Beneath the Surviving Princess's Joyful Facade - Chapter 131

“I’ve never been to the reception room before. It’s such a luxurious experience,” one commented.

It was winter, so they expected to be welcomed in the greenhouse, but they were instead guided to the reception room, confirming the rumor that the queen never left the main palace building. The ladies exchanged glances and carefully chose their words.

“The weather has turned quite chilly,” another remarked.

“The tea has a delightful aroma,” one added.

In contrast, Miesa, suddenly surrounded by several ladies, was not in a good mood.

She had accepted their request for an audience even though their purpose wasn’t clear, but nothing about the meeting pleased her. Their scrutinizing gazes made her uncomfortable, and she couldn’t understand why the water she was drinking smelled like cosmetics.

While the queen gazed at her teacup, the ladies cautiously continued their attempts to make conversation.

“Everyone was so delighted with the festival held to celebrate your ascension.”

“The performance by the southern acrobat troupe in the plaza was wonderful.”

“I see.”

They should have enjoyed it, given the money spent. With Miesa’s curt response, the ladies grew anxious.

“Does Your Majesty feel the cold much?”

“Not particularly.”

“What kind of food do you like?”

“Nothing specific.”

Miesa wasn’t about to tell them what she liked. She was wary that they might poison her.

As these meaningless exchanges continued, one lady suddenly spoke up.

“Your Majesty is fortunate to be loved so deeply by the Margrave.”

Miesa unconsciously lifted her head at that. I am ‘so deeply loved’ by him?

“What do you mean by that?”

As the queen showed interest in their discussion about the Margrave, the tense ladies relaxed. Common interests always worked best.

With that, the ladies felt free to begin their standard three-part conversation.

This conversation typically starts with creating a harmonious atmosphere by praising each other’s husbands or children. Next, they discuss minor worries they can openly share, building some camaraderie. Finally, they move on to exchange the real news of the world.

“To slay the late king for Your Majesty… Who else would display such great love for his wife?”

“When a husband gifts his wife, it’s usually jewelry, at best. The Margrave gifted the throne, the whole nation, no less.”

This is the standard for conversations between ladies: leaving out phrases like “Your husband may be a scoundrel, but…” and instead emphasizing “I hear your business is doing well lately; I envy you.”

After enough time has passed exchanging meaningless smiles without attacking the conversation partner, genuine information begins to emerge. Such as who has formed new connections, or who has fallen out.

Though it seems like idle chatter, this exchange becomes the foundation for family business and political decisions.

Yet, as the ladies chattered on, Miesa’s heart felt heavy. Strictly speaking, Eirik didn’t commit treason for her sake. His decision was closer to benefiting the Cladnier family. Hadn’t he said so once?

Meanwhile, all Miesa could hear was endless praise for the Margrave. For instance,

“He carried Your Majesty in his arms so that your feet wouldn’t touch the ground.”

“He even fed Your Majesty by hand.”

“What a devoted love he has.”

At the time, he was merely raising someone who couldn’t speak. Realizing they were just chattering without truly understanding, Miesa quietly set down her teacup.

“But there seems to be no good news for Your Majesty yet,” one lady ventured.

“An heir is important, after all,” another added.

An heir. Of course, they wouldn’t know about her condition. When secrecy is too strict, you end up hearing things you’d rather not. Miesa merely lifted the corners of her lips.

As she sat there with a stiff smile, the ladies exchanged panicked glances.

Two young women who had inadvertently touched on a sensitive topic suddenly found themselves at fault. They raised their voices, trying to cover up their mistake.

“Of course, you’re both still young, so there’s no need to worry about succession yet. Besides, you two get along so well. If I had such a husband, I’d offer prayers of gratitude every day.”

“I’d donate to the temple. Even half my fortune wouldn’t feel too much. The Margrave is so gallant and handsome.”

However, this backfired. Miesa widened her eyes in astonishment, looking back and forth between the two women.

The two young and radiant women had dressed up extravagantly for their visit to the palace, appearing very glamorous and beautiful. Hearing such words from their mouths shocked Miesa.

How can they covet Eirik right in front of me?

She couldn’t comprehend it. Naturally, her husband would be impressive to anyone who saw him. He is, after all, a national hero and exceptionally handsome.

But saying, “If I had such a husband,” implied they coveted him. The thought that they imagined possessing someone she couldn’t wholly claim gave her a deep sense of unease. It unsettled her more than when she had been given sedatives meant for livestock.

Miesa slowly stood, casting a cold gaze over the ladies.

“You speak politely, but your expressions suggest otherwise. Do your words have hidden meanings?”

“No, absolutely not,” the ladies jumped up, bewildered. They couldn’t understand why the queen was reacting this way.

“When those two speak, the others watch for my reaction. And now, everyone seems unsure of what to do. Manere!”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Viscountess Manere, who had been anxiously listening to the conversation, stepped forward.

“What happens to those who deceive the queen?”

Caught off guard by the queen’s turn, Viscountess Manere hesitated to answer. Instead, Duke Salachez promptly replied, “Depending on the severity, punishment can range from immediate execution to mutilation or imprisonment.”

“Y-Your Majesty…?”

The ladies turned pale. They didn’t even know what they’d done to warrant such frightening consequences. Yet, Miesa’s words grew even harsher.

“What happens if someone openly desires the queen’s treasures?”

Duke Salachez was unfamiliar with conversations among ladies. Thus, he didn’t realize this was merely a misunderstanding. He simply bowed and answered her question.

“No excuse could cover that.”

“So, it’s considered treason?” Miesa said with a blank expression, “Those two openly coveted the queen’s treasures.”

“Y-Your Majesty, we never meant it that way―.”

Miesa pondered briefly. She wanted to behead those who dared to covet Eirik, but he might not like that. She barely retained enough reason to think this through.

“Ah, that reminds me.”

A good idea struck her, and Miesa smiled.

“Both of them raised their pinkies while drinking tea.”

Now, when they attend tea parties, people will ask where their fingers went.

With a crooked smile, Miesa waved her hand. The guards, who had been watching by the door, immediately approached.

“Spread the word: they were punished for coveting the queen’s treasures.”

She didn’t intend to replicate Vermel’s tyranny, but she had no reason not to use the royal authority she had earned.

Viscountess Manere hurried to find Eirik in a panic. He was in the midst of discussing the deployment of Tilburg and the guard when he heard the news, immediately rushing to the study where she was.

“Your Majesty.”

“I will not hear it.”

Miesa said flatly. Yet, Eirik approached her with determination, his expression full of things he wished to say.

Miesa turned her gaze away from the sight of Eirik, who seemed poised to deliver yet another sermon.

It was strange. Eirik had always been right. So why did seeing his calm face now make a part of her heart ache?

“Your actions were excessive. Ordering their fingers cut off for mere slips of the tongue.”

He gently grasped her elbow, not with force but merely to get her attention.

However, Miesa found his attempt to restrain her actions extremely unpleasant. She frowned and shook off his hand.

“I was going to have their heads removed. But since it was just a slip of the tongue, I thought one finger would suffice.”

Eirik sighed deeply, a breath from the depths of his being. It seemed even this unreasonable situation was the result of her exercising restraint.

“Your Majesty, it’s been only a short while since you ascended the throne. Do you intend to alienate the nobility over such trifles?”

“Such trifles?” Miesa growled in a low voice, and Eirik realized this conversation would not be a brief one.

“Everyone, leave us.”

Once the court attendants and even the breathless Tilburg had retreated, they were left alone in the room.

Silence stretched between them. Eirik, contemplating how to resolve this, offered a compromise. It wouldn’t look good to immediately rescind a punishment decreed by the monarch.

“I won’t insist you retract the punishment entirely. Just offer them a choice.”

“……”

“Will they leave the capital, or will they surrender a finger? If they choose to leave, make it clear they cannot return until the current head of the house is deceased. That should suffice as the price for their rash words.”

Miesa glared at Eirik.

Her anger flared at him for siding with those pretty young women. It didn’t occur to her that Eirik neither had the time nor the opportunity to see their faces.