sat King Masamune Amano of Atteria, his regal presence undiminished by age. Beside him was his wife, Queen Emiko Amano, her demeanor composed with the practiced grace of someone accustomed to political tension.
Seated just behind them was one of their daughters, Princess Akira Amano, flanked by royal attendants, her gaze drifting across the hall with measured interest.
Across from them, occupying the corresponding seat of honor, was Princess Kiara Ikari Amakusaye De Eiria, poised and composed as she awaited the arrival of her father, Emperor Yasu. Her presence alone drew the attention of every aristocrat in the hall—some out of curiosity, others out of concern.
Seated at the forefront of the assembled audience, directly before the royal families, were two distinguished figures: Duke Vasotrus Aurelius of Atteria, the patriarch of House Aurelius, whose cold gaze swept the hall like a blade, and Torihiki Amakusa, a high-ranking member of the Amakusaye branch family, representing Eiria's interests in the interim.
Both men sat with the authority of their bloodlines, the air between them thick with the silent weight of political rivalry.
Yet despite the grandeur of the occasion, three chairs in the front row remained conspicuously empty.
The absence of Prime Minister Giovanni Mari was the most noted, whispered about by nobles and envoys alike. His seat, positioned just to the left of King Masamune's, stood vacant—a silent question in the minds of all who looked upon it.
Next to it, the absence of Earl Julius Aurelius, heir of the Aurelius line and the Queen's favored candidate for succession, was equally jarring. Many had expected him to stand beside Duke Vasotrus, a symbol of the family's ambition and influence.
The third absence—Ramone Mari, son of the Prime Minister—was less surprising, though equally significant. Ramone had taken a seat near the back of the hall, among the junior envoys and aides, drawing sidelong glances from those who expected him to stand alongside his father or at least among the minor nobility. Draped across his chest was a blue sash, traditionally worn by junior diplomats and observers—not by barons.
To those watching, it appeared a deliberate gesture—humility, perhaps, or calculated neutrality. A quiet move to sidestep the power games in motion. In truth, it was a last-minute mix-up: a sash swap done in haste to prevent a minor diplomatic faux pas. But the coincidence worked in his favor, letting him slip into the grand hall's periphery with little notice.
As the assembly hall settled into an uneasy silence, the towering double doors creaked open. All eyes shifted to the grand entrance as Emperor Yasu Amakusaye De Eiria entered, flanked by a procession of guards dressed in Eirian silver and black—formal yet intimidating.
Beside him walked the Grand Jester, his bells strangely silent, his painted face unnervingly solemn. His eyes scanned the room with eerie calm, taking in the gathered nobility like a spider sizing up prey. For once, no riddles, no cryptic phrases. Just silence. And that silence was more unnerving than his usual theatrics.
Emperor Yasu's lips curled into a grin as he surveyed the stiff Atterian guard formations lining the walls. "Do Atterian guards ever blink? I feel like I've walked into a painting of a funeral."
"We aim to intimidate. Clearly, it's working," Masamune shot back, a slow smile forming on his lips.
A ripple of laughter passed among the Eirian delegates, while the Atterian aristocrats remained mostly stone-faced—though a few masked their distaste with hollow laughter.
In that moment, it happened.
For the briefest of moments—no longer than a heartbeat—a pulse of energy, rippled inward from the courtyard of the Palace. Invisible to most, yet undeniable in its presence, it spread like a soundless wave across the grand hall. Walls seemed to hum for a split second, and the air grew fractionally heavier, charged with a protective force that faded as quickly as it came.
No one seemed to notice.
No one except three.
Ramone straightened slightly, his fingers twitching against his sash. Guardian Shift... Akira's magecraft that subconscious activates when there's a threat to her or something she loves.
He'd felt that energy once before, during a training exercise.
He turned his eyes subtly toward Akira. She sat unmoving, her posture composed, eyes steady—yet the mana of her Guardian Shift had just enveloped the entire palace for a fleeting instant. Why activate it now? Was it a mistake? Was she scared just now?
Across the hall, Kiara's sharp eyes narrowed, a flicker of recognition crossing her features before she quickly masked it. Her gaze darted from Akira to the throne, then to Ramone, the tension in her shoulders barely perceptible.
The Grand Jester, still as a statue at Yasu's side, exhaled a soft, amused breath through his nose. He tilted his head ever so slightly, eyes waltzing as he caught Ramone's glance, tapping his fingers idly—three taps, pause, three more. A private signal. He felt it, too.
Then, just as abruptly as it came, the moment dissolved into the flow of the proceedings.
"I see Giovanni is absent," Yasu's eyes swept the room, pausing briefly at the delegation tables before landing on a familiar figure near the back. "Where is young Ramo— oh, there you are, come with me to the front."
Ramone hesitated only a moment before rising. I guess I'm caught. As he stepped forward, a figure to his side stood in tandem, slipping easily into his now-vacant seat.
The Grand Jester's flamboyant garb barely concealed the calculated ease with which he made himself at home, crossing one leg over the other with theatrical flair.
Ramone's eyes flicked back once. Grand Jester offered him a lazy two-fingered salute before turning his gaze to the seat beside him.
The Grand Jester turned to his right to greet a diplomat from Holy Metzia, an older man with storm-gray eyes and a rigid posture. He seemed carved from stone— until he turned and saw who now sat beside him.
A flicker of something passed across his face—not fear, but unease, like seeing a ghost that wasn't supposed to exist.
The Grand Jester smiled, slow and knowing.
Across the room, a Kanatanese delegate—a younger envoy with sharp eyes and an unassuming manner—sat stiffly, his fingers drumming a quiet rhythm against the table. His eyes never settled, darting between the Jester, the Metzian, King Masamune, and Emperor Yasu. Something about his presence didn't sit right. He wasn't just observing—he was calculating.
As the room fell into silence and the meeting officials began their formalities, the Grand Jester tilted his head back and spoke in a voice low enough to be missed by most—but sharp as a blade to the Metzian at his side.
"Still pretending I'm not here? That's brave." The Grand Jester chuckled softly, then turned his gaze forward, eyes dancing.
"And so the meeting begins."