Beneath the Surviving Princess's Joyful Facade - Chapter 112

Meanwhile, Eirik was in the guest room, greeting the six knights from the Cladnier estate. Tilberg had assigned them rooms and then stepped aside.

After briefing the knights in squire uniforms about the current situation, Eirik organized the rotation and positions for the watch. Though the knights were large, standing in front of the room in squire attire would not look much different.

“Alright, you may go now,” Eirik dismissed them. The nine knights left, leaving only one behind: his cousin, Emmerich.

Emmerich, with a flushed face, tried to speak but clenched his fists. Eirik, noticing this, leaned back on the sofa, adopting a relaxed posture.

“Well, if you have something to say, go ahead.”

Emmerich seemed slightly relieved by the playful tone but still nervously licked his lips.

“I… um… I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t think I’d ever hear you apologize. I’m pleased it happened sooner than expected.”

“I’m also sorry for treating you strangely without knowing the circumstances.”

“Go on.”

“And for foolishly coveting the position of Margrave.”

Eirik laughed heartily for the first time in a while. After a good laugh, he felt refreshed and, seeing his cousin’s defeated demeanor, no longer felt like teasing him.

“That’s enough. I expected as much, having not explained things to you.”

“Still, I deeply regret it. I should have trusted you until the end.”

“Enough with the sappy talk. Just buy me a drink.”

Emmerich chuckled weakly, responding, “Drinking with a Grand Duke, really?”

“Grand Duke? What are you talking about?”

Eirik raised an eyebrow, and his cousin explained, “You’re the prince consort and a national hero, so naturally, you should receive the title of Grand Duke, right?”

“Hmm…”

Eirik pondered for a moment. Emmerich had a knack for bringing up unforeseen points, even in jest.

“The matter of a Grand Duke title needs careful consideration, so don’t mention it even as a joke.”

“Understood. Should I keep addressing you as the Margrave, then?”

“Master would be better since you’re in a squire’s uniform.”

“Nobody’s going to believe we’re squires. Even the Captain of the Guards seemed skeptical.”

Eirik chuckled at his cousin’s remark. “Anyway, I’ve deliberately kept you off watch duty because I need you to do something for me.”

“Yes. Anything.” Emmerich still felt guilty and bowed his head obediently.

Eirik stood and patted his cousin’s shoulder. “Just do what you do best.”

“Flirting?”

“No. Please, no womanizing.” Eirik shook his head in mock horror and began to outline the general atmosphere within the palace. “I’ve already weeded out some of the courtiers, but I want to gauge the current mood.”

“Master, you can’t be that vague. You need to tell me exactly why and how those people were removed. That way, the quality of the information you get from me will improve significantly.”

Eirik briefly explained the situation, “The people of the palace did not treat Her Majesty properly, let alone as royalty. About thirty people are guilty. It’s not a large number compared to the entire court, but the Central Palace has lost many personnel.”

Without even delving into the specifics of how she was mistreated, Emmerich lowered his head, muttering, “Her Majesty suffered so much before coming to the Cladnier estate, and then I went and blabbed my mouth.”

Before the coup, when Emmerich made disparaging remarks in front of the vassals about Miesa, likening her to a plague and avoiding her as if she were death itself, he had no idea how those words would come back to haunt him.

Once, he had seen Miesa, pale and clinging to Eirik in the garden, and she had remembered his words exactly, down to the smallest detail. Later, when she appeared at the vassals’ meeting with such a cold, commanding presence, he had nearly fainted from shock.

“By the way, I also apologize for acting without orders that night.”

Emmerich had tried to prove his loyalty that night, only to find that the leader of the Central Defense Force had already been changed to Rakane Crispin. It was a situation where they didn’t need to resort to using swords to stop them.

Recalling the embarrassment, Emmerich’s face flushed. If he could erase that night’s events, he would gladly endure a whipping.

“Anyway, I need your help.”

Before Eirik could say more, the guest room door swung open, and Miesa entered.

Seeing the two of them standing, she smiled and gestured for Viscountess Manere, standing behind her, to leave. Then she walked gracefully over to Eirik.

“I heard you were quite angry with Eirik back then. Have you made up?”

“Your Majesty, I must offer my deepest apologies.”

Emmerich dropped to his knees, and Miesa, taken aback, stepped back. She glanced at Eirik, who seemed equally displeased with the situation. Realizing she didn’t need to tolerate it, Miesa quickly thought about how to dismiss him. She concluded that as queen, she should indeed be stern with the Cladnier family members.

“What is this about at this hour? Leave.”

“Ah, yes. Yes!”

Startled, Emmerich hurried out. Once the door closed, Eirik gave a bitter smile and said to Miesa, “My cousin isn’t usually one to be swayed by a word, but it seems a royal command is quite effective.”

“Is that so?” Miesa responded, seizing the chance to ask something that had always intrigued her. “So, do you dislike him or like him?”

“I find him exasperating, but I do like him. He can be quite helpful at times,” Eirik explained briefly, describing his cousin’s knack for getting along with people and gathering all sorts of rumors. He included what he expected from him now in the royal court.

“That’s interesting. He seems to be a fascinating person, making friends quickly.”

“What did you discuss with Viscountess Manere?”

Miesa’s eyes sparkled as she answered, “Madam Cladnier is truly amazing! She told me many things while I was lying down.”

“My mother?”

“Yes, if it weren’t for her stories, I wouldn’t have known that Marquis Britz is the Grand Justiciar. I wouldn’t even know what a Grand Justiciar does,” Miesa continued with enthusiasm.

“Ah,” Eirik replied, realizing he had forgotten to mention the shocking story about the annulment of the royal marriage.

“Did you originally not know?” he asked.

“I’ve never met Marquis Britz. I never saw him in Vermelique’s office,” Miesa replied.

It seemed Marquis Britz was part of the neutral faction, Eirik thought. While he nodded, Miesa continued speaking.

“Anyway, the Minister of Finance, Count Silanz, is a bad man. Viscount Manere was in cahoots with him, embezzling taxes meant for Cladis’ territory,” she explained.

The contrast between the words “embezzling” and “bad man” was amusing, but Eirik nodded, listening to her story. Miesa whispered the parts she hadn’t agreed upon with Viscountess Manere.

“Madam Cladnier’s advice was really useful. She told me to read what the person in front of me wants and fears. I practiced with Manere, and it worked well,” Miesa added.

Eirik recalled Viscountess Manere’s frightened, pale face. It seemed Miesa had done well.

Practiced, she says. Eirik chuckled, remembering how Miesa used to mimic others in front of the mirror.

“You did well. Now you should rest.”

“Dealing with people is more fun than I thought. Eirik, do you know anything else interesting?” she asked, still chattering even while lying down.

“Something interesting I know…,” Eirik began, thinking back.

“That time, the Minister of State, why did Count Carlisle spend his private funds to settle something? I was reading the paper about it when you whisked it away,” Miesa recalled.

“That was…,” Eirik paused, trying to remember.

“It was before the candy was put on the desk, and it mentioned spending 300 jeres,” Miesa added.

“If it was shortly after you arrived at the Cladnier estate—oh, you know his eldest son is in the royal stables, right?” Eirik asked.

The stables not only managed the king’s horses but also handled messengers and correspondence, making it an important department.

“His son lost a crucial letter. So…,” Eirik began explaining.