The reward was in hand, heavy and substantial.
Roland didn't rush back to take Lisa to see the house, but went to find Count Tyrone first.
He wasn't seeking protection but wanted to quickly tell the truth.
Outsiders thought this championship was appointed by the Empress, but only Roland understood that it was Sif, the Empress's good friend, who fought for it on his behalf.
He could argue that the situation during the transaction was urgent and he was forced, any reason would do, and Sif would probably understand.
But it was essential to inform her immediately afterward.
This was respect; she had the right to know.
Respecting others is respecting oneself.
If she found out later that the essay contest championship was exchanged for money, Sif wouldn't be happy.
Roland could disregard what his enemies thought, but he had to consider her feelings.
They were friends.
The barriers of trust don't always exist, like Brother Xun and Tuzi, they were also good friends—oops, it's Brother Tuzi.
Even though Sif didn't want to remove her veil, her attitude towards him was indeed friendly.
When they discussed novel plots in the study, they were simply author and reader.
Roland understood that he was someone who valued emotions; he wasn't worried about Sif's anger or potential revenge, not even her complaining to the Empress.
Sif wasn't there, but the butler, having seen Roland before, smiled and said:
"Mr. Roland, Miss is close with Her Majesty and often stays overnight at the Imperial Palace, she won't return today. If you have any matter, please come earlier tomorrow."
The Count enters the palace to change clothes and turns into the Empress, why would they leave the palace without a reason?
The butler knew, but he didn't say.
Roland hesitated a bit and softly said, "This matter is very important, I'll write a personal letter, please help me send it to the palace."
"Can't it wait a night?"
The butler lightly frowned, neither refusing directly nor agreeing.
"The Count may choose not to look, but I must inform today."
"It seems this matter is indeed important, let's talk face to face then."
As Roland insisted, a soft voice spoke from behind him.
It was Sif herself.
Looking at Roland's straight back, Sif suddenly thought of Teacher Margaret's recommendation, and her irritable mood slightly calmed down.
Just an hour ago, Teacher Wald had uncharacteristically lost his temper at her.
His words were vehement, his tone impassioned, completely at odds with his reputation as a wise man.
In the end, the teacher was so angry he fainted on the spot, and if a doctor hadn't been nearby, there might have been an incident.
Sif understood Wald's anger.
She was indeed somewhat lacking in ambition.
But she also had words to say.
Is Empress Sofia someone who can be easily provoked?
In the past dozen years, there had been several empresses worldwide, but they all later let their husbands become emperors and themselves became empress consorts.
Those who didn't meet such ends died.
Everything the teacher said was correct, how could the Empress of Sussex Empire bow to the barbarians of the Land of the Frost? But who could provoke Sofia?
The thought of opposing such a tyrannical empress made Sif shiver.
Is this a matter of wanting or not?
She might want to, but she lacks the ability.
Currently, she hasn't formally ascended the throne; strictly speaking, she's not yet the Empress, so for now, Sofia wouldn't concern herself with her.
Once she ascends, Sofia will undoubtedly send a friendly personal letter, asking if she has any plans for a husband to act as emperor.
If not, then they are enemies.
Sif just wanted to be a peaceful emperor, even if just a mascot. She just didn't want to die; was that too much to ask?
The teacher felt wronged, but she felt even more so.
Who had ever understood her?
Originally she was enjoying a leisurely, carefree life as a little princess in the Earl's Domain, but was pulled forcefully to become an Empress, without a reliable helper. Was it easy for her?
As she vented inwardly, Teacher Margaret's words suddenly flashed through her mind.
"Roland has great potential, maybe not so noticeable now, but definitely an unpolished gem."
At the time, she didn't think much of it.
How many unpolished gems could there be? A collection of gems only nurtures a batch of useless dependents.
But looking at Roland's straight back and his composed smile when he turned around, she suddenly had a bold idea. Since Teacher Mary recommended it, why not give it a try?
After all, she had nothing left to lose.
Teacher Margaret had seen many young aristocratic talents, and she never praised any one of them. Perhaps Roland truly had something exceptional?
With the beauty filter recommended by Teacher Mary, looking at Roland again, Sif suddenly found his appearance unexpectedly elegant and pleasant to the eye.
The prejudice from writing books like "Oh My, the Empress is Pregnant, Who Did It?" also improved significantly.
As little figures battled in Sif's mind, Roland turned at the sound and greeted Sif with the gentlemanly manners he had just learned.
He was the winner of the essay competition and a guest of the Empress, so it was reasonable for him to consider himself a gentleman.
Seeing his courteous demeanor, Sif couldn't help but inwardly marvel.
No wonder Teacher Mary specifically recommended him; Roland really learns quickly.
Roland was unaware that his impression in Sif's eyes had improved; he felt somewhat anxious inside.
After all, he exchanged the championship for money.
Although he calculated this, selling is selling; that's a fact.
How should he start speaking later?
Roland was conflicted, as was Sif.
She hadn't thought about how many more opportunities she would have to meet Roland and hadn't even taken off her mask. Though she had ample reasons, it was indeed somewhat impolite.
It created a distance.
What if Roland thought of her as an arrogant noble?
How should she start speaking later?
As Roland and Sif made eye contact, speechless and choked, the butler couldn't hold back any longer.
"Are you two going to talk inside? Just standing here? Journalists might eavesdrop outside later."
The aged but poised butler lightly coughed to remind her, "Miss, it's cold outside; better invite the guest in for a cup of tea."
Sif snapped out of it, pinching the corner of her skirt to return the gesture to Roland, then motioned with her hand.
"Mr. Roland, we have Marlan Red Tea exclusive to the Imperial Family. Please, join me for a cup."
"It is my honor."
Roland extended his right hand, and Sif hesitated for a moment, suddenly realizing this was the hand-holding courtesy popular among the upper nobility in the Duke of Jinquehua Dynasty.
Ladies attending banquets often wore long trailing skirts, making it difficult to walk. Considerate gentlemen would extend their right hand for them to lean on.
Banquet ladies wore gloves, so there was no direct contact.
This expressed politeness without taking advantage, and the etiquette quickly spread.
After the Duke of Jinquehua Dynasty was replaced by the Sussex Empire, this etiquette continued among the upper nobility until an incident later on.
The tyrant nicknamed Blue Eyes cut off Duke Alphonse's hand.
The reason being Duke Alphonse offered the hand-holding courtesy to Blue Eyes' secret lover.
This blatant violation of the rules unsurprisingly sparked a civil war.
Blue Eyes' performance on the battlefield was an eyesore, unworthy of his brutal and murderous reputation.
After his defeat, Blue Eyes himself was exiled, and his direct descendants were stripped of succession rights, it was Sif's ancestral line that inherited.
Perhaps because the throne was taken unjustly, Sif's ancestor had an ambiguous attitude towards the hand-holding courtesy that sparked the internal war of the Empire.
This gentlemanly etiquette gradually faded into the annals of history.
Seeing Roland's right hand extended flatly, Sif was dazed.
This secret was unknown to the world, but as a member of the Imperial Family, she naturally knew.
But how did Roland know? Could he have an unknown background?
She hesitated whether to place her hand.
She did wear gloves, but the thin lace gloves were almost as if not wearing any.
Placing her hand felt like directly giving her hand to Roland.
Her subconsciously extended hand hovered in midair, seemingly frozen.
In her moment of hesitation, Roland inwardly cursed himself.
Showing off with something he just learned, idiot.
Even if Sif considered him a friend, the chasm between nobility and commoners still existed.
Sif surely didn't know this age-old etiquette that had long been lost.
In the simple ways of Sussex, unmarried men and women rarely had intimate contact; it wouldn't be right for Sif to think he was taking advantage.
In a flash of thought, Roland realized and immediately withdrew his hand.
In a lightning-fast moment, Sif also realized and immediately extended her hand.
No matter how complicated the hand-holding courtesy was, the etiquette itself wasn't problematic.
Roland's gentlemanly invitation was polite and rejecting it for no reason would make her seem rude.
That wouldn't do.
She was an elegant imperial... ahem, imperial maiden and couldn't lose courtesy before a guest.
They very tacitly moved simultaneously.
Roland withdrew his hand, and Sif extended hers.
Their fingertips in the air were barely a touch, sparking a...
brush of fingers.
The old butler standing behind them glanced up silently at the sky.
This damned overcast sky, how annoying.
Our Sussex has everything good except not enough bright sunshine.