The morning council began in the usual atmosphere.
Lucas sat at the head of the long table. Rosalind sat diagonally across from him. Then the finance officer, the diplomat, the aide who was a master swordsman, and the secretary. Winter morning light slid across the thinly polished wood.
"Then, Item 1: revision of the eastern tariffs."
The secretary read it out. As usual, Rosalind finished with the figures in two or three seconds, took a sip of tea, and gave her opinion in an even voice.
"Leave the three eastern goods as they are, and lower only the two northern goods by two percent. The reduction can be recovered within half a year by passing it on to the harbor fees."
"Adopted."
Lucas's instant answer was also as usual.
The finance officer nodded as his quill raced across the page. The diplomat leafed to the next document. No one noticed anything out of the ordinary.
Only the aide who was a master swordsman, Sir Dieter, stole a glance at the profile of his lord at the head of the table.
—...His Grace let out a deep sigh in his study this morning.
Beyond that, his expression did not move. The lord he served was a man of whom it had been said, in the seven years since he took the throne at eighteen, that a single sigh from him could move a border. Careless guesses about what this morning's sigh meant were out of the question.
Item 2, Item 3. Everything proceeded smoothly. Rosalind dispatched each item sharply, and Lucas approved each one on the spot.
And then.
"Well, since we have finished through Item 12, we shall conclude here—"
"Secretary."
Rosalind set down her teacup gently.
"You have forgotten Item 13."
The secretary's hand stopped.
"...Item... 13?"
"Yes."
"B-but the agenda list I gave you last night only went up to 12..."
"I added it this morning."
Her voice was quiet. Without changing her posture, she slid a single sheet of paper from the edge of the table toward the secretary.
"It concerns a review of my employment contract."
The only sound was the rustle of paper.
The diplomat silently leafed back through his documents. The finance officer pushed up his spectacles and read Item 13 twice over. Sir Dieter slowly brought his gaze back to his lord.
Lucas's expression had not yet moved.
"...Economic Advisor," Sir Dieter began carefully.
"When you say a review of your employment contract—do you mean a revision of your compensation? Or perhaps an expansion of your authority, or else—"
"No."
Rosalind rose slowly to her feet. The scrape of a chair. Her gaze went straight to the lord at the head of the table.
The morning light brushed once across her silver hair and fell onto the desk.
"Your Grace. I propose a review of the contract terms."
Silence.
"In exchange for marriage, I shall transfer all of my abilities to you."
The secretary's quill dropped onto the desk with a small tok.
For a while, that sound was all that remained in the room.
The finance officer had picked his papers back up upside down and could not bring himself to look at his own hands. The diplomat whispered to the attendant beside him.
"A proposal... to His Grace... and as a contract clause, no less..."
"Quiet."
Sir Dieter cut him off curtly, but his voice, too, trembled slightly.
Rosalind's expression did not change. She glanced down at the paper in her hand once more and added:
"Allow me to elaborate. First, the transfer of my full authority as Economic Advisor, together with the judgment that accompanies it. Second, mutual respect. Third, equal authority in decision-making. These shall form the core, and this contract is intended to operate not as a replacement for the existing employment contract, but as a supplementary clause to it."
The finance officer finally turned his upside-down papers the right way round.
"Economic Advisor. Then, in other words..."
"Yes. It is a proposal."
Rosalind gave a small nod.
"Your Grace. Will you consider it?"
—That was when the air changed.
At the head of the table, Lucas let out a faint breath.
His ice-blue eyes, which until then had not so much as flickered, were open just a little wider. His shoulders, ordinarily set at a perfect angle as he faced forward, shook slightly.
For the first time, his retainers noticed.
Their lord's mouth had softened.
"Hm."
A short breath escaped him.
"Hm, hh..."
And then—a sound that not even Sir Dieter, after all his years of service, had ever once heard came from the head of the table.
It was laughter.
Low and brief. But unmistakably laughter, out loud.
The man called the Ice Grand Duke, who had not raised an eyebrow when princesses from every corner of the continent proposed to him, was now, in his own council chamber, covering his mouth with one hand and laughing with his shoulders shaking.
The secretary was on the verge of fainting. The diplomat stared at his lord as though looking at something he had never seen before.
"That is..." Lucas said, in a voice like he was holding back laughter.
"No—truly, that is so like you."
Rosalind stood still, waiting for his answer.
Lucas took his hand from his mouth and looked straight at her. The lingering laughter had left a color in his pale blue eyes that no one had ever seen there before.
"I accept, gladly."
Rosalind gave a small, satisfied nod.
"Thank you. Then I shall draft the contract. Let us work out the finer points of the clauses this afternoon."
With that, she quietly returned to her chair and took a sip of tea.
The secretary finally picked up his quill. His hands were shaking so badly that it took him three tries.
Sir Dieter opened his mouth, in a voice from which he was desperately suppressing the tremor.
"...Your Grace."
"Yes."
"Is this—that is. May I offer my congratulations?"
Lucas lightly wiped the lingering laughter from the corners of his eyes with a long finger. Even so, the corners of his mouth had not entirely returned to their usual place.
"Celebrate it," he said briefly.
"It's been six years."
—Six years.
The words seeped quietly into the minds of everyone in the council chamber. Each in their own seat, the retainers slowly turned their eyes to the heavens.
Three years before Lady Rosalind came to serve as advisor. Their lord had personally attended a party hosted by the Crown Prince, and come back. Everyone remembered how he had returned to his duties in an unusually good mood.
That had been—so that was what it meant.
The finance officer held his papers upside down once again.
Rosalind alone, entirely oblivious to what those looks meant, set down her teacup and went on to the secretary.
"Then this afternoon we shall begin the fair copy of the contract. I prepared a working draft this morning. Article One is the Transfer of Abilities clause, Article Two the Mutual Respect clause, Article Three the Equal Decision-Making clause. With a termination clause and the like added, there are five articles in all, and I have attached three draft versions for each, so this afternoon we need only work out the details and finalize them. Secretary, kindly have two reams of fine paper ready for the fair copy by this afternoon."
"...Y-yes, at once."
"And there is no need to prepare any wedding gifts. This marriage is a contract, and not a cause for celebration."
The secretary nodded twice. It did not amount to an answer.
As she tidied away the agenda list, Rosalind happened to look up at her lord at the head of the table.
Lucas was still looking at her.
That the warmth in his gaze was different from usual council meetings—she, of course, did not notice at all.
By the time the afternoon bell rang, there would be six articles lined up in this contract.
—That one of them would be added by someone other than her, she did not yet know.