Ian Niño, as always, greeted Askin with a perfectly composed, almost hermetic attitude.
Tea was served, and the two men sat across from each other. Askin’s lieutenant, Ben, was dismissed, leaving only the two of them in the room. Steam rose from the cups, filling the air with a faint, herbal scent.
"I apologize once again for the delay," Ian said, bowing his head politely as he sat.
Askin’s expression remained as cold as the winter sea. "There is no need to apologize for the time it took to prepare such a sum. It’s a significant amount; I understood the delay."
Askin knew Ian wasn't just talking about the money—he was referring to the fallout from the banquet. But Askin chose to keep the conversation strictly professional.
Ian watched him for a moment with narrowed eyes, then a bright smile bloomed on his face.
"Yes. My father’s funds in the foreign territories were temporarily blocked. He also wanted me to convey his deepest apologies to you, Duke. He felt his previous handling of the matter was... disrespectful."
Ian’s father, Rohan Child, was the one who had originally proposed the loan. He was a man with an uncanny sense for profit and an even sharper sense for the shifting tides of power. Even before Ian had arrived in the Empire, Rohan had been studying Askin Lemut. He recognized Askin’s value—not just as a general, but as a man of rare, unshakable integrity.
"The request was mine," Askin said, his eyes fixed on his tea. "You needn't worry about your father’s reputation."
He slowly raised his eyes to meet Ian’s. "Why have you come today?"
Ian hesitated for a fraction of a second, his Adam's apple moving slightly. Askin took a sip of tea, his patience a sharp contrast to Ian’s brief flicker of uncertainty.
For some reason, Askin felt an intense discomfort sitting across from Ian today. He told himself it was just his natural dislike for asking favors, even legitimate ones. To a man like Askin, being indebted to anyone—even a merchant house—felt like a weight on his shoulders.
"Duke, may I ask you a question?" Ian said, setting his cup down. The tone of his voice had changed; the polished merchant mask had slipped just enough to reveal a different intent.
"Go ahead."
"This may be a rude question, but... do you ever regret selling the 'Yellow Road' at such a low price?"
The Yellow Road. It was a trade route Askin had established in his youth, a brilliant strategic move that had once brought great wealth to the Lemut family. Now, it was owned by the Imperial family.
At the time, everyone knew Askin had been forced to sell it at a disadvantageous price. But he’d had no choice. Arya’s health had been failing, and the only herb that could save her was held exclusively by the Emperor.
"I did what was necessary as a servant of His Majesty," Askin replied, his voice tightening. "And I believe I was fairly compensated for the sacrifice."
Ian made a mysterious face. He could tell Askin was telling the truth. There was no lingering resentment in his voice, only the cold logic of a man who put his family and his duty above all else.
"Just as the rumors say," Ian smiled. "You are a loyalist the likes of which this era will never see again."
"Is there a noble in this Empire who is not loyal to the Emperor?"
"Of course not. It’s just that... some things don't quite add up in my head."
Askin’s jaw tightened. "Do I need your understanding to follow my Emperor’s orders?"
"So, you rejected Princess Altsbeit on the Emperor’s orders then?"
"What?"
"I heard His Majesty’s opposition to the match was quite severe..."
"Stop." Askin’s voice was like a blade. If Ian had said another word, Askin might have drawn his sword then and there. "That was my own personal judgment. It had nothing to do with His Majesty."
"I... I apologize, Duke. I seem to be making many mistakes today." Ian bowed respectfully.
Ian was a skilled swordsman in his own right, but he knew he was no match for the man across from him. He felt the primitive instinct of his body screaming at him to run, to get away from the predatory aura Askin was radiating.
Askin watched him, a slow, cold anger burning in his chest. He reminded himself that a Duke must be able to hide his emotions, especially when dealing with those to whom he was indebted. He’d spent his life bowing his head for Arya’s sake; he could handle one more arrogant merchant.
Except, when he thought of his "fiancée," the rules didn't seem to apply. The woman who was as beautiful as she was vicious... the woman who had haunted his dreams every night since the banquet.
"Then I have a question for you," Askin said, his eyes narrowing.
"Anything, Duke."
"What is the true cost of this loan?"
Ian was silent for a moment. "I told you last time, Duke. My father simply couldn't stand to see a man of your caliber suffer under Duke Altsbeit’s greed."
"Ian Niño." Askin’s voice was quiet, but it commanded absolute attention. "You know I’m not looking for an empty answer."
Ian’s father had found out about Duke Altsbeit’s personal visit to the Child mansion the moment he returned. Yet, the Child family hadn't backed down. They were still lending Askin the money, effectively choosing a side in a war they had no reason to join.
"I am just a messenger for my father," Ian said, his voice regaining its practiced smoothness. "But I know he believes you will do great things for this Empire in the future. He wants to be on the right side of history."
"And my current situation—the fact that I cannot refuse this deal—was also part of your calculation, was it not?"
"Duke, you misunderstand. We are simply loyal subjects of the Emperor, just like you. If I’ve made you uncomfortable, I apologize. Please, do not let your anger cloud the deal."
Ian bowed deeply once more.
"Don't worry," Askin said, standing up. "I have no intention of taking a free loan. I will repay every coin. You may leave if you have nothing else to say."
Askin turned back to his desk, but Ian’s next words stopped him in his tracks.
"Are you certain your relationship with Princess Altsbeit is truly over?"
Askin turned back, his gaze fierce. "The moment the money is ready, I will seal the papers. It is finished."
Why was he so angry? Why was his heart racing? He didn't feel like himself at all.
"I see," Ian said, his posture relaxing into something elegant and slightly bitter. "Then... would you mind if I took an interest in Princess Charlize myself?"
Askin’s eyes widened. A memory of Ian’s "sly" smile from the night of the banquet flashed through his mind.
"Of course," Ian continued, "my interest in the Princess and the terms of this loan are two separate things. My father only insisted on the breakup because he didn't want to be financially entangled with someone who might become part of the Imperial family in the future."
With that one clear declaration, the last of Askin’s doubts about the loan were cleared. But they were replaced by a new, far more unsettling feeling.