“Let’s wait and see.”

“Rocard, you are the one demanding blind faith from me.”

“Your Highness enjoys a close call, too. Can we trust him? Is he doing it right? An anxious feeling. And our house is wealthy as well.”

“Madman.”

Greyion suddenly asked, as if he had just thought of it.

“The enemy daughter of Count Roar?”

“…….”

Rocard had a deep respect for Count Roar.

In the razorsharp sight of the emperor, it wasn’t easy for anyone to exercise such a sense of balance throughout their life. Even Duke Caidel, who often opposed the count, thought so.

It was not at all pleasant to say that the glory of such a Count Roar ended in this generation.

While Rocard was choosing his words, Greyion turned his head again.

“Why? Is there a problem?”

“It’s pretty.”

“Damn it.”

Greyion understood the comment that Misha Roar’s only merit was her appearance, and cursed softly.

As cornered as he was, he felt regretful about the bastard.

Rocard, since the subject had come up, made small talk.

“It’s about Lorisha.”

“Why?”

“She is the one treating Your Highness right now.”

“What are you talking about?”

“She’s the one giving herbs to Director Royman. It seems she has skill in that area too. Maybe she’s trying to break away from the count’s house. From the bottom.”

From the bottom. When Rocard said so, even the lingering hostility in his heart dispersed.

During the few months they arrived at the Tunbar Mountain Range, they had to fight with the bottom of survival before their enemies. To them, who had lived in the gentle capital, surviving in the rough wilderness was a war in itself.

So he understood how desperate it is for a person to climb from the bottom. So he felt an incredible sympathy.

Of course, that did not mean he had forgiven her. Her provocation had indeed constituted a confrontation, and Caidel never backed down from a confrontation.

And his intention of subtly leaking information to make the Second Prince familiar with Lorisha had never changed.

Greyion grumbled regretfully.

“The count’s liver must be burning too.”

Rocard agreed with silence, and Greyion fidgeted and spoke.

“Call Royman. It’s starting to cool down now.”

When Rocard stood up to relay the command, the door swung open. The palace servant who was guarding the door stood outside looking bewildered, and Princess Milliora entered without hesitation.

“Brother, what’s this weird spell you’re casting on yourself?”

“It’s not a spell, it’s Royman’s treatment.”

“Then alchemy? Aren’t you making gold and silver anymore?”

Greyion couldn’t help but shout.

“Royman! It’s hot!”

Hwinid silently rushed in, lifting the robe, and picked up the nearly burnt herbs and put them on a plate.

Tagar’s only princess seemed to have lost interest in her brother and looked at Rocard.

“Rocard! Still handsome?”

“Rocard is the son of His Majesty’s lion. Show some respect.”

Greyion interrupted, but Milliora paid no heed. She flicked her orderly silver hair and laughed.

“Rocard Caidel, at your service, Your Highness.”

“Duke Rocard? Come to the princess’s palace for tea. Not now, but next time!”

Greyion groaned in pain, but she didn’t care.

“Do you know how exciting the young ones are? A war hero and now the academy’s top? Isn’t that too greedy? If the Duke comes, my tea party will be diminished. Those who can’t attend will cry, won’t they? It’ll be funny. Ho ho ho.”

“You are as you were, Your Highness.”

“You mean still immature? I know. But since the Duke takes care of a brother more immature and worse than me, I shouldn’t be a problem, right?”

When Rocard responded with a faint smile, Greyion opened his gown and yelled.

“Can’t you leave? You think Rocard’s your toy?”

“Ha! So, is he Brother’s toy?”

At that, Greyion stared hard at Rocard, and Milliora followed suit.

Greyion answered with a brief nod.

“Yes.”
Rocard let out a groan and pressed his forehead with his palm, while Phinid quietly disappeared, taking his tools with him.

“Where did you hear about this magic?”

At Greyion’s question, Milliora furrowed her round forehead and looked back at him.

“Where do you think?”

“……. ”

“The Empress was nagging His Majesty, wondering if the second prince could recover?”

“Why does your speech resemble a soldier crawling on a battlefield?”

“What does it matter, who cares about me in the palace? Only my older brother is mindful of the Empress’s mood. My elder brother takes care of everything with the Empress.”

At that remark, Greyion’s expression became irritated, and she spoke to Rocard.

“It’s no secret anyway, right? So, when will my tea party be?”

“Perhaps during the academy break.”

Greyion angrily interrupted.

“Even if the academy collapses, Rocard will not go to your tea party. Leave.”

“How miserable! It’s so sad for someone without a pet lion to raise?”

Milliora smiled prettily at Rocard and teased, then yelled at Greyion.

“Anyway, get well soon! Don’t make even me nervous.”

Whether formal or not, Rocard smiled warmly, noting the affection between the siblings was beautiful, and Milliora said,