Chapter 23: Harmless Little Kitten

"How was the royal romp, Your Grace? Or should I just stick to 'Vyan' and save us both from the pretense?" Clyde could not resist a jab as soon as Vyan emerged from the imperial court.

Vyan, ever the eye-roller in the face of Clyde's theatrics, shot back, "Oh, by all means, stick to 'Vyan.' You will butcher the formalities, anyway."

"But my dear protégé," Clyde protested with a flourish, "the public demands a show of respect! It is all about the pomp and circumstance, you see."

"Ah, yes, because nothing says 'respect' like sarcasm and backhanded compliments," Vyan retorted.

Clyde remained undeterred by Vyan's sass and leaned in with all the subtlety of a nosy neighbor. "Come on, spill the royal tea. What's the verdict?"

"Well…" Vyan channeled his inner drama queen and drew out the suspense like a seasoned theater actor, while Clyde's eager anticipation was bothersome, his eyes practically twinkling with impatience.

Finally, unable to resist the urge to play along any longer, Vyan relented. "Well, drumroll, please... It is official. You may now address me as 'Your Grace,' or, for an additional fee, 'Your Awesomeness.'"

Clyde, who was trailing behind Vyan like a hyperactive shadow, could not contain his enthusiasm and gave a dramatic vow worthy of a true aide. "Congratulations, Your Awesomeness! You have truly outdone yourself this time!"

Vyan basked in the glow of his newfound title and responded with a nonchalant shrug, "Oh, you know, just another day in the life of sheer brilliance."

"But seriously, did the emperor say something to have you sweating bullets in there?" Clyde prodded.

Vyan waved off Clyde's concern with all the confidence of a cat sauntering past a dog park. "Please, I practiced enough to charm the socks off a snake. His Majesty would not stand a chance."

"Anything juicy the emperor threw your way?" Clyde pressed for more details.

Vyan smirked, his lips curling into a wicked grin. "As predicted, he wants to have tea with me while scrutinizing me like a flower he is not sure he wants in his garden."

"When does the royal tea time start with your favorite person in the world start?" Clyde teased.

"Today."

"My, he is more paranoid of you than a squirrel hoarding nuts for winter," Clyde quipped.

"If only you could have seen the look on his face when he laid eyes on me," Vyan chuckled, flicking the earring dangling from his right ear. It was a gift from Benedict, who claimed it was the same single earring his father sported daily ever since his Grand Duke days. "That old bastard looked like he had bitten into a sour grapevine and couldn't spit it out."

"Are you sure you should be slinging insults at the emperor while standing in his own palace?" Clyde tried to be the voice of reason—or at least, attempted reason—and raised an eyebrow.

"Relax, I have cast a soundproof spell." Vyan brushed Clyde's words with a dismissive gesture. "If anyone overhears, they will just think I am boasting about my impeccable taste in accessories."

Clyde feigned a dramatic moment and placed a hand over his heart. "My protégé, you have surpassed even my wildest expectations."

But Vyan simply ignored Clyde's dramatics and sauntered forward.

"Jokes aside, are you sure you are ready for the emperor's inquisition?" Clyde's tone shifted, genuine concern lacing his words.

Vyan's smirk widened into a grin that could rival the Cheshire Cat's. "Oh, I'm more than ready."

———

Lounging at a white circular tea table beneath a pavilion, a sanctuary within the emperor's sprawling garden, Edgar inquired, "So, Grand Duke, can you pull rabbits out of hats?" His smile was as radiant as the sun dappling through the garden's foliage.

"Alas, Your Imperial Majesty, I am bereft of such talents," Vyan replied with a touch of theatrical sorrow, a mask of disappointment shadowing his features.

Edgar's eyebrows shot up in disbelief. "Really now? Not even a simple card trick?"

"I am afraid not," Vyan sighed, as if carrying the weight of centuries-old family shame on his shoulders. "It is a rather embarrassing stain on my lineage. I am as magically gifted as a particularly dull spoon."

Edgar's eyes gleamed with intrigue. "Do you possess the documentation to substantiate this claim?"

"At present, regrettably not. However, my mana proficiency certificate should reside within the archives of House Estelle. You see, I once served there in a knightly capacity," Vyan elaborated.

"Though, truth be told," he added with a self-deprecating chuckle, "I was a rather dismal excuse for a knight. Turns out, divine energy did not find me worthy either."

While mana was inherent, divine energy was an accolade achieved through rigorous training—a testament to a knight's prowess and experience. For Vyan, however, it remained an elusive prize until his tutelage under Sir Theodore Jacques. But the emperor didn't have to know about that part.

Edgar's smile remained fixed in place as he casually probed, "But isn't it a curious anomaly? There has not been a sprout in the Ashstone family tree who could not weave the threads of magic."

"I suppose I am simply the black sheep," Vyan sighed, his words punctuated by a delicate sip of tea. "Whispers from my loyal subjects suggest an old stargazer foretold my mana misfortune at the moment of my birth."

"Oh? Pray, do tell," Edgar leaned in with curiosity like that of a gossipmonger.

"What do I tell, Your Imperial Majesty," Vyan let out a heavy sigh, "when it seems like the heavens have conspired against me. As you very well know, my dear parents were a veritable duo of magical and aura prowess. Unfortunately, they inadvertently canceled each other out. Their potent blend of mana and divine energy left me high and dry. Quite the cosmic joke, wouldn't you say?"

"And your elder sibling escaped this cosmic jest?" Edgar's brow furrowed in contemplation.

"That's because my dear mother did not gain her aura until after my brother's arrival into the world," Vyan explained with a wistful expression.

Edgar acted like he was struck by a bolt of sympathetic enlightenment and nodded sagely. "It all falls into place now. So, no mana, huh?"

Vyan shook his head like a disappointed parent at a child's misadventure.

"Then, extend your hand," Edgar declared with a determined glint in his eye.

Vyan extended his hand without hesitation, memories of Clyde's assessing his mana at their first meeting flashed into his mind. Only the most skilled and astute mages could gauge mana potential with such precision through a simple touch.

As the sunlight danced upon the silver bracelet adorning Vyan's wrist, the emperor found naught but emptiness within, while Vyan easily discerned the faint trickle of mana coursing through Edgar's veins.

Tch, such a weak flow of mana… This man would be no match for me if we fought head on, Vyan thought to himself.

On the offside, even if Edgar had boasted formidable magical prowess, Vyan's mana would have remained elusive to his senses.

After months of toil and experimentation, Vyan and Clyde birthed a bracelet capable of containing mana within its wearer—especially a mana potential as vast as Vyan's. It was a feat achieved through tireless labor and Clyde's expertise honed within the Tower of Magic.

Though initially Vyan was an observer, curiosity inevitably drew him into the crafting process and he came to fall in love with magical creation.

"It is truly remarkable how devoid you are of mana," Edgar remarked, a hearty chuckle punctuating his relief. The emergence of the Ashstone scion posed no threat to his rule; Vyan's lack of magical or divine prowess ensured his status as a mere vessel—ripe for manipulation.

"I trust you are not regretting bestowing upon me the title of Grand Duke?" Vyan asked, a sardonic twist to his words.

Had his family still drawn breath, Vyan would undoubtedly have been deemed a disgrace. Yet, to Edgar, this apparent inadequacy proved a blessing—an assurance of loyalty from a pawn incapable of challenging his sovereignty.

"Of course not! You are akin to a harmless little kitten, Grand Duke, and who doesn't adore such delightful creatures?" Edgar chuckled, his laughter ringing through the air.

"I must confess, I have a soft spot for kittens myself as well," Vyan admitted with a grin.

"Given your unfortunate circumstances, I believe a lavish celebration is in order for your newfound elevation!" Edgar declared with infectious merriment.

"Your Imperial Majesty, it is truly not necessary—" Vyan attempted to protest.

"Nonsense! It is not every day we welcome a new Grand Duke into the fold, is it? A cause for jubilation, indeed!" Edgar exclaimed, his enthusiasm palpable. "We are hosting a grand soirée tomorrow evening, and every esteemed noble in the empire shall be in attendance. I will not take no for an answer from you."

Vyan feigned a resigned sigh before offering a gracious smile. "Thank you, Your Imperial Majesty. I would be honored to partake in such festivities."

"Oh, and before I forget, I will need your mana proficiency certificate from House Estelle. I will have one of my aides fetch it," Edgar mentioned offhandedly.

"If it pleases Your Imperial Majesty, may I have the privilege of retrieving it myself?" Vyan proposed politely. "You see, I hold deep gratitude for their hospitality over the years. It feels only right to pay them a personal visit."

Edgar paused, his lips quirking in thought before he chuckled. "Certainly, that's no trouble at all."

"Thank you," Vyan smiled warmly, his eyes alight with appreciation. "Oh, if I may add, Your Imperial Majesty, your taste in tea is truly exquisite. The aroma alone is enough to transport one to another realm."

"Finally, a connoisseur of fine tea!" Edgar exclaimed with delight, his joviality shining through. "Easton, bless him, would not know a milk tea from a chamomile. He gulps it down as if it were mere water," he lamented, prompting a chuckle from Vyan.

As Edgar regaled him with tales and anecdotes, Vyan nodded along attentively, interjecting with flattering remarks to keep the emperor's ego well-fed.

"It has been an absolute pleasure conversing with you, Grand Duke," Edgar declared, rising from his seat.

"The honor was truly mine, Your Imperial Majesty," Vyan replied with a respectful bow.

"Why don't you join me for tea every Monday? Consider it a standing invitation," Edgar suggested with a genial smile.

"As you wish, Your Imperial Majesty," Vyan acquiesced with a deferential nod.

"Very well. I will see you at the soirée tomorrow," Edgar bid his farewell.

As Vyan watched the emperor's retreating figure, a self-assured smirk played upon his lips. He had adeptly navigated the delicate art of flattery, earning a modicum of trust from the seemingly weak-willed ruler.

Alone amidst the verdant garden, Vyan murmured to himself, "So I am a harmless little kitten, hmm? Very well, let's embrace that facade, at least for the time being."