Several regions in Alphasta were known for their potato harvests. Maybe I should consider introducing this there, I thought as I tasted another crisp. If it caught on, it could even become a new specialty export.
In that sense, Bertia’s decision to showcase the snack before nobles and diplomats from so many different countries might actually have been quite a stroke of genius. A perfect international debut, really.
“How is it, Lord Cecil?”
As I savored both the taste and the potential market strategies forming in my mind, Bertia leaned closer, her expression tinged with anxious curiosity.
“It’s excellent,” I said with a small smile. “The texture is perfectly light and satisfying.”
“I’m so glad! I was a little worried since no one else seemed to be eating them yet. I thought perhaps they didn’t suit everyone’s taste here.”
I chuckled softly, glancing around the hall.
Many eyes were on us. Some were waiting for the right moment to approach and speak, while others were clearly observing my reaction to the mysterious new treat.
A few of the young ladies, cheeks faintly pink, seemed flustered, no doubt from watching Bertia feed me a chip a minute earlier.
Well, yes. That probably looked more intimate than is proper for a royal function.
“I think it’s not that they dislike it,” I murmured, keeping my voice low enough for only her to hear. “They just don’t know what it is yet, so they’re a little hesitant.”
“Eh? But they can see it’s delicious, can’t they?” she asked, blinking in genuine confusion.
Her wide-eyed innocence nearly made me laugh. “Tia, that’s because you already know it’s good. But for everyone else here, it’s an unfamiliar object, something strange and unknown. Once they try one, they’ll realize how addictive they are.”
I smiled, plucking one of the golden crisps from the plate she was holding and lifting it toward her lips.
Her eyes brightened instantly. With a delighted “mm!” she took the chip from my fingers and bit down, the crisp crackle echoing faintly between us.
Then she smiled softly, her expression warm and blissful as if that simple bite had filled her entire world with happiness.
Honestly… What a beautiful expression!
Seeing the look on her face, I couldn’t help myself. I reached for another chip and popped it into my mouth.
Crunch.
The crisp sound rang softly in the air, and then came the ripple.
A low murmur spread through the nearby guests, subtle at first, then growing as more eyes turned toward the curious golden crisps.
The first to move was a young nobleman standing a few paces away. He swallowed hard as if steeling himself for battle, and then motioned to a maid.
“I-I’ll try those… ‘potato chips,’ please.”
He took one, hesitated for only a heartbeat, and bit down.
“Delicious!” he exclaimed, eyes widening in astonishment.
That was all it took.
The moment his voice rang out, restraint vanished. Guests who had been politely observing or cautiously pretending not to stare suddenly surged forward, eager for a taste. Within seconds, the once-quiet buffet table became the front line of a potato chip frenzy.
The poor maid serving them was quickly overwhelmed. Flustered, she valiantly did her best to keep up until two more maids hurried over to help as reinforcements.
“Eh? Wha— What’s going on?” Bertia blinked, bewildered, staring at the sudden commotion. Only a moment had passed since she’d worn that look of disappointment, worrying that no one seemed interested in her creation.
I chuckled quietly. “It’s because of you, Tia. You make food look so delicious when you eat it that people can’t help wanting to try it too.”
In contrast, I’d been told many times that my own expressions barely changed, no matter how good or bad something tasted. So, while my earlier “It’s really delicious” had earned polite curiosity, it hadn’t been enough to spark movement.
For Bertia’s bite, on the other hand, her whole face had lit up like the morning sun. That kind of pure, unguarded joy could move hearts far more effectively than words.
After that, it was inevitable.
Trying something new always took courage. When the first brave soul realized it was genuinely good, the rest quickly followed. Once a rare or novel delicacy began circulating among the aristocracy, it transformed from curiosity to status symbol.
In high society, trends were a silent currency. To create a new one was to wield influence.
Those who kept up with fashionable tastes displayed their social awareness and information network, and those who could obtain scarce, in-demand items proved not just their wealth, but the breadth of their connections.
Of course, not everyone in this room was motivated by social advantage. However, when an opportunity with even the slightest hint of benefit rolled right up to your feet, most people would find a way to pick it up.
Besides, after tasting it, the “mysterious golden crisps” would make an excellent opening topic for anyone hoping to strike up a conversation with Bertia later.
“I don’t really understand what’s happening,” Bertia said, “but if everyone’s enjoying them, then I’m happy!”
Despite having singlehandedly sparked this small-scale phenomenon, she seemed entirely unaware of her own influence. She probably underestimated how much sway her presence carried.
Still, seeing her beam with such genuine joy as others smiled and praised what she’d prepared, it was hard to say that her obliviousness was a bad thing.
As long as she’s happy. That’s what matters most.
“L-Lady Bertia.”
A soft, slightly nervous voice called her name just as the two of us finished the last of our shared plate.
Turning, I saw June approaching, back straight, composure intact, but her expression a little tight, perhaps from the awareness that I, the Crown Prince of Alphasta, was standing beside Bertia.
“My, Lady June!” Bertia exclaimed, quickly taking a hand towel from a maid and wiping her fingertips before turning toward the young lady with a warm smile. “Thank you ever so much for helping with the tea party preparations.”
At that, June’s shoulders relaxed. She smiled back, relief flickering across her face at Bertia’s unchanged, welcoming demeanor.
“Miss June,” I added, stepping forward beside my wife, “allow me to thank you as well for indulging my wife’s… enthusiasm.”
The corners of her lips softened into a faint, grateful smile. It was clear she’d taken my words as reassurance that she was truly welcome in our company.
Still, something tugged at my awareness.
While the two women began chatting amicably, I let my eyes wander the room without turning my head.
No sign of him.
Prince Izlarich—June’s fiancé and Crown Prince Aleis’s nephew—was notably absent.
Given that this was an official royal tea party, hosted within the palace itself for foreign dignitaries attending the upcoming wedding, it was only natural that an invitation had been extended to him as well.