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I’VE been working for Prince Dominic ever since and have found that his aides are more or less similar to myself. We’re all very capable—and flawed.
“Rickman, you know Lord Gerald, don’t you? Drewett’s second son, the Bloody Major.”
“Y-Y-Yes. H-H-His w-w-wife is the second eldest d-d-daughter of Longhurst.”
The prince’s tasks for me are always unexpected and strange, yet after two years, I’d concluded that he is an incredibly good boss. Even when he buries me with a mountain of unintelligible, moth-eaten documents from Longhurst.
“I want all points of uncertainty and doubt to be investigated and corrected. Viscountess Noel will help you.”
“I-I-I see. I can—”
“You’ll be working at Lord Gerald’s office tomorrow, so have all your questions ready by then!”
“T-T-Tomorrow?!”
Why? Why?!
I’d heard of Viscount Noel. I’d seen him from afar when we were both enrolled in magic school, the last time about six years previous. And that was all. We never met face-to-face. Like Prince Dominic, he was one of the untouchables.
Whenever I spotted him, Wendy was usually nearby. Or rather, whenever I turned at the sound of her yelling, Viscount Noel happened to be there too.
His blue gaze was always frighteningly cold. It glittered with so much magical prowess that my legs trembled. That he dislikes her is obvious, right? Is she going to be all right? I wondered. Their relationship was none of my business but worried me nonetheless.
He was beautiful, so much so that the girls acted crazed. His slender yet well-proportioned body drew the eye, though he always appeared grumpy with a deep frown on his face. The frown deepened when he had to talk to girls, especially Wendy, and only grew worse over the years, or so I thought.
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“THIS is Viscount Noel’s wife, Abigail Noel. Hope you can work well together.” Finally, the prince introduced me to her alongside his closest aide, McGregor.
She’s so tiny! was my first thought. Her head is small, and with her slim frame, she looks so petite. She has lustrous, vibrant red hair; childlike but pretty features; and golden eyes that shine like a bonfire at midnight. She resembles an expensive doll with an enigmatic smile.
Prince Dominic had regaled us with stories of how his stubborn senior dotes on her, telling them so often that everyone in our office knows about it. Seeing her beauty, I could understand why he does.
And that wasn’t all.
Whoa! The permanent scowl on the viscount’s face vanished the instant his young wife looked up at him! Whoaaa, who is this man? He looks so foreign! Who is he?! That’s scary!
As much as the transformation in Viscount Noel shocked me, nothing was more surprising than the lady’s absolute genius. I’ve always prided myself on my sharp mind, yet her intelligence is so staggering that I went past envy and straight into awe.
The records of Longhurst’s management, spanning over a decade, were in extreme disarray and rife with incomprehensible lists of numbers. And she managed to smoothly piece them all together, bit by bit, teasing out information. Commodity types, regional production data, annual fluctuations therein, results of policy implementation, and more.
The only thing she doesn’t understand is why we can’t do the same.
“Th-Th-This village sent a shipment of t-tomatoes to the capital in this particular year, b-b-but the price seems too high for tomatoes. Is there an e-error?”
“They wrote it wrong. It was strawberries, not tomatoes. Oh, they did the figures wrong too.” Without even a glance at the other documents, the lady corrected the sums with a confident hand.
Puzzled at first, I referenced related material and redid the calculations. The lady was right. Such exchanges happened again and again, and I soon grew accustomed to them, simply accepting her revisions without question.
But one thing niggled at me. The price still seemed too high for strawberries. “M-M-Maybe they’re apricot strawberries,” I hazarded. “Th-Th-That would make sense. Those are d-delicious, right? A-And rare too.”
The species is unique to Longhurst and often used as an offering. That someone from the capital had purchased apricot strawberries instead of a bunch of tomatoes was more plausible. I’d tried one once. His Highness gave it to me. I ate just one and will never forget that sweetness, that rich fragrance and fresh crispy texture.
“Apricot strawberries…?” The lady tilted her head in confusion and blinked. “I’ve never had those before. The ones in this ledger are dew strawberries. Do you like those, Miss Rickman?”
“Yes, s-s-strawberries are my f-favori— Wait, I-I-I’ve never had those before. Huh? D-Dew strawberries? Y-You mean, the ones with the thorns?”
Dew strawberries grow on wild, sharp-spiked bushes, and despite their name, the tiny, thumbnail-sized fruits are nothing like strawberries. And they’re certainly not a crop anybody wants to grow.
Dew strawberries? Selling for that price? Ridiculous.
“Fox bees live near this village and… Oh!” She abruptly turned to Viscount Noel as if asking his approval.
Fox bees are ferocious insect monsters said to live near water sources deep in the mountains. I’d never heard of them building nests close to human settlements, and even if they did, they’d be exterminated immediately.
“Fox bees?” I asked, and the lady twisted back to me, golden eyes sparkling. Oh, she’s cute.
“Do you know of them, Miss Rickman?! Fox bees love the pollen from dew strawberry flowers! That’s why they live peacefully there!” The bees remain docile and don’t attack the village, she explained, because of its proximity to the dew strawberries. And the more abundant the plants, the more dedicated the bees become in harvesting them, resulting in bigger and sweeter fruit.
How does she know all this?! Had the village passed off dew strawberries as apricot strawberries on the market?! They weren’t the typical dew strawberries, I supposed, yet wasn’t that still questionable?!
The lady is a genius to have realized the connection. I’m glad I didn’t tell her I’m considered intelligent; that would have been so embarrassing.
She’s smart and cute, and although their marriage was arranged, the popular Viscount Noel adores her. She lives in a totally different world from me, so I know I shouldn’t compare myself to her. That said, I can’t help but think it’s a waste that she doesn’t have more avenues to showcase her talents.
I knew I shouldn’t, but I couldn’t stop myself from commenting as much, maybe because I’m envious after all.