Voices drifted from the depths of the corridor, hushed but urgent.
"What's happening?"
"It seems that Anthony, the adopted son of the Marquis of Charts, insulted Her Highness."
"How so?"
"Unknown. But His Highness the Grand Duke is *furious*."
Philip clenched his fists until his knuckles went white. *That idiot!* He had warned him—be **extremely** careful. But this fool had gotten drunk like a pig. And now *this*. What if this incident destroyed all his carefully laid plans?
"What is the name of your adopted son?"
Philip snapped back to reality at the sound of Calix's voice—so muffled it seemed to rise from a grave.
There was no time to be angry with Anthony now. He needed to escape this situation. His mind raced, desperately searching for justification.
But Calix spoke first.
"It seems to be Anthony."
Those with sharper instincts immediately noticed that the Archduke had not mentioned the name *Charts*.
"Your Highness!" Philip's voice cracked, slipping beyond his control. His normally agile mind felt paralyzed. His body stood frozen with fear.
"I suppose you can guess what your adopted son intended to do to my wife?" Calix's beautiful lips curled in disgust before twisting into a dangerous smile. But his eyes held no mirth whatsoever—they burned like the fires of hell itself.
The contrast was so terrifying that Philip's neck seemed to twist of its own accord. His legs buckled beneath him, and he could barely remain standing.
"I swear it. I will punish my son properly. This will **never** happen again—"
"Of course it won't happen again. Don't even doubt it." Calix cut him off with icy finality, then lowered his gaze.
The veiled woman stood quietly in his arms.
"So..." He paused, and a strange laugh escaped his lips—the kind of laugh that made one's legs tremble. "How shall we punish him?"
The surrounding crowd froze in shock. Even Benvito's men, accustomed to everything, felt a chill crawl down their spines.
The Archduke rarely laughed. And when he did, it never boded well.
"Asella?"
The girl shuddered in his arms. She hadn't expected him to address her.
But a moment later, a quiet voice emerged.
"Yes, Your Highness."
"Anthony is your brother. I give you the right to choose his punishment."
Though her face remained hidden beneath the veil, Calix could see her blue pupils tremble. Her small hand nervously clutched and released the hem of her dress.
Asella struggled to discern his intentions, but suddenly realized it was futile. Even if she understood what he wanted, how could it change her fate? She couldn't do anything. She couldn't choose anything. She couldn't influence anything.
_Although..._
She was more inclined to believe the man was testing her. She decided to take his words at face value. Since he had entrusted Anthony's fate to her hands:
"I believe the severity of the punishment should correspond to the severity of the crime." She paused, steadying her voice. "I don't think he deserves death."
She remembered that even without a title, Anthony remained a nobleman. But more importantly, Philip held Mariel's fate in his hands. And if he desired revenge, who would stop him?
"On the contrary." Calix's tone sharpened. "I believe the punishment shouldn't be trivial. Insulting the Grand Duchess is tantamount to insulting the Grand Duke himself. That is a **grave** crime. By law, for such an offense, my men could hack such a person to pieces at any moment." His gaze swept across the cowering servants. "And his accomplices as well."
Asella's thoughts raced. *What should I do?*
Finally, she decided to ask directly.
"How far can I go?"
A spark of curiosity flickered in Calix's eyes. She was far bolder than anyone had imagined. As expected—she wasn't exactly obedient.
"Anything you want. It's entirely up to you." The prince squeezed her slender waist a little tighter and narrowed his eyes, feeling how tense her entire body had become.
Despite her outward calm, she was clearly nervous. And Calix found himself enjoying watching it. He brought his lips to her ear. The girl's body twitched, and the man laughed quietly at her reaction.
Everyone held their breath, staring at the Benvito couple in absolute silence—so fragile it felt like thin ice ready to crack. The Archduke's cold gaze scanned everyone present before he leaned back toward Asella's ear.
"What do you want?" He spoke very quietly, yet somehow every person present heard each word with crystalline clarity. "Kill them all? I can do that for you. *Personally*."
*What had Anthony done? What could have been so terrible between brother and sister?*
The nobles exchanged bewildered glances. No one knew the exact reason. But it was clear that something extraordinary had occurred. All eyes turned to Asella. The Grand Duchess stood in the Grand Duke's arms, her face concealed by the veil. It was therefore impossible to guess what she was thinking.
A tense silence descended. The woman beneath the veil remained still.
At that moment, a cry broke the stillness.
"What are you doing?!" It was Philip, struggling with all his might to maintain composure. But his puffy face twisted with barely contained panic.
"It's her right," Calix answered simply.
"But! How can you treat people like this? Why such cruelty?"
Disgust flickered across Calix's face.
"I think the Acting Marquis understands such things better than anyone else." His tone was almost cheerful—a stark contrast to his cold, emotionless expression. "Or is he incapable of comprehending the situation?" He tilted his head slightly. "Perhaps I really should handle this myself."
Philip's very bones ached at that eerie voice.
Raizen immediately offered the sword to his master, as if he had anticipated this moment all along. Calix took the weapon, playing lightly with the hilt, examining the gleam of the honed blade. Then he pointed the tip at Anthony.
Only now did Philip realize he had no choice.
"I understand everything." His voice came out strangled. "I will follow your orders."
"Please!" He bowed low, completely abandoning his pride in the face of impending death. "Please put the sword away!"
He didn't even realize how far he had fallen.
Calix slowly turned his gaze from the groveling man to Asella.
"Have you decided?"
Hearing his question, Asella resolutely closed her eyes beneath the veil. *Perhaps this is my chance.* Neither Philip nor Anthony would be able to deny what they'd said in front of so many witnesses.
"Yes." The light veil fluttered slightly as she nodded.
Calix removed his hands from her waist and stepped back. Asella suddenly found herself standing directly before Philip.
He waited for her decision in complete confusion, not daring to raise his head.
Asella looked at this pathetic man. *I have to seize this opportunity. I need to be brave. If only for Mariel.* She clenched her fists, still unable to make herself speak. Her lips trembled and refused to obey.
"Be brave," Calix murmured, sensing her nervousness. "I'll punish them however you wish."
At those words, Asella finally found her voice.
"Please—send Mariel to the Academy."
---
*If only Mariel could reach that place.*
As a talented child, she would have access to the best teachers in the Empire. The finest professors. The most gifted students. *If only she could.* Mariel was a capable girl. There, she would blossom and acquire the skills necessary for an independent life. And then... no one would be able to sell her like they had sold Asella. Only there could Mariel find her wings and live a *real* life—unlike the miserable existence of her older sister.
"Then I can spare Anthony. And the others as well."
It was the only gift a helpless, doomed woman could give to her younger sister.
---
A wave of bewilderment swept through the gathered nobles.
The Academy's status was truly among the highest in the Garmanian Empire. The knowledge it provided had been the foundation for every previous emperor. Nobles *dreamed* of sending their children to this prestigious institution—it was considered an honor for any aristocratic family. Being an Academy graduate was so prestigious that many found service in the imperial court. Their opportunities were enormous, thanks to the connections forged during their studies. Therefore, all talented children made certain to attempt the entrance examinations. This was only natural.
The aristocrats glanced curiously between Philip and Asella. Philip had to summon every ounce of willpower to control his expression.
*Damn girl!*
He seethed with fury. But too many eyes were upon him. He glanced discreetly around the crowd. A single question lingered on every face. Everyone was perplexed.
*Why was the Grand Duchess begging for something that should be encouraged?*
His mind raced, searching desperately for a way out. But alas—his thoughts were blank.
*What should I do?*
If only Mariel were a stupid child. That would make things easier. But if rumors spread that he was keeping his adopted daughter from the Academy, depriving her of such a prestigious opportunity... That would be a stigma no noble family would want to bear.
With Asella, he could at least justify himself by accusing her of complicity in his mother's death. But with Mariel, it was different.
*Damn!*
Philip composed himself and forced a smile. Asella's request was perfectly acceptable—she hadn't trampled on his pride by demanding a humiliating apology. She had preserved the honor of the Charts family and hadn't lost her dignity as Grand Duchess.
Meanwhile, Calix's threat to kill Anthony hadn't been an empty joke. When Philip's gaze fell upon the blade, he suddenly imagined how many men had died from that steel during the last war.
He felt genuinely sick.
"Well?" Calix Benvito demanded, his patience clearly thinning. "What have you decided?"
Philip had no choice but to answer.
"Asella, you are asking for the obvious." *If you cannot refuse, it's better to turn the situation in your favor—as much as possible.* "Of course! If Mariel can prepare for the exams—"
*Snick.*
The tip of Calix's sword flicked upward, severing Philip's tie with surgical precision.
"Perhaps you misunderstood." The Archduke's voice was silk wrapped around steel. "You have no other options. If Mariel Charts fails the examination, your son Anthony will lose his head."
"B-but how is this possible—" Philip began to stutter.
Anthony's face—swollen from the beatings and resembling an overripe plum—suddenly drained of all color.
But Calix paid him no attention.
"You should **send** Mariel Charts to the Academy. Not merely give her a *chance* to try."
Only then did understanding dawn on the nobles' faces.
Educating children at the Academy was an enormous expense. True geniuses were rare. Ordinary children had to work extraordinarily hard to reach such a level, proving their worth before a gathering of the Empire's greatest minds. Success or failure depended entirely on the quality of education a child received from childhood.
"You must provide her with the **best** teachers to prepare her for the Academy examination."
Philip was rendered speechless. He stood there with his mouth hanging open, like a fish caught in a net. Shock was etched into his greedy eyes.
Calix allowed himself a quiet chuckle. *Funny.*
Compared to what this man had taken from Adele Charts' two daughters, this was a tiny drop of blood. It was almost comical to watch this pathetic creature cling so desperately to things that were never his—and try so hard not to let it show.
*Really? How long could this situation last?*
Calix narrowed his eyes, recalling his recent conversation with the Emperor. This man, blinded by his own greed, couldn't even foresee the miserable end that awaited him. How soon? Calix could only guess. But he saw clearly that Philip was doomed.
Yet today, he had almost hastened that end.
_This is unlike me,_ Calix thought.
He rarely changed his mind. He never regretted his decisions or dwelled on the past. But today, there had been one circumstance that altered his thinking. Or rather—it was a decision entirely uncharacteristic of him.
_It would be better if the training for the Mariel Academy took place in my castle._