King Souma E. Friedonia had seven beautiful queens.
This was a fact known not only to the people of Friedonia, but to nearly everyone across the continent. As the Kingdom of Friedonia had played a central role in forming the Union of the Southern Continent, its prestige ensured that tales of Souma and his family spread far and wide.
Having taken queens of differing races and backgrounds, Souma was—at least in the eyes of many men—living the dream. Naturally, it stirred both envy and spite. From that, rumors occasionally arose that King Souma was little more than a lustful philanderer.
From Souma’s perspective, however, each marriage had come about through unique circumstances, often born of duty or necessity. If anything, he likely bristled at the notion. Yet to chase down rumors born not of hostility or rebellion, but of drunken jealousy, would have been a waste of effort. And so the king and his people simply let them be.
Thus, some years after the continent’s reorganization, when peace was firmly secured, this song began to echo in taverns:
King Souma, in Parnam Castle, has seven wives.
A different one for every night.
On the first day, he goes to Lady Liscia, that bold and clever mother of the nation.
On the second day, he goes to Lady Aisha, that peerless warrior maiden.
On the third day, he goes to Lady Juna, that country’s top lorelei.
On the fourth day, he goes to Lady Roroa, that adorable, cheerful lady of wit.
On the fifth day, he goes to Lady Naden, the dragon girl who tells the weather.
On the sixth day, he goes to Lady Maria, the noble and kind angel.
On the seventh day, he goes to Lady Yuriga, that innocent ball-kicking girl.
But who does he visit on the eighth day? Who is left then?
It was a song sung by drunkards.
Up through the seventh day, the song was little more than a counting song for Souma’s queens, but then it asked who was left for the eighth day.
The implication, of course, was that while Souma had seven wives publicly acknowledged, there might, in fact, be an eighth. The reasoning behind this was simple: This world’s week had eight days.
To put it in terms of Souma’s old world, it was like having a week that went Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday...and then a “second” Sunday. (The actual names of the days were unique to this world.) Government offices generally worked through Saturday, with the two Sundays as days off. So, with eight days in a week, and Souma being cast as a supposed sex fiend, the drunks reasoned he must spend one night with each queen. That left one day unaccounted for, which led them to joking speculation that there was someone else.
The mystery of this eighth queen only fueled their amusement. She became their Nessie, their Bigfoot, their Tokugawa treasure—an enduring subject for half-serious arguments over drinks. The very fact that people could enjoy such trivial debates was, in a way, proof of how peaceful the world had become.
Incidentally, the most popular candidate for the role was none other than Excel Walter. The famed former commander in chief of the National Defense Force, and grandmother of Souma’s first secondary queen, Juna. Excel was a member of the long-lived sea serpent race. Her beauty was unchanging, and she had a reputation for having married several times over her long life. Naturally, this led to whispers that she might be involved with Souma as well.
Because of her familial tie to Juna, such a relationship could never be made public, so rumor cast her in the role of mistress. When a reporter from ParSpo (short for Weekly Parnam Sports) asked her about it, she only smiled and said, “Am I His Majesty’s mistress? Hee hee, I’ll leave that to your imagination.”
The coy answer only fanned the flames. Later, when Souma fathered a sea serpent child with his second secondary queen, Naden, rumors flared again. Some whispered that the child was secretly Excel’s instead.