Their convoy made its way straight into the city's central district before veering off towards the eastern side.
At the heart of the district stood the vast Imperial Palace grounds, and surrounding it in all cardinal directions were the capital estates of the Grand Dukes, with the estates of the Dukes positioned behind them.
The Laurents held the eastern side, while the Crafiels occupied the west, and the same arrangement applied to their respective fiefdoms.
The Laurent estate was every bit as expansive as the Crafiels', its series of mansions just as imposing.
However, Eleanor had long grown used to such sights, so she wasn't gawking in awe like most first-time visitors.
That didn't mean she wasn't nervous.
She was, after all, just minutes away from meeting the Grand Duchess.
Meeting Razel had her nervous all the time, despite being someone she had known all her life, so it only made sense that she'd feel the same way towards his equal, even with the assurance of the blood contract.
There was no row of maids or butlers standing at attention to greet them, unlike in many noble households.
That was due to Isla's insistence, as it was, in her eyes, a waste of time for the entire staff to abandon their duties just to welcome their lord or lady, especially when said lord or lady would likely offer them nothing more than a passing glance.
This didn't mean there wasn't a welcoming party of servants. There was, but it was just a group of ten.
As soon as they stepped out of the car, Eleanor momentarily stiffened, her eyes instinctively shifting to a particular section of the mansion before them.
[Oh, this Grand Duchess... she's stronger than the last time.]
'...what?'
Amith's remark made Eleanor's eyes widen behind her mask, her surprise evident in her voice.
Eleanor had seen Isla before, which meant Amith had as well, and unlike Eleanor, whose mind could only process Isla's presence as overwhelmingly 'STRONG,' the Devil was capable of accurately gauging her power.
But then again, that was to be expected.
Isla Laurent, like the other Grand Dukes, was a Transcendent-level existence, one who possessed immense power, so much that she could exert Authority over the world's fundamental laws and wield them in combat.
It was no surprise that the formerly Level 400 Eleanor hadn't been able to properly gauge the power of someone at Level 950+.
These thoughts crossed Eleanor's mind as she followed Helga into the mansion, the vampire heiress promptly requesting an audience with her mother.
Fortunately, Isla wasn't occupied with any meetings, so they were able to see her after only about ten minutes of waiting.
Correction—Helga was the one who met with her after ten minutes.
In that time, she had quickly changed into a more presentable outfit, while Eleanor remained in the waiting room just outside the Grand Duchess' office as Helga stepped inside.
The Grand Duchess sat behind her desk, appearing no older than her twenties, her stoic expression framed by refined features that Helga had clearly inherited.
Her blonde hair was of a duller shade than her daughter's, and her deep crimson eyes matched Helga's exactly. She was dressed semi-formally, wearing a simple collared shirt with tailored trousers that emphasised her long legs, paired with polished leather shoes.
When Helga entered, she bowed lightly.
"Greetings, Your Grace."
Isla gave no verbal reply, merely gesturing to one of the chairs in front of the desk while keeping her attention on the documents before her.
Helga sat, and the silence lingered for another minute until Isla finished stamping and faxing a file.
"I received a rather interesting report a few minutes ago," Isla finally said. "Something about Crafiels targeting my daughter."
"The report was accurate," Helga replied.
"Is that so?" Isla signed off another document, filed it neatly, then set her pen down and looked directly at her daughter.
"Tell me, daughter of mine, exactly what happened in that rift. And make sure your explanation includes why Crafiel's child is currently outside my office."
Helga's eyes widened slightly at the question, but she quickly composed herself and began recounting everything that had happened, word for word, including all that Eleanor had said.
As she listened, Isla tapped her fingers lightly on the desk, her gaze drifting toward the door.
'So Zoarlyn finally couldn't take it anymore, huh?'
Shaking her head, she turned back to Helga.
"What do you think we should do? Should we escalate this to the Noble Court?"
Helga answered without hesitation.
"No. We shouldn't."
"Why?" Isla asked. "An attempt was made on your life, even if you were merely caught in the crossfire of another family's political game. Why should we not pursue it?"
To this question, Helga gave her prepared response.
"Raising this issue would plant the idea of war in the minds of our retainers, and the more impulsive among them might take steps that would ignite it.
Objectively speaking, the Crafiels are our equals in strength. If war breaks out, unless an external factor tips the balance, victory worth the cost is impossible.
We would only suffer losses and leave ourselves vulnerable to the 'Wolves'."
Helga's explanation appeared to satisfy Isla, who nodded lightly.
"True. That is objectively correct, and it is the very reason we have never gone to war.
Razel Crafiel may be insufferable, but he is not a fool. He knows there are 'Wolves' lying in wait for the smallest opportunity to tear him down, so he will not give them that chance."
When they spoke of 'Wolves', they meant it quite literally.
After all, the symbol of the Imperial Family, led by Emperor Azraelis Grevania VIII, was a Wolf.
If the Imperial Family involved themselves, they would present it as an effort to mediate between Crafiel and Laurent, but their true aim would be to strip away as much authority and power from both sides as possible.
"So," Isla asked, "we simply do nothing?"
"No. We settle the matter out of public view. That way, we can use it to extract even greater compensation. After all, we are being generous enough not to let it explode into something bigger."
Helga's response was the one that finally caused Isla's expression to change for the first time, a small, satisfied smile curving her lips.
"Your responses please me, daughter of mine."
Just as Helga was about to heave a quiet sigh of relief, that smile vanished, replaced by a colder, heavier air as Isla's tone dropped low.
"But there are certain things that still displease me."
"!"
Helga flinched, her eyes darting toward the door as she hastily tried to speak.
"About Eleanor—"
"Oh, no. I care not for Crafiel's child."
"…what?" Helga blinked in confusion, and seeing her expression, Isla sighed.
"Your solo training expeditions. Until now, I've said nothing, but not anymore.
From this point on, you will be accompanied by a squad into any rift you enter.
Even if they were only shadowing you from a distance without directly intervening, their presence would have spared you from having to rely on Crafiel's child to deal with the backlash of burning your blood."
Her words were irrefutable as Helga's predicament had been a direct result of her insistence on going alone.
Had she brought a team, the Crafiel hunters would never have dared attempt her life.
"Tell me, Helga," Isla continued, her deep crimson eyes locking onto her daughter, "what sort of mother would I be if, after you nearly died from entering a rift alone, I allowed you to step into another alone?"
Helga found herself without an answer.
Helga had ventured into rifts alone because she refused to develop the mindset of 'there's always someone to help if things go wrong,' a mentality Isla had never spoken against, because she was the reason Helga thought that way in the first place.
It had begun when Isla recounted a story from decades past, of finding herself deep behind enemy lines in the middle of a war, cut off from any hope of reinforcements, and forced to fight her way back to safety alone.
Hearing this, Helga, who had been surrounded by guards day and night, realised she would likely have failed in such a scenario, and resolved to break her habit of relying on protection whenever danger arose.
While Isla had allowed her daughter to foster this self-reliance, she would not remain silent when it really put her life at risk.
She would rather see Helga utterly dependent on others than see her dead.
As Helga silently nodded, accepting her mother's decision, Isla snapped her fingers, and the office doors swung open.
"Enter, Eleanor Crafiel."
"!"
Eleanor flinched at the sound of her name, but quickly rose to her feet, removed her mask, and stepped inside. She bowed her head low and spoke with formal politeness.
"Eleanor greets the Grand Duchess of Laurent."
"…"
Isla remained silent, neither acknowledging the greeting nor granting permission for Eleanor to lift her head.
The silence stretched on for a full minute, with Helga watching from the side, a faint trace of anxiety in her expression.
Only then did Isla finally speak.
"Why did you not include your last name?"