Lewd System: Every Scream and Moan is EXP Chapter 400: Paper Vows

Athanor stayed calm as their dance slowed. "...I assume there’s a good deal more sitting behind that marriage proposal."

Hestia smiled. "Of course there is. Marriages between nobles are rarely built on affection alone."

"So the marriage itself is simply a name. What I’m actually after is a trade. I’m not offering you my love, and I’m certainly not demanding yours. I’m proposing a merger, one that pays out for the both of us."

"Explain," Athanor said.

"Lux Aeterna has been a disaster for ages, purely in the way it’s governed." Her voice stayed pleasant, conversational.

"Father Zeus only enjoys sitting on the throne and doesn’t enjoys the responsibilities that come with it. So those duties get carved up and parceled out among his children, and their children after them."

She let him steer her through a turn. "You of all people know how impossible that becomes when two of the people holding those pieces have opposing visions. Every single approval turns into an internal war. Even something as small as a duke asking permission to open a trade route."

"Every decision one of them makes gets quietly undone by another. Which makes us less of a government and more a pile of competing factions all squabbling beneath the same banner."

"And that," Hestia said, "is exactly what I intend to change. For the good of the kingdom."

"I want a seat created. One that carries a ruler’s authority. An acting ruler, if you like. A single voice whose decisions cannot be overturned by every stray branch of the royal family."

"It cures every ailment we have at once. And it drags every cousin and every sibling out of the chairs they’ve been treating as personal playthings."

Athanor could see precisely where this road ended. "And I assume that seat will carry your name."

Hestia’s only answer was a smile.

"I’m still failing to see where the marriage fits into this plan of yours."

"Oh, it fits perfectly." She leaned a fraction closer. "Father has taken quite a liking to you, and you happen to be the Duke of the South. In this fight I’ll need every ally I can gather, because I’ll be going to war against my own blood."

"But in the end, only one thing truly matters, and that’s winning father over. Toward that, I’ve already built connections with a great many of the higher seats, and they’ll be rooting for me when the time comes. Every duke in the realm has already chosen to stand at my back."

A pause. "Except you. And what better way is there to lock in the final piece than a marriage?"

Athanor said nothing for a long stretch, until Hestia filled the silence herself.

"And if you’re sitting there wondering what you stand to gain from all this, allow me to answer that as well."

Her gown turned with the music. "Our marriage would be a formality and nothing more. But it would be terribly rude, wouldn’t it, for a wife to overturn her own husband’s demands."

Her hand drifted up and hovered near his cheek. "So you may ask anything of me. Name whatever demand you like, and I’ll see it done. I’ve heard you’ve had your eye on expanding your territory, but the conflict with the neighboring nation has locked the whole thing in a deadlock."

"That problem dissolves in a single afternoon with me standing beside you. Provided you accept, of course." Her eyes searched his. "So tell me, Duke. What do you think?"

Athanor genuinely didn’t know what to do with it. The offer was tempting. The profit was obscene. And the cost? A marriage that existed on paper and nowhere else. Nothing more than ink.

And yet, for reasons he couldn’t name, his mind refused to simply take it. Somewhere in the middle of that confusion, an image of Lysia surfaced uninvited, planting itself square in the center of his thoughts.

’Why,’ he cursed inwardly, ’are you showing up at a moment like ’

He looked back at Hestia. "I’ll need time to think it over."

In answer, Hestia leaned in and let her weight rest against him as they danced. "Unfortunately, time isn’t a luxury either of us can afford. My rivals will have already caught wind of the moves I’ve made so far. The longer we sit on this, the harder it comes back around on the both of us."

"And besides." Her chin tilted. "Look around you."

They both took in the crowd, and the crowd took them right back, dozens of curious eyes circling the two of them like gulls over a fishing boat.

"They’ve all worked out by now that something is happening between us," Hestia said. "It only gets worse for you and for me if we leave them without an answer."

She straightened up, ending the dance while the music carried on without them. Then she caught both his hands in hers.

"So answer me, Duke. Will you marry me?"

That was the exact moment Lysia arrived, and poured her entire glass of wine straight down the front of Hestia’s cleavage.

As Hestia gasped and clutched the soaked dress against her chest, Lysia answered the question on his behalf.

"You must be out of your fucking mind if you think anyone with working eyes would pick a walking political hole like you. Go spread your legs for someone who actually wants the leftover scraps."

Hestia hissed through her teeth. "How you. Do you have the faintest idea who it is you’ve just insulted?"

"A woman who throws herself at every man with a title. That’s who." Lysia planted a hand on her hip. "You wander around with that ugly, forgettable face, find yourself someone with a fat purse, and offer up your body like a free sample at a market stall. Some things never change, do they? Celestial realm, mortal realm, doesn’t matter. There’ll always be desperate whores trying to fuck their way up the ladder."

Athanor bowed, deep and immediate. "I apologize on her behalf, Princess. She is new here and knows nothing of who you are. She is also thoroughly drunk. I ask that you forgive her actions."

He caught Lysia by the shoulder and tried to press her into a bow, whispering fiercely into her ear. "Apologize to her. She’s the host of this party and the fourteenth princess in line for the throne."

Lysia bowed. Slowly, elegantly, and with a grin that told everyone watching exactly how much she meant it. Then she gestured with the wine glass, which still held one final sip. "My deepest apologies for the little mishap." A beat. "And happy birthday, Princess."

Hestia was still visibly fuming over that piece of sarcasm while a swarm of maids rushed in to blot the wine out of her gown.

Then, slowly, the anger drained off her face as she finally placed the woman standing in front of her.

"Ah. So you’re the rumored slave. The one the good duke has been spoiling half to death." Hestia’s smile came back thinner and sharper than before. "Though I could never have imagined he’d spoiled you to the point that a mere slave would stand here and look down her nose at a celestial. And one of royal blood, at that."

"Watch your words," Lysia said, tipping back the last sip. "The last person who called me a slave got killed on the spot. So count yourself lucky I haven’t spoiled your birthday any further than this."