“Here! We’ve got to go inside. Please, we have to!” The king fervently tugged at Harold’s sleeve while pointing exaggeratedly at the door, much as an impatient five-year-old might.
Harold raised an eyebrow. “Haven’t you been to this store before? You seem more than familiar with the capital.”
“Yes, but Mariabel always had a protective spell cast around her stores, so I could never get inside. Look, I can finally see the door!” His eyes grew dewy with tears.
That would explain his shock. I almost began to pity him. I could relate to his persistent, one-sided love on an extremely personal level.
Harold glanced at me, deferring to my judgment. The king had his hands clasped as if in prayer now, his large body seeming at desperate odds with his puppylike quivering.
I extended my hand to him. “Shall we drop by?”
Despite the fine ornamentation of the store, it was open to the public, and we were free to enter as we wished. Even if our identities slipped, we could likely trust the staff to keep our secret.
He looked at me with open adulation. “Really?! Thank you!”
Openly ignoring my offer, he skipped inside ahead of us.
I stared blankly down at my open hand, grappling with the disappointment of my empty offer. A moment later, a second hand met my own—a far smaller one with an unmistakable elegance to it. I looked up and into Elizabeth’s opalescent eyes.
“I’d love to go inside with you, Vince.”
“Let us enter together, then, milady.”
I reverently accepted her hand, softly chuckling at the odd shift to our usual dynamic. She giggled, no doubt at the same novelty. I found myself dreaming of buying a matching set of something small and charming to commemorate our first date as proper lovers.
We stepped inside to find King Ricardo rushing about, eyes bloodshot as he bought virtually everything in sight. All thought of his cover as a bodyguard gone from his mind.
All the employees are servants of Mother’s house, so hopefully, he’s fine to let his cover slip a little… I hope. There may be others who worship Mother with the same fervor, after all.
“Oh, I wish I could buy this whole store!” the Nievan king muttered to himself. “Wait… You have to pay to have your hedges trimmed into official Count Marsh Mallow shapes?! Why don’t they have international service?!”
“Why not simply purchase a catalog for today?” Harold suggested coolly. “You would surely be able to come later for further shopping.”
“Right… I have free rein for this entire week! I can come again tomorrow and the day after! You’ve got one hell of a head on your shoulders, staying cool and collected in a place like this!”
Harold bowed. “You flatter me.”
“You really should work for m—”
“Absolutely not.”
From the rapidity of the response, I felt sure King Ricardo wouldn’t succeed in swaying him.
Elizabeth and I perused the section for new releases. Small sculptures and everyday objects with character motifs comprised the bulk of the collection last time, but it was significantly different this time. I could understand the custom monocles or other accessories, but there was a wealth of shirts, shawls, and other articles of clothing that practically demanded diehard fans shell out for them.
I watched as King Ricardo picked up a pair of tinted glasses with trembling hands, muttering about how, with them, he could feel Mother’s presence at all hours of the day or something to that effect. It was frankly unsettling, and I didn’t want to know if it worked like that.
“What do you think of this, Vince? Perhaps you could wear it tomorrow?”
Elizabeth’s quiet voice freed me from my thoughts. I turned to find her eying a shirt, though thankfully not one of the full-decal ones. It had character motifs only about the hems and cuffs, and while the character was a flashy rabbit with a good deal of bedhead, it was modestly designed not to stand out too much.
She really wants me to wear this?
Before I could even consider it properly, she averted her eyes, blushing fiercely. “Y-You don’t have to if you don’t want to. We could only wear them at home in the future…”
Wait, she’d wear one as well? As in… matching outfits?!
“Of course! Let’s buy them,” I announced softly.
She squeezed my hand, proof that she’d wanted this for a while.
“Lady Lecia will be at the wedding, won’t she? We weren’t able to take her here during her studies, but perhaps she—or rather, she and Prince Malius could wear these matching pendants?”
The necklaces in question had a rabbit-ear motif. They were a tad on the cute side, but I thought Prince Malius would be willing to consider it—if anything, I was more worried for Leohardt’s reaction to the sight.
Ah, well. He’s trying to wean himself off of his brother, anyway.
“I think they would look quite charming,” I replied.
“Oh, and look at this!”
She pointed at the limited-edition section, at the top of which read “The Return of a Decade-Old Legend! Phantom Thief Mewlman!” The shelf was packed with picture books framed by colorful popouts.
Right, Mother designed him, too.
It was a tale of a handsome thief in a silk top hat and cloak who traveled the world stealing treasures for some reason or another. He was secretly a cait sidhe in disguise, and whenever he got in trouble, he transformed into a cat and slipped away. Elizabeth loved those picture books as a child.
I squinted at the character on the cover, a purple-furred cat that walked about on its hind legs.
That isn’t Plum, is it?
“So Her Majesty didn’t forget about Lord Plum, after all,” Elizabeth muttered at the book in her hands.
“It would seem so.”
If Mother had gone through the full process of another run of Mewlman merchandise, she and Father must have known Plum’s seal was beginning to weaken. They knew Plum was growing stronger and would soon be freed, begging the question of why they did nothing to stop it. Granted, House Weissworth greatly emphasized self-sufficiency, but a second possibility came to mind.
“Her Majesty clearly found Lord Plum to be rather charming, didn’t she?” Elizabeth wondered aloud.
I nodded. She likely couldn’t bear to keep the little scamp sealed away any longer.
We called an employee over to pay, and while their eyes widened in shock at the sight of us, they didn’t breathe a word. They respected that we were there incognito.
Meanwhile, King Ricardo was chuckling over the catalogs he’d bought. It was the kind third-party sellers ordered from instead of the usual variety, and there was a stack of at least a dozen in his arms.
“I won’t be getting any sleep tonight,” he chuckled to himself.
At least he’s pleased with his findings.