Surviving the thinly veiled insults of nobles from other regions had never been particularly difficult for Alice.
"Such matters should naturally be handled by those below us."
Words like that barely scratched her. She had heard far worse since childhood.
Even the incident with the glove—the quiet, thoughtful act of returning it to its owner—had been handled cleanly. If trouble truly arose, there was little to fear as long as Hans stood beside her... and Julies as well.
No, the real problem lay elsewhere.
"Again...?" she muttered under her breath.
"This uncomfortable feeling."
It wasn’t anger.
Nor jealousy—at least, not something she was willing to name.
It was an indescribable unease, a faint but persistent prick at her heart, like a thorn she couldn’t pull out.
Alice knew the cause all too well.
Her gaze drifted back toward the hall she had just left.
Was it those ridiculous mandarin ducks from the eastern region, shamelessly flaunting their harmony? Or was it Amelia, who had so naturally placed herself at Julies’ side, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world?
Ever since Alice had seen the two of them speaking closely—voices lowered, expressions relaxed—the sense of alienation had refused to fade.
Too familiar.
Too natural.
It was as if she alone had been left standing outside a circle she hadn’t noticed forming.
"...How absurd," she whispered.
And yet, the result was obvious.
As if fleeing from something she refused to acknowledge, Alice had turned on her heel and left the hall.
The corridor beyond was quiet, the distant music muffled by thick stone walls. Her footsteps echoed sharply, betraying the agitation she tried so hard to suppress.
"Cast aside your distractions," she said aloud, her voice firm—commanding, as if addressing herself like a subordinate.
This was not romance.
Not rivalry.
It was simply the affection between a dear friend and a trusted subordinate.
That was all.
Rather than blessing them, expressing displeasure would only reveal immaturity unbefitting her station.
"...Pointless," she concluded quietly.
She slowed her pace and came to a stop near a tall window, moonlight spilling across the marble floor. With a faint sigh, she reached into her coat and withdrew the letter her father had personally handed her before this journey.
The seal was already broken.
The creases along the parchment spoke of how often she had unfolded and refolded it.
Alice turned it over in her fingers, thumb tracing the familiar edges.
"I should focus on what I ought to do," she murmured.
The North needed stability.
The alliances had to be secured.
And the warnings within this letter—warnings about the shifting balance of power, about threats lurking beyond the borders—were far more important than fleeting emotions.
Still...
Her grip tightened slightly.
"...Why now of all times?" she asked no one.
For a brief moment, Alice allowed herself to close her eyes.
Then, as always, she straightened her back.
The hesitation vanished, buried beneath discipline and resolve.
Whatever that feeling was, she would deal with it later.
For now, she was still Alice of the North—
And there were far greater matters awaiting her attention.
It was at that moment that a knight of the royal palace approached.
"Lady Alice."
His voice was calm and restrained.
"His Majesty is waiting for your presence."
The knight was clad in full golden plate armor, polished to a mirror sheen. Yet, despite the weight such armor should have carried, his steps were soundless. His posture alone spoke of refinement and danger—this was no ceremonial escort, but a knight of the highest caliber.
The timing could not have been better.
Alice turned toward him, a faint sense of relief settling in her chest.
"...A royal guard," she murmured.
"Yes. His Majesty awaits. This way, if you please."
She nodded and followed.
The noise of the banquet faded as they passed through the inner corridors of the royal palace.
The air itself seemed to grow heavier, every step measured, every breath disciplined. Servants withdrew into alcoves, and guards straightened the moment they saw the knight’s armor.
At last, they stopped before a large door.
A solemn red carpet stretched forward, and the golden doorknob gleamed beneath the light of crystal chandeliers.
"His Majesty," the knight announced clearly, "Lady Alice Draken has arrived."
There was a brief pause.
"Let her in."
The doors opened.
The throne room was vast yet restrained, designed not to overwhelm but to command respect. At its center sat the most revered figure of the Solhaven Empire—the Emperor himself, seated upon his throne, his gaze calm and penetrating as it settled upon her.
Alice stepped forward and bowed deeply.
"The eldest daughter of the Draken family greets Your Majesty," she said. "It is my honor to stand in your presence."
She lifted the hem of her dress with practiced elegance, executing the greeting without the slightest flaw.
The Emperor watched quietly.
Then he nodded, visibly pleased.
"I thought the girl destined to become my daughter-in-law was merely outstanding with the sword," he said with a faint smile. "But it seems she is flawless even in court etiquette. A pleasant miscalculation."
Alice straightened, her expression composed.
"It is only natural, Your Majesty," she replied. "As one expected to one day stand at the center of an empire, I have been instructed thoroughly."
In truth, those "instructions" were hundreds of repetitive practice sessions—bow after bow, step after step—until even fatigue could not break her form.
"Hm," the Emperor hummed. "And how fares the Duke of the North?"
"He is in good health," Alice answered without hesitation. "Moreover, he asked me to deliver this letter to Your Majesty."
She produced a sealed envelope and held it out respectfully.
The imperial attendant stepped forward to receive it.
Alice did not so much as glance at the seal.
Curiosity existed, of course—but she had never considered opening it.
If it was the will of the family, then it was to be followed. There was no reason to preview it and weigh her own judgment against her father’s.
"That man sending a letter himself..." the Emperor said as he accepted it. "That alone is unusual. The Sword Saint of the North does not trouble himself with trivial matters."
"He said he would leave the judgment entirely to Your Majesty."
The Emperor laughed softly.
"Haha. Then I am most intrigued. What tale has the wise Sword Saint decided to entrust to me?"
The emperor thought of reading the latter but stop at that moment and suddenly clapped his hand.
Clap —! Clap—!
...And in the next moment, Crown Prince Elric entered the room.
The Alice Fiancé.