Chapter 26

A formal engagement was arranged between me and Prince Bartona.

What sealed the deal was the fact that the House of Duke Cartaria did not show up at the Founding Festival.

Technically, the head of the house didn’t have to attend in person—as long as they sent an envoy with greetings, that would’ve been enough to fulfill the minimum obligation. But they didn’t even do that.

It wasn’t just the royal family that was slighted—the House of Duke Budoudarl also lost face.

If we left them unchecked, it would damage my own claim to the ducal title. As punishment, we had to go to war.

To ensure unity in action, an engagement—an alliance—was arranged.

The wedding is scheduled for three years from now, when I’ll be sixteen and Prince Bartona will be twenty-four.

The reason it was left at engagement rather than marriage was—officially—because I’m still too young… but in truth, it was because Father was reluctant to provoke a full-scale war with the Cartaria family.

Prince Karvenil would probably like to go all-out until the Cartaria Duchy becomes his, but from our side, we’re not eager to get that involved.

As long as we get reparations or rights as compensation, that should be enough.

After all, for us, this alliance is meant to counter the Imperial House. If a war with the Cartaria family derails that purpose, it would be putting the cart before the horse.

On the other hand, the royal family likely doesn’t want to confront the Empire until the Cartaria conflict is resolved.

As a compromise, a three-year grace period was granted.

The House of Duke Budoudarl will lend a minimum number of troops in the war against the Cartaria family.

In exchange, the royal family has the right to annul the engagement—alliance—at any time during those three years.

That means we’re being made to participate in an invasion war while stuck in an unstable engagement-based alliance.

Worst case, if the Imperial House invades, the royal family might pull a “We’re calling off the engagement! So we’re no longer involved!!”

Still, it’s not all risk.

My marriage remains a diplomatic card still in my hand.

Meanwhile, the royal family now has only three years to settle the dispute with the Cartaria family.

If they fail to resolve it, they risk appearing unreliable—and we might be the ones to break off the engagement.

Between an invasion war and a defensive war, the latter holds greater importance.

So, if our marriage is finalized and the Imperial House then invades the Budoudarl territory, the royal family would be forced to abandon the invasion war and shift to a defensive war.

As the “guardians of the kingdom,” the royal family wouldn’t be able to avoid this obligation.

Once we pass the three-year risk period, the alliance becomes favorable for us.

Besides, as long as Father and Grandfather are alive and well, the Empire won’t dare make a move on us.

Three years is acceptable.

It’s not a bad deal.

But still… hmm.

“Isn’t tying military deployment to marriage conditions too much of a concession?”

“Maintaining unity in the kingdom is ultimately in our nation’s interest.”

The one who answered me was a dark-skinned man—Knight Commander Sambrag, the head of the first knights.

“It could serve as a valuable show of strength against the Empire.”

The last time a united force under the Kingdom’s army banner was formed was when the previous Duke Larknoll of the Garzaarth tribe besieged the royal capital.

Better to test the waters with the Cartaria family than charge into the real battle unprepared.

“More than anything, the alliance with the royal family brings benefits that far outweigh the risks.”

The truth is, neither we nor the royal family want to be dragged into each other’s wars—and that alone shows how little trust there really is in the alliance.

Alliances can be broken whenever it suits either side.

Even so, we chose to ally with the royal family because, ironically, they’re the most trustworthy option.

Not because the royal family are personally kind or upstanding—it’s a structural issue.

The royal family originally ruled only the lands around the capital, and even now, their territory is far from vast.

Despite that, they’re able to act with authority because they lead the kingdom’s collective security framework.

When the time comes, they’re expected to rally the lords and protect the realm.

It’s that credibility that allows them to wield such influence—without it, they’re little more than another middling noble house.

No noble is more trustworthy than the royal family. Because if the royal family loses credibility, it’s the end of them.

Moreover, opposing the royal family doesn’t exactly mean opposing the whole kingdom, but the psychological impact is significant.

Considering the kingdom was originally founded to resist outside threats like the Empire or the northern Garzaarth pirates, it’s only natural that we’d turn to the royal family to stand against the Imperial House.

“More than anything, Prince Bartona is the most suitable candidate for Your Highness’s marriage.”

“If I had been born a boy… no, that was a careless remark. Please forget I said it.”

“……”

Honestly, if I had been born male, none of this would’ve been such a mess.

Just an alliance with Grand Duke Plumera alone would’ve been enough to check the Imperial House.

The Plumera faction accounts for a full quarter of the Empire’s nobility—meaning the Imperial House couldn’t afford to make an enemy of me while trying to maintain their rule.

The reason why an alliance with the royal family is necessary is because once I inherit the rank of Grand Duke, a considerable number of the Plumera faction are expected to break away.

There are quite a few men who simply do not want to serve under a woman.

Even if I cry out that it's gender discrimination, the fact remains that the majority of them feel that way, and nothing I say will change their minds.

“Prince Bartona would likely keep dissatisfaction to a minimum. He is indeed a suitable choice.”

What’s more, choosing my husband is an extremely delicate matter.

It’s not just about balancing political interests—the emotions of the faction’s nobles and knights also play a major role.

As someone with a modern Japanese sensibility, this is utterly incomprehensible to me, but apparently, the idea of their liege being pinned down in bed is something they find deeply unpleasant.

It’s a kind of psychological reaction—a variant of the NTR mindset, perhaps.

Why that is, I don’t know. It just is. It’s an emotional issue.

All I can do is try to lessen that discomfort for them.

With that in mind, Prince Bard is out of the question.

The Plumera-aligned imperial nobles would likely rise in revolt all at once.

My grandfather wasn’t the only one whose family was slaughtered by the Imperial House.

Dukes like Corkmaul, ruling far-off lands, aren’t ideal either.

There’s too little connection. The reaction would be something like, “Who even are you?”

On the other hand, when it comes to local nobles—like the son of Count Lazabel—there’s a different problem. The other nobles would bristle at the idea of bowing to someone who was their equal just yesterday.

So the best choice is Prince Bartona.

He hails from the royal family, a great noble house. We’ve never been at war with them.

And more importantly, my paternal grandmother was born of the royal family.

In this world, shared bloodlines—branches that intersect when traced far enough back—matter a great deal.

At the very least, we are not strangers.

The royal family understands this perfectly well.

That’s why they’re demanding military deployment as the price for the alliance.

We have no choice but to accept.

“More than anything, it was I who was insulted. I understand that a reckoning must be delivered, for the sake of appearances—both domestic and foreign.”

It wasn’t just the House of Duke Cartaria that boycotted the Founding Festival.

There were others too—like Count Curanbell and his peers, the so-called “Anti-Roselia Faction.”

This war is also meant as a warning to them.

You might wonder why we don’t just strike directly at the “Anti-Roselia Faction.”

But while they are indeed opposed to me, they are not explicitly opposed to the House of Duke Budoudarl.

In short, they maintain a minimal posture of loyalty toward my father, the Duke, so we can’t openly move against them.

Besides, Count Curanbell is, technically, from my father’s wife’s family. We’re in an alliance.

Attacking an ally is out of the question.

As for why we’re allied with someone like that—it’s because the previous Count Curanbell was a decent man.

I still remember the sweets and candy he used to send me now and then.

If only his eldest and second sons had survived, things might have turned out differently.

“I think it’s a fair trade.”

Logically speaking, that’s the conclusion I reach.

But I can’t help feeling uneasy.

It’s like a fishbone stuck in my throat—an irritating discomfort that just won’t go away.

“…We’ve digressed long enough. Please, resume the lecture.”

“Are you sure? If you’re feeling unwell, we can stop for today…”

“There’s no issue with my health. And time is limited. Please continue.”

“…Very well, then. I’ll resume the lecture.”

Sir Sambrag and I aren’t enjoying a pleasant tea party or anything like that.

This is study time, not a social visit.

We’re studying the art of war.

I’ve already completed all the theory and structure.

Now, I’m learning how troops actually moved in real battles—and why they won or lost.

The House of Duke Budoudarl has waged its fair share of wars over its long history.

Sir Sambrag is now teaching me the lessons we’ve learned through those past campaigns.

Apparently, my academic performance is… neither good nor bad.

I’d like to pull off some kind of genius strategist move, like Zhuge Liang, since I’ve been reincarnated in another world—but it doesn’t seem I have that kind of talent.

Well, to be fair, I am supposed to be the monarch. So in that sense, my role is more to be supported by a genius strategist than to become one myself.

It seems that Sir Sambrag is also content so long as I acquire at least a basic level of military knowledge.

Part of that is because I’ll have knights to support me—but more than anything, it’s likely because I’m a woman.

The chances of me standing on the battlefield are slim.

So, naturally, the priority placed on military education ends up being lower.

If war does break out, the one standing at the forefront will be my husband—in other words, Prince Bartona.

As long as he has the talent for military command, there shouldn’t be any problems.

…Though, to be honest, I haven’t heard many stories of him being particularly skilled in warfare.

If I had been born male, I wonder… would Sir Sambrag have conducted these lessons more strictly?

That fleeting thought crossed my mind.

About a month had passed since the Kingdom’s Founding Festival, which was held in the Principality of Budoudarl.

“I have returned.”

“Well done, returning safely.”

Welcoming Bard Ef Eargl into the audience chamber was his father—in other words, the Emperor of the Empire.

Was his father always this old-looking? Bard thought back to a month ago and then concluded that yes, this is how he had always been.

His eyes then shifted toward the long brown hair that was so unlike his own.

At a glance, it was beautiful hair—but Bard knew it was a wig. Beneath it, the man was completely bald.

I will not become like you.

Bard prayed silently, willing the words deep into his heart.

“I’ve already received reports from the knights. …But I want to hear your impressions.”

“Understood.”

Bard began reporting in detail what he had seen, heard, and felt during his time away.

Once he’d finished, the Emperor let out a quiet sigh.

“So, the old staff has finally begun to rot and fall apart.”

Unlike other noble houses that incorporate swords or spears into their heraldry, the House of Barks uses a staff in its crest.

The staff symbolizes a shepherd’s tool, used to guide sheep—serving as a metaphor for nobles guiding barbarians.

It’s a mark of their descent from the aristocracy of the Unified Empire.

“There are no capable men left to wield that staff. It can’t be helped.”

“Indeed. Count Curanbell made a fatal mistake.”

The Emperor’s face twisted in irritation.

He was clearly angry that Count Curanbell had snubbed the social gathering.

“He can’t even speak proper Aelish. Even if he had attended, he’d only have served to highlight Princess Roselia’s presence. Honestly, I’d say he made the right call.”

Bard spoke with a tone of exasperation.

He had met Count Curanbell on his way to the city of Budouvel.

Count Curanbell had claimed he was skipping the event as a protest against Roselia being named co-ruler—but…

Bard had seen right through him. The real reason was simply his lack of confidence in social settings.

Curanbell, a native speaker of the Niarma tongue, could hardly speak Aelish at all.

“From what I saw, he can’t even manage his own house properly. He shows no signs of motivation. And yet all he ever does is beg us for support… He’s useless.”

Once Roselia inherits the duchy, some level of disorder is inevitable.

That would be the perfect opportunity to mobilize the military and reclaim the territory of Count Osen. If possible, the goal would be to seize the Duchy of Turunia as well.

That is the Imperial House’s foreign policy.

They’ve been carefully laying the groundwork, one step at a time.

Count Curanbell was supposed to be one of those pieces.

“What about the Black Wolf Knights?”

“I sent a sealed letter, but it was returned unopened. Hard to believe this is the same group that once loudly declared, ‘A woman cannot serve as lord!’”

It’s been three years since Roselia was officially named successor to the Principality of Budoudarl.

That decision had shaken the principality to its core.

It wasn’t just Count Curanbell—Count Lazabel, the commander of the Black Wolf Knights, and many other prominent figures who supported the principality had all quietly expressed their dissent.

And now, all of that has flipped completely.

“Count Lazabel’s fall was surely a major turning point. Duke Budoudarl handled it well. As expected of the son of the infamous Devil Duke—seems scheming runs in the family.”

Originally, Count Lazabel was the leading figure of the anti-Roselia faction.

With his bloodline, achievements, and reputation, he was the most likely candidate for the next Duke of Budoudarl.

But whether it was chance or conspiracy, in the end, he bowed his head to Roselia.

“And now the one left at the helm is Count Curanbell. Of course the nobles are fleeing.”

“And the other branch families… none worth mentioning, I assume.”

Among the earls of the Budoudarl Principality, Count Lazabel and Count Curanbell stand apart in both lineage and the scale of their territories.

The others are all more or less equal, and none of them have the strength to take the lead in the principality.

“Probably the result of the Devil Duke’s purges… Still, I doubt even he expected his house would end up being inherited by Yugape’s daughter. It’s almost laughable.”

Roselia’s grandfather, the previous Duke of Budoudarl, carried out ruthless purges to centralize power—eliminating both talented vassals and male relatives alike.

As a result, the main house of the Budoudarl line amassed overwhelming power, while the branch families were significantly weakened.

“Still, that doesn’t mean dissatisfaction among the court’s nobility has disappeared, does it? I hear the Budoudarl court is dominated by foreigners. Wouldn’t that be breeding resentment—especially among provincial nobles and knights of Oscian descent?”

This world doesn’t have the modern concept of nationalism.

Still, people feel affinity toward those who speak their language and share their customs—and conversely, they’re wary of those with different roots.

Tensions between central aristocrats and provincial powers are common everywhere, but in the case of the Budoudarl Principality, that divide is especially stark.

There was no need for Count Couranbel to have charisma. All it took was for those who held resentment toward the court to rally behind him.

There’s even a saying that goes, “A palanquin should be light—and preferably carried by a fool.”

“Well, Father, here’s something quite fascinating… Princess Roselia’s main support base is made up of the Oscan folk.”

“…As far as I recall, there shouldn't be any Oscan blood among Princess Roselia’s relatives.”

In response to the Emperor’s doubt, Bard placed a book he’d been holding onto the desk.

The Emperor frowned—he couldn’t read the title.

It clearly wasn’t written in Niarmaic, Ail, or Classical.

“And that is?”

“A collection of poetry in Oscan. The compiler is…”

Bard pointed to the text beneath the title.

On the Western Continent, a common phonetic script is used.

That’s why, when it comes to familiar terms or proper nouns like people’s names, even non-native speakers can make them out.

“Rosalia En Budoudarl… That’s Princess Roselia. You’re telling me she can speak Oscan?”

“She can do more than speak it. She writes poetry in it.”

Bard flipped open a page and pointed at one of the poems.

It was signed: “The Rose of Budoudarl.”

“It seems to include poems not only from Oscan nobles and knights, but even from farmers. Which means everyone whose name appears in this book is a supporter of Princess Roselia.”

“…Quite the talent she has.”

“Besides, Count Couranbel only speaks Niarmaic. The idea of him rallying the Oscan folk is nothing more than a pipe dream.”

“Quite so.”

For three years, Roselia had mingled with nobles and knights, listened to their stories, and continued to put in the effort.

Count Couranbel, meanwhile, had done nothing.

That was all there was to it.

“I have no desire to ally with such a little man.”

“We can’t afford to be picky. Precisely because he’s a little man, he’s falling for our sweet talk. At the very least, the former count wouldn’t have been swayed by such paltry persuasion.”

The former Count Couranbel.

The mention made Bard tilt his head slightly.

“The previous Count Couranbel, you mean? I heard he mediated the dispute between the Duke of Plumera and the Duke of Budoudarl when the former kidnapped Princess Roselia.”

The Duke of Plumera had wanted to raise Roselia—his only heir—in his own domain.

After all, the lords of the duchy would never accept a “foreigner” woman as their future ruler.

If Roselia was to be the next Duchess of Plumera, she needed to be raised there.

However, in this world, parental custody belonged to the father.

And so, the Duke of Plumera resorted to kidnapping Roselia.

“Indeed. A sly but capable man. One of the few nobles who survived the purging by that Devil Duke. If it hadn’t been for him, the County of Osen would already be in our hands. A real shame.”

Naturally, the Duke of Budoudarl and the Duke of Plumera nearly came to blows.

The Emperor had been delighted, eager to prepare for war… but by the time he was ready to act, the conflict had already been resolved.

Because the previous Count Couranbel had skillfully mediated between them.

As a result, Roselia came to live moving back and forth between the Duchies of Plumera and Budoudarl.

“Though it seems illness got the better of him. Fortune smiled on us, I’d say.”

While the current and previous Count Couranbel differed in both personality and capability, they shared a similar physique.

Dying young was perhaps inevitable.

“So that little pebble is what fortune delivered us, huh? Think he’ll be of any use?”

“Even a pebble can trip someone. And for a woman, that can sometimes be fatal.”

“…I see. Then perhaps we should pray that the curse of the Great Aunt befalls Princess Roselia.”

Roselia’s grandfather, the late Duke of Budoudarl—known as the “Devil Duke”—had taken the Emperor’s aunt as his wife.

However, she died after “falling down the stairs during pregnancy.”

The Devil Duke claimed it was an accident, but it was widely rumored to have been an assassination.

Because she had failed to give birth to a son.

Afterward, the Devil Duke married into the royal family and successfully sired two sons.

The younger of those two is the current Duke of Budoudarl.

“If we are to form an alliance, there is someone far more fitting than that pebble of a man.”

“Oh? And who might that be?”

“Thor El Larknor.”

“The bastard’s son, is it? I hear he inherited his father’s valor… but I also heard he’s in love with Princess Roselia.”

Thor made no effort to hide his affection for Roselia in public.

His open declarations of love had even reached the Emperor’s ears.

“Even so, that love will never be fulfilled. Princess Roselia’s betrothed is Prince Bartona.”

“…So, you’re saying the bastard’s son will come to resent her?”

Thor, rejected harshly by Roselia, turns that bitterness against her—becoming anti-Budoudarl.

It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility.

If Thor was truly in love with Roselia, that is.

“You’re sure it wasn’t just part of a diplomatic play?”

“The look in his eyes was that of a man genuinely in love. He glared at me—as if to say he would never hand her over.”

Bard let out a sly grin.

“We gain the County of Osen. Thor gains Princess Roselia. Each of us gets what we want. Wouldn’t you say that’s a good deal?”

“It’s a deal far too convenient for us. It won’t come to pass.”

“Then placing hope in a pebble and praying for a curse to strike might be just as reasonable.”

“Hah. ‘Remain ever prepared for the coming time,’ is that it?”

Remain ever prepared for the coming time.

That was the imperial family’s house motto.

To prepare constantly for all eventualities, be they opportunities or disasters.

Most of that preparation would prove useless—but when the time came, it would never be missed.

The previous Emperor had claimed the throne through such unwavering preparation.

“A low probability isn’t reason enough not to try, is it?”

“You’re right. In that case, there’s a better solution. If you could woo Princess Roselia yourself, everything would be settled… So? How’d it go?”

The Emperor asked Bard with a laugh.

Bard could only offer a wry smile.

“She rejected me, quite thoroughly. Told me we should just be good neighbors.”

“Wahahaha! Not even friends, eh!”

The Emperor burst into a fit of laughter, clutching his stomach.

And after he’d had his fill…

“In that case, there’s no need to hold back.”

He muttered, voice laced with hatred.