Defining incest was a tricky matter. Since the era of the Holy Empire, it had been far from uncommon—nobles and royalty often married second cousins to maintain the purity of their bloodline.

  The purity of bloodline was the foundation of Golden Noble families, but this foundation relied on intermarriage between different houses, not unions within the same immediate family. Close inbreeding risked irreversible mutations in the bloodline, a corruption that could strike at the root of a Golden Noble house. The old emperor was lucky not to have died on the spot—such a scandal was enough to shake an empire.

  The distinction between harmful and harmless incest hinged on whether it aligned with mainstream values and the intricate web of noble interests.

  As they spoke, the three entered the sprawling manor. The vibrant stone tiles underfoot were a prized export of Full Moon Province, formed under unique, unrepeatable geological conditions—scholars believed they could never be replicated, meaning they would vanish once the mines were exhausted. A square foot of these tiles cost five gold coins; a square meter, over twenty. The 400-square-meter front hall alone had cost nearly ten thousand gold coins to pave.

  Celeste’s curiosity was impossible to hide. She studied the floor intently, suddenly gasping in realization and clapping a hand over her mouth, both awed and slightly intimidated by the steward, who reminded her of her grandfather—only more imposing, with a dignity etched into every line of his posture.

  "Count Tratt learned of your return and has sent an invitation for you and Lady Celeste to join him for dinner this evening," Ogles said.

  Stepping onto the gemstone tiles, fused into seamless slabs by ancient tectonic forces, Arno agreed without hesitation. Tratt had escorted him on the long journey to Pramisburg and publicly endorsed his appointment—a debt of gratitude Arno intended to honor. While most nobles offered support only when success was assured, Tratt’s aid during hardship was invaluable, even if politically motivated. Arno did not mind; at the time, he had needed every ally he could secure.

  Ogles slowed his pace, a ritual for all first-time visitors to Thorn Manor. Arno knew the routine well and made no objection, following the steward to the left wall of the front hall, where a portrait hung of a robust middle-aged man in stiff formal attire. His face was full and ruddy, slightly plump, with eyes painted to convey a sharp, ruthless gaze that seemed to pierce the room.

  "Telic, the first clan leader of House Goldthorn," Ogles said, his voice tinged with pride. "He and the other Golden Nobles swore an oath here to overthrow the Holy Empire and establish the Orlando Empire. Emperor Orlando I named him Duke of Quabmain, granting him over 30,000 square kilometers of land—the empire’s current northwest border was once the heart of the Goldthorn fief."

  Celeste’s exaggerated shock—wide eyes, mouth agape—delighted the old steward. A well-mannered child, he thought, his gaze softening. Initially outraged that Arno associated with a merchant’s daughter, he now found Celeste’s genuine awe refreshing, a stark contrast to the calculating looks of noble ladies in the Capital.

  They moved to the next portrait. "Karl, the second clan leader, known as the Wolf of the Border during the late reign of Emperor Orlando I. He expanded the borders of Quabmain eleven kilometers westward, leading the family during its period of greatest prosperity."

  Ogles continued through eight portraits, his voice faltering only when he reached Arno’s father—the clan leader who had squandered the family’s power with three consecutive failed political alliances, leaving nothing but a shattered legacy for his son to inherit.

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  Pushing through into the main hall, Celeste drew a sharp breath. The room was a testament to noble opulence: entire gemstones had been cut into tiles, their seams sealed with molten gold that glimmered in the light, creating a floor that seemed to glow from within. Priceless paintings, sculptures, and ornaments adorned the walls, each piece a masterpiece or a unique artifact, their elegance underscored by their sheer rarity.

  Born into a wealthy merchant family, Celeste recognized the value of every item around her, her hands trembling slightly as she clung to Arno’s arm, tiptoeing carefully across the polished gemstone floor as if afraid to leave even the faintest mark.

  The corner of Ogles’ mouth twitched into a faint smile, his mood unexpectedly lifted by her obvious admiration. In his youth, he would have scoffed at such awe, viewing it as a sign of provincial naivety, but now he took quiet pride in showcasing the manor’s splendor, pleased that someone appreciated its grandeur.

  After settling Celeste in her quarters, Arno and Ogles retired to the study, a 100-square-meter room filled floor-to-ceiling with rare books, many of which had long since disappeared from public circulation, preserved only in the libraries of other Golden Noble families. The chairs, carved from dragon bone and lined with soft fur from arctic beasts, were each worth over a thousand gold coins. Settling into his seat, Arno ran a hand along the intricately carved armrest, sighing as he glanced around. "It’s almost unchanged since I left, except for the silence. Once, this manor bustled with hundreds of servants; now, only you remain."

  Ogles shrugged, a man who had witnessed the rise and fall of noble houses. "A family’s strength lies in its leader, not its servants. With you at the helm, House Goldthorn may yet reclaim the glory of your ancestors."

  "Perhaps," Arno said, eager to shift to more practical matters. "Tell me about the coronation arrangements."

  "The eldest princess and prince of the Full Moon chiefdom are already in the Capital, as is the Pope. Byron Empire’s delegation, led by their third prince—nicknamed the ‘Star of the Sky’—arrives in two days. Envoys from Dragon Island have arrived, northern barbarians have sent tributes, and kings and chiefs from minor states will all attend the coronation. On February 29th, the Capital will host a day-long parade, with the formal coronation ceremony taking place on March 1st. The old emperor is expected to make an appearance, and you will represent House Goldthorn in offering ceremonial blessings to Emperor Pals."

  "After the coronation, the Privy Council will convene a routine general assembly of nobles. You may attend or not—the choice is yours, but my personal advice is that you go and observe."

  "One final detail: you must leave the Capital by March 5th. Travel arrangements have already been made."

  Leaning left in his chair, Arno frowned, his mind turning to old rivals. "How is Vito Antune’s health these days?"

  Vito, head of House Antune and one of the eight Golden Nobles, had seized Goldthorn lands after Arno’s exile, taking advantage of the family’s weakened state. The top three Golden Noble families maintained a fragile balance of power, preventing outright annihilation but doing little to stop the slow erosion of lesser houses like Goldthorn.

  "Marquis Vito remains surprisingly vigorous for a man of his age—no signs of illness. It seems he may yet live for several more years," Ogles said, his tone polite but his eyes cold with barely masked hatred, a noble’s practiced composure unable to hide his disdain.

  Arno nodded. "Good. I want him alive until I return from Pramisburg. I intend to settle accounts with him personally." He paused, shifting to a more strategic tone. "How many vassal titles does House Goldthorn still have the right to grant?"

  "Four remain: two baronies, one viscountcy, and one earldom."

  Vassal titles were also one of the privileges of Golden Nobles, a benefit bestowed by the founding royal family upon other noble houses. After all, the empire could only have one royal surname—House Lionheart having claimed this right, it was necessary for them to concede certain benefits and privileges. The right to grant vassal titles was one such privilege: any supporter approved by a Golden Noble could be enfeoffed with a vassal title, ranging from baron to earl. These slots were limited, and no one would willingly use them unless under necessary circumstances.

  Nobles enfeoffed in this manner held no real political power, only their noble rank, yet this was enough to make many flock to seek them.

  Arno began to calculate in his mind how to use these slots to best effect, a task that required careful consideration.