Chapter 25

"Well then, see you tomorrow."

"Y-yes..."

Thor-kun parted with a smile.

I nodded and slowly let go of his hand.

Immediately, my handmaiden—Delawear—hurried over.

"Princess, regarding your schedule for the rest of the evening..."

"I'll hear it in the antechamber."

Saying that, I held out my hand to Delawear.

Seeing my glove, now soaked and clammy with sweat, Delawear gave a silent nod.

"...Haa."

Once we were alone in the antechamber, I let my shoulders slump with a sigh.

Strictly speaking, there were others present, only separated by curtains.

So I couldn’t fully lower my guard, but still...

"Well done, Princess."

Delawear offered words of comfort as she gently wiped the sweat from my face.

Apparently, I’d sweated more than I realized.

Actually, my body still felt hot.

And my head felt fuzzy, like my thoughts were wrapped in a haze.

I couldn’t think straight.

"...Princess? Princess?"

"Eh? Ah... um, what is it?"

"I was thinking of bringing you something to drink... Are you all right? If you're feeling unwell, we could withdraw from the ball—"

"No, there's no need for concern."

"But your face is very flushed..."

"I only got a little tipsy! Please bring me some cold water... I just need a moment to rest."

It was just the alcohol getting to me. That had to be it.

I sank into a chair, waiting for the dizziness to pass.

"Here you are, Princess."

"Thank you."

I downed the cold water Delawear brought me in one go.

The ice-cold drink felt wonderful on my parched throat.

I could feel the heat in my body slowly starting to fade.

"What will you do next?"

"What else? Stick to the schedule."

I had to dance with Prince Bartona.

And I couldn’t avoid dancing with the noblemen my grandfather had brought along.

And Prince Bard... If he came back to ask me for another dance, I’d have to accept.

"..."

Delawear looked like she wanted to say something.

When I urged her to speak if she had something to say, she bowed deeply.

"Please don't overexert yourself."

"I know."

I rose from the chair and returned to the ballroom.

First things first, I needed to find Prince Bartona.

"Kuhaha... Seems he beat us to it. We admit defeat."

"Indeed... It's frustrating, but to abandon a lady for a petty argument—clearly, we lack maturity as men."

Prince Bartona was drinking with Prince Bard, both looking to be in good spirits.

They seemed to have made up.

...I guess that’s a good thing?

After that, I danced three songs with Prince Bartona as planned.

Then one song with Prince Bard.

After that, I continued dancing with various noblemen who asked.

The evening ended without incident.

No more bouts of dizziness.

...Just what was that at the start?

---

"A peculiar flavor, but not a bad one."

Even after the evening banquet had ended, Grandfather remained at Budoudarl Castle.

Not because there was some important meeting afterward—nothing like that.
He was simply drinking and chatting away.

What he was drinking was rice wine—in short, Japanese sake.

The Duchy of Budoudarl has the Budoudarl River running through it. As one gets closer to the downstream region, the land turns into poorly drained marshlands.

These lands were long considered worthless for growing any crops.
But I thought—maybe rice would grow there.

I'd already confirmed that rice itself, though rare, was occasionally sold as an imported good in the city of Budoudarl. So all that remained was to import some farmers from the southern continent.

That’s how rice cultivation began in the Budoudarl Duchy.

The taste isn’t particularly good, but it’s cheap. For now, it’s mostly considered a food for the poor.

Since it wouldn’t be very profitable as it was, we tried making alcohol from it instead.

The result, to put it simply, was a strange kind of drink—like mixing white wine and sake, then splitting the difference.

Well, considering we reused wine yeast and wine barrels, the outcome wasn’t that surprising.

"But if I had to choose, I still prefer white grape wine."

Grandfather said as he gulped down the rice wine.

Right now, most nobles rate it as “interesting flavor, but not something I'd want to drink every day.”

Thor said something similar too.

“Our brewers are conducting flavor research day and night. Please look forward to the results.”

"Hmm... If the taste improves a bit more, it might work as a gift for social occasions. The northern nobles of the Empire do like rare imported goods."

They’ve got no appreciation for true value anyway, Grandfather muttered under his breath with a hint of disdain.

The Empire—in other words, the Nialma-speaking region—is broadly divided into the northern lowlands and the southern highlands.

The two regions differ slightly in culture and language, which often leads to political conflict. Their relationship is strained.

Grandfather is a noble from the south, while the imperial family are nobles from the north.

By the way, the language spoken in the south is called Highland Nialma, while the north speaks Lowland Nialma.

Both Grandfather and I are Highland speakers. Prince Bard is a Lowland speaker.

"If possible, I'd like to take some of this as a gift. Do we have enough stock?"

"We do have enough, but... didn't you just say it wasn’t suitable as a gift, Grandfather?"

I pointed out the contradiction, and he broke into a broad grin.

"If it’s something made under Roselia’s direction, that changes the story. Very few nobles at the age of thirteen can boast tangible results in domain management. You should be proud."

Saying that, he happily patted me on the head.

So basically, it fails as a political gift among nobles, but passes as a bragging souvenir about your granddaughter.
Honestly, it’s kind of embarrassing. Please stop.

"If possible, that painting too—"

"Please don’t."

"Just kidding. No need to glare at me like that. Sil—"

Grandfather started to say someone’s name.

Then he caught himself mid-sentence, and his expression stiffened.
He looked both awkward and sorrowful.

"You’ve come to resemble Sylvia quite a bit since the last time I saw you."

He said it as if trying to change the subject.

Sylvia is my mother’s name.

Grandfather had other heirs—sons and daughters besides her.

But they all perished in wars with the Imperial family or succumbed to disease.
And even Mother, the only one who had survived, died during childbirth with her second child.

I’m the only surviving member of the family.

"She was bright, but not physically strong. Petite, and I was worried whether she could endure childbirth..."

Grandfather trailed off there and looked me over from head to toe.

Then he nodded, satisfied.

"Glad to see you grew up sturdy. Must be the blood of the Yugape side."

Apparently, Grandfather believes the cause of Mother’s death was due to having narrow hips.
And now, he seemed delighted that I have wider hips.

I wasn’t sure whether to take it as serious concern or inappropriate humor.
It was hard to judge.

"Speaking of the Yugape line, Prince Bartona is said to be quite the romantic, isn't he?"

"…Yes, so I’ve heard."

"He’s a bit scrawny, which is a concern—but if he’s well-endowed below, that’s reassuring."

Grandfather chuckled cheerfully.

Maybe the alcohol was hitting him, or maybe he just relaxed now that it was just the two of us.

Either way, the conversation was starting to turn lewd.

In this world’s marriage market, having a mistress or children before marriage isn't considered a disadvantage—at least not for men.

In fact, some—like Grandfather—will praise it, saying, “Vigorous reproductive power! Excellent!”

Considering that continuing the bloodline is of utmost importance, it’s actually reassuring to know a man is fertile beforehand.

Likewise, for women, the same logic applies: a divorcée with a child is rated more favorably than one without.

Especially if the child is a boy.

Of course, never having been married at all is still considered the ideal.

This world is a male-dominated society.

…Sometimes, I wish I’d been born a man.

“The verbal sparring with the baldy’s brat wasn’t half bad. Felt quite satisfying.”

The Emperor’s nickname is the Bald-Headed Emperor.

It’s often misunderstood, but this isn’t because he’s bald. It’s because he doesn’t possess one of the regalia required for imperial coronation—the Iron Crown of Cartema.

In other words, “crownless,” not “hairless.”

In fact, he was already called the Bald-Headed Emperor even before he lost his hair.

Now, both in name and in truth, he’s bald.

Incidentally, I currently hold the Iron Crown.

“That one’s no good, Roselia. Bald fathers breed bald sons, and their sons too will be bald.”

He’s clearly getting drunk.

He’s starting to spout absolute nonsense.

Hair has nothing to do with governing ability...

After that, Grandfather began ranting about the men who danced with me at the soirée.

Calling them ugly, short, fat, scrawny, or stupid—whatever insult came to mind.

“Roselia, which one did you like?”

“They all seem far too good for someone like me…”

The truth is, my heart is that of a man.

I see pregnancy and childbirth as duties, nothing more.

I’m willing to be a mother—but I have zero intention of being a wife.

“So it’s the bastard son after all?”

“W-Why would you say that!?”

I stood up without thinking.

Feeling the eyes of the knights on me, I hastily sat back down.

“I don’t have any particular feelings for him. I played that part to help secure peace, that’s all…”

“I’ve heard he inherited his father’s valor. He’s well-built for his age. Reckless in speech, but better that than timid. And above all, that mana capacity… He doesn’t even need to lift a finger—many would fear him on that alone.”

“You’re wrong!”

“His face is the spitting image of that man in his youth. If he’s inherited down there too, he must be quite the stud. Might even outmatch that Yugape brat.”

D-Down there…!?

“P-Please stop…”

“What’s best of all is that your branches have never entwined. Roselia, you’re Yugape’s child too, after all. There’s no fear of twisted roots.”

“Grandfather! That’s going too far!”

Bringing up such explicit matters about someone I might care about—it’s just too mortifying.

When I raised my voice in anger, even my grandfather seemed to realize he’d gone too far and shrank back slightly.

“Well, well… I said a lot, but I won’t be around forever. Roselia, it’s you who should decide your partner carefully.”

Don’t let the Duke of Budoudarl’s father dictate your choices.

That was what he was trying to say all along. He should have just said that from the start.

“It’s already quite late. Perhaps it’s time you went home?”

“I’m sorry. Don’t be so cold with me. Your voice… it’s just so familiar, I couldn’t help myself.”

He said it in such a sorrowful tone.

…That’s not fair. Hearing him like that makes me want to forgive him.

In the end, I fell right into Grandfather’s trap and ended up talking with him for quite a while.

And then, he got thoroughly drunk.

“Listen well, Roselia. ‘The victor is the one who keeps standing.’ Don’t ever forget that.”

That’s the motto of House Plumera.

It’s the kind of phrase that means something like “He who laughs last, laughs best.”

“I’ve fled many times… but thanks to that, I’m still alive today.”

For the record, Grandfather has won most of his battles.

He’s someone who can tell the difference between battles to fight and battles to flee.

Even in defeat, he always minimizes losses and connects the outcome to the next victory.

From the hopeless position of having nothing but his own body and a handful of retainers, he endured for decades, moving from battle to battle, and eventually wrested his current territory and status from the imperial house.

He’s one of the strongest nobles, on par with Duke Larknoll—born for long wars of attrition.

“Roselia, you are my last hope. Please… take care of yourself.”

“Yes. I understand.”

“But there are times when a man must never run.”

That contradicted everything he just said—within a second. Yep, he’s drunk.

“Grandfather… do you see me as a man?”

“If you’re to become the master of a castle, then yes—you are a man.”

A matter of spirit, apparently. More than a man, perhaps what he means is a real man.

“I… I made the wrong choice at the start. And once you start running, you have to keep running.”

He let out a long, heavy sigh after saying that.

“Never… forget.”

Then he fell silent.

…Looks like he fell asleep.

Why do people get so preachy when they’re drunk?

---

Later, the Founding Festival continued, but in the end, the Duke of Cartaria never sent anyone.

As a result, the decision was made: the Cartaria Ducal House would be subjugated, and I would be engaged to Prince Bartona.