After the banquet celebrating the founding day ended and a short rest period passed, the next part of the schedule was the ball.
Originally, the king was supposed to open the ball with the opening dance, but he left the hall first.
Ioret, the moment she confirmed the king’s departing figure, quickly blended into the envoys’ group.
‘It wasn’t easy getting in here. I can’t be dragged out already.’
There was someone she absolutely had to meet today.
Fortunately, those who had been glancing at her all along approached her first.
“It’s been a long time, Princess Ioret. I am Ernest Rutail from the Kingdom of Alfail.”
Alfail was a small kingdom tied to the Kingdom of Levia through marital alliances.
Ioret naturally turned toward him, wearing a polite social smile.
“You must be the Alfail Prime Minister. I remember meeting you with my mother a long time ago. Have you been in good health?”
“Oh my, you remember! I thought you might not, since you were so young back then.”
“Of course I do. I still clearly remember you speaking so familiarly with my mother.”
Of course, it was a lie. It had been twelve years—there was no way she remembered.
She had memorized the envoy list Lucian gave her the previous night. She had guessed that the first person to approach her would likely be someone connected to her mother—and she was right.
“I apologize for my curiosity, but I had to ask. The dye of your dress… is it the one I think it is? It looks like deeply infused indigo dye, and the shifting color almost resembles opal… but such a mysterious color is rarely used outside the southern regions.”
Though he spoke indirectly, the envoy clearly recognized the fabric.
As expected.
The Tyrion Blue that deepened into more vivid blue under light was a color once beloved by Queen Charlotte. More precisely, it was a color used exclusively by the royal family of Levia.
“Although today is the festival of Elovis, my fiancé is bedridden, so I came in a compromise outfit like this.”
“The Crown Princess didn’t seem too pleased…”
“Not at all. She probably mistook it for mourning attire earlier. This is ceremonial attire used in Levia state rites. There’s no way my sister, who dotes on me dearly, would disapprove.”
The envoy studied Ioret closely as if trying to read her intentions, then responded with a courteous smile.
“I see. His Majesty the King of Levia would surely want to see how beautifully the princess has grown. It’s a shame.”
Those who had experience as envoys to Levia watched their exchange with interest.
A princess of Levia’s royal blood had appeared wearing the kingdom’s sacred symbolic color. There could only be one conclusion.
‘Even if Elovis neglects the princess, the royal house of Levia—Queen Charlotte’s homeland—has not abandoned her.’
There were no Levia envoys present here to confirm the truth.
Instead, word of this would spread through the Alfail envoy’s mouth to Levia itself.
‘We don’t yet know how my mother’s homeland will treat me. But if they show me favor, Levia becomes a strong ally. There’s no harm in planting the seeds early.’
Ioret exchanged brief conversation with those who approached her and scanned the banquet hall.
The person she was looking for was still not in sight.
While she searched, those uninterested in her dress turned their attention elsewhere.
At some point, Lucian Perrain had quietly entered the hall. Having returned from being summoned by royal decree, his complexion was slightly pale.
Monfer, an elder of the Elovis Royal Council, leaned toward the person beside him and whispered:
“Marquis Perrain, that is your second son, isn’t it? It seems true that he was assigned as Princess Ioret’s escort?”
“It was the king’s order. It’s only temporary.”
Standing with his hands behind his back, the Marquis Perrain openly showed displeasure.
He was a close supporter of Crown Princess Catherine. However, his words had the opposite effect.
“The king himself selected Sir Lucian? I thought His Majesty had little interest in Princess Ioret… but that doesn’t seem to be the case. To assign such talent…”
“How dare you speculate on His Majesty’s intentions? Mind your words.”
“Haha, no need to be so sharp. I was merely surprised.”
Even with belated attempts to silence it, suspicion had already taken root in the nobles’ minds.
The nobles of Elovis exchanged subtle glances.
‘Does this mean Princess Ioret is not entirely excluded from the succession?’
Until now, Elovis had revolved around Crown Princess Catherine. She already controlled a significant portion of the kingdom’s power.
Especially decisive was the Valer Duke’s broken engagement with Princess Ioret and his support for the Crown Princess the previous year.
If the Duke became the Crown Princess’s husband, she would gain legitimacy and power nearly equal to the king.
And yet even that same Duke of Valer seemed unable to take his eyes off Princess Ioret.
The atmosphere was turning strange.
Watching from the side, Catherine clenched her fist tightly.
Was all of this a coincidence?
No.
Her instincts sharpened. Ioret might be smiling innocently, but this was undoubtedly her sister’s scheme.
From making Count Castlein collapse into critical condition to assigning the Marquis Perrain’s second son as her escort—everything was that girl’s plan.
‘So she wasn’t just timid and weak… she can actually act?’
The world Catherine had carefully shaped around Ioret had always been narrow.
Thanks to Queen Charlotte’s teachings, she knew basic etiquette and speech of high society—but that was all. Occasionally she might say something clever, but she was still a fragile girl with neither resolve nor courage to act.
And yet—
“Can people really change overnight?”
Benedict, standing like a statue, murmured quietly, still not looking at her.
“Not unless they died and came back to life.”
“…Yes. That must be it.”
Benedict muttered lowly. Under his sleeve, the veins in his clenched fist bulged.
Catherine scoffed.
“Even if she has changed, it’s too late now.”
Even a worm will squirm when stepped on—but no matter how much it wriggles, it remains a worm.
Catherine turned away sharply from Ioret.
As soon as she turned her back, the nobles who had been watching cautiously began drifting toward her.
She gave a brief order to a guard at the edge of the hall.
“Before the first piece starts, remove the princess. Take her straight to the tower and confine her. No leaving for three days. Inform Sir Perrain as well.”
A brief disturbance would not shake Catherine’s social dominion.
As proof, the nobles of Elovis still did not move away from Ioret.
Catherine’s kingdom was solid.
It had always been so—and would remain so.
She extended her hand toward Benedict.
“Stop looking elsewhere and dance, Duke. You’re starting to irritate me.”
“…It would be an honor.”
Benedict took her hand and led her to the center of the hall. They were, to anyone’s eyes, a perfect pair.
Outside the stage, Ioret was seen hastily leaving the hall. The guards began to move.
Catherine chuckled softly and placed a hand on Benedict’s shoulder.
The music began.
Ioret quickly exited the banquet hall.
The moment she saw Catherine issuing orders to the guards from afar, she excused herself from those she had been speaking with.
‘If Lucian arrives, I won’t be able to escape. This is my only chance.’
She still hadn’t found the person she needed.
She had scanned the surroundings while speaking with envoys, but he was nowhere to be seen. It seemed he had already left the hall.
If that was the case, she would have to go herself.
