"Wait... I'm aware of your vow to your father, the Duke of Reston," Vellian remarked, fixing Astelle with a suspicious gaze.
"Then, can't I swear on someone else?" Astelle inquired, seeking an alternative.
"Who would that be?" Vellian questioned, his skepticism apparent.
"I'm not sure... What about my grandfather, the Marquis of Carlenberg?" Astelle proposed, considering her maternal grandfather as a candidate for her vow.
Vellian deliberated on who Astelle held in high regard and settled on her maternal grandfather, the Marquis, for her oath. Although he briefly contemplated Theor, he couldn't risk involving the five-year-old child.
Astelle complied obediently, affirming, "I swear on my father and grandfather. I won't intervene with the Marchioness until after the tea party."
Vellian maintained his stern countenance, still harboring doubts, but Astelle's oath left him with no argument.
"Understood. I'll trust your word for now," he conceded.
"Thank you," Astelle responded, smiling contentedly. She knew she wouldn't need to take matters into her own hands. Her thoughts lingered on the Marchioness's fiery and impulsive nature, solidifying her decision.
She was resolved—she wouldn't have to intervene personally.
--
The Marchioness gazed nervously at the opulent envelope presented to her. "A tea party invitation?"
Later that afternoon, a formal invitation to a tea party arrived under Vellian's name. The invitation politely requested attendance at a gathering in the garden's tea room.
"Was the woman seen at the main palace?" the Marchioness asked, seeking more information about the situation.
"Yes, it's been said that the Count and Lady Astelle had a private conversation," the maid delivering the invitation responded, providing insight.
The Marchioness pondered the unfolding events. She wasn't naive; there was no logical reason for Vellian, the emperor's aide, to suddenly arrange a tea party. She understood that there had to be some sort of influence behind this arrangement.
'It must have been her,' she concluded, convinced that Astelle had orchestrated this event through Vellian. The Marchioness kept a close watch on Astelle's activities in the annex, sensing a calculated motive behind the tea party.
One of her trusted maids, assigned to spy on Astelle, relayed that Astelle had a meeting with Vellian. Today, an invitation to the tea party arrived, undeniably orchestrated by Astelle. But the Marchioness found herself uncertain about Astelle's true intentions.
Anxiously tapping the tabletop, she pressed her maid for details once more.
"Are you certain you saw the purple petals?" she asked with a hint of urgency.
"Yes, Madam. I witnessed it myself," the maid reaffirmed.
The maid recounted how Astelle's servant, leaving the castle, dropped something from her basket—a glass bottle containing purple petals.
'Purple petals in a glass bottle.'
The color struck an ominous chord within her. Purple, the hue of death, belonged to a highly poisonous flower, known as the monk's hood. Even the Marchioness, lacking expertise in herbalism, recognized the flower's lethal nature.
Astelle's maid had purchased these petals, leaving the Marchioness with a single piece of evidence, but it was enough to fuel her suspicions.
'This is clearly... she's a malicious girl seeking revenge against me.' The Marchioness concluded, convinced that Astelle harbored ill intentions.
