Chapter : 07

Marianne cradled the teacup, which had grown lukewarm without her noticing, in both hands and sank briefly into thought.

There was a hidden bonanza somewhere near the northern lands Cedric would one day rule.

They said no one knows there’s a diamond mine there.

It hadn’t been a major point in the original story, but after Cedric distinguished himself, the emperor rewarded him by granting him that land.

…The more I think about it, the angrier I get. He worked himself to the bone and got a wasteland as a reward?

In truth, it wasn’t a wasteland at all but a goose that laid golden eggs, and the emperor would later be sick with regret over it—but that was beside the point. What annoyed her was the sheer maliciousness of the gift, as if it had been handed over out of spite.

“Hoo.”

Marianne gulped down her tea and smiled darkly.

Calm down. What mattered was that, for now, the place was known only as a rocky wasteland, meaning it either had no owner or could be bought for a pittance.

“Your Highness, does the tea not suit your taste?”

“…No. I like it very much. It really clears the head.”

She must have been wearing a rather wicked grin without realizing it. After fixing her expression, Marianne glanced sideways at Cedric.

Thankfully, the child was still completely absorbed in his dessert.

Phew. I almost showed him a strange face.

“Uh?”

Sensing her gaze, Cedric blinked slowly. Marianne pressed near the corners of her mouth and shook her head.

“It’s nothing. Keep eating, Cedric.”

“Uh!”

Cedric replied energetically. Marianne smiled at him fondly and turned her gaze away.

Her thoughts drifted back to the mine. If she bought the land and found the vein, the House of Calais would never lack money again.

However, there were a few unavoidable problems that made things complicated.

Whose name would be safest to buy the land under?

Marianne fell into contemplation.

Buying it under her own name was out of the question.

She planned to conceal her identity when leaving for the north, and she didn’t want to create any potential trail that could be used to track her.

But using Cedric’s name also bothered her, since the emperor was still alive.

Even if it’s not the emperor, if Louis starts throwing his weight around, there’d be no way to protect it.

Cedric was still too young and had no foundation of his own.

If the imperial family demanded it, the land would be taken without resistance.

“Hm…”

Wouldn’t some fake identity just fall out of the sky somewhere?

When her thoughts started drifting into such absurd territory, Marianne decided to clear her head.

No matter how much she worried right now, a solution wouldn’t appear… so she might as well focus on what she could do at the estate for the time being.

“Amélie.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“I’d like to brush Cedric’s hair after he finishes eating. Would that be all right?”

“……”

Marianne deliberately smiled brightly. Unable to show even the slightest hint of disrespect toward a princess, whether in words or looks, Amélie bowed her head slightly.

“I will bring the comb.”

“Oh, I’ll get it!”

Chloé, who had been placing Cedric’s empty plates onto a tray, quickly raised her hand. She gave a sheepish grin when Amélie shot her a dubious look.

“The scented oil I bought at the market this morning smells wonderful. If we use that too, I’m sure the young duke will love it!”

With that, she hurried out of the room, deftly avoiding Amélie’s reproachful gaze. Amélie pressed her fingers to her forehead and shook her head.

Marianne took a small sip of the remaining tea to suppress her laughter.

“Ah, uh!”

In the meantime, Cedric, having finished his sorbet, put down his spoon and let out a small cry.

“Cedric, was it good?”

“Uh!”

At the sound of his extremely satisfied voice, Marianne smiled softly.

After the peaceful mealtime ended, she was gently brushing Cedric’s hair with the blunt comb Chloé had brought when—

Knock, knock.

There came a knock at the door.

“Your Highness, Marquess Hill and her aide have arrived to request an audience.”

“Marquess Hill?”

“Yes. She also asked me to convey her apologies for visiting suddenly without an appointment.”

Marianne ran the comb over the back of Cedric’s head and nodded.

“Very well. I’ll see them. They’ve probably come to greet Cedric too, right? Let them greet him, then we’ll talk in my room.”

“Yes. Please wait a moment.”

Amélie bowed politely and left into the corridor. From afar came the low murmur of voices, followed by approaching footsteps. Soon, a man and a woman appeared before Marianne.

“Greetings, Your Highness Princess Marianne. I am Helene Hill. Please call me Sir Helene.”

“Good morning, Your Highness. I am Fabrice Hill, who humbly serves as aide to Sir Helene, Marquess of the borderlands and knight who protects the northwestern Hill territory. It is an honor to meet you.”

Helene and Fabrice offered their greetings. Their manners were equally polite, and their features somewhat similar, but one felt cool while the other felt warm.

Like a winter wind and summer sunlight… though that might be a bit rude.

Deciding to keep the thought to herself, Marianne inclined her head slightly.

“It’s a pleasure, Sir Helene. And you as well, Aide Fabrice.”

She then smoothed Cedric’s hair, now neater and glossier, and set the comb down.

As she did, she felt Helene watching the path of her hand with eyes gone cold, as though she were looking at an assassin’s dagger rather than a gentle touch. Marianne swallowed silently.

Then, as if nothing were amiss, she managed her expression and smiled brightly.

Helene Hill.

There was no need for her to become hostile or antagonistic toward her. Nor did she want to.

Helene was a fair and just lord who guarded the northwestern border, and a seasoned warrior. If justice were given human form, wouldn’t it look like Helene?

Besides, in the future she would become the most reliable vassal of the Calais family—and Cedric’s swordsmanship instructor.

I should get close to her.

“Au!”

Fortunately, the atmosphere wasn’t bad. Cedric seemed pleased to see the two of them, waving his hand in greeting.

“Young Duke, I trust you have been well.”

“Sir Cedric, your hair looks lovely. Her Highness must have arranged it for you.”

As Helene and Fabrice greeted Cedric in their own ways, Marianne spoke up casually.

“If you don’t mind, would the two of you like to have some tea in my room?”

“…Yes.”

Helene nodded without protest. The expression that had softened slightly in front of Cedric hardened once more.

This won’t be easy.

Still, she had to make her an ally somehow. With that resolve, Marianne waved to Cedric.

“Cedric, I’ll read you a storybook in a little while. Just wait a bit, all right?”

“Uh!”

Cedric nodded obediently, though his face looked a little sulky, making Marianne smile fondly.

However, once she entered the room and sat down on the plush chair, she found she couldn’t lift the corners of her mouth at all.

The pressure radiating from Helene, seated across from her, was fierce.

“…My lady. Your expression is far too stiff. You don’t even look like that in front of magical beasts.”

“I am on official business, Aide.”

“Yes, Head of the House.”

Even Fabrice, who had been carefully reading the room, felt compelled to interject—but Helene cut him off sharply and fixed her gaze on Marianne.

Looking into those deep, wary eyes, Marianne felt a sense of danger, even though Helene’s sword belt lay empty at her waist.

She looks like she could kill me barehanded.

Still, Marianne couldn’t retreat. Holding the teacup Amélie had given her with slightly trembling fingers, she spoke gently.

“Sir Helene. I understand that you don’t like me.”

“You catch on quickly.”

“Yes. If there’s something you wish to say to me, you may.”

“Princess. Do not lay a hand on the young duke.”

“M-My lady!”

“Marquess Hill…!”

The words, neither fully respectful nor openly rude, carried a clear warning. Fabrice’s genial face went pale, and even Amélie, who had been quietly warming the teapot, turned white.

But Marianne merely took a sip of the faintly steaming tea and nodded.

“That is my wish as well.”

“…It’s difficult to trust the words of someone from the imperial family.”

Returning to formal speech, Helene spoke with an edge, then gulped down the still-hot tea in one go.

Soon, the cup was empty.

“I assume Your Highness has something to say to me as well. I’d like to hear it quickly and leave.”

Cough, cough. Beside her, Fabrice, who had been savoring his tea, began coughing as if it had gone down the wrong way.

“My lady, please. We’ve come all this way—this is terribly rude. Her Highness, you see… she seems far more refined than the rumors suggest.”

He then whispered urgently to Helene in a voice low but perfectly audible. Marianne let out a small chuckle.

At that, Helene’s eyebrow twitched.

As Fabrice had said, Princess Marianne was elegant and courteous, unlike the rumored brute.

If she truly were as the rumors claimed, she might have had them thrown out immediately for such insolence.

…But this attitude could simply be a carefully crafted mask.

Even so, Helene did not trust the princess.

First, because she was the beloved daughter of the emperor who had caused the tragedy of the grand ducal house. Second, because Marianne carried the blood of the cunning imperial family.

In a place surrounded by enemies, anyone who wasn’t a fool would naturally put on a benevolent facade.

Part of the reason Helene had been rude was to try to strip away that mask.

Yet Marianne showed no sign of displeasure.

A vassal who is suspicious and cautious might be just as necessary as the kind, slightly soft-hearted people of the ducal estate.

“Hm. All right, then I’ll start with what I’ve prepared.”

Meeting Helene’s distrust-filled gaze head-on, Marianne spoke.

“Helene Hill.”

“I’m listening.”

“Would you like to become the owner of a diamond mine?”

“…?”

At the same moment Helene frowned, crack—the handle of the teacup she was holding snapped cleanly off.

Feeling cold sweat dampen her forehead, Marianne still maintained her smile, pretending not to be startled.

“It’s for Cedric.”

And with that, she began her persuasion in earnest.