Chapter 24: Bard ef Eargl

Bard ef Eargl.

He’s currently eighteen years old, five years older than me.

Technically, I suppose he could be called a potential fiancé candidate?
My grandfather is vehemently opposed, and my father isn’t particularly eager either—but the person himself is actively volunteering.

Incidentally, if he and I were to marry, the Empire would become whole.
It would be a happy ending known as the “Western Continent Unification END.”

Of course, from the perspective of the other lords, that would be a bad ending, so they’ll no doubt do everything in their power to stop it.

“It has been quite some time, hasn’t it? I believe the last time we met was around three years ago. Not a single day has gone by where I did not think of you.”

His voice boomed across the entire venue.
His entrance made me question if he even tried to read the room.
Actually, I’m quite certain he didn’t intend to read it at all.

Even though we sent him an invitation, Prince Bard was never truly welcome.

And yet he showed up, fully aware of that.
Clearly here to stir things up.

“It’s been a while, Prince Bard. You seem in good health—that’s a relief. I’m glad we could meet again. If you’d like, we could talk more later, when things have settled…”

I was trying to say, “Let’s speak later—don’t talk to me right now.”
But Prince Bard cut me off before I could finish.

“I’ve long awaited the day we would meet again. Please, take my hand. Let us fulfill our ancestors’ wishes together.”

In other words: Let’s fuse and become complete!
That was how Prince Bard proposed to me, loud and proud.

Did he actually think I’d just go, “Yes, of course”? Probably not.

If he seriously wanted to marry me—if he thought it was actually possible—he wouldn’t go about it like this.

“My, what a truly delightful proposal. …However, I wish to live my life with someone who will walk the earth beside me. I’m afraid I cannot fly through the skies with you.”

I firmly rejected Prince Bard’s proposal.

In noble circles, phrases like “earth” and “walk” symbolize stable, grounded rule.
On the other hand, “sky” and “fly” imply overreaching ambition or an unearned position.
Of course, they can also represent hope and future, in a positive sense.

Also, the Imperial crest incorporates an eagle in its design.

“Oh? And yet, are you not a child of the dragon?”

Prince Bard countered my rejection immediately.

I felt a moment of frustration—but at the same time, I had to admit it was a clever move.

The dragon is the animal used in the crest of House Cartema.
To be called a “child of the dragon” means one is a descendant of Cartema—in other words, the heir to the Count of Osen’s domain.
And dragons can fly.

If I affirm that, I would contradict what I just said.
If I deny it, I would be denying my inheritance.

“You are quite right. And a dragon’s fangs and fire exist to protect its treasure. If you truly desire that treasure, then come to my lair with courage and resolve.”

“But you, too, have wings. Isn’t it cowardice to remain hidden in a cave, afraid of falling?”

“In that case, by all means, show me how a true hero acts. If you are indeed a true hero, then following the traditions of old, I shall offer you my back to ride. That said… I’ve never flown before. I may shake you off.”

Do forgive me.
I added with a small smile.

Prince Bard gave a small shrug.

Surrender? That’s unexpected.

“I don’t intend to tickle the dragon’s tail. That aside… to return to the beginning of our discussion: If I were to choose to live with you upon the earth, would your answer change?”

So that’s where he’s going with this.

Does he mean giving up the throne? Or abandoning the restoration of the Empire?

It’s a hard call.

“I don’t believe a creature born to fly can truly live on the ground.”

“It wouldn’t be easy, certainly. But I, too, have two feet. …So, what do you say? Princess Roselia, what is your true opinion?”

So he wants my political view—not my grandfather’s, nor my father’s.

Personally, I consider marrying him to be one option.

If I marry him, territorial issues would be settled in a sense.

Of course, in exchange, it would almost certainly lead to full-scale war with the Kingdom and the anti-Imperial faction.

As things stand, it’s not a choice worth making.

“I prefer beasts who plant their feet firmly on the ground and move forward one step at a time, rather than birds soaring in the sky. The earth may not be as vast as the heavens, but it is wide enough. I believe we can share it. I hope we can move forward together—as good neighbors.”

If you hold no ambitions, I have no reason to hate you.
But I see no reason to marry you, either.
Let us simply be good neighbors.

Prince Bard ef Eargl seemed satisfied with my answer and gave a contented nod.

“I see... I understand how you feel now. Then, let us begin as good neighbors, Princess Roselia the Fair—may I...”

Prince Bard was once again about to formally ask me for a dance.

And then it happened.

“Let not a proud eagle stoop to behave like a bat.”

It was Prince Bartona.

I’d been wondering about his silence until now, but it seemed he had been waiting for Prince Bard to make his move again.

Was this some form of retaliation?

“Birds belong to the skies. Beasts belong to the earth.”

Prince Bartona cast a quick glance at me, then turned his words toward Prince Bard. It was likely meant as a warning to me as well.

I chose to ignore it for now.

“To reject another on the basis of differing forms—such conduct is unworthy of an emperor.”

Prince Bard, unfazed, responded coolly to Prince Bartona’s reproach, then offered a deliberately exaggerated smile.

“If the lion who would be king is so narrow-minded, then it’s no wonder the ostrich runs away.”

A searing political jab.

To think he could mock the kingdom this brazenly—at its own founding ceremony, no less.

Still, in noble society, it’s better to speak boldly—even at the risk of a misstep—than to remain silent for fear of misspeaking.

So if one truly wants to oppose my appointment as co-ruler, or denounce the kingdom’s current system, it’s far more effective to attend like Prince Bard, intent on tearing it all down, than to just skip the ceremony like certain others.

Of course, without Prince Bard’s combination of wit and nerve, simply attending might result in nothing more than tacit approval.

“Your pointed words are taken to heart. However... you speak of sky and earth, yet you ought to look to your own hands first. Make sure the wine doesn’t spill from your cup.”

Prince Bartona fired back without yielding an inch.

Was the cup the Empire, and the wine perhaps me—or my grandfather?

Their argument escalated quickly, and before long, it veered away from anything involving me and into deep-rooted disputes between the royal and imperial bloodlines, between the Kingdom and the Empire.

I had been completely sidelined.

But thanks to being placed on the sidelines, I could observe the broader situation.

First, I noticed my father, grandfather, and Prince Karvenil standing behind me at a slight distance.

They couldn’t intervene in a one-on-one exchange between nobles, but simply standing behind me applied pressure all the same.

Meanwhile, Duke Corkmaul had positioned himself about halfway between me and Prince Bartona, and Prince Bard.

It was a spot that allowed him to step in at any time.

He appeared neutral... but in this context, neutrality could be read as leaning toward the imperial side.

After all, “ally with the distant, strike the near” is the first principle of diplomacy. It made sense for a major noble of the western Kingdom, like House Corkmaul, to show favor toward the Empire.

They might also be feeling anxious that, after House Cartema, their house could be next.

Ah, Duke Larknoll just made a move.

He’s... taken a position behind Prince Bard. That’s a surprise.

Given that he cooperated with King Osen of Oreanis in arresting the former “Mad King” Regimititus, I had taken him to be aligned with the royal house. But now he leans toward the Empire?

The nobles were subtly shifting their alignments—toward the royal faction, the imperial faction, or neutrality—while continuing to dance, dine, drink, and converse as if nothing were amiss.

All so they’d be ready to act if this verbal sparring escalated into actual violence on the spot.

This is supposed to be a diplomatic celebration... but it feels way too hostile.

Just as I was musing on the situation, I became aware that someone with immense magical power was slowly approaching.

It was Thor.

Was he going to support his father…?

As I wondered that, Thor stopped in front of me.

“Oh rose of fair Budoudarl—may I have this hand?”

And then he proclaimed it loudly.

I could feel the attention of everyone in the room instantly focus on us.

Even Prince Bartona and Prince Bard stopped their argument, both turning to look at me and Thor with surprised expressions.

“…Oh my!”

I brought my hand to my lips.

Now what should I do…? I had originally planned to dance with Prince Bartona first.

But… I suppose there’s no helping it now.

We’ve drawn far too much attention.

Besides, it’s partly their fault for ignoring me and getting into that argument in the first place…

“Then… please be gentle with me.”

I took Thor’s hand.

---

As soon as we began to dance, Thor whispered near my ear.

“You’re a beautiful rose.”

He smiled with clear delight.

Just as I thought—I knew it!—his face practically declared his satisfaction.

The magic engravings etched into his body were proof of effort and perseverance, symbols of strength.
There was nothing shameful about them, and praising them didn’t count as harassment.

“Th-thank you…”

But the words that came from my mouth were barely above a whisper, like a mosquito’s hum.

I couldn’t help it—I felt so terribly embarrassed.

The warmth of Thor’s hand resting on my back felt vivid and real.

“The scent is lovely too… Is that also rose, perhaps?”

The topic shifted from tattoos to perfume.

Relieved, I tilted my head slightly and gave a small nod.

“Please, go ahead.”

“…Then, if you’ll excuse me.”

Thor’s eyes widened slightly, then with a tense expression, he leaned closer to my neck and hair.

His breath tickled my skin and stirred my hair.

It was a common practice in high society for men to guess the perfume worn by ladies.

I was no stranger to the custom, so I could handle it easily, but…

With Thor, it made me feel oddly fidgety.

Perhaps because it was the first time I’d done it with him.

“I smell the rich scent of roses… but also something fresh and pure. I-I’m not very knowledgeable, so I’m afraid I can’t identify it exactly…”

It was a classic blend, or so I thought, but he still couldn’t tell.

I had been impressed that he’d even noticed the fragrance at all, but clearly he was still a beginner.

“It’s a combination of rose and citrus.”

“I see… Thank you. That’s very educational.”

Thor nodded, his face turning red.

Apparently, the embarrassment of smelling the scent of the woman he liked had only just caught up with him.

He fell silent.

I supposed it was my turn to steer the conversation now.

“Even so… you’ve grown so much since we last met. I was truly surprised. You’re taller now, and your voice has changed too…”

I was still thirteen, and my height was just about 160 centimeters.

I thought that was fairly tall, but Thor was now tall enough that I had to look up at him.

He had to be over 170 by now.

“Thank you. And Princess Roselia, you… you’ve become even more elegant. I was surprised too.”

Thor looked down at me—then suddenly looked away in a panic.

Ah, right. From this angle, he must be able to see the cleavage from this overly revealing dress…

How embarrassing… This is exactly why I didn’t want to wear something like this.

“Your divine presence has also grown. I’m astonished. Have you perhaps already surpassed your father?”

I quickly changed the subject.

Thor’s magic capacity surpassed mine—which was already more than most nobles our age—by a considerable margin.

He had long exceeded the count rank threshold and was closing in on the duke level.

“Yes… though my skill is still below my father’s.”

Surprisingly, Duke Larknoll’s magic capacity was below that of a typical duke.

It was even a bit lower than my father’s.

This wasn’t because of any lack of talent, but rather his humble origins.

Magic capacity is influenced by how much demonic miasma stone is consumed during early childhood.
Nobles who rose in rank only after reaching adulthood often had capacities that didn’t match their titles.

So in theory, Duke Larknoll should be at a disadvantage in battle compared to other nobles…
But in one-on-one duels, he was undefeated.

It’s like someone armed with just a fruit knife consistently beating someone with a gun.
Logically, I understand it’s possible—but seeing it in practice makes the brain refuse to accept it.

In other words, Duke Larknoll is terrifying.

And Thor is that man’s son—while also possessing a magic capacity his father never had.

I really don’t want to make him my enemy…

“I’ll become a man worthy of you. Please look forward to it.”

“Y-yes…”

Thor gazed straight into my eyes as he made his declaration.

I could feel his determination—he wasn’t going to let me go.

T-this is bad…

Just as I was thinking that, the music came to an end.

“As much as I’d love to continue, let’s leave it here for tonight.”

“…Yes, of course. There are others waiting their turn, after all.”

Was that a sarcastic jab at me just now?
Or was it a warning—that he, too, had someone else to dance with?

As I pondered that, Thor gently pulled me by the hand and we slowly stepped down from the dance stage.

The whole mood had swept me away, and my carefully planned dance schedule for the first night had collapsed.

I’d have to talk to Delawear about this later…

Would she be mad?
No, but I couldn’t very well refuse his hand in front of everyone.

“Princess Roselia. One last thing…”

“…Yes?”

Just as we reached the floor, Thor spoke to me.

He leaned forward naturally, and I tilted my head slightly in response.

His lips came close to my ear.

Without suspicion, I listened to his words.

“I will never give up.”

A chill ran down my spine.