Beneath the Surviving Princess's Joyful Facade - Chapter 73

Today, for some reason, he came a bit early. Entering the bedroom before noon, he announced, “I might not be able to come later because I’ll be busy in the evening. So I dropped by for a bit.”

She was glad to see him and grateful for the advance notice. She smiled bashfully, her smile becoming more natural again over time.

“Stay in the west wing on the third floor today. There will be a lot of people around, and it might be dangerous,” he advised before leaving the bedroom, assuring her that Cullen would keep watch.

Miesa was in a good mood. He was becoming more lenient again.

Though they no longer slept together at night, he had recently started visiting her every evening, sitting by her bedside and chatting until she fell asleep.

Her speech had also improved. If it had taken two weeks for her tongue to stiffen, it had taken only a few days for it to loosen again.

“……”

Miesa sat crouched in the hallway, tightly clutching a silver coin, scraping the floor.

She still felt an undercurrent of anxiety. While she sometimes longed for his warm presence, there was also a vague fear. Nevertheless, talking was undoubtedly better than not talking at all. So, she resolved to have a proper conversation with him the following evening.

Lost in these thoughts, Gella, who was crouched beside her, asked, “Did you get the white coin to use for something like this?”

[White], [Circle], [No].

“Silver coin,” Miesa corrected, using her hand to signal as she spoke. It was challenging for Gella to follow both her hand signals and speech.

“Baby madam, please do one at a time. It’s hard to watch and listen at the same time,” Gella complained.

Just as Miesa was about to respond, she noticed Cullen approaching from the end of the hallway. She smiled warmly, her nose crinkling with pleasure at the sight of him, having shared an outing together recently.

“…Young madam,” Cullen greeted her with a sympathetic look before turning to Gella, “Was the last outing the only one? Are there no more planned?”

“I don’t know. The young master would know,” Gella replied curtly.

“…I see,” Cullen said, hesitating slightly.

“Don’t ask me anything,” Gella snapped.

But back in the room, she looked regretful.

“Do you think he noticed anything?” she wondered aloud.

“I don’t know,” Miesa replied.

Aside from the fact that Gella had accompanied her, there shouldn’t have been any clues for Cullen to pick up on during the outing. But if Cullen had noticed and was pretending not to, Miesa felt she couldn’t keep up the act any longer. She silently rolled the silver coin in her hand.

“Too bad. The edge is a bit worn,” she muttered.

Still, she took a peculiar pride in the fact that any marks on the coin were made by her. She knew this thought wasn’t entirely normal and said something else to distract herself.

“It’s fascinating. Even though it’s so hard, it gets scratched,” she remarked.

“Young madam, you haven’t been using that noble speech lately,” Gella noted.

“I can still do it. Why? Do you prefer it?” Miesa asked.

Gella giggled and shook her head, “No. It’s not up to me. You should speak however you’re comfortable.”

“Okay.”

Curious, Gella cautiously asked, “Which way of speaking is more comfortable for you? Both seem very natural.”

“This way, the relaxed way. It sounds most like the voice in my head,” Miesa explained.

“Oh, really? It’s interesting because it sounds like a child’s speech,” Gella commented.

“I can do anything though. ‘Eirik’s manner of speaking isn’t difficult for me. I hear it every day,’” Miesa mimicked.

“Wow. Now you can imitate the speech while changing the content? You used to just repeat the same words,” Gella marveled.

The two of them chatted and laughed together for a long while.

“In light of my aged and frail state, I have decided to pass on my title to Eirik,” the Margrave declared, his voice firm amidst the flickering candlelight that illuminated the dim meeting hall. It was the first time in years that he had groomed his beard, now standing resolute before his fourteen vassals.

“From now on, regard Eirik as the head of House Cladnier. The transfer of the Margrave title will commence immediately.”

“……”

Some vassals rose without hesitation, placing their right fists over their hearts and reciting the oath of loyalty.

The representatives of two houses, who rose slowly and hesitantly, were likely neutral, but the real issue was with Eirik’s uncle and the three vassals who glared at him, their fists clenched.

Eirik glanced at Emmerich’s father, Khalid Cladnier, who was seething with rage. Rising slowly, Eirik recited a brief oath of response and then, with a relaxed smile, spoke.

“So, should I take it that my uncle and the three houses currently seated do not welcome my succession?”

Khalid, as well as Eirik’s father, narrowed their eyes at this remark.

“House Cladnier cannot harbor those with differing intentions. Those who have lived longer than I surely understand this,” Eirik stated firmly.

Silence enveloped the hall. It was Khalid’s gruff voice that broke it.

“Listen, everyone. Is wanting to hear more about this sudden succession a mistake grave enough to be cast out from the family?”

Ignoring Eirik, Khalid turned to the other vassals, “Or were the other representatives informed beforehand? How could you pledge your loyalty so quickly?”

“Lord Khalid Cladnier, I did not realize you were so adept at such crafty speech. I have also learned that to sow division, one must start with such insinuations,” Eirik responded coolly.

Khalid’s face contorted at Eirik’s words.

Having been most proactive about the marriage alliance with House Crispin, Khalid was not particularly cunning. Rather, his limited vision and poor situational awareness often led him to exacerbate problems out of misguided loyalty to the family. Hearing Eirik’s words, he began trembling as if deeply insulted.

Eirik continued, a serene smile on his face, “Let’s discuss this matter one by one. As the only son of the former Margrave, it is natural for me to inherit the title unless there are significant disqualifications. Lord Khalid Cladnier, did you not know that I was named the young lord at the age of ten, which meant the succession would occur naturally should anything happen to the head of the house?”

“You call me a schemer and now treat me like a child,” Khalid spat, his voice trembling along with his beard. “Fine. Let’s talk about disqualifications. Even if we accept you, there is another who clearly cannot fulfill their role properly. How do you explain that?”

Eirik had expected the mention of Miesa. In a calm voice, he replied, “Wasn’t the proposed marriage with House Crispin pushed by you, Lord Khalid, not a scheme of rebellion? Do you think House Crispin possesses the capability to stand as equals with us?”

“……”

Even disregarding the individual incompetence of the Marquis of Crispin, the Cladniers, who frequently faced life-and-death situations at the border, would never recognize the Crispin family, who merely maintained order in the capital. They reluctantly accepted them as one of the three pillars.

“We must lead the charge. From what I’ve seen, we should be grateful if House Crispin can even serve as mere support. Do you wish to place such incapable allies at the forefront and jeopardize our grand plans?”

Unfortunately, Khalid wasn’t hearing Eirik’s reasoning. If he were the type to listen, he wouldn’t have earned the nickname “blockhead.”

“Isn’t it disgraceful for our family? To serve a woman of unsound mind as mistress?”

“I am not asking for reverence. Miesa Cladnier only needs a peaceful life as the wife of the head of the house. The role of the lady of the house will be filled by someone from a collateral branch,” Eirik explained.

At this, glances were exchanged among those with daughters. Attention briefly shifted away from Miesa.

It would have been better if the conversation had ended there. However, among the typically reserved border families, there was always someone who couldn’t hold their tongue.

“The young master’s wife, Lady Mietta—”

“It’s Miesa,” Eirik corrected, his father’s face twitching slightly in the background. But Eirik’s next words made him frown even more.

“Lady Miesa nearly being poisoned gave us leverage over Crispin. In a way, that’s also thanks to her, isn’t it?”

“Will you then claim that her digging up the garden was a scientific experiment? That her excavation efforts for the reservoir should be mimicked?” a supporter of Khalid interjected, having apparently heard about the garden incident during the rainy season. The hall quickly grew noisy.

Eirik tapped his fingers on the table, and the room gradually fell silent, save for Khalid’s enraged voice.

“I refuse to accept this. I cannot acknowledge this disgrace to House Cladnier.”

Eirik repeatedly reminded himself not to respond emotionally. However, he couldn’t completely hide the anger boiling inside him.

“You must have heard from your children or brothers in the Knights’ Council about our recent movements,” he stated coldly.

Seeing Khalid’s clueless expression, Eirik knew that Emmerich would have a tough time tomorrow. With a cold sneer, he declared, “We are preparing for a great cause. If you cannot trust my decisions and judgment, then return to your lands. I promise there will be no repercussions other than not being recognized as vassals.”

“……”

“Even if all of you leave, I and the Knights will stand firm for Cladis. Remember, the names of the houses that leave now will forever be recorded. If we succeed, you’ll be seen as cowardly fugitives; if we fail, as owardly traitors.”