Beneath the Surviving Princess's Joyful Facade - Chapter 86

“Madam, the embroidery will be done in white,” Gella said.

“Huh? Not in yellow and green?”

“I’ve just been told, up until a moment ago, that putting those colors on a white dress would look far too strange,” Gella explained.

“Yes, it wouldn’t be good if it looked too strange,” Miesa nodded in agreement.

Gella added another point, “If we use floral patterns, the scars won’t be well concealed. So we’ll use designs similar to vines and leaves instead.”

“It wouldn’t do if the scars aren’t well hidden. Thank you, Gella.”

“You’re welcome.”

Later, the maid who had burst into tears would add a few stitches. Then it would truly be a collaborative effort by ‘several’ maids.

“If the final result isn’t to your liking, we can always have it redone later,” Gella offered.

“No, the maids have their own work to do.”

Miesa remembered when she had once dug up the garden and the gardener had been displeased. Eirik had mentioned that the gardener might not like it. She realized that she shouldn’t treat the servants as if they were there to do her bidding at all times.

However, Gella had a different perspective.

“Well, the servants can take a bit longer to mend their own clothes’ seams. Helping the lady of the house is important.”

“I am the lady of the house, but…”

A lady who does nothing. A disgrace to the family. Wanting to escape from these unpleasant thoughts, Miesa looked for her treasure box.

“Can you get the box for me? I want to play.”

“Sure. Would you like to play the candy shop game?”

Gella was a wonderful playmate, sometimes even teaching her about the world.

“Why did the price suddenly go up when it was 40 Parses just yesterday?”

To make the daily game less monotonous, Gella occasionally acted as a greedy shopkeeper or complained about the shop going under. Today, as Miesa widened her eyes, Gella scoffed.

“Do you have any idea how much the price of flour has risen? You really don’t know anything about the world,” Gella said, playing her part.

“No… Yes, I don’t know much about the world. But why did the price of flour go up?” she asked.

“Well, if the harvest is poor… or there could be various reasons. Anyway, when one place raises prices, others follow.”

“So what do poor people do?” Miesa inquired.

“Oh, poor people can’t afford flour. They make do with thin gruel, gathering whatever they can from the fields and boiling it…”

***

“Madam has been staying in her bedroom all the time. It seems she’s uneasy about moving around the mansion,” Gella remarked softly to Eirik.

“Ah, I see.”

It was then that Eirik thought of taking Miesa for a walk.

“Today is impossible, but tomorrow would be good. I’ll just take a day off,” he decided.

Eirik had been in contact with nobles known for their moderate views, doing so discreetly to avoid ruffling the king’s feathers.

That’s why he was preparing to attend a gathering he had no interest in. For today’s gathering, he planned to go with Duke Salachez instead of his wife.

Adjusting his attire, Eirik instructed Gella, “I’ll be late tonight, so please tell my wife she should go to bed early.”

Then Eirik called Cullen to give him specific instructions for the next day.

The official reason for the gathering was to discuss a betrothal between families, but in truth, everyone was there to gather information and gauge each other’s intentions ahead of the banquet three days later. The focus of attention was supposed to be the new head of the Cladnier family. However,

“Is there a particular reason for your attire?”

As Eirik entered, the flamboyant attire of Duke Salachez caught everyone’s eye. The color combination of his vest and pants under the peacock-like cape was strikingly mismatched, even prompting Eirik, who normally paid little attention to others’ clothing, to comment.

“Damn, I wondered why everyone was staring,” Duke Salachez muttered.

“You could start by removing the cape,” Eirik suggested.

Eirik had thought that Duke Salachez’s complaints about being looked down upon by the staff were just paranoia. But seeing the Duke leave the house in such attire without anyone stopping him, Eirik realized the Duke’s suspicions were justified.

“Where do you get your clothes made, Margrave?” Duke Salachez asked, quickly handing his cape to a servant.

Eirik’s attire, with its understated colors, luxurious fabric, and meticulous tailoring, stood out without any need for embellishment.

“Embarrassingly, I still rely on my mother’s help,” Eirik replied.

“Well, it’s understandable since you can’t get much help from your wife,” Duke Salachez remarked plainly. From his perspective, he himself was the most pitiable person, leaving little room for him to feel sympathy for others.

“Could you introduce me to your tailor? I have an issue with my outfit for the banquet,” he asked.

“Only three days remain, but I suppose it can be arranged. Our preparations are complete,” Eirik responded.

With that, they went to find Count Raviate, the host of the gathering.

Count Raviate, a leading figure among the moderate nobles, had been close to Eirik’s father, the former Margrave. It was said that the Raviate family was taking a daughter from another moderate Viscount family as a bride for their second son. When Eirik approached to offer congratulations, the Count’s face lit up.

“It’s an honor to have the new Margrave here. I’m honored to be the first to extend my congratulations,” the Count said warmly.

“The succession was hasty due to my father’s illness, so we kept it quiet.”

“Yes, I heard. How is your father?”

After brief and appropriate exchanges of greetings, Eirik introduced Duke Salachez.

“Congratulations. I am Doid of House Salachez,” the Duke said courteously.

Count Raviate, noticing Eirik’s glance, responded politely, “It’s a pleasure to have Your Grace with us.”

After a brief and awkward silence, Eirik politely excused himself and the Duke, leading him away.

“Ah, Margrave, fancy meeting you here,” a voice called out. It was Emmerich.

Raising an eyebrow, Eirik introduced his cousin to the Duke and exchanged brief pleasantries, using hand signals to communicate subtly.

“You arrived early. [Why], [here],” Eirik signaled.

“I know, right? See you later. [Father],” Emmerich replied.

Eirik understood. Emmerich’s father, still holding onto aspirations for the position of Margrave, had sent his son to this gathering to network. Not wanting to draw attention to himself, Emmerich’s father had stayed away, sending only his son.

Watching Emmerich follow a lady, Eirik couldn’t help but smirk.

As Eirik and Duke Salachez stood together, various families approached with greetings. Most were friendly and cautious, probing for information.

Time passed with endless small talk and laughter.

There were seven people Eirik needed to converse with today, and three others with whom he needed to arrange separate meetings. He engaged in conversations with maximum cordiality, dropping subtle hints to those he needed to follow up with individually.

“I believe that book might be in our library. I’ll have a servant send it to your home,” Eirik offered to one noble.

“My father knows someone in the Takarel region. I’ll see if we can get in touch,” he told another.

Lastly, Eirik mentioned, “We might have a few bottles of Cladatella in our cellar. I’ll send some your way.”

Pointing to Duke Salachez, he added with a smile, “The Duke and I shared some last time. He found it quite to his taste, didn’t you, Your Grace?”

Eirik smoothly included Duke Salachez in the conversation. The Duke, impressed by Eirik’s skill, quickly nodded in agreement.

“I thought you lacked social skills like I do. It turns out, when you set your mind to it, you’re quite capable,” remarked Duke Salachez, shaking his head in admiration as they took a break in the garden.

“You flatter me,” Eirik replied, accepting the cigar Duke Salachez offered. Though he didn’t enjoy smoking, he pretended to out of politeness.

“No need if you’re not going to smoke it,” the Duke quickly noticed, waving his hand dismissively. Leading Eirik back to the drawing room, he lowered his voice and asked discreetly, “Did you capture all your prey today?”

“Hard to say,” Eirik responded ambiguously, raising a corner of his mouth as he looked at Duke Salachez. He then turned the question back on the Duke. “What do you think, Your Grace? Do you think I was successful?”

“I’ve learned a lot. But honestly, I’m puzzled,” the Duke admitted.

“About what?” Eirik asked.

“Why did you choose to accompany me today? It seemed to me you didn’t need me at all. In fact, everyone was wondering why the Margrave brought a bastard along.”

Eirik, his voice calm, asked again, “Why do you think I asked you to accompany me today, Your Grace?”

The puzzled expression on Duke Salachez’s face slowly transformed into one of understanding as he pondered the question.

“Oh, perhaps… I was the prey too?”

Eirik smiled silently, and the Duke scratched his forehead with his thumb, muttering, “Well, I’ll be…”

Despite trying to look troubled, Duke Salachez couldn’t hide his pleasure.