Chapter 480: The Duke’s Confidence

The double doors of the Duke’s private study were locked from the inside, sealing out the damp, midnight draft that crept through the outer hallways of the northern wing. Inside, a fire burned quietly in the stone fireplace, filling the room with a comfortable warmth.

Zarius sat behind his massive carved desk, a plain wooden cup of cooled mountain tea resting near his right hand. Across from him stood Flio. Flio held a thin, leather-bound portfolio under his arm, his usual immaculate posture looking slightly weary after hours of administrative work.

"That covers the perimeter guard rotations for the western gate," Flio said, his voice quiet and crisp in the silent room as he set down a folded stack of requisitions on the desk.

Zarius leaned back in his tall leather chair, resting his forearms against the dark wood. His sharp, dark eyes followed Flio’s hands. "Is there something else, Flio?"

Flio took a quiet breath, stepping a half-inch closer to the desk. "Lord Cherion sent a private letter to my father."

Zarius didn’t move a muscle, his broad shoulders relaxed. "I am aware. He mentioned he wanted to check on matters back home."

"Yes, My Lord," Flio replied smoothly. He lowered his gaze slightly, his voice dropping into a lower, more guarded register. "However... Lord Cherion also approached me directly earlier this afternoon. He asked me to look into Lord Philia’s background and find whatever information I could about him."

Zarius raised an eyebrow, tilting his head with a calm, unbothered expression. He reached for his cup, taking a slow sip of the cold tea before setting it back down with a dull, hollow clink. "I see. And did you find what he requested?"

"I just started," Flio answered carefully. He paused, his sharp eyes searching Zarius’s face for a reaction. "My Lord... if I may speak freely?"

Zarius gestured with a slight flick of his hand. "Go ahead."

Flio swallowed hard, his posture tightening slightly as he organized his thoughts. "Is it truly wise to assist Lord Cherion in this matter? The court rumors around the palace are already volatile enough. People are whispering that Lord Cherion remains bitter over his severed engagement with Prince Yerel, and that he has treated Lord Philia poorly ever since the two first met. They speak of his cold attitude toward Lord Philia and the many unpleasant encounters between them."

Flio looked straight into Zarius’s eyes, his expression genuinely concerned. "I do not wish to think ill of Lord Cherion, My Lord. He has proven his brilliance and loyalty to you time and again since the subjugation campaign. But Lord Philia is... delicate. He holds immense favor with Crown Prince Yerel. If Cherion intends to use Lord Philia’s origins against him to stir up trouble at court..."

"Flio."

Zarius raised a single, broad hand, his low, gravelly voice cutting through the secretary’s sentence like a dull iron blade. The room went completely still, save for the soft pop of a log in the iron brazier.

Zarius didn’t look angry. Instead, his eyes held an absolute, unshakeable clarity that made Flio stop in his tracks.

"Cherion does not harbor a single bad intention toward Philia," Zarius spoke clearly, his deep voice filled with a calm, absolute conviction. "He is not digging through his identity out of malice, nor is he trying to ruin the man’s standing with the Crown Prince. You don’t need to worry about Cherion playing petty court games."

Flio blinked, taken aback by the sheer certainty in his lord’s tone. He knew Zarius was not a man given to blind trust or foolish assumptions; if Zarius believed in Cherion this deeply, it meant there was a profound understanding between them that went far beyond mere political alliance.

"I understand, My Lord," Flio said softly, lowering his head in a respectful, sincere bow. "My apologies for questioning your judgment. I shall begin searching for information regarding Lord Philia’s identity and background as Lord Cherion requested."

"Good," Zarius nodded slowly, his posture loosening slightly. "Help him with whatever else he asks for. Don’t question his motives, and see that no one else learns what records you are looking into."

"It shall be done," Flio replied. He reached into his portfolio to tuck away the remaining paperwork, but paused once more, looking up at Zarius with a much softer, more human expression. "There is one final matter, My Lord. Regarding Lady Marielle."

Zarius shifted in his seat, his broad chest rising with a slow, heavy breath as he turned his gaze toward the fire burning quietly. For a moment, he said nothing, his eyes fixed on the flames as though gathering his thoughts. "What about her?"

"Is she... truly 100% certain about going through with the betrothal offer?" Flio asked quietly, his tone dropping the stiff formality of a secretary and taking on the warm concern of a lifelong friend. "The marriage arrangement with the foreign faction will tie her name permanently to it. Once the formal papers are signed, there will be no turning back for her."

Zarius stared at the dancing orange embers for a long, heavy moment. Memories of Marielle sitting in this very study weeks ago, her eyes filled with a fierce, quiet resolve as she demanded to take control of her own political destiny, passed through his mind.

He leaned his elbow against the armrest of his chair, resting his chin against his knuckles.

"Yes," Zarius murmured, his voice rough and quiet in the warm room. "She has already set her mind to it. She made her decision, and she hasn’t wavered for a single second."

Flio looked down at the dark carpet, letting out a soft, resigned sigh. "I see. It is a heavy burden for her to bear alone."

"She isn’t alone," Zarius replied smoothly, his eyes narrowing as he stared into the dark corners of the study. "She chose this path because she knows what it will bring her. But that does not mean it comes without a price."

Zarius reached out, gently closing the report resting on his desk, the sound echoing softly against the stone walls. He looked up at the high, dark ceiling, his expression heavy with the quiet weight of a Duke who knew that every move made on this chessboard cost blood, freedom, or peace.

"Let us simply hope," Zarius whispered, "that it turns out to be a good decision."