Chapter 38
The Armle family traces its lineage back to Rond Armle, who served as Prime Minister to the first king of the Kingdom of Russell, and has produced Prime Ministers for generations.
Even during the coup that led to the current king's ascension, the second son of the Armle family acted as part of the king's faction, having assessed the situation and made a timely and accurate decision, and now holds the position of Prime Minister.
Yes, it was the second son, not the eldest... but that is not particularly unusual in the Armle family.
In noble families, it is generally expected that sons who are not the heir must decide their future paths by the time they graduate from the academy.
Most sons of lower-ranking nobles become low-level bureaucrats or members of the knight training, while higher-ranking nobles often become central bureaucrats with subordinates or royal knights. If they possess territory, they may even be granted a new peerage as a branch family.
It is only natural that the eldest son, pressured from a young age to inherit the family, becomes competent. Still, all sons of the Armle family are taught that knowledge is wealth and that in the end, they can only rely on their own strength. They spare no expense in using the marquis family's wealth and power to refine themselves to the utmost.
If one wishes to explore a wide range of fields, having more free time is preferable.
It is only natural that the children who cannot inherit the peerage become more capable than the eldest, who also has to study as the future head. Rond Armle and the current Prime Minister, Dorea Armle, are prime examples.
Whether it was due to effort or talent, it was believed that the Armle family would remain stable for several more decades, but cracks began to appear during the time of Grant Armle, Floyd's father.
Shortly after the political upheaval, the head of the Armle family—Grant's father—passed away young due to accumulated stress. Grant, the heir, was still a child, so his uncle Dorea temporarily served as both Prime Minister and head of the marquis family.
Dorea, overwhelmed with duties, could not devote time to Grant's education. As a result, Grant, who did not receive the teachings of the Armle family, grew up as a typical son of a high-ranking noble.
Time passed, and Grant had two sons.
The eldest, Cain, was the heir to the marquis family, and when they thought about Floyd, the second son... Grant and his wife naturally assumed Floyd would become Prime Minister.
Therefore, he was not allowed to fall behind Cain, who was five years older, and was given an education beyond his capacity. Sometimes, he was even compared to the achievements of Dorea, the current Prime Minister, and told it still wasn't enough, with heads shaking.
Watching his brother being praised for even the smallest things, Floyd was expected to take on increasingly difficult tasks as if it were only natural.
While they had parental affection, there was no emotional warmth. Being born the second son of the Armle family and destined to become the Prime Minister who supports the king, early education was considered essential.
That's why Grant and his wife never once thought what they were doing was wrong.
"What is the meaning of this...?"
Dorea, who had come to the marquis estate with a political marriage proposal related to mining, noticed something strange about Floyd, whom he hadn't seen in a while, and furrowed his brows.
Floyd, who had grown taller since they last met, said nothing unnecessary and only nodded, watching Dorea and his parents' expressions while forcing a smile. Dorea, thinking he looked like a doll, questioned Grant and his wife, only to be shocked by what they said and muttered under his breath, "...Is this my fault?"
Neither Rond nor Dorea were groomed to become Prime Minister. They happened to take an interest in politics during their education and, acting on their own initiative, chose that path.
In fact, the Armle family has produced many scholars, teachers, knights, and merchants.
Besides, the position of Prime Minister is in name only—just a servant of the king and the country.
Unless you can find meaning in life through self-sacrifice and moving numbers, money, and people, you can't possibly endure being Prime Minister.
And yet, Floyd says, "I will become Prime Minister in the future," as if it were already decided.
When asked if there was anything else he liked, he said he had no interest in studies, swordsmanship, literature, art, or music—he only did them because they were expected of him.
For the first time then, Dorea silently praised the king who had brought the engagement proposal.
If this proposal went through, it would pave the way for Floyd to serve as an assistant lord of two major military noble families.
It would likely be quite a while before Celestia, the only daughter of the Rotish family, became the head. Until then, working as a bureaucrat or assistant to the Prime Minister after graduating from the academy while exploring her interests wouldn't be a bad path.
The provisional engagement was just that—provisional.
Upon reaching adulthood, a formal agreement would be signed, with both parties sealing it. Until then, anything could happen, so it was better to have more options.
To Dorea, who had avoided marriage due to his busy life, Grant was like a son, and his children were like grandchildren. If possible, he wanted them to live lives they could consider happy.
"Learn much and find what stirs your heart."
"Yes."
Dorea smiled at Floyd, who gave a small nod, and then spent hours thoroughly teaching Grant, who sat shrinking on the sofa, about the principles of the Armle family.
After Floyd and Celestia met and the provisional engagement was established, during the social season while they stayed at the royal capital's secondary residence, the two families frequently visited each other to build rapport.
The marquis couple, worried about shy and quiet Floyd, continued to watch over him, thinking things were going well—until suddenly.
"......Did I make her angry?"
Their son, who had gone to the Rotish estate early in the morning for the important day, returned before noon for some reason. Floyd was supposed to have lunch with Celestia and then go to the theater. A servant was sent to confirm, and the report left them speechless.
On their engagement anniversary of all days, Floyd had entrusted the bouquet—meant to be handed over personally—to a servant and was leisurely drinking tea instead...
"Mirabel said, if it's hard to give it to Celestia directly, I could attach a card and ask the servant..."
"......"
Grant, unsure how to console the dejected Floyd holding the crushed bouquet, suggested apologizing sincerely the next time they met.
He thought it was just a childish spat and they'd make up quickly.
No one in the Armle family expected that from the next day onward, they wouldn't see Celestia for years—not even exchange letters.
"A letter... for me?"
Floyd blinked as he received a plain white envelope from a servant.
He had no close acquaintances who would send personal letters, so he tilted his head, thinking it might be a tea party invitation. But since he was preparing to enter the academy, he had already ended his social schedule for the year in the summer.
The occasional letters from Mirabel were always in pastel-colored envelopes with lace and floral decorations, making them easy to recognize.
So he figured it must be from the academy he was about to enter or something related to being a candidate for the Crown Prince's aide. But the moment he saw the familiar wax seal on the back, Floyd's face stiffened.
"Celestia's..."
A letter from his fiancée, whom he hadn't seen in years.
Had she come to hate him after being upset on their engagement anniversary? Since then, she hadn't come to the royal capital even during social seasons, and they hadn't met at all.
They had frequently met after getting engaged to build a relationship, but he only remembered it as a painful time.
"Did you... tell Mother?"
"She was overjoyed."
"......I see. That's enough."
He dismissed the servant and slid a paper knife into the envelope's opening.
Wasn't this the first time he'd ever received a letter like this...?
Floyd had tried to write to Celestia a few times too, but never knew what to say and always ended up putting the pen down.
It wasn't that Floyd disliked Celestia.
He just wasn't good with her.
Her uniquely dignified presence made him uncomfortable, and he found himself looking away from her intense, straightforward gaze without knowing why.
Celestia always responded coldly to Mirabel, who tried to lighten the mood with conversation. Seeing her sigh as she watched him and Mirabel together made him feel rejected. Even as she became more curt and reluctant to respond each year, he tried his best, thinking it was his duty as her fiancé.
And yet...
"Now, after all this time..."
He gripped the letter tightly, wrinkling the stationery he had just pulled out.
With no more interactions with Celestia, the marquis' wife lamented that the engagement might fall apart. She was furious, believing the reason the royal family hadn't approached Floyd—once the strongest candidate to become the Crown Prince's aide—was because he had angered the Rotish family's only daughter. Lately, she had begun to visibly sigh every time she saw Floyd, praising his older brother who had joined the merit-based finance ministry after graduating from the academy, and calling Floyd the failure both at home and in public.
"......"
That day, he hadn't felt like chasing after Celestia as she turned her back and walked away.
Seeing the discarded bouquet and the card Mirabel had picked up, saying it had been thrown away, made him inexplicably sad. He had often thought, if only Mirabel were my fiancée...
Kind, considerate, and always smiling—being around Mirabel felt so comforting.
Still, if this letter had even one word of apology... maybe I could...
"......Military school?"
But the contents of the letter were not what Floyd had imagined.
It began with a seasonal greeting, then stated she would be entering military school and wouldn't be appearing in public for the next few years until she graduated. Beyond that, there was nothing else...
"That's it...?"
He turned the envelope upside down and shook it, but nothing came out. There was only one sheet of paper.
There was not a single mention of the engagement anniversary or why they hadn't met until now. In fact, Celestia's letter didn't even require a reply from Floyd.
"It's like a report..."
Floyd stared at the plain letter without color or decoration for a while, but the strange tightness in his chest made him feel terribly sad. He opened his desk drawer, shoved the letter to the back, but still didn't feel better. So he pulled out some stationery, picked up a pen, and sat at his desk.
After many rewrites, he finally wrote something he was satisfied with. As he held up the letter and read it through, the light gradually faded from his eyes. In the end, he crumpled the paper and threw it into the trash.
What was supposed to be a reply had turned into a rant, like a tantrum from a child. He concluded it would be better to speak in person and gave up on the letter.
"......Military school sounds dangerous."
Maybe Celestia had chosen to inform Floyd first—before even her family. Thinking that way, he felt warm inside, grateful that she had told him directly in a letter, and the words slipped out unconsciously.
But the following week.
After meeting with the Crown Prince as a candidate for his aide, Floyd returned home, tore up Celestia's letter, and stood frozen before the shredded remains.