That aside, Kunon wasn’t really a playboy. He was not cut from the same cloth as Illiam.
“Phew, that was close,” Mirika whispered as she started walking.
Just a little longer, and everything would work out. What she needed now was time.
As long as no one made a direct move against her, she would be fine.
A few days later, Mirika’s elder sister, Fourth Princess Everille, came at her head-on.
“I’ll get straight to the point. Break things off with your fiancé.”
She had called Mirika to a restaurant in the city outside of the castle. They were having a meal, one-on-one, even though Everille had never so much as said a proper hello to Mirika inside the palace.
As they spoke, Mirika paid careful attention to every detail of their conversation. And then, as dessert arrived and the end was finally in sight, Everille struck.
Break things off with your fiancé.
This woman was a bit of a nuisance. Even though she had already moved out of the castle and married into the Marquess Kyegh’s family… No, perhaps that was why. The palace wasn’t her home court anymore, so she could afford to be a bit more reckless.
The ambitious Marquess Kyegh and the equally ambitious Everille—together they made a couple with very lofty aspirations. But it probably wasn’t the throne they were aiming for—no, they had their sights set on something even better.
For instance, supposing they could get close to the much-rumored up-and-coming sorcerer Kunon… And then, if they snuggled up to and supported the next candidates for the throne—the first and second princes—and their chosen candidate became king, well…
In short, they wanted either to be second-in-command or in a position where they could enjoy the spoils.
“I have no reason to break off my engagement.”
“My, my. What’s this? You’re talking back to me?”
“Let me ask you something, Sister. What would I say to His Majesty? That I want to break up with my fiancé because Sister Everille told me to? Or perhaps I should tell him it was the Marquess Kyegh’s idea?”
“……”
“I’m sure you know this, but I can’t break off my engagement without a suitable reason. It was established by order of the king.”
Quill and some of her other older siblings had enough connections and influence to dissolve it, which is what made them troublesome. But Everille, who lived outside of the castle, had to use other methods.
In fact, Mirika had no obligation to comply with the orders of a sister who had moved out. But she didn’t want to stir up unnecessary discord, either.
And so she had accepted Everille’s invitation to dinner and avoided answering her demand with a flat-out refusal.
“A mere ninth princess shouldn’t get too cocky, don’t you think?”
“Pardon?”
“This is a private room I arranged for. Unless I call for it, nobody will come in.”
Then two men walked into what was supposed to be a one-on-one playing field. They were both large and well-built, wearing cloth coverings around their heads to obscure their facial features.
Everille must have summoned them with some kind of signal. And no matter how much Mirika hollered or kicked up a fuss, no one was going to come to her aid.
“Sister,” said Mirika.
Returning her sister’s reproachful scowl with an unparalleled ill humor, Everille stood.
“Oh, calm down,” she said. “They aren’t going to do anything violent to you. They’ll just tear off your clothes to make it look like they did.”
“You realize that would destroy my reputation, yes?”
Indeed, it was exactly because they weren’t inside the castle that her sister could use such a straightforward—not to mention, stupid—method.
“Well, I have to damage it a little if I want your engagement called off, don’t I? I don’t relish it, but you can blame yourself for being foolish enough to come here alone.”
With that, Everille left the room.
Mirika had come here alone, that was true. It was just as her sister said. If she hadn’t been by herself, however, Mirika was sure Everille had some sort of backup scheme in place.
“Please stay still. We’re going to tear your clothes, but we don’t wish to hurt you.”
While one of the men moved to block the exit, the other approached her slowly.
It seemed everything had been prearranged.
“Excuse me.” Mirika stood up. “Will you give my sister a message? Tell her—she owes me one.”
Then she pounced.
“Whoa!”
When the closer man shielded his face from the fork Mirika had just flung, she darted into his personal space.
“Ow—!”
She stabbed a knife into his thigh before slamming an elbow into the side of his head.
“Wha…?!”
The man standing in the doorway was shaken. The sight of a beautiful young girl—a princess, no less—erupting so magnificently into violence was apparently too much for him to process.
But Mirika was also a student in the knighthood course and had real-world combat experience as an adventurer.
Having taken a single, tremendous strike to the skull, the man approaching Mirika collapsed and stopped moving. He seemed to be unconscious.
“That’s enough—wouldn’t you say? Withdraw before things get serious.”
She wasn’t going to make waves. She wouldn’t look into their identities. She wouldn’t even call the Marquess Kyegh into question for his culpability in the incident.
Mirika spoke to the man in the door—who was almost certainly a retainer for the Kyegh estate—so that the implications of her words would get through to him.
“…You have my sincere gratitude,” he said.
Apparently, he understood. Their plan had already failed.
“Give my regards to my sister, will you?”
With those few words, Mirika strolled brazenly from the room.
She had expected this scenario. But if there had been more men, or if the ones there had been better trained, or if they hadn’t gotten careless—what would have happened then?
Mirika was a little relieved that she had been able to fight her way out safely.
“Hey. All done?”
Walking out of the restaurant, Mirika climbed into the waiting carriage.
Inside, Sixth Prince Lyle was there to greet her.
She had needed someone with quick reflexes and decent strength. Who, at the same time, was rather well-versed in politics and, moreover, had some knowledge of the royal family’s unspoken rules and diplomacy.
Only Lyle met all those conditions, and so Mirika had brought him along as an escort.
She’d done the same thing as Everille and arranged it so that, had Mirika given a specific signal, her reliable big brother would have barged into the room.
Mirika would never walk into an obvious trap without a plan.
“Nothing happened?”
“Let’s just say…it’s fine.”
Despite her vagueness, Lyle seemed to get the message.
“Hmph. You shouldn’t leave loose ends untied.”
“I have to.”
Mirika didn’t know how many years in the future it would be, but she…or rather, she and Kunon, as husband and wife, would have to participate in high society.
An eye for an eye only resulted in more enemies. The scores she racked up now would only come back to her someday on a grander scale. But even if they didn’t, Mirika wasn’t going to change her mind.
She would be grateful if her restraint simply earned her a bit of respite.
If she made the foolhardy choice to make a fuss, her older siblings would have reason to find fault with her, and that was no good. They were looking for any reason to have her engagement called off, after all.
For the time being, it was best that nothing happened.
“Isn’t the situation already a bit hairy?” asked Lyle.
“Yes, you’re right…”
Somehow, she had managed to survive round one against the principal players on the field. But she didn’t know if she would be able to do the same in round two.
“I guess it’s about time.”
Preparations were more or less complete.
All that was left was for Mirika to solidify her resolve.
“There really has been a lot happening of late, hasn’t there?”
Though she didn’t want to, Mirika spent a while reliving all the memories in her head.
First her eldest brother, then the second eldest. She had even gotten into it with the fourth princess, who had been married off to another family. On top of that, she had been repeatedly hassled by members of the aristocracy that she barely knew.
Quill, Illiam, and their ilk had been the most formidable. The rest were just riffraff, at best. She barely even remembered them.
Kunon was really, really popular. The girls in Dirashik liked him, and his social net worth in his homeland of Hughlia was on the rise. Mirika was desperate just to keep up.
“It’s fortunate that Prince Rozsa was away.”
“…That’s for sure.”
Fourth Prince Rozsa was Mirika’s only brother who had shown a capacity for magic.
At present, due to some scheming between Quill, Illiam, and some of Mirika’s elder sisters, Rozsa was away on a bit of an expedition.
They were, in short, freezing him out. Because Rozsa had appeared to be the prince best positioned for the throne, the others had joined forces to keep him at a distance.
While he was gone, they apparently intended to clinch some trump cards for their own attempts at the crown. And it seemed their sights were set on Mirika and Kunon’s relationship.
Anyway—why waste time thinking about an opponent who wasn’t even here?
“Your Highness, it’s almost the appointed time.”
“Finally.”
Mirika stood up. She could continue reminiscing on all her recent difficulties, but the real moment of truth would undoubtedly be what came next.
Kunon, please give me courage.
With that silent plea, Mirika left her room.
“Excuse me.” Mirika opened the door after receiving permission to enter.
“Ah yes.”
Inside, an older man wearing a dressing gown sat at a table, drinking.
In the dim light, the man looked…well, like any man on the verge of being called “elderly.” Perhaps a little less physically fit than average.
“Come here,” he said.
“Yes.”
Unlike the utterly relaxed old man, Mirika was practically shaking in her boots—she hid that, however, by purposely projecting a sense of calm.
This man was the reigning king of their country, Guorios Hughlia.
Mirika had been inside His Majesty’s private rooms three times in her life.
The first was very shortly after her birth. The second was when the king congratulated her for starting school. The third time—was right now.
Seeing the space through more mature eyes, she thought it looked emptier than she remembered. Maybe the king didn’t like clutter.
“You’ve gotten prettier since I last saw you, Mirika. You’re the spitting image of your mother.”
“You honor me.”
They were parent and child, but her father was still the king of Hughlia. Getting an audience with the king wasn’t so simple, and unless she had a very good reason, Mirika didn’t really want to see him. In fact, she hadn’t expected to be summoned to his private quarters at all.
“I am deeply grateful for the opportunity to speak with you, Your Majesty.”