Chapter 16: Princess Mia... Wears a Sly Grin

Cyril Rudolvon trusted his sister more than anyone else in the world.

He was a boy whose love for growing flowers and reading books was almost stereotypically contrasted by his ineptitude at all manner of physical activity. While he enjoyed studying, the demands of horse- and swordsmanship placed on him by his father were a burden he struggled to carry. Despite his inadequacies, which left him feeling rather worthless, his sister was unfailingly kind toward him. Time and again, she would offer him a gentle compliment with a comforting pat on the back.

"You're a good learner, Cyril, so when the time comes, make sure you go to school and study properly, okay?"

As such, when he heard that his sister was leaving home to attend Saint-Noel Academy, he couldn't help but worry.

"I wish you were the one going instead of me, honestly," she'd said.

It didn't matter to him. Sure, he enjoyed studying and would love to go if given the chance, but that wasn't the issue. He was worried for her. She was going to a school chock-full of noble bigwigs. Children from prominent families had attitudes to match. What if they bullied her? Following her departure, he prayed night after night that she wouldn't run into trouble. The sight of her waving cheerfully at him upon her return was, therefore, a source of profound relief. Which soon turned into astonishment when she proceeded to tell him about the friends she'd made at school. His jaw dropped at the names that kept popping out of her mouth. Prince Sion of the Kingdom of Sunkland... Princess Mia... These were people who occupied the highest echelons of society, and somehow, his sister was friends with them.

"Her Highness Mia Luna Tearmoon, huh..."

Despite his astonishment, she was too lofty a figure for him to fathom — more a concept than a person. His interest in her had been minimal, limited to a mild curiosity about the conflicting nature of the rumors surrounding her.

I hear people calling her the "selfish princess," and I hear people call her the "Great Sage of the Empire." I wonder which is true...

After learning that the one who resolved the conflict between the Lulu tribe and Viscount Berman was none other than Princess Mia herself, he became a little more intrigued.

"Who would have thought it was possible to end this conflict without bloodshed? Her Highness truly lives up to her reputation."

"But Father, didn't they take some of your land? That's so unfair. Aren't you angry about that?"

"Unfair... is not the right word. Those of the imperial family have the right to do such things. Not that it makes it any better for us, of course..." the outcount said, his tone not nearly as aggrieved as his words suggested. "But in the end, as long as the people don't suffer, then all is well."

Before the Rudolvons had gained their title, they were the leaders of the local farmers. As a result of this experience, they had far more empathy for their people than most nobles did. Add to that their long history of friendly relations with the Lulus, and it was easy to see why they were more than satisfied to see the conflict resolved without anyone getting hurt.

"Huh... Okay..." Cyril nodded, feeling a burgeoning respect for the princess. It wasn't just his father, either. Both his sister and her attendant, Liora, spoke fondly of Mia. The result of hearing so much praise for her was that before he knew it, his image of Mia had grown into a glowing statue of saintly virtue. And now, said statue was apparently coming to pay them a visit.

"So, why is Her Highness coming here?"

His father frowned at the question and scratched his head. He looked to Tiona, who shrugged as well. There was no question that the Rudolvons were a family of poor nobles. Their domain lay in a remote area along the border, and there was nothing here that would pique the interest of a princess so much that she'd make the journey here personally.

"I imagine it's probably something to do with the recent incident in the forest, but..." murmured his father, clearly unconfident in his answer.

His sister, meanwhile, seemed to grasp the situation better, though her musings also carried a tone of surprise.

"I mean, I know I wrote that letter... but I didn't think she'd actually come..." She smiled. "But I guess that's how she is."

Oh, maybe she's coming because she just wants to see her friend, thought Cyril as he observed his sister's reaction.

Whatever her reason, it had to do with his father and sister. Figuring that the visit had little relevance to him, he headed off to the garden — watering the flowers there was part of his daily routine. Had it been an official visit, every member of the family would have needed to be present to greet her upon arrival, but if it was a personal visit for leisure, he probably didn't have to show up.

Still, I can't believe Tiona is friends with Princess Mia. I mean, I always knew I had a great sister, but she managed to make friends with royalty. Wow... he mused as he looked across the garden at the flowers in bloom.

Taking care of flowers was no simple task. It wasn't enough just to water them. Each flower had to be individually examined. Some might not be getting enough nutrients. Others might be suffering from sickness. Identifying them took a great deal of care. He focused, thoroughly appraising the condition of each delicate blossom. Consequently he didn't notice the presence of another person until he heard a voice from beside him.

"My... What wonderful flowers these are."

He spun around in surprise to discover a young girl standing before him. She was quite pretty. Her hair was lustrous, there was a healthy glow to her skin, and her almond-shaped eyes gleamed with intelligence. He wasn't sure what to say, so he just stood there. She didn't seem to mind. She stepped past him casually, as if he was in no way staring awkwardly at her in stunned silence, bent her knees a little, and gently stroked the petals of a flower.

"These are... Sweetmoons, I believe?"

"Uh, yes, they are."

Cyril looked the girl over, wondering how he was supposed to address her. The dress she wore wasn't the elaborate kind preferred by nobles. It was more casual, light and suited to the summer weather. Nevertheless, he couldn't be entirely certain of her identity. If she were a noble, he should append a "milady," but doing so toward a commoner would sound strange, if not embarrassingly grandiose. The answer to his question came from her attendant.

"Milady Mia, it's almost time..."

"Hm? All right, then."

He looked from the attendant to the girl.

"...Huh?"

Thus did Cyril Rudolvon meet for the first time the woman to whom he would swear his lifelong loyalty.

After leaving the courtyard and stepping into the Rudolvon manor, Mia paused for a moment.

Yes! I did it!

Had she not been in public, she would have thrown her arms up in triumph. She resisted the urge on the grounds of propriety, but she did turn her face down to hide the fact that she failed to stop her lips from curling up into a very wide grin.

Which, had anyone seen, would have been a rather creepy sight to behold.

Rewinding the clock a little...

Ugh... This is terribly unpleasant. I wish I didn't have to do this.

Upon arriving at the Rudolvon manor, Mia's mood had hit rock bottom. Though she knew the visit was necessary, she couldn't bring herself to enjoy it. After all, she was looking at the birthplace of her archnemesis from a previous life, Tiona Rudolvon. She was standing before the enemy's home base, and she had to walk in. The thought alone made her miserable. She stared at the doors, trying to work up the motivation to walk through.

Nope, not happening. Maybe I'll go wander around a little and come back and try again when I feel better.

Just as she was about to leave, she noticed out of the corner of her eye the figure of a boy.

My, what an adorable child.

The young boy was watering flowers with a tender, almost effeminate gaze that was sweetly endearing.

"Wait... A boy... and flowers?"

Cyril Rudolvon had created a new strain of wheat. Wheat was a plant. That meant he should be familiar with plants. And... flowers were plants!

The pieces suddenly fell into place.

Trying her best not to let her presence be known, she snuck toward him slowly and silently. She hunched her back, curled her fingers, and carefully walked on the tips of her toes like the Grea— Actually, it was neither great nor sagely. If anything, she looked like she was about to break into somebody's home. Nevertheless, her stealthy approach was successful, and after furtively moving herself into position, she spoke.

"My... What wonderful flowers these are."

She recalled the time master strategist Anne had taught her the Art of Love.

"You see, milady, men love it when you praise the work that they do."

"Really?! Which means Prince Abel... Hm. What work does Prince Abel do?"

"It'd be easier if he had a hobby or two, but I'd probably go with some sort of skill he has. Either horses or swords, I'd say."

"I see. Good idea, Anne. Your advice is indispensable as always."

In case anyone forgot, it might be a useful reminder to mention that master strategist Anne had zero experience in relationships, so anything reasonable she said was just dumb luck. Only... she'd hit the jackpot that time.

Men love it when I praise the work they do, which means this Cyril boy will surely be very happy to hear me praise the flowers he grew as well!

Mia proceeded to crouch down beside the flowers...

"These are... Sweetmoons, I believe?"

...And do something thoroughly unscrupulous. Not only did she praise the flowers, she identified them by name, thereby demonstrating that she was well-versed in the subject and had a connoisseur's appreciation of his work. Such underhanded tactics might offend the sensibilities of a nobler soul, but not Mia! Mia was a pragmatist, and she was going to play dirty!

Mmhmhm, I'm so good at this. I bet I just took his breath away. With a little more luck, that new and improved wheat will be mine! she thought as a sly grin crept across her face.

At Anne's prompting, she rose with a sense of triumph and, after flashing the boy the smuggest of smiles, left the garden.

"We're honored to be graced by your presence, Your Highness. Please make yourself at home. I hope the long journey was not too taxing."

"Not at all. I'm pleased to meet you as well, Outcount Rudolvon." Mia greeted him respectfully and smiled courteously. Her demeanor carried none of the derisive arrogance that so often was used to mock the poor noble.

Hm, I was expecting the same attitude all the young ladies from prominent noble families I've met before have shown, but she doesn't seem to be looking down on me.

He couldn't tell if the princess was sincere, but she was at least following all the traditional protocols of respectful behavior. Even if it was superficial, the effort alone was enough to impress him.

Outcount. Officially, Outland Count. That was the title conferred upon him by the empire. Becoming a count was no small matter, and the title should have commanded a healthy amount of respect among noble circles. However, it was qualified by the preceding term. The addition of "outland" flipped its meaning entirely on its head.

Firstly, it is necessary to point out that this title had not always existed. Its birth was deeply tied to the empire's expansionist policies. Ever since the empire was first created, it had been actively expanding its borders, pushing its influence into lands that had yet to establish any monarchical rule. Sometimes this was accomplished through military force. Other times it was through negotiation and persuasion. Regardless of the method, the goal was the same: to bring more land under the empire's control.

At first, newly claimed territories were given to central nobility to manage. However, the empire's government soon found that there was a great deal of backlash from the people who lived there and quickly changed their approach. In order to reduce resistance, they granted noble titles to locals who formerly held power and had them rule their lands in the empire's name. This policy proved surprisingly popular, and subsequent annexations proceeded smoothly while avoiding the chaos associated with suddenly changing rulers.

They continued to employ this system of trading noble titles for land, but at one point, they ran into a problem when they tried to incorporate a head chieftain in charge of a number of tribes. These tribes occupied a large piece of land that was also a crucial geographic chokepoint, so the empire desperately wanted to put it under its control. Negotiations were handled by the Jade Moon Ministry who, after taking into consideration the size and importance of the area, promised the head chieftain the title of Count. The offer proved attractive, and the tribal lands were successfully incorporated into the empire.

And that was when the problem arose. The decision was met with a fierce backlash from central nobility.

"How did some country bumpkin turn into a count overnight? This is outrageous!"

Their vehement protests forced the Jade Moon Ministry to reconsider their stance. In order to satisfy the central nobility they had to give out a title lower than count, but reneging on an already-made promise would deal a severe blow to the empire's credibility. In the end, after many high-ranking officials spent many sleepless nights deliberating, they settled on a compromise. Thus was born the title of "Outland Count."

In subsequent talks with the head chieftain they downplayed the qualifier, emphasizing the "count" part of the title. Meanwhile, back home, they openly declared that an outland count was not a count, thereby cementing the awkward position the new title occupied in the noble hierarchy. The name was tragically prophetic, and "outland" soon became outcast.

While the rank was supposed to be higher than viscount and lower than count, it was treated with disdain by its peers owing to its origin. Such discriminatory attitudes proved infectious. Eventually, a culture of contempt for outland counts became firmly established, and even lower nobility such as barons could openly mock them without fear of reproval. This created a deep rift between central and outland nobility, resulting in a dangerous situation where tensions had grown to the point where they threatened to divide the empire.

Knowing all this, it should be clear how utterly extraordinary Mia's attitude was. It made such an impression on the Outcount of Rudolvon that he unconsciously straightened his posture in a gesture of respect.

"Please allow me to express my gratitude for the profound kindness you have shown my daughter at the academy."

"Profound kindness? Whatever do you speak of? I recall no such thing."

"I see... But nonetheless, I still owe you my thanks for the recent incident in the Sealence Forest. I do believe it was you who ultimately convinced Viscount Berman to back down. On behalf of both myself and the Lulus—"

"Ah, now that you mention it, I do remember something like that," said Mia with a clap of her hands as though the incident was so minor that it had entirely slipped her mind.

The incident in the forest is so obviously the purpose of this visit, and yet... I see the princess prefers to play her cards close to the chest.

Never in his wildest dreams did Rudolvon imagine that Mia wasn't acting; she actually had forgotten.

"Anyway, let's move to more pressing matters. I've come today to make you an offer," she said, her voice infused with such enthusiasm that she was almost singing.

"...An offer, you say?"

Rudolvon let out a breath and regarded the princess, mentally preparing himself to hear what she had to say.

I know she's here to settle the recent incident in a way that balances Berman's interests with ours. In that case, she shouldn't be making us too bad of an offer...

However, his instincts told him that it wasn't going to be a straightforward offer either. He was, after all, dealing with the Great Sage of the Empire. She probably wasn't going to hand him a few hundred gold with an apology letter and be done with it.

Whatever she proposes, it's probably going to be something I'm not expecting.

Mia, for her part, was completely unaware of the rapidly inflating expectations placed on her, and proceeded to speak in a calm, quiet voice.