Future plans.

Charlotte pressed her lips into a thin line, as her pink eyes flickered with an unknown emotion. A thin smirk found itself spreading across her face before a soft chuckle escaped her throat. "Ha… hahaha." Her laughter wasn't filled with malice or joy, it was paradoxical. "You're a sly woman," Charlotte said with a nod, "something I can't help but admire."

Béatrice's smile softened, she had succeeded in baiting Charlotte. "The feeling is mutual, though I suppose that's not all you have to say?" She replied, her tone smooth. 

Charlotte nodded, "No, it's not, I'm sure you have a reason for wanting my royal blades, perhaps wanting to test them, test me, whatever the case I have no fear in deploying them." She answered, her finger tapping against the rail. 

"But know this," Charlotte began, her pink eyes boring into Béatrice's, "whatever your intentions, they best not be against me, for if they are, I won't hesitate to end you." 

Charlotte's tone was final, she was done playing the game of words…

Béatrice didn't flinch, her mask failing to falter under such threats. "Of course, Your Majesty, such ideas would never cross my mind, I assure you." She replied, her lips curling into a thin smile.

Charlotte's expression remained unchanged, keeping its unreadable coat. "Hm, lies flow from your lips like water." Charlotte remarked, stepping away from the rail, "but I suppose it doesn't matter, though there is one more thing."

"And that is?" Béatrice asked, tilting her head curiously.

Charlotte wordlessly turned to fully face Béatrice. An intense cold aura brewed as she stepped closer, only stopping when she was mere inches away from her. 

"When I find Alexander," Charlotte said, her voice dropping below a whisper, "there won't be a scratch on him, not one, and when he's found he will be returned home, greeted to a fine reception, and trained as he was to be before this incident, understand?"

Charlotte's proximity, and the coldness in her voice, all made Béatrice's stomach churn, yet her smile never faltered. "Of course, I intended on welcoming Alexander to the finest of banquets, with you there to celebrate, if you're inclined."

Charlotte's pink eyes pierced deep, searching for any hint of weakness within Béatrice, then, after a tense but brief silence, Charlotte straightened, a smile crossing her lips. "Oh absolutely, I'm sure Elizabeth would love to see her darling Alexander again," Charlotte answered, her cold aura dissipating as quickly as it arrived.

Béatrice said nothing, but she did smile as she inwardly breathed a sigh of relief.

"It'll take a week or two to organize a squad of royal blades," Charlotte said as she turned to walk away, a reflection of satisfaction twinkling in her bright pink eyes. "But I'm sure once they hit the ground, Alexander will be found quickly,"

Charlotte then stopped mid-step, looking over her shoulder with a slightly stern yet not uncaring expression. "On a genuine note, Napoleon's parents and brother are waiting for you, you'll find them in the west wing of the cathedral."

"Do you know what they want?" Béatrice asked, "Or…"

Charlotte shrugged, "No, but between you and me, I'd bet it's about your brother-in-law, the Nova family needs a new head, in their eyes anyway." She answered, turning away leaving Béatrice to her thoughts.

Béatrice sighed as she crossed her arms, but her expression remained neutral. She watched as Charlotte elegantly descended the stairs, disappearing into the murmuring crowd below.

With Charlotte out of sight, Béatrice slumped shoulders, an annoyed expression crossing her face, cracking through her confident façade.

While she won a brief battle with Charlotte, the game was far from over, and she was still in a tight and disadvantaged position. 

If it hadn't been for Hinata and her warning, Béatrice would have likely died today. 

Still, the idea that Alexander and Hinata were part of some ancient bloodline stuck to the back of Béatrice's mind. She didn't believe in it, at least not totally, but it was obvious Charlotte did.

Whatever the case Béatrice had no intentions of getting involved with the golden eyes, that was a fantasy Béatrice was more than happy to ignore.

Besides, now that she bought some time, she could focus on other matters, such as Napoleon's brother and parents. 

If what Charlotte said was true, then Béatrice was in for a long and undoubtedly tedious conversation.

With another deep sigh, Béatrice pushed herself off the rail and began to fix her hair. "What a day…" Béatrice muttered to herself, walking towards the stairs with a sway in her hips. 

— — —

Slipping through the crowd, heels clicking against the marble floor, Béatrice quickly found herself standing in front of a pair of ornate wooden doors. 

Guarding the doors were two pathfinders belonging to House Nova, but they weren't from the main family, instead, they were from a branch family, Arno's Branch to be exact, Napoleon's father.

"Lady Béatrice, are you here to see Lord Napoleon's family?" One of the guards asked, stepping closer as he outstretched a hand to greet her. 

Béatrice took the guard's hand, a small but polite smile crossing her lips as she nodded. "Indeed, I was told they wished to see me?"

The guard nodded, "yes my lady," he answered with a slight bow, "I'll escort you." His tone was firm but respectful. 

Béatrice dipped her head slightly forward, before allowing the pathfinder to lead her inside. 

As he pushed open one of the large, heavy doors, Béatrice was greeted with a long corridor lined with tall stained glass windows and marble flooring that held a unique pattern. 

At the end of the corridor was a small open room with a large wooden table scattered with pastries and caffeine such as tea and coffee.

Faint murmurs were coming from the room, and as Béatrice and the pathfinder grew closer, the murmurs grew louder. 

"This isn't right Arno," the sound of a gentle yet mature voice rang with disbelief and anger, "André has barely graduated from his academy, you promised to let him go his route, not start where Napoleon left off!"

"Mother I can do this, I can be just as great as Napoleon, I promise!" The sound of a young but eager voice followed, brimming with confidence and youthful vigor. "Besides, no one else could do it, father said so."

"Céline darling, you must understand that was before Napoleon's death, before… this." An old and worn voice sounded, filled with sadness but also duty and age as if this was simply another day.

"And you plan on doing this by forcing André to marry Napoleon's widow, to care for his niece as if she was his daughter, have you no shame Arno!"

Béatrice paused just before stepping into the light of the room, her yellow eyes narrowing sharply at the voices echoing from the room.

It appeared Charlotte was correct once again, Napoleon's parents were already discussing his replacement, and by the sounds of it, they wanted Béatrice to marry Napoleon's younger brother, André.

Béatrice knew she shouldn't have expected anything less, but the fact that Napoleon's parents were moving so quickly meant succession trouble was brewing within the branch families.

"My lady," the guard whispered to Béatrice, "a-are you alright?" He asked curiously, his grip slightly loosening.

Béatrice looked to the guard, giving him a firm nod, "Of course, but I'll take it from here."

The pathfinder gave Béatrice a concerned look, almost as if he was internally debating whether he should obey or not. Though Béatrice's words left little room for debate.

"Of course." The pathfinder said with the bow of his head, before stepping back and turning on his heel. 

With the pathfinder stepping away, Béatrice took a deep breath as she adjusted her dress and straightened her posture. Her mind was already running through simulations of how the conversation could take shape, though they all seemed to end with André as her new husband and head of house Nova. 

It wasn't surprising, however, as Béatrice wasn't a Nova, at least not without a marriage to one.

With measured steps, Béatrice entered the room, instantly halting the murmurs as all eyes locked on her. The large wooden table that dominated the room, was surrounded by Napoleon's close family. 

His father, Arno du Nova, stood at its head; he could be identified by his similarly large frame to Napoleon's, with long black hair and silver streaks. 

His eyes, similar to his sons, were a bright red, and his expression was of exhaustion and duty. 

Next to him, was a young man with a confident expression, though his red eyes were filled with fear and nervousness. 

No doubt it was André.

Finally, sitting beside André, was an older, mature woman with creases at the edge of her silver eyes. She had an expression of distress and sorrow, with her hands laid in her lap and dress flowing towards the floor.

Napoleon's mother, Céline.

"Ahh Béatrice," Arno said with a warm smile as he reached an arm out, "you look lovely," Arno then turned his attention back towards André, "Help her find a seat, André."