Interlude 3: Patrick
After getting his fiancée back into the carriage, drunk as she was after the stunt she’d pulled at the party, Patrick headed back to the Royal Palace. He walked slowly as he mulled over the situation.
“If I just convince Count Archiam... No, he’s already achieved his goal.” Patrick’s feet felt heavy. The situation was hopeless.
Patrick wasn’t sure whether it had happened the previous night or today, or perhaps even at the point he’d first seen Yumiella at the soiree, but Marquess Prynan had changed his plans. He’d altered his strategy—instead of revoking the position of Lord of National Affairs from Count Archiam, he’d forced Yumiella to publicly stop him from doing so. While there was nothing wrong with Yumiella defending the count, using that action as bait to rile up the other radicals wasn’t what anyone involved had wanted.
Just like they’d relied upon Duke Hillrose in the past, the radicals would now expect Yumiella to be a noble who could stand up against the royal family. Aristocrats with such fiery ambitions brought nothing but trouble.
“We’re backed up against a wall. Our only escape route is...” Patrick stopped in his tracks and tilted his head.
It was pointless to convince Count Archiam to give up on his position now, because at this point it was likely that the marquess wasn’t even going to bring up the issue at the conference tomorrow. Regardless of what had really happened, everyone would believe that the Archiam family’s position had been saved because of Yumiella’s actions. This would lead to avaricious aristocrats gathering around her like vultures, hoping she might do the same for them.
Marquess Prynan was a lot trickier to deal with than they’d expected, and now he was going to accomplish his goals without having to do anything else. As for Yumiella and Patrick, there didn’t seem to be any viable strategies left to them.
“Asking the royal family for their help would be...a last resort,” Patrick muttered to himself.
Even if it resulted in worsening the relationship between the royal family and the Prynan family, the king would nevertheless most likely settle the matter at once if he and Yumiella were to ask for help. One word from the top would settle the issue at hand, but at the same time it would mean that Yumiella would owe a favor to the royal family.
The king wouldn’t condescendingly demand compensation for his help, but Yumiella herself would feel obligated to do something in return. Despite how Yumiella might seem, she was actually quite loyal. Feeling grateful for the royal family’s help, she would try to do something in return and take it too far...which would inevitably result in giving the paradoxical (and accidental) impression that she wasn’t loyal at all.
Though he had plenty of corridors left to walk before reaching the great hall, Patrick’s legs were firmly planted on the ground. He took a deep breath to deliver a fresh infusion of oxygen to his brain. He set aside his jumbled feelings and forced himself to stop thinking about the inconvenient truths about the situation; instead, he began to rack his brain to think of how he could solve this problem.
As Patrick well knew, because of everything that had transpired, Marquess Prynan would get his way without taking any further action, whereas Patrick knew that he and Yumiella couldn’t stop what had been set into motion, no matter how much they might struggle against it.
“If the marquess would just make his move, things would be easier...”
If Marquess Prynan revoked the position of Lord of National Affairs and Yumiella didn’t interfere—if they were to just follow the original plans—then it would be possible to show all parties involved that Yumiella had no intention of siding with the radicals.
“Could that work...?” he wondered aloud.
In the end, Patrick never returned to the party. He returned the way he’d come, and he headed outside. As he stood in the cool night air, he watched the other aristocrats slowly trickle out of the palace. Soon enough, the person he’d been waiting for arrived. An attendant acknowledged him first, and he led Patrick to a carriage marked with the Prynan family’s crest.
Moving in too hurried a manner would ruin everything. Instead, Patrick maintained his composure and walked at a brisk pace toward the carriage. He arrived at the same time as Marquess Prynan, who’d come from the direction of the palace. The two faced each other; it might have appeared to an outside observer as if they were going to ride home together.
“I apologize for earlier,” Patrick said in a detached manner to the marquess, as the other man’s face settled into a dubious expression. “After sending my fiancée home, I have no way to get back there myself.”
“All right...” the marquess said, giving tacit and monosyllabic approval. Without another word, he climbed up into the carriage, signaling that they would continue their discussion inside. Patrick followed.
The marquess knocked on the roof of the conveyance, and the carriage began moving. The creak of the wheels and the clip-clop of the horses against the stone pavement served as a cover to their conversation. It was the perfect place for a secret meeting.
Marquess Prynan was the first to speak. “Your fiancée isn’t even here. What is this about? I don’t believe I have anything to discuss with you.”
“It’s a matter that I would prefer to discuss out of her hearing,” Patrick said, ignoring the comment that seemed to imply that the marquess saw him as little more than Yumiella’s sidekick. “Please think of me instead in the context of my position as the Ashbattens’ secondborn.”
“Ashbatten... It’s a rare sight to see you out of the mark.”
“I’m sure it is. The Ashbattens want nothing more than to maintain their independence, which is how I feel as well. But in order to do that, we need some degree of influence in the Royal Capital.”
The marquess nodded. “The Ashbatten Mark is currently a buffer zone, but the family’s position will weaken if our Lemlaestan neighbors finally manage to settle down.”
“Yes, but we don’t have any intentions of furthering any need for obsequious fealty toward the royal family,” Patrick said, posturing himself as desiring political power. This wasn’t typical of an Ashbatten, but he felt that his reasoning made sense.
Patrick wanted to advance his right to speak concerning central matters, but he also didn’t have any desire to curry favor with the royal family. There was a position that perfectly accomplished those two things, and Patrick was certain that there was no way that the marquess wasn’t picking up on what he was thinking.
The corners of Marquess Prynan’s mouth twitched up into a predatory grin. He looked like a completely different person than the man who’d spent the entire night smiling like he wouldn’t even hurt a fly.
“So your fiancée’s predicament has actually turned out to be a favorable situation for you?”
Patrick shrugged. “Duke Hillrose’s former position is enticing. He was second only to the royal family, and even if they were a ship of fools, his allies were quite the faction.”
“I see. Things will be easier for me if the Dolkness family becomes our rival.”
“I’m surprised that you’re willing to take all of this at face value...”
Though it had been Patrick’s goal to make a secret arrangement with the marquess, things were progressing so smoothly that it was beginning to make him suspicious. Considering what a sly old man he was interacting with, Patrick knew that it would be easy for the marquess to pretend to go along with Patrick but ultimately leave him hanging.
As if he’d anticipated Patrick’s concern, Marquess Prynan spoke as if he saw right through him. “There was no way you would’ve become engaged to that woman without any plan. I’ve suspected for a long time that the Margrave of Ashbatten’s secondborn was planning something. Now, let’s get to the heart of the matter.”
“I see...”
I wasn’t planning anything, thought Patrick. I just like her.
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