Chapter 9

In this world, there exist creatures known as “magibeasts.”

Ordinary animals like wolves or bears become magibeasts through a process known as “magibeastification.”

Once transformed, these creatures typically grow larger, tougher, physically stronger, and far more aggressive.

Some even gain the ability to wield magic.

The strength and threat level of a magibeast varies by individual, but in general, they are stronger than regular carnivorous animals.

To make matters worse, they occasionally trigger a phenomenon known as a “stampede,” forming a pack that descends upon villages or towns in a rampage.

When that happens, commoners without magic are powerless to resist.

Only knights—those who can wield magic—are capable of fighting back against magibeasts.

That’s why the commoners rely on the knights, and in return, the knights rule over them.

Such is the relationship between the rulers and the ruled in this world.

Now here’s the important part—

When a magibeast is slain, a special stone known as a mashou-seki—a mana-tainted stone—can be extracted from its body.

By taking in this stone through some means, a human can gain the ability to wield magic.

In short, knights are humans who have undergone magibeastification.

In order to pass their magical powers on to the next generation, knights eagerly hunt magibeasts within their territory, gather mashou-seki, and administer them to their children.

To develop magic effectively, the stone must be absorbed during one’s growth period, which means a parent’s wealth and status greatly influence their children’s magical potential.

While magic isn’t inherited genetically, it is passed down this way—through deliberate acquisition.

Among the knights, the most powerful—nobles—establish areas where magibeasts tend to appear as official “hunting grounds” and place them under their direct control.

Under the pretense of magibeast extermination, they secure a stable supply of mashou-seki.

From time to time, they would gather nearby nobles, vassals, and fellow knights to participate in “magibeast hunts,” sharing the stones to reinforce alliances and fealty.

This is the essence of what the nobles in this world call “hunting.”

Of course, hunts for regular animals do happen as well, but when a noble refers to a “hunt,” it almost always means a magibeast hunt.

For the king, the hunt is a vital national event—an opportunity to assert, both internally and externally, that he is the ruler of the kingdom and the highest sovereign.

That’s why it’s essential to have as many nobles as possible participate in the hunt, especially the high-ranking ones.

Because of these circumstances, the royal hunt is held every year in late September or early October.

Any earlier, and the nobility would still be occupied with tax collection. Any later, and snow would begin to fall, making travel difficult.

…Incidentally, this timing also happens to be when game animals are at their tastiest, as they fatten up in preparation for winter.

And so, this year as well, a grand royal hunt was scheduled for the end of September.

“Accidents are common during the hunt. Be careful out there.”

“I understand, Father.”

I nodded deeply at my father’s warning.

The word “accident” carries three meanings.

The first is its literal meaning—accidents such as misfired arrows imbued with magic or injuries from a magibeast’s counterattack.

The second is quarrels between nobles. Tempers can run high during the hunt, and violence is not unheard of.

The third is an “accident” in appearance only—in other words, assassination.

“I’m sorry to send you alone…”

“No, I see it as a valuable experience.”

My father would be staying behind.

Although a ceasefire had been reached with the Duke of Larknoll in the north, tensions still remained.

To the east, the Empire continued to covet our lands, watching and waiting for an opportunity to strike.

Given the circumstances, powerful nobles were needed to remain at Torunia Castle to act as a stabilizing presence.

Normally, this would be my mother Antocia’s role.

But while she could be trusted to safeguard the relatively safe Budoudarl Castle, he likely didn’t want to leave the more precarious Torunia Castle in her hands.

“Besides, in a year or two, things should ease up, right?”

“I certainly hope so.”

My words drew a wry smile from Father.

If Blanche continued to grow and mature as expected, she would be able to take over these duties before long.

“Well then, I’m off.”

With a farewell to my father, I departed for the royal hunting grounds.

I arrived at the hunting tournament venue a full week before the event began.

That was considered an early arrival.

Infrastructure in this world isn’t nearly as developed as in modern Japan.

It’s not uncommon for bridges to be out or roads to collapse, so when you take precautions to avoid delays, you end up arriving this early.

“As the proxy of the feudal lord bound to you in blood, I greet you, my liege. King Oreanis, I thank you for your kind invitation today.”

I lightly lifted the hem of my skirt and bowed to the man before me.

It was a formal greeting, one a subordinate gives to a superior, but only because I stood here as the next head of the house.

It did not mean the House of Budoudarl was beneath the royal family.

The monarch of the kingdom, Oreanis El Parteria, gazed down at me in silence.

He looked to be in his mid-forties, with piercing eyes and a hooked nose that made a strong impression.

For a politician, he was in his prime.

For someone like me, with less than five years in politics, he was a formidable figure.

“Mm… As the head of the Round Table, I welcome you, Princess Roselia. I do hope you’ll enjoy this opportunity to socialize through the hunt.”

…Head of the Round Table, huh.

Seems like the message I once relayed to the royal family’s diplomat made it all the way to the king himself.

“Yes. And this, from my father to Your Majesty…”

With carefully chosen words, I informed the king that we had brought a gift.

I took the ceramic flask of liquor from Delawear and presented it to the king.

“Oh… So this is the Roselia wine I’ve heard so much about. I gladly accept it.”

King Oreanis handed the wine to the knight attending him.

He seemed noticeably more pleased than a moment ago… I guess he really wanted a drink.

Despite that intimidating face, he’s got a surprisingly cute side.

“Yes. My father also expressed regret at not being able to attend in person.”

At my words, King Oreanis gave a deep nod.

“I am well aware of your circumstances. The peace our kingdom currently enjoys is thanks to your father remaining stationed in the East. Please tell him, as the head of the Round Table, that he has my deepest gratitude.”

So basically, don’t side with the Empire, and keep shielding us from that direction.

I gave the king a solemn nod in return.

“I will make sure he hears your words.”

Still, this just makes me feel like a glorified carrier pigeon.

As the next head of our house, simply passing messages back and forth won’t do. And more importantly, I can’t just let that little jab go unanswered—it would be a blow to our pride.

“My father often says that we’re able to focus on the East thanks to Your Majesty’s wise leadership. I feel the same. Guarding the Round Table together, I believe, is the path to mutual prosperity.”

In other words: As long as your royal family governs responsibly, we’ll stay in line.

So hurry up and send over the second prince as a groom. We don’t need the first one.

We have no interest in your succession struggles.

When I conveyed that, King Oreanis gave a deep, affirming nod.

“…The East seems securely guarded. Truly, I find that reassuring.”

Twelve years old, and already so well put-together. With her, the House of Budoudarl is in safe hands.

King Oreanis’s praise didn’t sound like flattery—it felt sincere.

One hurdle cleared, for now.

The next one… is Thor-kun.

He’s probably mad… Ugh, I’m already dreading it.

I just hope he doesn’t hate me.