Chapter 35: 'Greed is part of growing up'

Not wasting a single breath, the duke opened his carriage's door and ran for his horse tied at the back of it. The remaining knights stopped him, and a council member grabbed him by the arm, but Alexander forcefully pushed him aside, causing him to stumble onto his behind. Alexander's hand fumbled through the leash of his horse. When he finally undid it, he quickly mounted and sprinted as fast as he could back to Osmea. As they were almost at the border, it would take him at least an hour or so.

Alexander clicked his tongue. He cursed a few more as he coaxed his horse to run even faster.

By the time he reached the palace, he quickly dismounted, but it was already too late. The fire has spread too far and wide. The people frantically going back and forth didn't help much. Some ran to help, some stayed behind to pray, and some helped those that came from inside. Some were shouting for help, but all those things did nothing to appease the monster that appeared.

Pushing his way through the crowd, the duke asked around what happened, but he either received an unintelligible answer or another push. And when he finally made it through the wave of people that violently crashed against him, Alexander's knees suddenly felt weak, almost breaking his balance.

At a distance, a small stature trembled at the roaring thunder as she latched herself at the motionless man beside her. Her soft curls lay flat and in disarray. She stood barefoot in her sullied nightgown huffing small clouds of air.

Alexander gulped. After gathering all the courage he could muster, he tried to move forward. Every step was heavy as if he were dragging a metal ball chained around his feet, all the while praying for rain to pour down so hard a flood would be possible.

The duke remembered everything so well that it still infuriates him. It still haunts him to this day.

When months turned to years, Alexander's reputation became darker. He'd start fights at pubs, taverns, and even alleyways with even just a small fracture of information of who might want to kill the Florence's; even those who made fun of what happened received a good beating. He also went into brothels and inns, seeking gossip.

Still nothing.

He did everything he could in his power to look for those responsible, but he was always one step behind someone.

Always one second late.

All he was left were crumbs to make use of. Frustrated, the duke continued in his ways, forgetting his goal. He was labeled as rebellious, wild, and promiscuous, but none bothered him. Until he saw Amelia again at the Gathering.

How she wasn't trembling anymore, how her hair was longer, and how taller she was compared to the time they spent at the cabin. But her eyes—they weren't as bright as they once were.

Before, they were clear as a gem and innocent; like only good things happened around her. She still smiled beautifully, but there's a hint of emptiness in her eyes that poked at his buried emotions. All the things that he shoved in his past came rushing forward—his immature incompetence.

And right then and there, he decided that he'd protect her properly this time around. He wasn't the same young and inexperienced duke he once was. He's stronger now—not sure if he's any wiser—but he's more than he was.

"Relax, Clement. There's nothing that we can do right now than to comfort her," Alexander glared at the deep voice that brought him back to reality. "I know about your frustrations. We—my sons especially—also have the same regret. If only we attended her birthday that day, we could've done more too, but alas, we weren't." Duke Mulford placed his hand on the young duke's shoulder and squeezed it lightly.

"I saw them. The carriage that came late and the men that were in it. Even the servant that gave them food. But I was annoyed at everyone, I couldn't see past the greed I—"

"You were young Clement." The duke held him at arm's length and stared down at him not to mock or criticize him but to bring him back to his senses. "Greed is part of growing up." Alexander looked back, staring angrily at first, but he broke his gaze later. He lightly brushed the duke's hand away from him and went ahead to the dining hall for the breakfast that Vernon asked them to join him with.

The young duke arrived at Vernon's private dining hall. It's smaller and more intimate-looking. He found himself a seat at the far side of the table and waited for the others with his arms crossed about his chest. Duke Mulford then entered, followed by his sons. Ayland and Amelia's ladies-in-waiting, together with Christa, came not long after. And the last one to arrive was Vance. He said that the duchess looked better than she was earlier. Her cold sweat has stopped, and it seemed that she's fallen asleep again thanks to the prince's medicine. Ancel and Sir Lewis and his men were guarding her room in the meantime.

Duke Mulford nodded, and Elias gestured at the servants waiting by the door to serve the food. And though the table had a scrumptious spread of different varieties of cheeses and jam, cured meat, salad greens, and bread—not to mention the mouth-watering stew—and all the other culinary delicacies, everyone ate quietly.

By the time breakfast was finished, the ladies excused themselves and returned to their room to look after the duchess. The Mulford brothers stood not long after, saying that they have to tend to the remaining guests; and Elias must meet with his men regarding the incident. Only Prince Ayland stayed, and Alexander already guessed why. Even the servants were ordered to leave, closing the door behind them.

"I have the report for the poison that was used on the duke and duchess." He started. "It took me a while because it's not something that's widely used in Creador since the plant grows in specific temperatures only. And if the plant used is found here, using it would only be a waste of time and resources."

"What do you mean specific temperatures?" Duke Mulford asked, leaning at one side of his armed chair.

"Not all plants that grow here in Creador also grow in other kingdoms or regions, and vice versa. Plants require a lot more than just water and sunshine. And the plant—weed, rather—used for the poison only grows in tropical lands, and they're tough to distinguish from common weeds. Aside from the sheer amount needed for just a small drop, a single impurity from the wrong weed would deem the batch unusable. Also, it needs to be used within a week of processing, or it will lose its poisonous properties."

"Then why would someone use this kind of weed in the first place?" Vance asked, and Alexander leaned forward, his chin resting on the back of his propped hands.

"The effects were meant to induce hallucinations and frequent mood changes. Long story short, it's meant for the unlucky victim to be—"

"Out of their minds. Crazy." Alexander butted in.

"Yes. That's correct."

With the exception of the young prince, everyone leaned back in their seats. The hall grew still as the three gentlemen pondered and exchanged looks. They were all just sitting, but from an outsider's point of view, they might as well be predators lying in wait for a much-awaited kill.

"So, let me get things straight." Duke Mulford shifted in his seat and leaned on the other side of his chair. "If the weed doesn't grow here, a lot is needed for just a single drop, and any impurity could damage the whole batch; how did end up in a mere stable boy's possession? I learned that it was used on the cup and not mixed with the tea."

"Well, there are different ways to poison someone. Ingesting, inhaling, and even skin contact can poison a person. With the weed used, it could be mixed in a drink or, as in Lia's case, in her cup. When it dries, you can hardly notice it. It's not a strong poison but a new one in Lia's system, hence, the sudden effect. Arabella said it was in the bottom of the cup and not on the ream. It could be that it was hastily placed there, and since the person who did it didn't know which cup the duchess would use, he put it in both cups."

"As I was reading the reports, it bothered me that the culprit was a stable boy and not a servant. It would be much more believable if the maid did it, but how did the stable boy manage to poison the cups? When did he have the time to do it?" Duke Mulford gestured at Vance, and the advisor narrowed his eyes at a certain point on the table, contemplating.

Alexander also had the same questions as Vernon, but his questions were quickly overwritten by his engagement which greatly occupied his days.

"I've already changed the palace staff and interrogated everyone. I asked the maid that prepared the tea, but she got her tongue tied. But I do believe that she has a certain relationship with the stable boy." Vance simply answered, and the young duke suddenly remembered their time at the dungeon. At the same time, he also recalled the time he ordered Barrett to investigate his own servants after seeing that one time a stable boy talked to a gardener.

Then it struck him—a gardener! Someone who could possibly identify a regular weed from a poisonous one.

Alexander shifted uncomfortably on his seat; he leveled his hand to his mouth, his thumb touching his lower lip. He kept on tilting his head slightly from side to side; his furrowed brows didn't escape Vernon's attention.

"What is it, Clement? Have something to share with us?" Vernon demanded an answer.

"I have one of my gardeners investigated since I saw him suspiciously talking with a stable boy, hiding at one of the distant gazebos, away from the rest, and fairly hidden from plain view."

"A gardener, huh?" Ayland nodded, murmuring to himself before he looked up to face Alexander, "He could be knowledgeable enough to know the differences. Where is he now?"

The young duke's gaze went from one gentleman to another until it stopped at the old advisor. "My men are still investigating. I was told that their families left my duchy days ago before I had them followed, and now—" Alexander paused, and he exhaled sharply. He slowly let the air out through his gapped lips before he hesitated to continue, "The reason that I didn't share this information was because I didn't have concrete proof of his involvement yet." He purposely stared at the advisor to indirectly tell him that killing without evidence wasn't necessary.

But just when he thought Vance would be the one to tell him off, it was Vernon instead who pounded the table with his clenched fist. "You should have brought them for questioning immediately! If you're going to be a ruler, you need to be ruthless, boy. We don't have the time to feel even the slightest sympathy, especially when lives are on the line; you remember that." Vernon lectured as he shook his head in disappointment which annoyed Alexander—and escalated, even more, when Vance glanced at him, looking a little triumphant.

"So," it was Vance's turn to talk, and he turned to face the young prince, "in addition to the current information about the gardener at House Clement's palace, is it possible to grow the weed here? Like in greenhouses where the environment's controlled?"

"I've thought about that too. I realized so after I told Amelia about it. It seems possible to grow it here in a controlled environment to replicate the tropical requirements. But it will be laborious. There's a special solution used to preserve the roots for travel. I'm sure Lia realized this too as she asked me the same thing."

"What's the weed called?" Vance asked.

"It's Neetlelm," Ayland answered, and Alexander noticed the sudden discomfort plastered on the old advisor's face. "It grows abundantly in—"

"In Pradour." The advisor murmured with a clenched fist and a visibly rigid expression.

"Yes, that's right. You know about it, Mr. Vance?" Ayland looked impressed, "Neetlelm grows specifically in Pradour. There are specimens found in other tropical places, but as I've said, they look like common weeds. Even I would have trouble distinguishing it."

"Pradour, huh?" Duke Mulford seconded, and Alexander narrowed his gaze at the two.

The old advisor still wasn't aware that the young duke already knew about his secret, and Duke Mulford grew noticeably uncomfortable too. He kept on glancing at the advisor's expression as he tried to straighten his clothes. Vance's clenched fist and tensed jaw were relaxed now, but his eyes—his eyes were filled with rage as he stared at the empty seat across him.

"Thank you, Prince Ayland," Vernon said, chuckling awkwardly. "With this information, we could finally move forward for further investigation, ain't it right, Vance?" he continued, gesturing at the old advisor to get his attention.

"Ah, yes, thank you, Ayland. You've always been a great help." The advisor showed a curt smile and bowed his head slightly.

Their meeting ended shortly, and Vernon called for Vance on the way out as Alexander's eyes followed them. Rather than give an answer, the information shared by the young prince only gave more things for them to think about. And as the young duke slowly traced his way back to the duchess' chamber, his gaze fell at a distance.

If Pradour's involved in the poisoning, then it's given that it has a lot to do with Vance's family—with Amelia's other family—rather than a problem posed by her aunt's husband.

Or maybe it could be both?

George Walton's actions these past few months were nothing short of suspicious either, so Alexander couldn't just take him off the list of people who might want to harm Amelia. But Pradour's a long way from Creador. With their military powers second to none and a long list of violent acts within the empire; poisoning, killing someone, or whatever means to take a life wouldn't be new.

On how or when did the two meet, that's something Alexander needed to find out. And this time, he won't settle for second place.

"I'll just check up on Lia, and then I need to leave shortly after." Alexander's thoughts were halted when he realized that Ayland was right beside him. "I'm scheduled to meet with some of Aclador's researchers for a short lecture, then I'll be back here. What about you, Duke Clement?"

"Alexander," the duke said, "you can call me Alexander."

"Alright, Alexander. So, what are you doing after this?"

"I don't know. I'll come with you to see the duchess, and then I'll think from there. I'm sure my sister's gone somewhere by now, so I'm free until my men, or someone, tells me otherwise." Ayland nodded as response, and their conversation ended there.

**********

Standing in front of Amelia's room, Ancel and the others stood in attention and saluted when Ayland and Alexander arrived. When they both stated their intent, the duchess' knight assassin knocked three times and waited for a second or two before opening the door.

Thanking Ancel, the young prince went ahead first, then Alexander. Upon entering, the three ladies stood from the settee at the small drawing room of Pearl Chamber and greeted them. Ayland asked them about Amelia's condition right away, and they said that she's been sleeping soundly since.

As the prince said, he only checked on the duchess, then he was off, saying, "Though I specialize in making medicines from herbs, it's still best that Lia's seen by another doctor. I'll tell the duke about it on my way out."

"You," Alexander looked back at the familiar voice that has mocked him again and again before. "Are you really the one who took care of the duchess? The one in the cabin in the forest?"

"You knew about the cabin?" the duke tilted his head.

"Sometimes, if it's not too much for her, she shares her dreams with us. I remembered she mentioned something about a boy in the cabin. I asked around about it due to curiosity and found out that it has long been demolished."

Alexander bobbed his head, "If she says that it's me, then it is. If she says otherwise, then it won't be right of me to force a memory on her, right?" a small smile drew on the duke's face as he gazed down on the sleeping duchess. He wanted to reach out, to touch her face, to stroke her hair, or pat her head or two, but he's afraid that it will wake her up.

Nervous at the thought that her memories were back, Alexander fiddled with his fingers—what would be the first thing she'd tell him if she really did? There's no saying if he's ready for it or not.

The lady assassin clicked her tongue, "Forcing a smile isn't so like you. You're no fun to insult if you're all emotional and gloomy." Arabella crossed her arm and huffed some air.

"You can continue with your insult at another day when your duchess' a little better." Arabella scoffed and turned around to go back to the adjoining room with the other ladies.

Finally, alone, Alexander's pulled out a stool from the nearby dresser and sat at the side of her bed. He held his hands together, making sure that it doesn't go anywhere near the duchess. Then he just stared at her. A smile crossed Alexander's face as he remembered the time in Amelia's secret room where she soundly slept, and he was staring at her.

It's been months since then. He didn't mean to set aside visiting her for so long, but he had to settle a lot of things for when he finally visits the emperor on his way back to his duchy, and after he's completed what he needed to do in Aclador. It's only a matter of time before the emperor called him. Alexander could tell that he already knew about the engagement, so prolonging it would only be at his disadvantage.

There were a few points that he talked about with his council over and over again that would make the emperor agree, but another hindrance arose.

The crown prince.

His sister shared that when she arrived to give her report to the emperor, Duncan was arguing with his father about the recent rumors going around about him. One thing led to another, and the crown prince mentioned the supposed engagement that secretly happened between Alexander and the duchess.

What was more surprising to Leticia was instead of feeling crossed that two rulers broke the law, he looked rather stunned and speechless. Duncan was too ignorant to notice the sudden change in his father's mood and just kept on ranting until the duke's sister announced herself. Only then did the emperor got back to his senses to greet Leticia.

Duncan wasn't much of a challenge for Alexander. He's just a self-centered bastard who's too spoiled for his own damn good. As long as he leaves Amelia out of whatever dubious plans he's thinking, the crown prince could be handled easily. But another scene like the one at the duchess' palace, and he'd probably have him flying back to his father.

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