Chapter 531: A Delicate Position

A gentle breeze passed through the rose arches as the guests began leaving the Avery estate. Carriages had lined up along the gravel driveway, their doors opening one after another as servants helped the nobles inside.

Near the marble steps, Philia stood looking as composed as ever. Marchioness Avery and Derrick stood beside him, exchanging polite smiles and bows with the departing guests.

Philia stepped forward and gave Marchioness Avery a polite nod.

"Thank you for hosting such a lovely afternoon, Marchioness," Philia spoke softly. "The refreshments were exquisite, and the company was truly delightful."

Marchioness Avery smiled warmly, dipping her head in respect to the Crown Prince’s fiancé. "The honor was entirely ours, Lord Philia. Please take care on your journey back to the palace, and do not overexert yourself."

Philia then turned his eyes toward Derrick, his expression softening into a sweet smile. "And Lord Derrick... I am truly relieved beyond words to see you safe and in such wonderful spirits. Please make sure to rest well, and do not let the memory of yesterday’s unfortunate event linger in your heart."

"Thank you, Lord Philia!" Derrick beamed, offering a bright, golden-retriever-like smile as he patted his own chest. "Don’t worry about me at all! I’m completely fine, and I’ll make sure to drop by the palace to visit you once court schedules settle down!"

"I shall look forward to it," Philia replied, dipping his head one last time before turning to walk down the marble stairs.

Beside him, Valen held the carriage door open as Philia stepped inside. Valen boarded immediately after, shutting the heavy wooden door behind them with a solid click.

The luxury carriage lurched forward, its iron-rimmed wheels crunching against the gravel driveway as it swept out of the Avery estate and onto the main capital avenue.

Inside the carriage, Philia’s warm smile slowly faded, leaving him with a calm expression. He leaned back against the velvet seat, watching the capital’s townhouses pass by through the window.

Across from him, Valen sat quietly before finally breaking the silence in a low, respectful voice.

"My Lord..." Valen began softly, his tone cautious as he looked at his master. "During the gathering near the garden fountain... Lord Derrick and the other young nobles seemed thoroughly captivated by Lord Cherion’s actions yesterday."

Philia turned from the window to look at Valen. His expression remained calm, though his eyes had lost their usual warmth.

"Derrick had quite a lot of praise for him," Valen continued, adjusting his sleeves. "Apparently, Cherion has managed to improve his reputation after that little scuffle in a theater washroom. Even the nobles who once looked down on him seem to be changing their minds. He’s certainly become much braver and more capable than before."

Philia gave a quiet chuckle, but there was no real amusement in it.

"Brave and strong..." Philia repeated softly, his voice echoing in the quiet carriage. He leaned his head against the cushioned headrest, staring thoughtfully at the ceiling above. "Well... it shouldn’t come as a total surprise, should it? He is from the Antel family, after all."

Valen blinked, processing his master’s words. "The Antel house..."

"Yes," Philia murmured, his eyes narrowing slightly as he recalled the historical records of the high court. "House Antel built its glory on martial bloodlines and border defense. Cherion’s ancestors died on the front lines protecting the royal house for generations. His father was a legendary general before his passing. Even if Cherion spent years acting like a spoiled, incompetent brat in the capital... that blood still runs in his veins. A dormant wolf is still a wolf when cornered."

Valen nodded quietly, taking in the strategic perspective. "So his sudden physical martial skill isn’t a fluke... it is simply his family’s bloodline manifesting under pressure."

"Precisely," Philia mused. "Which makes him far more dangerous on the political board than he ever was as a mere spoiled nuisance."

Valen smoothed down his apron, leaning forward slightly with a thoughtful glint in his eyes. "If Lord Cherion continues to win over the Avery family and shifting noble sentiment, it could complicate our standing, My Lord. House Avery holds immense influence."

"Let them play their games for now, Valen," Philia replied coolly, flicking a speck of dust off his cuff. "Popularity in high society is as fleeting as morning mist. One day they praise a hero, and the next they tear him apart for a single misstep."

The carriage continued its smooth journey through the noble district, eventually passing through the massive iron gates of the imperial palace complex. The horses slowed to a walk as they entered the inner courtyard, pulling up near the grand side entrance reserved for royal guests and high officials.

As Valen stepped out first to assist Philia, Philia paused on the carriage steps, his sharp eyes catching sight of a busy scene near the palace vault repository.

Several imperial liveried attendants and heavy transport guards were actively loading wooden crates wrapped in protective silk into two official royal carriages. The crates bore the gold-embossed crest of the imperial family, clearly signifying high-grade goods from the inner crown vaults.

Philia tilted his head slightly, a flicker of quiet curiosity touching his brow.

Standing near the lead carriage, reviewing a long parchment ledger with a quill in hand, was Karson.

Philia smoothed down his silk tunic and walked gracefully toward the courtyard center, his light footsteps barely making a sound on the cobblestones. Valen followed two steps behind.

"Karson," Philia called out softly, his voice carrying its signature gentle warmth.

Karson immediately paused, sliding his quill into his belt as he turned around. Recognizing the Crown Prince’s fiancé, Karson bowed respectfully, his posture flawless and disciplined.

"Lord Philia," Karson acknowledged smoothly. "I hope your afternoon tea at the Avery estate was pleasant?"

"It was very peaceful, thank you," Philia replied with a soft smile. He glanced casually toward the stacked wooden crates being secured onto the transport carts. "Forgive my curiosity, Karson... but I could not help noticing the imperial guards loading high-grade vault crates. Is the palace preparing an official diplomatic shipment?"

Karson looked at the crates, then back at Philia, his face maintaining a polite, professional composure.

"Ah, no, My Lord," Karson explained smoothly. "These packages contain rare moon-blossom medicinal teas, tonics, and things like that. They are being dispatched to the residences of Lord Cherion and Lord Derrick."

Philia’s eyes flickered slightly, though his serene smile never left his face.

"Oh, really?" Philia responded softly, placing a hand lightly over his chest as if moved by the gesture. "How thoughtful. The King must have been deeply concerned about the safety of the young nobles after hearing about the incident at the theater."

Karson offered a small, polite bow of his head. "Actually, Lord Philia... His Majesty was briefed, but these specific recovery gifts were personally ordered by His Highness."

Philia’s hand remained rested over his chest, but his fingers twitched ever so slightly against the silk of his tunic.

"His Highness... Prince Yerel?" Philia echoed, his voice maintaining its sweet tone without skipping a beat.

"Yes, my lord," Karson nodded casually. "His Highness wished to ensure that both victims received proper imperial care and that their physical recovery is fully monitored following the attack."

"I see..." Philia murmured softly, dipping his head with graceful understanding. "That is indeed very attentive of His Highness. Please ensure the messengers travel safely."

"Of course, Lord Philia," Karson bowed again before turning back to instruct the carriage drivers.

Philia turned around, walking slowly toward the inner palace archway with Valen following quietly behind him.

The moment they entered the palace corridor and were out of sight of the guards, Philia stopped. His gaze settled on the empty hallway, and the last trace of warmth disappeared from his expression.

Valen stood behind him, sensing the sudden shift in atmosphere. "My Lord?"

Philia didn’t answer right away. He slowly lowered his gaze, his hand tightening into a pale fist against his tunic before relaxing back to his side.

Yerel... The name lingered in Philia’s thoughts as he went over what Karson had told him.

Yerel had never been the sort of prince to act on a whim. Philia knew that much. He was disciplined, careful with his decisions, and always had the interests of the capital and the royal court in mind. Even his smallest actions usually served a purpose.

Yet he had personally arranged for high-tier medicinal recovery packages from the royal vault to be sent to Cherion’s residence.

He continued staring at the archway ahead, his fingers resting against his sleeve. There was something he was missing, and he didn’t particularly like it.

You surely care so very much about them... don’t you, Yerel?