After Count Archiam and Dorothea relentlessly apologized to me for all of the unnecessary work I had put in for them, we discussed how we were going to handle the upcoming court conference.
The basis of our ideas was Patrick’s plan. If Marquess Prynan ended up feeling so suspicious of Patrick’s motivations that he didn’t say anything at the conference, then the count planned to relinquish the position himself. After confirming our intentions, we said our goodbyes, and I headed for the Royal Palace.
The monthly court conference was held in the royal audience chamber. The vassals would each present their concerns to the king, who would then give his decision on each matter. Most of the topics addressed had already been negotiated behind the scenes, and so they tended to pass without issue; it was rare for those attending to argue over something. Even If there was a disagreement, the issue in question would be set aside until the following month’s meeting (but it would be settled behind closed doors long before then).
The whole affair was basically a trial in which backroom deals and maneuvers were all allowed. It seemed like something that would be difficult for the judge—in this case, the king—to handle. Though the king’s decisions were ostensibly the final word, if his verdicts were considered unreasonable by his subjects, then they would no longer follow him... Thinking about all of this, I’m starting to get worried about 2, with her being an empress over in her world.
Today would mark my first time attending the court conference, and I was forced to wear a gown to the palace once again. I alighted from the detestable carriage, and I mingled with aristocrats who I detested even more. It seemed like there were even more radicals present here than there had been the previous night. The nobles who’d been lying low were crawling out of the woodwork, clearly expecting things from me.
“You look beautiful today as well, Lady Yumiella,” simpered one.
“We have all gathered here for you, Countess Dolkness,” another assured me. “I’m sure there will be customs with which you might not be familiar, given that this is your first time attending, but please let us handle things.”
They all scrambled to butter me up with their flattery. I didn’t even feel like being silly and responding with something like, “Hee hee, they said I’m beautiful.” All I could focus on was the fact that I was surrounded by people trying to make me like them. I’d lately been hearing comments from certain parties about my decreasing intelligence and maturity levels, but in moments like this, it really felt like the opposite was occurring. If only Patrick could see me now.
As I stepped forward, the crowd of people parted, creating a path. I headed to the audience chamber, still not having said a word. The large crowd of radicals moved in an intimidating pack, and the officials working in the palace furrowed their brows as they stepped out of the way.
Their expressions seemed to say, “What are they doing?” but their reactions changed when they saw that I was the one leading the posse. As I sailed by with the eager radicals crowding in my wake, some of the staff’s eyes widened with surprise while others trembled with fear. It seemed that I caused some degree of unease when walking with a crowd behind me. I guess to others it looks like Yumiella Dolkness is walking the halls of the Royal Palace like she owns the place, followed by her own private army of aristocrats, so I can see why they’d anticipate trouble.
On the way, I saw Patrick standing off to the side in a branching hallway. Our eyes met, and we acknowledged each other’s presence. He made his way toward me, but our rendezvous was prevented when several of the aristocrats behind me came forward and cut Patrick off.
“As a rule, the court conference only allows heads of households to attend,” one of them admonished.
“There’s no room for you here,” another tutted.
“It’s unnecessary to listen to the things your fiancé says, Countess Dolkness,” a third assured me.
Oh, right. Patrick ended last night’s incident just when things were about to get good. No wonder they’re all so prickly around him. They don’t want him to take me home like he did at the party. I feel like one of those gamers with a female avatar in an MMO who gets carried by a bunch of other players. I know what that’s like.
I’d been in quite a serious guild, and I remember telling one of the members who wasn’t playing as well as she could have been, “Maybe you should try this instead.” I had tried to give my advice with the utmost consideration, but a different member had become really upset at me, saying, “How dare you make accusations against her.” Yes, that was right—I hadn’t actually been the one being carried.
But I was in that position now. Right now, I was just like one of those players who would type into the chat things like, “weeeh don’t fight [insert annoying emoji here].” I wanna say it, I found myself thinking. I wanna say “weeeh.”
I choked down my desire to “weeeh,” since this was a serious situation, and instead I talked to Patrick over the heads of the people between us.
“Weeeh...” Whoops, I said it anyway. “Do you know the situation?”
“I heard it’s changed,” he responded.
I guess it’s fine, then. Although the term “count” wasn’t spoken by either one of us, there was no doubt that he was talking about Count Archiam. The only thing that had changed while Patrick was gone were the count’s plans. He’d probably had a messenger contact Patrick about it.
Our side of the plan hadn’t changed, though, so it wasn’t really a problem if Patrick wasn’t aware of the count’s change of heart, but it meant that now all his efforts behind the scenes had been wasted. Patrick was probably the one who’d put the most unnecessary work into this whole thing, now that I thought about it.