Chapter 20

After passing through the domain of Count Couranbel, one arrives at a narrow stretch of flat land nestled between two mountain ranges—the Shumision Corridor.

Beyond this Shumision Corridor lies the checkpoint fortress, Shumision Castle. Past that, enclosed by the same two mountain ranges to the east and west, is an alluvial plain known as the Budoudarl Plain.

The Budoudarl Plain is not just one of the most advanced regions in the western continent—it is, in fact, the most advanced.

In reality, this area hosts numerous cities that would easily qualify as the largest urban centers in any other duchy.

Even the cutlery that has begun to spread across the western continent—such as forks—originated here.

One of the reasons why the Budoudarl Plain is so prosperous is because it serves as one of the continent's major granaries.

A massive river flows into it from the eastern part of the continent via the Shumision Corridor, and the snowmelt and sediment from the surrounding mountains to the east and west bring tremendous bounty to the plain.

Still, that alone is not enough to justify its reputation as “the most advanced region.”

What truly elevates the Budoudarl Plain beyond the reach of any rival—both culturally and economically—is the presence of Budoudarl City in the south, the largest trading port in the western continent.

Since the time of the Unified Empire, Budoudarl City has served as the gateway between the advanced regions of the southern and eastern continents and the less developed western continent.

Even now, more than a thousand years later, this remains true. A vast array of goods flow in and out of Budoudarl City, and with them come countless cultures and talents from abroad into the western lands.

It was ten days before the end of the year that I arrived at Budoudarl Castle—what could be called the heart of our Budoudarl Ducal House.

Just barely made it in time.

“Oh my, Princess Roselia. How leisurely of you to arrive… Perhaps you're lacking a sense of duty as the next head of the family?”

The one who immediately scolded me upon my arrival at the castle was my stepmother.

She hates my birth mother, and by the classic “hate the monk, hate the robe” logic, that disdain extends to me.

In the past, she would insult me over the smallest things, intimidate me with magic, or even strike me with a whip—but these days, my etiquette has become flawless to the point where she can't find fault, and I've surpassed her in magical power, so she’s quieted down.

Well, I know she still talks behind my back.

“A woman, after all…”

“There was an appeal trial in the Couranbel domain that took longer than expected. It is entirely due to my shortcomings. I will take greater care from now on.”

Your family hands out sloppy verdicts and I had to clean up the mess, that’s what took so long.

When I countered her in my thoughts, my stepmother fell silent.

“Oh… I see. Then please do be more careful in the future.”

She elegantly turned away, concealing her mouth with a folding fan as she left the room.

“But Sister, no matter how you look at it, wasn’t your arrival a bit too late?”

Just as I had finished unpacking and finally felt at ease, I found myself being reproached by someone whose voice slightly resembled my stepmother’s.

A young girl with blond hair and charming blue eyes puffed out her cheeks in indignation.

“I was terribly anxious, thinking I might have to handle all the New Year’s ceremonies by myself!”

“The trial took longer than expected… I apologize for causing you such undue concern.”

The girl who was clearly upset—Blanche—received a small bow from me.

Even in this rather relaxed world when it comes to punctuality, being late by several days is still deserving of criticism.

The tea party that was supposed to be a chance for her to express concern for me had, before I realized it, turned into a full-on lecture from Blanche.

Well, it was my fault, after all.

“Please see to it that this doesn’t happen again. I’m not capable of handling things the way Father or you can, you know.”

“You’re not alone, Blanche. Our stepmother also…”

“Oh my! Sister, was that… sarcasm? Of course she is! That only makes things worse, naturally!”

What a blunt child.

I wonder who she takes after… well, probably her mother.

“But still, Sister—what sort of matter could have delayed you so? I can’t imagine anything that would trouble you.”

“…”

Oh, how I’d love to go off about Count Couranbel! But it’s hard to say such things in front of Blanche.

Badmouthing someone’s uncle is just not something I feel good about.

But Blanche seemed to notice my hesitation.

“Well, I can guess. To desire control over the entire Budoudarl region without even being able to govern his own lands properly—he’s as clueless about his station as one can be. Branch families… honestly.”

“Blanche.”

I lowered my voice and called her name.

Noticing the shift in my tone, the normally chatty Blanche fell silent.

“Watch your words—and the setting in which you use them.”

Branch families.

That’s a derogatory term used to belittle cadet branches of noble houses.

Whether someone comes from good lineage or not is largely subjective, like one’s taste in faces, but cadet branches generally tend to be looked down upon.

They’re seen as foxes borrowing the majesty of a tiger.

To begin with, a noble who could stand on their own without the influence or support of their main house wouldn’t call themselves “a cadet branch of the so-and-so house” in the first place—so in a way, it’s only natural.

That said, no one likes being called a "branch."

I can’t help but think that this kind of casual comment is the real root cause of the constant tension between main and cadet houses.

“It’s just the two of us, Sister.”

“There are still ears around.”

I answered while consciously acknowledging the servants standing behind us.

This is a common mindset among nobles in this world—those of higher status don’t recognize those beneath them as people.

To Blanche, the servants aren’t fellow human beings, so in her mind, this still counts as a conversation between just the two of us.

But they’re alive, with ears that can hear just fine.

There’s no guarantee they won’t repeat what they hear.

That said... to greater or lesser degrees, most nobles think like Blanche.

Because servants aren’t considered real “people,” anything they say isn’t treated as proper testimony.

It’s like hearing a broken AI or a parrot spout nonsense—if a noble like Blanche says, “I never said that,” then the matter is closed.

Still, it’s best not to show any weakness.

There’s no reason one has to use the word “branch.” It’s best avoided.

Father uses that word sometimes too, but he never says it in places where people might overhear… though honestly, I don’t think he should be saying it at all.

“…If that’s what you say, Sister.”

Blanche gave a reluctant nod.

But she still seemed dissatisfied.

“You’re far too serious, Sister. Just as slacking off like certain people is a problem, working too much is one as well.”

“I do have fun, you know. I have hobbies, too.”

“Most of your so-called hobbies would be considered study or work by normal standards. …I’ve heard, you’re currently learning Garzaars, aren’t you? Even such a backwater language…”

“The House of Larknoll is now a major power in the northern kingdom. Geographically, they’re our neighbors… a very important party. Whether as allies or enemies, communication is key.”

…Well, okay, it’s partly just my personal interest.

Blanche frowned at my explanation.

“…Sister, surely you’re not suggesting that I might be made to marry into the House of Larknoll, are you? That would be absolutely unbearable! To marry one of those savage pirates… I can’t imagine the kind of humiliation I’d suffer.”

Blanche visibly trembled as she said that.

In this world, marrying someone of significantly lower status is considered a terrible disgrace.

…I can’t really relate.

The whole “might makes right” ideology is much easier to understand.

“It’s a possibility. Just as it’s possible that I might marry Lord Thor.”

“What!? You’re joking, right? Someone as noble as you—if that’s the case, then who would my husband be? A horse? A dog? Please, Sister, enough with the jokes!”

Blanche shook her head vehemently in disbelief.

Then, snorting through her nose, she declared with conviction:

“Sister, you are the most noble woman in the world. So you should marry the most wonderful man in the world. And since I’m your little sister, I should marry the second most wonderful man. That’s how it should be.”

This world has a kind of house-lineage fetish—a fascination with bloodlines.

It’s not quite the same as how Japanese people might admire a “prince” or “princess” title. Rather, it’s a twisted fascination with the family tree itself.

And Blanche is one of those people.

Apparently, this is a fairly common fetish in this world.

I suppose it’s about as mainstream here as “liking big boobs” is in modern Japan.

I once overheard that some lady knights who share this particular taste get together to gaze at noble family trees and hold heated discussions like, “This pairing would be perfect!” or “These two are the ultimate match!”

Apparently, I’m something of an outlet for their desires.

If my pedigree were compared to racehorses, it’d be like having a family tree lined with names equivalent to legendary champions—like Symboli Rudolf or Shinzan. For certain kinds of pedigree enthusiasts, that would be enough to send them into a frenzy.

Of course, the target here isn’t a horse—it’s a human being. A blood-related older sister. So yeah, it’s kind of… dark.

By the way, when I once asked Delawear, “Do you get excited by me, too?” she replied, “While I do have a certain appreciation for well-bred individuals…” and then added, “Lady Blanche is… a bit excessive.”

To put it in bust-size terms, finding “a bit large” appealing is normal. But if you say, “I can’t accept anything smaller than a J-cup,” that’s when it gets into dangerous territory.

In other words, Blanche is a pervert.

Incidentally, Delawear also said, “A princess who feels nothing—that’s quite something, too.”

Seems I’m a pervert as well.

“Listen carefully, Blanche… The basis for our marriage partners is the benefit they bring to the ducal house. Lineage is only one factor. It’s not guaranteed that we’ll meet someone who fulfills all our ideal conditions, and we may well be bound to someone against our will. …You should be prepared for that.”

In this world, 99.9% of marriages are political.

In other words, marriage is something done with someone you don’t love. It’s the polar opposite of romance.

…Well, of course, I do want Blanche to have a happy marriage.

Me? I don’t even want to get married in the first place. No matter who the partner is, it’ll just make me unhappy. So what does it matter?

“It’s not as if I don’t understand that already. But I’m still allowed to say I dislike it, aren’t I? Sister… surely you would prefer to avoid the House of Larknoll, wouldn’t you?”

“If you’re confident you’ll never let that slip in front of the prospective partner, I have no objection. …Besides, I’m not particularly attached to lineage. I wouldn’t mind marrying Lord Thor.”

To be honest, I do have a problem with marrying a man at all.

But if I go down that road, there’s no end to it, so I say nothing.

“Really? …Even if we ignore his lineage, I still don’t think he’s a good match for you, Sister. I read his letters. They’re worse than mine.”

“But he’s getting better, isn’t he? I prefer people who strive to improve through effort.”

For example, the spoiled son of Count Lazarbel is… well, kind of an idiot. But he did try, and as a result, lost both arms and legs.

Even if the outcome wasn’t great, I have to respect his determination.

“Still, compared to you, Sister…”

“And I know how hard you work too. So don’t belittle yourself. Hold your head up high.”

“…You’re the only one who says that, Sister. You’re too biased.”

Even as she said that, Blanche looked pleased.

Honestly, I feel sorry for Blanche. Being compared to someone like me—a woman who’s already far too old inside.

Father scolds her with “Be more like your sister,” and our stepmother snaps, “How can you have the same father and be so different?” She really does have it rough.

“But you’re so generous, Sister… On the flip side, is there anyone you dislike?”

“…If I had to say—those who fail to do what must be done. People who are lazy.”

“Oh, like Uncle…”

“I didn’t name anyone. Don’t jump to conclusions.”

He’s not stupid, per se, nor is he particularly bad.

He just doesn’t do any actual work.

And yet, he’s constantly asking for privileges.

I doubt he’s objecting to my succession because he wants to become Duke of Budoudarl himself.

He’s just using that as leverage to demand concessions in return for withdrawing his claims.

In other words, he wants to profit without effort. …I find that detestable.

“Speaking of which, I heard about it, Sister. You burned down the checkpoint Uncle set up, didn’t you? Even if he was in the wrong, for you to take direct action like that… a bit too wild, don’t you think?”

“You’re mistaken, Blanche. I removed an illegal checkpoint set up by bandits, on behalf of the Count.”

Since Count Couranbel never admitted it was his doing, I technically didn’t destroy his checkpoint.

…At least on paper.

“Either way, I’m sure he’s seething with rage inside.”

“He brought it upon himself.”

“That may be true, but… I can sort of understand how he feels.”

I tilted my head, and Blanche giggled.

“If a girl young enough to be his daughter turned out to be more capable than him, the jealousy would drive anyone crazy.”

“If he has that much energy to be jealous, he should put it into his work.”

“Hehe… if he could do that, he wouldn’t be jealous in the first place.”

“…I don’t get it.”

“And that’s perfectly fine, Sister.”

Blanche chuckled softly and downed her tea—brandy-infused, of course.

Then she started coughing.

Honestly… she really didn’t need to push herself.

---

The New Year’s festivities were, in essence, religious ceremonies.

The dominant religion—if one could even call it that—in the Western Continent was a combination of spirit worship and ancestral veneration.

Think of something like the rituals performed at Japanese shrines.

In other words, animism.

In this world, where religious and political authority are unified by default, religious ceremonies are intrinsically tied to politics.

Neglecting them is simply not an option.

That said, since Blanche and I were able to divide the duties between us this time, we were able to spend the period in relative peace.

Then, about ten days into the new year, once the festival events had settled down…

The knights of the Budoudarl Duchy began arriving at the castle.

They came to offer New Year’s greetings and renew their oaths of loyalty.

This wasn’t a formal obligation, but since the lord of the land was typically present at Budouberl Castle during this time, and because Budoudarl boasted well-developed infrastructure like roads, and above all, had a far more centralized administrative structure compared to the Duchy of Torunia, the knights generally came to pay their respects.

Due to the sheer number of them, a representative usually delivered the greeting on behalf of all.

It was a process of receiving their formal greetings, letting them kiss my foot in turn, and hearing out any who wished to present matters for audience.

Most knights would kiss and then promptly take their leave, though…

“I come to offer New Year’s greetings and a pledge of sincerity to the Defender of the Faith and Steward of the Land of Budoudarl, and to Her Excellency, the Heir Apparent.”

The man who spoke with such an unusual formality was an elderly gentleman clad in garments that suggested an exotic origin.

His dark skin and sharply chiseled features were rarely seen in the Western Continent.

“As the duke’s representative and heir of both the land of Budoudarl and the blood of Barcs, I accept your greeting.”

With those words, I offered not my foot—but the back of my hand.

The old man bowed deeply and gently kissed my hand.

“…Please forgive my discourtesy in being unable to pledge loyalty directly.”

“I will permit it. I understand that, to your people, sincerity itself is the greatest form of respect one can offer a ruler.”

“Humbly… my thanks.”

He was the leader of a very rare group in this world—a monotheistic faith.

Due to their religious beliefs, they cannot kiss another person’s feet.

They claim they can only pledge loyalty to their one and only god.

This makes their faith and worldview fundamentally incompatible with the values of the ruling class in this world.

Not that we go out of our way to exterminate them—but neither do we feel any obligation to protect them. That’s the general mindset of nobles here.

Lacking noble protection means, in a way, that anything can be done to you with impunity.

As such, they are persecuted in many parts of the world.

“So long as your people remain sincere toward me, I shall return that sincerity in kind. I will protect your lives and property, and defend your right to believe as you do.”

I delivered the customary formal line.

They may not own land, but they are highly educated and technically skilled.

It was thanks to them that sericulture was introduced to Budoudarl.

For that reason, the Duchy of Budoudarl has granted them privileges, such as exemption from the oath of loyalty, and placed them under its protection.

“By the way, your granddaughter has served me well. Do be sure to commend her later.”

“Hah… to receive such praise from Your Highness is the greatest of honors.”

And with that, the conversation ended.

His granddaughter—meaning Sheik. I was asking him to check in on her later.

Incidentally, Sheik has no qualms about kissing my foot.

In fact, among their people, there’s apparently been a growing “loss of faith among the youth” problem lately.

Knights from this monotheistic group are known as the Eastern-Faith Knights.

They hail from the Eastern Continent.

Many of them, like Sheik, serve as civil officials and wield a fair amount of influence at court.

After seeing Sheik’s grandfather off, I turned to Delawear.

“If I recall correctly, that concludes today’s audience, yes?”

“Yes. …However, just moments ago, the Black Wolf Order arrived at the castle. What would you like to do? It is already late today, so we could defer them to tomorrow…”

“They’ve come all this way, haven’t they? Please, let them in.”

After all, it would be too cruel to tell them, “We’re closed for the day,” when they’d waited so patiently.

Delawear, who must have felt the same deep down, nodded with visible relief and instructed the scribes accordingly.

Soon after, a group of men in opulent formal attire arrived.

With dark skin and softer features, their appearance was more common in the Southern Continent than here in the West.

“We have come to offer New Year’s greetings and renew our oath of loyalty to our great lord and future sovereign. Please—allow us the honor of kissing Your valiant feet.”

“I accept your loyalty.”

The leader of the group—the commander of the Black Wolf Order—offered a concise greeting, then knelt before me and kissed the top of my foot.

His eyes widened slightly in surprise, and a faint smile played across his lips.

“…Your divine presence has grown even stronger than last year, Your Highness.”

The knight commander was beaming with delight.

He hailed from a knightly—or rather, pirate—order based in Budouberl City and the southern island chains.

Ordinarily, knights are granted land, but in their case, they are instead given privileges such as trading rights and plunder rights.

The ducal navy of Budoudarl relies heavily on the Black Wolf Order, so we cannot afford to treat them lightly.

Knights with southern continent roots, like these men, are known as Southern-Faith Knights.

Most of them serve as military officers.

The head of the knights corps is a prime example.

“How are things in the South?”

“The continent is slowly regaining stability, but the seas will need a bit more time to calm.”

The Southern Empire, as we call it, is a nation known for its frequent civil wars.

And each time one breaks out, pirates swarm the seas.

The Black Wolf Order, too, traces its origins back to such pirate groups.

“Still, those who dare sully the standard of our liege shall become nothing more than foam upon the waves.”

“Reassuring words. …I’ll be counting on you to protect our guests during the Founding Festival.”

“Ha! Even if it costs me my life.”

We chatted for a while about matters such as popular trade goods in the Southern Continent, until the afternoon sun began to cast its glow through the window.

…I may have let the conversation go on too long.

“As you know, things are still unstable here at the moment. However… once they settle down, I plan to visit. I can’t promise when, but…”

In other words: Sorry I haven’t been able to tour the region. I’ll come when I can.

When I said as much, the knight commander bowed deeply, clearly moved.

“Hah… Your concern honors us. The men will be overjoyed.”

After exchanging parting words, the knight commander departed.

Apparently, he plans to spend some quiet time with his wife and children in Budouberl City.

I feel a little bad about his solo assignment. Then again, I doubt his wife has any interest in going out to sea either.

The Southern-Faith and Eastern-Faith Knights mostly operate around Budouberl City, meaning their families live within our sphere of influence.

And since what they are granted is not land, but privileges, a single royal decree can strip them of everything.

More importantly, as minorities, they cannot survive without our protection.

That is the reason they are valued so highly.

It’s an ironic thing, really—that foreigners are more trustworthy than the locals.

Then again, I suppose we’re foreigners, too.

After all, we don’t even speak the same native tongue as the locals.

“Thank you for your hard work, Your Highness.”

“Yes, indeed. …Please prepare the bath.”

My feet are slick with saliva.

Not that it matters, but… indirect kisses… no, never mind.

“Everything is already prepared.”

As expected—she’s always ahead of the game.