Chapter 94
“Are you the new advisor?”
Just as she’d expected, someone spoke before she could sit. It wasn’t the man seated closest to the head of the table, but a middle-aged man sitting midway along the table.
Dora whispered,
“That’s Lord Hilbrin, one of the highest-ranking lords under Maindulante. His status has declined since His Grace’s ascension, but many retainers still respect him.”
That explained his boldness in speaking up, as if he represented everyone present.
In contrast, the elderly white-haired man sitting closest to the head of the table looked slightly troubled.
“Is Maindulante’s etiquette different from the etiquette I know?”
Nerys’s voice rang out coldly.
Most of the people seated in the chamber flinched. While their backgrounds and ranks varied, everyone here was confident in their own abilities—and proud.
After the previous Grand Duke’s death, Maindulante had almost collapsed into ruin.
The elders of the noble house had been blinded by greed and colluded with the enemy. Honest men were framed as traitors and executed.
It was Cledwyn Maindulante, the current Grand Duke and their lord, who had cleaned up that hellish mess and selected talent based solely on ability.
Naturally, those in the castle trusted Cledwyn deeply. They’d been shocked when he appointed a girl who had just graduated from the academy as advisor to a post vacant for over ten years—but they believed he had his reasons.
Still, some lingering discomfort remained. This girl came from the South, as they called it here—outside of Maindulante.
They were technically part of the same empire, but there was almost no interaction between Maindulante and the South.
Proud of his region, Hilbrin had stepped up to express that discomfort. He was hot-tempered and arrogant, and didn’t like bowing to the castle officials.
As far as he was concerned, a lord who owned his own land and swore loyalty to the Grand Duke was a noble, while castle officials were mere attendants.
That was why he dared to speak so bluntly in such a formal setting, without even introducing himself to the Grand Duke’s advisor. But—
“…My apologies.”
Her words had clearly pointed out the breach in etiquette. But beyond that, there was something solid in her voice that made everyone hesitate.
Calm and composed, even while surrounded by people much older and unfamiliar.
Her veil concealed her face, but they imagined there wouldn’t be the slightest hint of nervousness in her expression. She exuded too much presence for that.
Her very existence gripped the room.
—
The lords who served high-ranking nobles were nobles themselves, but because they did not swear loyalty to the Emperor directly, they weren’t considered nobles in the strict sense. As such, they weren’t obligated to send their children to the Noble Academy.
As for the castle officials—some were of noble birth, but their status was that of middle-class bureaucrats.
So none of the people here had seen Nerys before, nor had they heard of her except perhaps through vague rumors from their children. All they had were hasty reports after her appointment.
But nowhere in those reports had it mentioned she possessed this… presence.
Nerys sat in the vacant head seat as if it was the most natural thing in the world. The old man beside it gave her a polite nod.
“What’s your name?”
She spoke clearly, so everyone would know exactly who held the authority to speak first and whose name came first.
The old man answered respectfully.
“Rex Bronson.”
“And you?”
“Latiman O’Connor, Madam Advisor.”
“And you?”
She went down the line, from the closest to the farthest, one by one. When she skipped over Hilbrin’s turn, his face turned red in embarrassed shock.
“Karl Sidney. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
When the last junior official finally gave his name, Nerys gave a faint smile. Her lips, revealed just slightly under the veil, curved into a smooth arc. Those who had been holding their breath in tension now cautiously followed her lead with smiles of their own.
Older men? Strangers? A foreign place?
None of that frightened Nerys. In her previous life, she had always been surrounded by enemies no matter where she went. What did a bit of tension among strangers matter to her?
So she spoke calmly.
“Let’s begin with today’s agenda.”
The moment she finished, one of the officials seated furthest from the head table stood up abruptly—then looked puzzled, as if unsure why he had risen so quickly. Still, he began listing the day’s items one by one.
The officials seated closer to her looked unsurprised.
They already knew the authority of this chamber had completely shifted—to this new advisor.
And so overwhelmingly.
—
“She’s… quite the unusual one, this new advisor.”
At the offhand remark, Karl Sidney chuckled.
“She seems capable, doesn’t she, Sir Hughin?”
The meeting led by the newly appointed advisor of Maindulante, young Nerys Truydd, had concluded.
Karl and Hughin were among the lowest-ranking officials in attendance. They had served under many superiors—some competent, others not.
Fortunately, the new advisor was calm and seemed experienced at handling subordinates. That alone was a vital trait in a superior, and surely many had felt reassured after today’s meeting.
“Capable? Bit early to say that, isn’t it?”
Hughin replied cynically. Among the castle’s junior officials, he was known for being particularly difficult to impress.
In contrast, Karl was easygoing and sociable, with connections even among the senior staff. He just laughed.
As the two chatted, watching the backs of departing officials and lords, Nerys stood deep in thought.
‘He’s an extraordinary man.’
Though probably insane.
She’d only attended one meeting, yet it was already clear—just how intelligent and strong-willed the people in this room were.
And despite the lord’s absence, the entire territory was being managed with stunning organization and efficiency.
Nerys didn’t yet know the exact details of what Maindulante had gone through after the previous Grand Duke’s death. But whatever it had been, it must have been catastrophic. To restore things to this state in just a few years was astounding.
If she didn’t know Cledwyn Maindulante personally, she might have suspected there was more going on behind the scenes.
“You were amazing.”
As Nerys sat lost in thought in the now-empty meeting room, Dora spoke with open admiration.
The words mirrored her own thoughts about Cledwyn, and the coincidence made Nerys flinch without realizing. She hesitated over how to respond to the praise and asked,
“What was?”
“Just now. Lord Hilbrin is impossibly rigid, yet he couldn’t say a word to you. If even he backed down, no one else will dare speak arrogantly to you from now on.”
“Surely it’s not that serious. It’s not like I did anything impressive.”
“I’ve never seen nobles or officials behave so meekly in front of anyone but His Grace.”
Nerys still seemed doubtful, but Dora was completely sincere.
People from Maindulante were proud, and Cledwyn’s subordinates were especially so. The nobles serving under the Grand Duke were no exception.
An outsider. A fresh graduate with no experience. So young.
There were plenty of reasons for the people in that meeting room to resist Nerys. No matter how much they trusted Cledwyn, discomfort toward Nerys herself was inevitable.
Dora’s earlier warning before the meeting had been born of those very concerns.
And yet those proud men had introduced themselves politely and explained their work with genuine effort. Dora almost felt her concerns had been unnecessary.
And she understood why.
This young lady… had a certain kind of power. Yes, she’d spoken logically, but even if she hadn’t, people would have followed her simply believing she had her reasons.
A natural charisma.
‘As expected of His Grace. As expected of Madam Truydd.’
Dora thought of the two people she genuinely admired. Where on earth had they found such a person, and how had they raised her?
Meanwhile, Nerys had no idea how Dora was evaluating her.
In her past life, leading a successful meeting wasn’t an achievement—it was just routine. And not just meetings.
Even when she completed the most unpopular, difficult tasks, she could count on one hand the people who praised her.
If she accomplished something only possible through her Jeweled Eyes, something that benefited the imperial family, her sister-in-law Camille might at least acknowledge her now and then.
The power dynamics of the Imperial Court were extraordinarily complex. As Crown Princess, Nerys had to constantly navigate attacks from people targeting her, the House of Elandria, and the throne itself. Silencing someone who tried to provoke her—like just now—was nothing.
So rather than feeling proud, she focused on what needed to be done next.
Namely, the oddities she had picked up on during the meeting.
“There were quite a few vassal lords in that room. Is it normal in Maindulante for vassals—not retainers—to frequently visit the lord’s castle?”
Vassals and retainers both pledged loyalty to their lord, but they were fundamentally different.
Retainers were usually blood relatives of the ruling noble or at least long-standing household members. So of course it was normal for them to be at the lord’s castle.
But after the elders were all executed and with Cledwyn having no known relatives, Maindulante’s only true retainers were the steward and Ellen. The house had no retainer families left.
Vassal lords, on the other hand, often had no personal ties to the ruling family. They pledged allegiance because their lands historically stemmed from the ruling house—but it was purely customary.
For powerful noble houses, there were countless such vassals, many of whom ruled lands far from the capital. Among the vassals of the House of Elandria, some only visited once in their lifetime.
“Yes. It wasn’t common in the past, but since His Grace’s ascension, it’s become the norm.”
“Why?”
“I’ve only been in ‘Central’ a short time, but I heard it’s because the authority of the castle officials has increased.”
“Central” was how people here referred to Penmewick Castle, with more meaning than just geography. Nerys had heard that term several times during the meeting.
The “South” referred to the rest of the continent outside Maindulante. “Central” meant the heart of Maindulante—Penmewick Castle. Even their terminology was unfamiliar.
But Nerys understood the situation.
“I see.”
The table had clearly divided into two camps: ‘lords’ and ‘officials.’
A vassal lord who rudely questioned the highest-ranked official—the advisor.
Those vassals must have sensed that the privileges they’d enjoyed under the previous Grand Duke might not be so easily guaranteed under the new regime. So now they were constantly visiting Central, trying to confirm whether important decisions were being made behind closed doors.
From the ruler’s perspective, it was an ideal setup. Each faction kept the other in check, all trying to gain favor with their lord.
‘As long as the power struggle doesn’t get in the way of governance.’
It was the leader’s job to make sure it didn’t.
Now that she understood the mood, Nerys rose and walked to the window.
Outside, the summer sunlight was blinding. Several people crossed the courtyard between the grand main building and the East Wing, busy and focused.
But one man stood still, hiding in the building’s shadow and looking up at her.
Hughin.
With his sharp and cynical eyes, he frowned slightly when it seemed like Nerys was looking back at him. But since she wore a veil and there was some distance between them, he couldn’t be sure if their eyes had met.
Interesting. It was rare to see someone act so blatantly suspicious. Nerys smiled sweetly at him and turned away.
“Let’s go, Dora. I’d like to look around the place I’ll be working in.”
