Raising the Princess to Overcome Death

Chapter 373: Lena - Queen

370. Lena - Queen

"Please take me to the Marquis Tatian's estate."

I climbed into the carriage and leaned back against the seat. Shortly after, Sir Wendy followed, and the carriage, driven by Sir Neil, began to move at a leisurely pace.

The seat wasn't particularly comfortable. It was borrowed from the Rauno family, so that explains it. It was technically something that belonged to their boss, though.

"The weather is cold."

"It's fine. I'll just enjoy a bit of the breeze."

I opened the window to observe the streets, but a sigh escaped me. Sir Wendy seemed to notice and struck up a conversation.

"Is it because you dislike that boy, Santian Rauno?"

I didn't reply. No, I hadn't intended to, but words slipped out.

Perhaps spending a few days with commoners had made me reckless."Not exactly."

I thought I had given Santian Rauno plenty of opportunities.

I had allocated as many as three days to him and had more or less gone along with whatever he wanted. I hadn’t given such treatment to any noble in our kingdom before.

But perhaps my expectations had been too high. Honestly, I was disappointed. Yesterday, the boy had taught me a game called "Cat’s Cradle."

It’s a simple game where you pass strings between your fingers. A trivial hand game. At first, I thought he was finally about to confess his feelings to me.

After all, it was a game that involved men and women sitting close together, touching each other’s hands. Naturally, I assumed that was his intent.

But Santian Rauno, rather audaciously, actually intended to just play the game with me. And even that didn’t last long.

"Uh, that's... not how you’re supposed to play it..."

"What do you mean? If the string unravels when the other person grabs it, isn’t that the point? Shuttle, tray, chopsticks, scissors, cushion, fish—it’s all just repetition, even accounting for reversals."

"Well, that’s true, but..."

"Enough. Put it away. More importantly, do you have something you want to say to me?"

Santian didn’t say a word. His silence was so frustrating that it brought me back to reality.

Dreams, it seems, are just dreams.

At that moment, Sir Wendy spoke up.

"‘Not exactly,’ huh... That’s quite a generous assessment. He seemed too nervous to even speak around you. So, what do you intend to do about him?"

"What? I didn’t catch that. Say it again."

"I was asking, since you seem to have some affection for Santian Rauno, what do you plan to do with him going forward?"

"No, before that."

"Before that, what did I say?"

"Didn’t you just mention that he couldn’t speak? What do you mean by that?"

"Ah, he seems to be wary of me. Commoners aren’t used to being accompanied by escorts."

"...?"

"We’ve arrived. I’ll ask my question again later. Please, step down."

I gathered my scattered thoughts.

Santian. I’ll think about him later. For now, I need to focus on my current task.

When the carriage came to a complete stop, I accepted Sir Wendy’s escort and stepped out.

Lifting my gaze, I saw the Marquis Tatian’s mansion before me.

I examined the exterior closely, trying to discern more about the personality of Benar Tatian.

‘...There are so many windows, they ruin the mansion's appearance. Even a voyeur wouldn’t need this many windows. And what’s with the walls?’

The estate's perimeter was enclosed by iron bars that stood well over twice the height of an average person.

The amount of iron used here could arm an entire regiment, yet it was poured into making a fence.

Why go to such lengths?

There are far better ways to flaunt wealth than this.

Unless...

‘Could it be that they designed this to ensure visibility? As an extension of the excessive number of windows?’

If so, then the Marquis Tatian must be suffering from a severe mental disorder.

I’d heard absurd rumors that his wife had gone mad and died—perhaps they were true. Living with someone so obsessed with surveillance would be unbearable.

In any case, he’s certainly a peculiar man.

Satisfied with my observations, I moved toward the front gate.

There was something unusual about it too. Instead of guards, a knight was stationed there.

"Who are you? State your purpose for visiting."

While Sir Wendy showed her credentials, I scrutinized the knight from head to toe.

She seemed oddly melancholic.

She didn’t outwardly show it, but her subdued voice and vacant gaze hinted at an underlying emptiness. This emptiness was reflected in her work as well.

"You have credentials. I’ll inform the steward."

Without waiting for Sir Wendy to say a word, she acknowledged the credentials and immediately called for the steward. Her demeanor suggested she didn’t care who we were.

We awkwardly waited for the steward to arrive. Eventually, he appeared and greeted us.

"Welcome. The Marquis has been expecting you. Please, come in."

It seemed he knew who I was. Judging by his manners, he was well-versed in addressing royalty.

I spoke casually.

"Good. But before that, could someone take care of the carriage? Sir Neil has worked hard."

"Ah, your knight drove the carriage himself. Irene, please summon someone. Come this way; Irene will handle the carriage."

I followed the steward inside.

Turning to check on Sir Neil and Sir Wendy behind me, I caught a glimpse of the knight called Irene frowning deeply.

She looked strangely distressed as she stared at the carriage I had ridden in.

"Watch your step."

Her figure disappeared behind the door, and I decided against asking the steward about her.

After a short walk, we reached the drawing room.

Marquis Benar Tatian was waiting by the door.

"Princess Lerialia, it’s a pleasure to see you again. Please, come in."

The Marquis opened the door for me himself.

I stepped inside without hesitation and took a seat first. The Marquis ordered the steward and knights to stand at a distance.

What we were about to discuss would remain private.

The Marquis sat down.

As the maids brought out refreshments, he fixed his icy blue eyes on me. I met his gaze without flinching.

"It’s been a while."

"More than half a year, at least. Have you been well?"

"Thanks to you. Where is my brother? When will he be here?"

"He won’t be coming."

"?!"

I questioned him with my eyes. The Marquis gave a casual shrug, as if the matter wasn’t significant.

"He left without disclosing his destination. Irene should have inquired, but she didn’t."

I didn’t respond immediately and instead picked up a cookie from the table.

Not because I wanted to eat, but to buy some time.

The Marquis had just dropped a piece of information to test me.

There were several possible responses. In the context of the conversation, expressing curiosity about why my brother had acted that way was the safest first option.

Feigning indifference to the information he provided would align best with this approach.

A second option would be to joke about the knight, Irene, failing to fulfill her duty.

For example:

"The knight did that? But if she couldn’t do it, she couldn’t. What does it mean to say she didn’t even try?"

Laughing lightly while asking this would make me appear clueless, which might serve well in this case.

Because I...

‘I don’t know who this Irene is. The Marquis is pointing out that I only learned her name moments ago at the gate.’

In short, he was subtly asserting dominance.

The motive behind his comment was clear.

Upon arriving in Orville, he was covertly observing me.

It was a subtle way of stating that he knew about every move I had made since arriving here.

I gave the Marquis the third response he must have been expecting.

"Still, I’m sure the Marquis knows precisely where my brother has gone, don’t you?"

Of course, I didn’t let him have it too easily.

To figure out whether this was truly my first response, he’d need to put some thought into it himself.

The Marquis gave a faint smile.

"Indeed, I do. His Highness graciously used my mansion as his base of operations. I couldn’t afford to be careless in my service. At the moment, he’s associating with a group of commoners."

- "I’ve stationed people for this and that reason, but let’s set aside the excuses. Princess, what exactly are you doing?"

That’s how the Marquis’ words sounded to me, especially because he emphasized “group of commoners” and chose the peculiar word “associating.”

A group of commoners. It was likely a reference to the Rauno family. But what did he mean by “associating”?

Could he possibly know that I had been meeting Santian Rauno?

Though I had no way of knowing what my brother was truly up to, it was clear that we were no longer talking about him.

I commended the Marquis on his sheer audacity.

"As expected, Marquis, you’re meticulous and know absolutely everything, don’t you?"

Then, I added,

"But surely, you can’t grasp my brother’s reasons. His Highness is a man of profound thought, after all."

"Indeed. I cannot fathom it," the Marquis admitted with a nod.

"But it is puzzling, is it not? Tomorrow, he’s scheduled to meet Princess Chloe, yet here he is mingling with riffraff. Forgive my bluntness, but even if a connection were to blossom there, it would be meaningless."

...It was clear now. This man knew that I was meeting Santian.

I immediately retorted, my voice slightly raised.

"Bluntness indeed! Do not presume to judge what meaning my brother seeks. His Highness will claim both love and power!"

"I wish him luck. But can he truly succeed?"

The Marquis leaned forward.

This is why I despise nobles.

Liars.

People who twist truth and intentions to suit themselves.

And I am no different from them.

"I’ve already told His Highness, but a marriage with Princess Chloe de Tatalia is unlikely. They are far too different. Princess Chloe, shall we say, has some... mental issues."

You’re the one with mental issues, you voyeuristic fiend!

Even while discussing my brother, the Marquis continued to lace his comments with barbs aimed at me.

Why was he behaving like this?

Curiosity mixed with anger ignited a spark within me, and I stoked the flames.

"How tragic for my brother. But what will become of him then? Will we find ourselves at odds with the Tatalia royal family, like the Aisel Kingdom? I hear the damages were catastrophic..."

- What business is it of yours who I meet? Keep talking, and if I’m displeased, you’ll face war with our Yeriel royal family!

No matter how powerful the Bellita Kingdom might be, could they endure another war?

The noble faction led by Swordmasters had already expended much of their strength during the war with Aisel.

If another war broke out, the Marquis Tatian would have to rally the loyalist nobles to lead the charge.

Let’s see just how much wealth the Marquis Tatian’s family truly has.

Our kingdom isn’t to be trifled with either. And half a year ago, the contract we made with you? Consider it null and void!

Mentioning Bellita’s defeat in a previous war was a deliberate slight and a warning. The Marquis’ smile vanished.

It wasn’t out of anger, though—he seemed ready to move on to the main point. His expression turned serious as he spoke.

"Prince Lean was not the least bit saddened. Not at all. He seemed well aware of Princess Chloe’s supposed issues, almost as if it were classified information. Curious, wouldn’t you agree?"

"..."

"Yet he still came. Even knowing that conflict like Aisel’s would be inevitable should things with Princess Chloe go awry. Why do you think that is?"

"..."

I couldn’t answer. The question pertained to a secret my brother and I shared.

Like me, my brother dreamed.

Just as I had come to meet Santian, my brother had come to Orville to meet the woman he would love.

I didn’t know the full details of his dream—it couldn’t be identical to mine—but it seemed that Princess Chloe de Tatalia was the person he sought.

Perhaps that was why he knew about her supposed “mental illness.”

Or perhaps there was no such illness at all. It might have been a ruse, an act she put on last year to reject the Aisel prince who came seeking her hand.

After all, my brother wouldn’t choose a woman who was truly mentally unstable! No, never.

I reaffirmed my unspoken certainty. The Marquis couldn’t possibly know what I was thinking and continued.

"Prince Lean is not one to act without gain. I pondered what he might be after. He gave me a hint with one peculiar action."

"And what was that?"

"You, Princess. Prince Lean went out of his way to smuggle you into this kingdom."

"…!"

I was so shocked that I lost my voice for a moment.

But I couldn’t snap back with a "Nonsense!" or "What are you talking about?" I was stunned because, on some level, his claim made sense.

That is, if I disregarded the surreal dream my brother and I shared and thought purely from a practical standpoint.

"Prince Lean didn’t come here to marry. He came to marry you, Princess Lerialia, to Prince Cleon. Doesn’t that explanation fit perfectly?"

My brother was destined for the throne.

Power is not something to be shared—not even a crumb. That’s why my brother sent Eric to the Aisel Kingdom, ostensibly as an act of generosity toward a brother with no chance at the crown.

"Our kingdom would also welcome such an alliance. Since we’ve severed ties with Aisel, we, too, need allies. The rise of the Aslan Kingdom is quite concerning."

And what about me?

A cold sweat ran down my back.

Now that I thought about it, Sir Wendy, Sir Neil, and Sir Barin, my escorts, were fiercely loyal to my brother.

They seemed the type to follow him even if it meant casting aside their lives or betraying our kingdom.

Reassuring as they were, this sudden political suspicion planted a seed of fear within me.

I hadn’t brought a single knight who served me personally. My brother had convinced me not to. If anyone noticed their movement, our entry would be exposed. If that were true... truly true, then I—

No. That can’t be. It’s impossible.

I forced myself to dispel the budding doubts.

My brother was someone I could trust. Someone I had to trust. My faith in him couldn’t waver...

But the cold sweat running down my back was a physiological reaction I couldn’t control.

Never had I imagined that I might have entered the lion’s den without any means of protecting myself.

The Marquis seemed to sense my unease. He rose from his seat.

"Personally, I’m thrilled by the prospect of your arrival in our kingdom, Princess."

Calm down.

The Marquis can’t act against me right now.

Where in this country could I seek help if I needed it?

Count Peter? I’d met him half a year ago during negotiations with the Marquis Tatian. The Marquis had sought my help to facilitate smuggling operations across the border.

In return, he had invested in the port our kingdom was secretly building, a deal my father and mother weren’t aware of.

Now that I think about it, even that deal primarily benefited my brother. The new port would be used by the navy of Marquis Arne, a staunch supporter of my brother.

Who else?

There’s that snake Gilbert Forte. He once sent me an unpleasantly flirtatious letter, but he’s no help.

Then there’s the Duke of the Southern Frontier. Though aligned with the Swordmaster faction, he tends to be neutral. South. South!

As my mind swirled with possibilities, the Marquis approached, his figure casting a shadow over me.

And then he lowered himself—offering a gesture far too respectful for me.

A bow without clasped hands, reserved only for a sovereign.

"I want you, Princess, to become this country’s queen."