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WHEN Agnes and the others returned to the house, they found Philip in the garden. To be more precise, he was sitting on the lawn with his arms bound, cursing at the knight who seemed to be guarding him.
“Like I said, untie me at once! I’m royalty!”
The knight’s eyes were cold as he looked at Philip, who was bleating away pathetically, as he responded, “I heard you were stripped of your royal title. Now you’re the Earl of Doran.”
Philip, faced with this irrefutable fact, only grunted, clearly embarrassed.
“Furthermore, since you’re here in the Walled City as part of your punishment, I have been informed that your position is the same as that of any regular knight.”
Still, the knight was being quite polite, even if he and Philip were technically of the same status. It wasn’t clear if this was registering with Philip, though.
“Rubbish! I am NOT a knight!” he continued to argue. “Agnes?!”
Spotting her, Philip stopped arguing, got to his feet, and started trying to run over to her. Agnes was grateful that the knight grabbed Philip’s arm so that he didn’t get any closer to her.
“Agnes! Tell them to unbind me at once! Listen—”
As if to interrupt Philip, a star-shaped Chorioactis appeared with a loud pop on his shoulder. It was black on the outside but orange on the inside, making it quite noticeable. Next to it, a Leucocoprinus fragilissimus also appeared, flourishing its translucent white cap covered in radiating lemon-colored striations. Philip, covered in mushrooms and facing Claude’s icy glare, let out a pitiful shriek.
“Claude and Lady Agnes have rebuilt the grid over the hole in the wall. Thanks to their efforts, the threat level has been lowered, and the observation system reevaluated,” Armand explained, with Philip glancing at Agnes all the while.
He’s not listening, Agnes thought. With a death glare from Cesar, Philip straightened up in an instant.
“Although I have recovered, I do have some lingering health issues. So, I believe I will install Armand here as acting lord,” Cesar said.
Agnes knew that the Walled City was a royal territory and that Cesar was its current acting lord, but the original plan was for Claude to take over on account of the duke’s health. It came as a surprise to Agnes that he would name the crestless Armand as his successor instead.
Cesar smiled at Agnes and the others before returning his attention to Philip, stating, “The workload of the knights will be lessened considerably. In fact, we’re thinking of giving them some time off. You being here is meaningless, since you’d be of no use anyway. It’d be a waste of manpower. I was thinking of ending your punishment early. In which case, what’s your next move?”
“What do you mean?” Philip responded. “I’ll go home, of course, Your Grace. I’m the Earl of Doran. Soon, I’ll be the new Marquis of Barthet.”
Your Grace… So, he could be polite to Cesar, it seemed. Philip seemed to have cheered up over the news his punishment was over. Agnes was so sick of Philip by now that she found herself nitpicking his style of speech.
“When the current marquis dies, the region of Barthet will revert to a royal jurisdiction,” Claude interjected.
“What?! That’s stupid!” Philip screamed in frustration over Claude’s calm explanation.
“You, the son-in-law of the current marquis, were supposed to be his successor. But you committed an act of treason by attempting to sell a fiancée of the royal family to another country,” recounted Claude. “I feel bad for the marquis. His whole family could have been executed as traitors. Instead, their land will simply revert to us. It’s a testament to the marquis’s willingness to cooperate and make amends.”
“That wasn’t my fault…”
Was Philip seriously still sticking to that excuse? Agnes shot him a death glare, and Philip shut his mouth.
“Naturally, your title of Earl of Doran has also been revoked. You have served, essentially, as a knight here. But without territory of your own, you’ll have to work from now on if you want to support your wife,” Claude stated.
“A-A knight?!”
“Incidentally, your wife has submitted multiple requests for a divorce. The king has rejected them and said he will never see those papers signed,” continued Claude.
“No… She wouldn’t… Sabina…”
Agnes felt a twinge of pity for Philip, on the verge of being discarded by his wife, his supposed “soulmate”—even though she was the one he’d ditched Agnes for. Still, considering what Philip had done, this was only a natural progression of events. Anyway, it was all his own fault.
“You have two choices, Philip. The first is to go off and try to make a living on your own somehow. The other is to work here, as one of my knights,” interjected Armand.
“Your royal blood may come in handy, and if you reflect on your deeds and agree to work hard, you’ll be able to make a life for yourself in this city. If you work very hard, you might even work your way up to acting lord one day,” continued Claude.
Both proposals here were very kind. If Philip was willing to work, he wouldn’t starve or go destitute. Basically, they were offering him a steady job and security.
Philip had been on the brink of being formally executed for his crime. This was actually an extremely kind gesture from the royal family. But Philip didn’t seem to appreciate or acknowledge that. He turned pale, and began to tremble.
“Is that… Agnes, is that what you want?! You should help me!” Philip demanded.
Agnes heard everyone else suck in their breath in shock. Ciel, now in his kitten form, also growled protectively.
At that moment, a small, star-shaped Sphaeroborus stellatus grew on Philip’s arm, echoing with a loud pop as if in agreement and sprayed black viscous spheres onto his pink-stained clothes, which were gradually taking on a black polka dot pattern. A familiar ocher-brown Clitocybe acromelalga had also appeared on the tip of Philip’s nose, causing him to let out a loud scream.
Well, there was only one thing left for Agnes to do here. She shot Armand a look before she took a deep breath and not only grabbed hold of Claude’s arm, but wrapped both of hers around it, snuggled, and looked adoringly up at him.
“Claude, darling. Let’s leave this riff-raff and go and have some tea,” she crooned in an adoring tone. Modeling this performance after Sabina’s simpering, she reverted to her casual speech.
“I’d love to spend some alone time with you, too. But I have to clean up a few things here. Can you wait a little longer, love?” Claude beamed, stroking Agnes’s cheek, even as she stood there with her heart pounding.
“Oh, but I want you all to myself, see,” she insisted, gazing up at him with what she hoped were hearts in her eyes.
Was this flirting? Agnes felt like this was what flirting was. She wasn’t sure if she was doing it right or not. Her embarrassment was so evident, she felt like her face was on fire.
“And I want you all to myself, darling Agnes. My heart’s greatest treasure.” Claude’s honeyed words and melting gaze sent shivers down Agnes’s spine, but she managed to keep her simpering smile intact.
“Oh, I’m so glad to hear you say that, dearest. Hold me?” She reached for Claude’s hand where it stroked her cheek, trembling with utter shame.
“Of course,” he responded, kissing her fingertips.
She swallowed back a scream, and was rather impressed with herself. At this rate, death from embarrassment seemed imminent.
A loud pop interrupted the two, as if announcing that Agnes had reached her limit. The white, potato-like Hungarian Sweet Truffle, had grown like a big earring on Claude’s earlobe, making it a little distracting.