Futamata, utterly without shame, wriggled in shy little waves as if basking in praise. No one is praising you, I told him with my eyes. They are, in fact, appalled.
“So,” I continued smoothly, “I negotiated with Futamata. In exchange for receiving this nihonshu at regular intervals, he’ll extend his protection to you. The public-facing arrangement is simple. Our kingdom will sell top-grade nihonshu to Princess Lysonna as Bertia’s friend, and Her Highness will offer it to the Guardian as a votive. He grants protection, and everyone’s happy. I do recommend keeping the specifics of the offering discreet. Best not to advertise that the Guardian likes his cup topped up.”
“…”
All three Seahealby nobles pressed their fingers to their temples, like sailors weathering a sudden squall. It was understandable.
From my side, the benefits were tidy: Alphasta would earn goodwill and an enduring tie with Seahealby, plus steady export revenue from the sake. Most importantly, Lysonna’s position would stabilize, making Bertia happy.
From their side, they would gain the strongest card in Seahealby’s deck: a recognized Saintess and the Serpent God’s protection, consolidating the court and quieting dissent. Lysonna would secure her footing in her new home, and her motherland would enjoy warmer relations as the country that sent a Saintess in marriage.
For Seahealby as a nation, safer seas under the guardian’s watch. For the people, a living legend—Serpent God and Saintess—comes true.
For Futamata, regular sake and the attention of a beautiful woman.
I sympathized with the headache, truly. No one would want to admit that a cornerstone of national security ran on booze and beauty.
In short, everyone walked away happy. At least everyone outside of Prince Ramtak’s camp.
“I don’t want to understand this, but I do. And I understand how much it benefits us.” Aleis exhaled through his nose. “If there’s a downside, it’s that we’ll owe you, Prince Cecil, more than we can repay.”
“You call that a downside,” I said mildly, “but Seahealby was never in a position to pick a fight with Alphasta to begin with, was it?”
Aleis bit his lip, frustration tightening his jaw. He didn’t argue. He knew it was true and that snapping at me here would do him no good. If it were Prince Ramtak in his place, he would have raged himself hoarse. The ability to smother one’s emotions at a moment like this was an essential royal art.
Satisfied by his restraint, I went on.
“Besides, I have a weakness: my wife. She treasures her friends and treats people equally, regardless of rank. If I ever mistreated one of her friends, she’d confront me in tears.” I smiled, unashamed. “So, as long as Princess Lysonna stays close with Tia and Seahealby cherishes her, I can’t lay a hand on you.”
Anyone close to me knows Bertia is my soft spot. It’s obvious if you spend five minutes watching us. At the same time, everyone understands that threatening her touches my reverse scale, and very few are foolish enough to try.
Aleis and Lysonna were from another land; they hadn’t had many chances to see us together. So I’d chosen to spell out my weakness and the simplest way to stay on my good side.
By doing this, I all but guarantee that Lysonna will keep valuing Bertia as a friend more than ever, even, and that Seahealby will have every incentive to honor Lysonna precisely because she’s tied to Bertia. And if, by some unlikely twist, that novel Tia read comes to pass and relations sour between Aleis and Lysonna, he still won’t be able to cast her aside. Not without crossing me.
“In other words, as long as I cherish Lysonna, we can remain equals, friends, yes? Ah, of course, even without such a perk, I love my wife. I would cherish her regardless.”
“That’s exactly it.”
At the moment Aleis said “I love my wife,” Lysonna, who had been watching him with lingering worry, flushed a delicate pink. They really have become a perfectly affectionate couple.
“It almost sounds too good to be true,” Aleis murmured.
“It’s only ‘too good’ for your side,” I replied. “The man who dared covet my wife will receive what he’s due.”
“I see. So, because we stand on your side, we secure a favorable position. If we were your enemies, we’d be thoroughly eliminated.” He exhaled, tension unwinding from his shoulders. “I’m newly grateful not to be your foe. And I owe sincere thanks to Princess Consort Bertia for befriending my wife.”
Now that he finally trusted me, Aleis’s expression softened.
“So, how do we cooperate?” he asked.
“Here’s the plan. At the upcoming party, Prince Ramtak will almost certainly make his move. We’ll use that timing to expose him publicly and condemn him. And Princess Lysonna will form a contract with Futamata and become the Saintess. I won’t budge on this point. By declaring Princess Lysonna the Saintess, we erase the rumor that Tia might be one, and your motherland, Umyuve, will be seen in a better light, which drastically lowers the chances of conflict between Seahealby and Umyuve.”
At the word Saintess, Lysonna jolted, shoulders trembling. But when she realized that taking on this role would aid Aleis, strengthen ties between her birth country and her new home, and steady the realm, she clenched her fists, banishing hesitation with a sharp shake of her head. Then she met my eyes head-on, resolution bright in her gaze.
“I understand. I humbly accept this duty. As Saintess, I will serve Lord Futamata with all my heart.”
Futamata, who’d been sulking after the sake was pulled away, perked up the moment he heard that a beautiful woman would be serving him. He tried to dive straight into her chest, only to be promptly caught again by Aleis.
The grip was not what I’d call gentle.
Prince Aleis, my friend, weren’t you the one who panicked and snatched him away from me when I squeezed his neck?
Well, no matter. Given Futamata’s tendency to get carried away, this rougher handling actually suits him.
“Crown Prince Aleis, you seem to be getting the hang of dealing with Futamata,” I observed.
“Eh? Ah! Well, that is—”
“A little roughness works,” I said lightly. “Someone has to be able to stop him when he acts out. And if you do squeeze his neck a bit, the magnanimous Lord Futamata won’t take offense. If he does get unreasonable or starts rampaging and won’t stop, I’ll dispatch one of our high-ranking spirits.”
“Hss?!”
At the words “dispatch a high-ranking spirit,” Futamata straightened—well, his necks straightened—like a soldier at inspection, doing his best impression of “I am a very well-behaved spirit.”
Kuro’s training is paying off, I mused.
“Haha, that’s reassuring,” Aleis said, finally laughing. “If it becomes necessary, we’ll gladly accept the help.”
Watching me wrangle Futamata must have loosened whatever was left of his hesitation. Lysonna and Holsa still seemed uncertain about the appropriate distance and demeanor around the serpent, but they’d adapt soon enough.
“Count on it,” I said. “Now, about what’s next: the public condemnation at the party is already set. At your discretion, please inform anyone who should be told in advance. Also, regarding Princess Lysonna’s appointment as Saintess, handle the necessary groundwork. If any quiet arrangements are required because of that, I’ll rely on you.”
“It sounds like we’re about to become very busy,” Aleis replied. “But once this is done, we’ll be able to move more freely than before. We’ll work at it with everything we have.”
“Appreciate it. I’ll do my part too, and I’ll keep gathering solid evidence.”
After that, we compared notes on our respective roles, made several fine adjustments, and each of us turned toward the preparations for the day to come.