He exhaled in quiet relief, no doubt thinking that understanding my motives might help him gauge how dangerous or genuine my offer was.
“It’s simple,” I said. “The first reason, as I mentioned before, is that I don’t want my adorable wife to be saddened if Princess Lysonna were to suffer.”
Behind him, Holsa’s face twitched.
Come on now, Holsa, I thought wryly. Even if you’re standing behind your prince, I can still see you. Try not to look so baffled, will you?
His expression was a transparent mix of “Wait, that’s it?” and “You’re kidding, right?”
“I suspect I love my wife far more deeply than you imagine,” I continued with a smile. “So, if something might make her unhappy, I make it my business to eliminate it. It’s hardly any trouble for me.”
All three of them froze. Their smiles stiffened in perfect unison, like actors caught mid-scene.
They weren’t wrong to be flustered. My affection wasn’t exactly subtle, but it was true.
“As for the second reason…” I let my tone drop deliberately. “That same Prince Ramtak had the audacity to tell me to hand over my wife to him.”
“What?!”
The outburst was simultaneous, three sharp voices of disbelief cutting through the air. Their faces paled in shock and outrage as the sheer absurdity of the statement sank in.
“W-What do you mean by that?! Why would he say something so absurd?!”
Even Crown Prince Aleis, usually the very picture of composure, couldn’t keep the alarm from his voice. It was understandable. Making such a ludicrous demand of the heir to a vastly more powerful kingdom went beyond mere arrogance; it was political suicide. He was probably trying and failing to understand how anyone could be so catastrophically stupid.
Though he kept his expression schooled, the confusion beneath it was obvious.
“To explain this properly,” I said, “there’s someone I need to introduce to you.”
“Introduce… someone?” Aleis’s brows drew together in confusion. “But there’s no one else here. Are they waiting outside?”
I couldn’t help the faint smile that tugged at my lips. It wasn’t his fault he hadn’t noticed. After all, seeing this particular companion required a very particular kind of sight.
While the prince looked at me expectantly, I reached down beside my chair and grasped the smooth, coiled body resting there. My hand closed gently but firmly around one of his necks, and I lifted him onto the table.
“Hssshh?!”
Futamata jerked awake in surprise, both heads blinking and swiveling around in confusion. Each set of eyes darted around the room, trying to assess the situation, still half-drowsy from his nap.
“Futamata,” I said, “you’re up. Show yourself to them, would you?”
Both heads turned toward me in unison. For a moment, his twin pupils blinked sleepily, and then, as if remembering why we were here, his aura shimmered. The air around him rippled like a mirage, and the veil that hid him from ordinary eyes lifted.
In an instant, the room erupted in gasps.
“—!”
Crown Prince Aleis, Princess Lysonna, and Holsa all recoiled, eyes wide as they instinctively leaned back from the table. Before them now lay a magnificent serpent.
“T-The… Guardian Deity…” Aleis whispered, his voice trembling.
The three of them scrambled to their feet, overcome by reverence and shock, before dropping to their knees in hurried prostration. Their reaction was entirely understandable. What was, to us, an occasionally cranky and decidedly un-majestic spirit was, to the people of Seahealby, a divine protector from ancient legend.
Futamata, who had been treated rather roughly of late, seemed almost moved by the sudden reverence. Both heads tilted up at me with a look so smug that my hand tightened reflexively around one of his necks.
“G-Guardian Deity?!”
Crown Prince Aleis jolted upright, snatching Futamata from my grasp with panicked haste.
“P-Prince Cecil, what are you doing to our guardian?!” he sputtered, clutching the serpent protectively. His face had gone paper white, and the reproach in his eyes could have frozen waves.
Understandable. To Aleis, our occasionally hapless spirit was a holy being. But if we kept bowing and gasping all afternoon, we’d never get to the point.
“Forgive me,” I said evenly. “I realize he is precious to you. But to me, he’s the somewhat unfortunate spirit who keeps trying to coerce my wife into forming a contract, despite repeated refusals, and then gets punished by the high-ranking spirit already contracted to her.”
“E-Excuse me. Did you say ‘spirit’?”
Among royals, the existence of spirits was common knowledge. If anyone here might not have known, it would have been Holsa, the second son of a count’s household. Yet from his startled, keen reaction when I said the word, even he was clearly aware.
“Yes. A spirit,” I confirmed. “Most likely, your ancestors revered the twin-headed serpent who dwelt in these lands, a mid-tier water spirit, and honored him as a god. But the title of god is a name your forebears bestowed. Whether he is truly a deity in the metaphysical sense is another matter entirely.”
Aleis’s eyes widened at that, but the awe and respect he held for Futamata did not waver in the least. It was reasonable, really. Just because we were on familiar terms with a handful of spirits didn’t exactly mean the rest of the world saw them every day. For most people, an encounter like this was once-in-a-lifetime.
The power spirits wielded was overwhelming in scope and subtlety alike, no less than divine from a human perspective.
At our place, we mostly use them for cleaning and brewing sake, though.
Huh. Maybe I should show Zeno some appreciation once in a while?
Eh, he gets his attendant’s salary on schedule. That counts.
“I-I see… When you put it that way, it certainly seems possible,” Aleis managed, voice unsteady. “Regardless, it doesn’t change the fact that this venerable being is our guardian.”
He hugged Futamata closer with trembling arms, as if shielding him from me. Unfortunately for the prince’s pride, Futamata was staring, unblinking, at Princess Lysonna. Clearly, the serpent preferred the embrace of a beautiful woman to that of a beautiful man.
I felt a flicker of sympathy like watching a one-sided crush in real time. However, for what I needed to address next, Futamata’s preference was actually convenient. As I drew breath to guide the conversation toward the Saintess topic—
“Your Highness Aleis!” Holsa burst out, eyes flashing with sudden clarity. “Just now, Prince Cecil said the Serpent God sought a contract with Her Highness Bertia, the Crown Princess Consort. In that case, doesn’t it mean Her Highness is the Saintess—”
“Hold it,” I cut in quickly. Holsa’s eyes were glittering with brewing celebration. I had to shut it down before balloons and confetti filled the room. A premature canonization would only make the correction messier. “As I said, we refused.”
“W-Why refuse?!” he protested, aghast. “She was chosen by the Serpent God!”
He looked at me like I’d just spurned a miracle.
“As I mentioned, my wife is already contracted to a high-ranking spirit. So am I.” I smiled pleasantly. “If we tried to add another, there would be… jealousy. The destructive kind. Oh, and our contracts with high-ranking spirits are a state secret in Alphasta. Only a handful know. So you won’t be telling anyone, will you?”
I kept smiling, but a hint of pressure sharpened my gaze, my expression politely asking, “You do understand what happens if you break that promise, don’t you?”
“O-Of course. We would never betray the trust you’ve shown us by sharing something so important,” Aleis said, nodding hurriedly.
“Neither would I,” Lysonna added, the vow firm despite the tremor in her voice.