THE portrait room was a little further into the audience room she had visited the day before. It was set off from an even larger gallery, placed at the palace’s edge.
It was through an archway with no door, with guards standing watch. The square room that stretched before her continued for three lengths. At the innermost point, there was a large door with two more guards, clad in heavy armor, standing before it.
“Hey, Sisty, what is that room…?”
“The Royal Office. Since there is no door here, please keep your voice down,” Sisty whispered so softly that only Yura could hear. Yura gulped.
“So, uh, is he in there…?”
There were various portraits covering the walls in every direction. There was one that seemed to take up the entire wall, almost as tall as Yura herself. Amid a group of people in what looked like a church were two women who seemed to be serving them. They looked like they could be twins, with the same facial features and silver hair.
“Bishop Evayne…who was a priest at the time, is over there.”
“But, he looks way too young…”
Yura squinted at the painting. Sure enough, there was a man, not exactly old, holding up the ceremonial staff. On closer inspection, it seemed to have been painted some time ago.
“He won’t be able to help me much…”
“Why are you saying that all of a sudden?”
Yura gave them the reason she had been thinking up. “I thought, since I’m going anyway, I might as well try to talk with them. But I was afraid of messing up in front of someone quick to anger, so I was looking for someone who seemed like they might be a bit kinder…”
“Oh, Lady Yura!” the two women exclaimed in unison, giving her a playful tap on the shoulder.
The two of them are so alike with how nonchalant they are.
“Lord Evayne has magnificent silver hair. Indeed, he looks a tad like the late emperor.”
“Though he has no beard.”
“What was the late emperor like?” Yura asked.
Leila gently pointed toward the opposite wall.
“Why, that’s him there.”
An old man with resplendent silver hair was depicted there. Wearing purple garments adorned with silver, he had a remarkable beard that stretched beneath his nose and down his chin. His massive body sat atop the throne, a crown perched on his head.
His face prompted another thought in Yura’s mind.
“Are there pictures of Ashes here too?”
The pair looked flustered at her question. They exchanged glances, seemingly struggling to find the right words.
“There are. But His Majesty has refused to sit for any portraits in recent years.”
“How come?”
The two of them looked even more flustered than before. Then it hit Yura.
“Haha, you mean because of the buff portrait of Ashes? Where’s that?”
“Please do not say something so strange! That is not in the castle!”
“Then where is it…?”
“In a chapel near the castle, though I don’t know if it’s still there,” Sisty quickly replied.
Yura fought to hold back her laughter.
“But they say His Majesty had it covered in plaster!”
Leila pointed to a different portrait, trying to distract Yura.
It was Ashes as a young boy. Along with the famously handsome late emperor, his sisters, and their husbands…
At the furthest corner of the room, there was an odd, long portrait hanging. It depicted a row of seated people engaged in a lively discussion. Yura stood beneath it.
“Hey, Leila, what’s this?”
The painting was placed inside an ornate frame. There were eleven chairs in the painting. The painting had a lighter touch than the others and even had a signature peeking out from the bottom.
“It’s the members of the administration.”
There was a young man sitting in the chair farthest to the left. The rest were all middle-aged or old men, with various expressions. Some serious, some gentle, some troubled.
“Lady Leila’s uncle is in this portrait as well,” Sisty whispered to Yura.
Wonder which one? Yura stared at the painting but couldn’t tell just from looking.
“…Which one?”
At that moment, there was a sudden sound behind them. As the door opened and closed, a group of voices leaked out.
Yura turned around in surprise. Leila did an about face and stepped off to the side. Footsteps began to echo through the hall.
A group of people surged into the room.
“…Leila,” said the old man who was standing at the fore. The young man who’d been accompanying him froze.
“U-Uncle…I mean, Governor Lucius.”
Speak of the devil, Yura thought.
Leila fell back behind Yura and bowed.
“L-Lady Yuura,” Sisty’s soft but panicked voice brought Yura to her senses. Turning in a panic, she gave an awkward bow. The young man in front’s eyes widened in surprise.
“What are you doing here, Yuura?”
Suddenly hearing a voice tinged with laughter, Yura looked up. A soldier stepped aside as Ashes stepped forward.
“Have you come looking for that portrait?”
Yura pouted and started to say, “That’s not it!” But, sensing this was not the time, she held her tongue. She merely stared back defiantly, puffing her cheeks.
“Well now…”
A voice echoed from someone standing among the group.
The man was standing diagonally behind Ashes and jerked his chin, seemingly indicating Leila and Sisty one after the other.
“Lord Lucius, might this be the legendary beauty?”
The old man stared at Yura, vexed. Leila became rigid as Yura reluctantly stepped forward.
“I… I’m Yuura,” she said and curtsied as she’d been taught to do. Ashes’ eyes widened, and in her mind, Yura was pulling down her eyelid and sticking her tongue out at him.
What? Why does it feel like you’re mocking me, Ashes?
“My, how beautiful!”
Yura jumped at the sudden exclamation. She quickly drew back her hands from the sides of her skirt and returned them to resting in front of her waist as she’d been taught. Seeing this, the man flashed a big grin.
He was a skinny middle-aged man with hair down to his shoulders. Perhaps it was because of his grey clothing, but his face looked so pale and almost ill. When his eyes met Yura’s, they narrowed, as if he were taking her in.
“Beautiful…yes, truly beautiful. Certainly worthy of His Majesty’s favor,” he said, gazing at Yura more as if he were inspecting her rather than admiring her.
Yura could feel herself recoil.
“…Lord Isgard, I believe that’s going too far,” Leila’s uncle—the man called Lucius—gently admonished him. Without a word, the man merely glanced their way.
“Let’s go, Falco,” Ashes said and walked straight ahead. “See you later, Yuura.”
Leila waited before rushing out into the hall with Yura right behind her.
“Leila, who was that other man…?”
“Marquis Ermetel,” Leila said after she was positive all the men were out of earshot. Her voice was almost reproachful, and her mood seemed to have soured. Her face was tight, like a tense wire.
“Beautiful…yes, truly beautiful.”
They were polite but reproachful words. At least that’s how they’d sounded to Yura.
And then there were his eyes. Narrow like a snake’s, where only the pupil seemed to move. Those words definitely didn’t come from a place of affection. It was something far more wicked.
As she walked, an anger she’d never felt before welled up inside her.
“Certainly worthy of His Majesty’s favor.”
What’s with that man…?