The crown prince, known as the Young Lion of the North, and the Second Prince, recently hailed as a saint. Of the two, it was the younger brother who first caught her eye.

His face was exceedingly thin for a man's, yet he did not look shabby. His delicate features and gentle expression were unlike anything she had seen among the men of Teuton, who prized manliness above all.

She had heard that Leonberk was much the same as Teuton in that regard. Yet he could hardly have been further from what she had expected.

Grace suffused the Second Prince's every word and smallest gesture, and he never forgot to be considerate of others. As a person, a royal, and a man, he was beyond reproach. If she had to find a fault...

"My brother..."

"If not for my brother..."

"Then my brother..."

It was that whenever he opened his mouth, stories about his elder brother came pouring out.

And he looked so perfectly normal, too. That damned brother of his. Brother this, brother that. He went on about him so much that he looked positively like a duckling following its mother.

Still, apart from his excessive admiration and yearning for his brother, the Second Prince made a better first impression than she had expected. His elder brother, however, fell short.

He possessed not a shred of his younger brother's consideration. The crown prince stared at her with downright rudeness. Yet his was a kind of gaze she had never encountered before.

Men generally looked at her in one of two ways. There were those who gazed at her in longing and admiration, as a flower blooming beyond their reach. And those with talents and status of their own looked at her with greed and desire, eager to pluck her that very instant.

The crown prince's gaze belonged to neither category. His eyes were as dark blue as the northern sea that had made her swoon countless times on the journey here. Astonishingly, the emotion within them was interest, nothing more and nothing less. He looked at her as though she were some amusing spectacle.

That gaze was so unsettling, so unpleasant. Inwardly, she cursed the rude crown prince time and again. At the same time, an inexplicable indignation stirred in her. Only belatedly did she realize it came from the way he behaved as though she did not matter in the least.

She scoffed inwardly. She had no intention of behaving cheaply, but neither would she leave a man who regarded her as some exotic animal to gawk at alone.

She thought meeting his eyes with a faint smile would suffice. That alone was enough to leave most men unable to think straight. But it did not work at all.

Her pride wounded, she flirted rather more blatantly. The more she did, the colder his eyes grew. When even the flicker of interest around them faded, she felt an inexplicable sense of loss.

Perhaps that was why she went out of her way to visit the Royal House of Leonberk's training grounds, when ordinarily she would have had no interest in knights sparring. By the time she came to her senses, she was serving as the official witness.

And there she saw just how fierce and courageous the kingdom's knights were, those knights whose spirit the Empire had supposedly broken.

These northern knights thought nothing of cuts to their flesh or a few broken bones. They acted as though even losing an arm was perfectly acceptable so long as they won.

It was absurd. What was so important about a mere sparring match that they would charge in risking their lives? Beside them, the Rose Thorn Knights were milksops. Leonberk's knights were savage beasts.

Nor were they merely fierce. Even with her lack of knowledge of swordsmanship, she could see that the Rose Thorn Knights' blades were no match for theirs.

The disparity was greatest among the Quad Chain knights. Apart from her uncle, the Rose Thorn Knights had five Quad Knights renowned for their martial prowess. By contrast, only three of the kingdom's Masters took part in the bouts.

"To think there are still knights refining mana in their hearts."

"I heard the rumors, but I never thought they were true."

"Leonberk must be short of talent."

From the Rose Thorn Knights' conversation, she learned that two of those Masters had cultivated mana of the heart, an art dismissed as obsolete.

"A few paltry tricks fit only for mercenaries. All we need to do is smash them in style."

"One stroke will suffice."

The Rose Thorn Knights assured one another of victory, dismissing their opponents as weaklings who had practiced worthless techniques.

And then...

"Urgh!"

"Gah!"

Every last one who stepped forward was crushed by the Masters of Leonberk they had so looked down upon.

Two of those Masters were not even men, but women. The sword was the exclusive province of men. A woman wielding one was unthinkable. At least, it was in Teuton. Apparently, that was not the case in this kingdom.

"Next!"

The black-haired female knight shouted as she shook the blood from her longsword.

The sight was so dazzling that Hestia Neumann Tudor forgot herself entirely. A female knight standing proudly before a man she had brought to his knees—that was precisely what Hestia had so desperately wished to become.

In secret, she cheered the women on. Unfortunately, they were defeated in the end. After four victories, the black-haired knight lost to one of Teuton's Quad Knights, while her uncle, Duke Seymour, personally stepped forward to defeat the light-brown-haired knight who fought more fiercely than any man.

His merciless blows were unlike those of the righteous uncle she knew. They were a warning to everyone: to Leonberk's knights, whose spirits were soaring; to Teuton's Quad Knights, who had lost to women they considered beneath them; and to his niece, who harbored unattainable ambitions.

Her rising spirits sank in an instant. She mourned the horrific future awaiting the light-brown-haired knight. But the gruesome outcome she anticipated never came.

"Tsk."

The crown prince, who had been talking with someone else and paying no attention to the bout only moments earlier, was suddenly out on the training grounds.

The Rose Thorn Knights murmured among themselves.

"He blocked His Excellency's sword so easily."

"His footing couldn't have been steady, rushing in like that."

From their conversation, she learned that the crown prince had completely dispersed her uncle's attack with a single stroke. They said he had defeated countless imperial Paladins. Apparently, those rumors had not been empty ones. Such astonishing accomplishments for one so young.

Yet Hestia Neumann Tudor thought even those accomplishments would mean nothing before her uncle, the Finest Knight in the West. She thought the reputation of the Young Lion of the North would hold no sway over him, either. Her judgment was premature.

Light flashed, and before she could understand what had happened, the bout was over. Her uncle stood dumbfounded, clutching a sword broken in half. Before him stood the crown prince, chin lifted in hauteur. Both were unscathed, but it was easy enough to tell the victor from the vanquished.

Incredibly, her uncle, hailed as the finest in the west, had failed to block even a single stroke from the crown prince. But the real surprise was yet to come.

"Again!"

The crown prince suggested that the sword must have been of poor quality and proposed another bout.

Her uncle was angrier than she had ever seen him. He approached the bout with utter seriousness, as though facing the greatest opponent of his life. And he lost. He lost countless times and suffered humiliation beyond even those defeats. By the end, he could not so much as resist as the prince toyed with him.

"Princess!"

The crown prince's call snapped her back to her senses, and she declared that the bout had ended in his victory.

Even then, her uncle failed to recover his wits. In the end, his knights had to support him and all but drag him away, still dazed. He shut himself in his quarters and refused to emerge.

Judging by the last she had seen of him, it seemed impossible that he would regain his old vigor during their stay in the kingdom. A pall settled over the entire delegation. Negotiations had yet to begin in earnest, but defeatism already ran rampant.

Hestia Neumann Tudor alone remained full of life. Only now that her uncle—her guardian and her overseer—had become a shadow of himself could her nominal position finally become real.

She acted at once. Dressing herself with the utmost care, she sought out the crown prince. It was not a method she particularly liked, but she intended to try seduction if necessary. Yet she never even had a proper chance to try.

"Is that all you came for?"

With utterly cold eyes, he told her to leave if all she intended to do was spout flattery.

It was no idle threat. When she remained seated, he rose abruptly and walked toward the door.

Hestia Neumann Tudor knew instinctively that if she let him go now, she would never have another opportunity to meet him alone. The expression she had seen just before he turned away made it painfully clear that he considered even this meeting a waste of time.

"How far does the Kingdom of Leonberk... No, how far do your ambitions reach, Your Highness?"

She stopped the departing crown prince and laid out the plan she had kept to herself all this time.

Her heart pounded wildly. One misstep could cost her everything. It was a gamble she would ordinarily never have taken.

"Now you've finally piqued my interest."

Fortunately, he seemed quite pleased with the hand she had revealed. He even asked what she wanted.

Hestia Neumann Tudor stated her desire without hesitation.

"Give me the position of consort of the Kingdom of Leonberk."

What an ironic fate. She had longed so desperately to transcend the limitations imposed on her as a woman, yet all she asked of the first person to whom she had ever bared her heart was a consort's position. A bitter smile rose unbidden. But for now, this was her best option.

According to those around him, the crown prince was not one to concern himself much with domestic governance. He preferred roaming battlefields to remaining in the palace. Even now, it was openly said that he had all but entrusted most internal affairs to his younger brother, the chancellor, and the grand marshal.

Becoming such a man's consort would not be so bad. The man would wage war, and the woman would govern.

"If you take me as your consort, you and the Kingdom of Leonberk stand to gain a great deal."

She believed he would not refuse her proposal. Leadership of the league was worth that much. Surely it was. She had believed it was.

"Out of the question."

She was wrong. His refusal was absolute, allowing not the slightest opening.

"It's obvious you'd try to swallow the whole kingdom if I let you."

He explained his reason in a cold voice.

She could not even argue. Before that clear gaze, which seemed to see straight through her, she could tell no lies. Having expected him to accept as a matter of course, she found herself utterly speechless. As her lips moved soundlessly...

"But if you want something else, I might consider it."

The crown prince rose, speaking offhandedly.

"Something else...?"

Only then did she collect herself and ask him what that something else might be.

"Why are you asking me?"

He clicked his tongue.

"Aren't you Teuton's representative?"

Teuton's representative. The words struck her to the heart. Without realizing it, she went blank.

The crown prince cared nothing for what she might be thinking. Or so she thought.

"Think it over carefully. Who knows? Negotiations with the kingdom might bring down that wall you've been so desperate to overcome."

Once again, she was wrong.

"With exclusive rights to trade in dwarven weapons, even a powerless princess could find herself at the heart of power overnight."

Astonishingly, he knew even the ambitions and circumstances she had yet to reveal.

Her heart began to hammer, pounding furiously in her chest.

"I-I don't know what you mean."

She struggled to compose her face and feigned ignorance.

The crown prince said no more of the dangerous ambition she harbored. He merely gave a faint chuckle.

He strode to the door. With his hand on the doorknob, he suddenly looked back.

"Next time we meet, spare me the acting. You have no talent for it."

The unexpected remark left her staring blankly before the corners of her mouth twitched.

"Not a single person in Teuton has ever said that."

When she playfully protested his unduly harsh assessment, he snorted.

"Then everyone in Teuton is clueless."

At that ridiculous conclusion, she finally burst into the laughter she had been holding back. Belatedly noticing him staring at her, she fell silent.

Had her uncle or royal father been there, they would have scolded her for behaving in a manner unbecoming a princess. But the crown prince said he preferred this to her contrived, flowerlike smiles.

"From now on, at least when you're with me, laugh like that. It looks much better on you."

With that, he left the room.

BANG!

The door closed.

Left alone, Hestia Neumann Tudor stared blankly at the door, then suddenly touched her face.

["From now on, at least when you're with me."]

["It looks much better on you."]

Those few casually spoken words he had left behind echoed like thunder in her head.

And why was her heart suddenly racing again?

* * *

"Did I meddle for nothing?"

Regret washed over me the moment I stepped outside. I did my best to shake it off.

The princess of Teuton possessed a talent rarely seen in this world. Even without me, that talent would have blossomed on its own someday. Leaving her somewhat in my debt was a far better choice for the future.

"The makings of a queen..."

Suddenly recalling what the people of Teuton called her, I snorted.

"Rose of Teuton, my ass."

Lioness would have been more like it.