Hestia Neumann Tudor was deeply anxious. It had been some time since the crown prince had promised her exclusive trading rights to dwarven arms and armor and every detail of the alliance had been settled. All that remained was for both sides' representatives to affix their seals to the document and finalize the agreement.

Yet the officials of the Leonberk Kingdom, who had acted as though they would conclude matters at any moment, suddenly began dragging out the negotiations. When she asked why their attitude had changed so abruptly, they said it was on the crown prince's orders. Hestia went to him at once.

“Just what part of the agreement displeases you?”

She asked him why on earth he would not conclude the negotiations.

“Wait.”

“How long am I supposed to wait? As you know, Your Highness, negotiations could become difficult if our Duke Seymour intervenes. Prolonging this cannot benefit your country either.”

“I'll send word soon. Wait.”

The crown prince merely repeated the instruction like a parrot. Told to wait, she could only wait. He was the one who held all the power.

A day passed, then another. She waited and waited, but there was no word from the crown prince, despite his promise. Frustrated, she went to see him again. He refused her an audience.

She tried several more times, with the same result. She was turned away at the door without even setting foot inside his palace.

In the midst of this, news arrived that the King of Leonberk would soon return. The discord between him and his eldest son was well known even in distant Teuton.

The eldest son of the Leonberk family had earned his father's hatred and been driven out to the North. It was said that, though the son had achieved great things there, his father had refused to recognize his accomplishments and instead sent him away to the Empire with the empty title of delegation leader.

After he returned by the skin of his teeth, he had spent an entire year in near seclusion. Rumors abounded that his father had all but forcibly confined him. She had even heard that, had it not been for the war, the eldest son of the Royal House of Leonberk would never have been released.

Given those circumstances, Hestia was terribly concerned that the feud between father and son might affect these negotiations. From what she had heard, the King of Leonberk was a rather emotional, unreasonable monarch—a father who opposed everything his eldest son did on principle.

Growing desperate, she visited the crown prince's palace repeatedly to request an audience. Naturally, he refused her every time.

She reproached herself. She must have been far too optimistic about the negotiations. The promise of exclusive trading rights to dwarven arms and armor must have gone to her head. She had never imagined things could turn upside down like this.

The situation was grim. To make matters worse, she had recently heard from members of the Rose Thorn Knights that Duke Seymour had succeeded in overcoming his inner demons to some degree. It was unbearable to think that she might ruin everything because she had trusted nothing more than a foreigner's verbal promise.

But what truly tormented her was that, even now, she could not give up her faith in the crown prince. He was unlike other men. His words held a strange magic, a power that made those who heard them believe they would surely come true.

Without his words, she would never have dared dream again of becoming a queen—a dream men had once crushed.

“Hestia, oh, Hestia. Still trusting him at a time like this. Whatever am I to do with you?” she lamented.

While she fretted, the King of Leonberk finally returned. Soon afterward, she heard that the crown prince had withdrawn completely into his palace. Supposedly, he was unwell.

A man strong enough to crush Duke Seymour, acclaimed as the finest in the West, and leave him a broken wreck had taken to his sickbed now, of all times? Even a child would not believe that lie. It only reminded her of the Leonberk family's discord, rumors of which had spread all the way to Teuton.

Then one day, the King of Leonberk sent a messenger.

“His Majesty says he will await Teuton's representative in the Great Hall tomorrow at noon.”

To Hestia, it sounded as though he meant to meet her tomorrow to call off the negotiations. The faith she had clung to in the crown prince until the very end suddenly felt cruelly misplaced.

Morning came. She dressed neatly and made her way to the Great Hall, where she met the reigning monarch of the Leonberk Kingdom.

“Hestia Neumann of Teuton's House Tudor greets the sovereign of the Leonberk Kingdom. It is an honor to meet you.”

“And I am delighted to meet the finest rose of which the Royal House of Tudor boasts, without even having to seek her out myself.”

They exchanged formal greetings. With her head bowed, she began calculating how the king might respond.

“I have heard something of your circumstances, so I shall come straight to the point,” the king said quietly.

“The agreement between Teuton and this kingdom will proceed as arranged.”

At those unexpected words, she jerked her head up and saw his face for the first time. He looked to be in his mid-thirties, and his features were strangely familiar. This must be what the crown prince would look like when he grew older. The only difference was his much gentler disposition.

“You look as though you expected me to annul the agreement.”

Before she could stop herself, Hestia nodded.

“Surely word of the discord between that boy and me has reached Teuton as well. It is hardly surprising that you would think so.”

“That was not what I meant.”

Belatedly realizing her rudeness, Hestia hastily bowed her head in apology.

The king accepted her apology with a generous smile, then assured her that the crown prince's promises would be honored.

“Everything that boy told you will come to pass.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

She bowed deeply and praised his decision, while inwardly cursing Teuton's gossipmongers.

An incompetent dreamer who imagined he could gain independence from the Empire. A decrepit king, so worn down by life's hardships that he looked far older than his years. A petty father who envied and hated his gifted son. Not one thing they had said was true.

The supposedly incurable dreamer's eyes were far too clear for a man chasing empty fantasies, and his supposedly decrepit face looked ten years younger than his age. Moreover, brief though his remarks had been, his voice had held the deepest trust when he spoke of the crown prince.

Afterward, the king expressed some concern for her health and said he would have something prepared to restore her strength. Following a few more pleasantries, he dismissed her.

“Ah...”

As she left the Great Hall, the tension drained from her so abruptly that she staggered. She quickly straightened and composed her expression.

“Do you need some time? If possible, we would like to complete the review of the details today.”

The kingdom's negotiators were waiting for her.

“I would like that as well.”

She read through the document they had prepared. It already bore the seal of the Royal House of Leonberk.

“It is exactly as we agreed.”

Without hesitation, Hestia affixed Teuton's seal then and there.

Thus the alliance between Teuton and Leonberk was forged. A princess who had been forced to live like a flower in a garden simply because she was a woman had gained the immense authority of trading rights to dwarven arms and armor.

Not long afterward, Duke Seymour put his defeat behind him and returned to his duties.

“His Majesty expressly ordered that this alliance be cemented through marriage. Why, then, did you take it upon yourself to settle matters this way, Princess?”

The duke, who had always cherished her and never spoken a harsh word to her, let alone shown anger, wore an unprecedentedly cold expression. His eyes were full of wariness, as though he were regarding a political rival. For all she knew, he might have flown into a rage had they not been in a foreign palace.

Hestia sneered inwardly. So this was how shallow her uncle's affection had been. A paltry love that meant something only as long as she remained a flower in the garden.

Her royal father was no different. No, almost everyone in Teuton was the same. What they loved was a beautiful, obedient princess—not a royal daughter who would share their power.

“What His Majesty wanted was a firm alliance. Marriage was merely one of many means to achieve it. It need not be a prerequisite.”

Concealing her true feelings, Hestia tried to reason politely with Duke Seymour.

“This delegation's mission is a marriage alliance. That is the task His Majesty gave you. Why do you not understand that interpreting his wishes at your own discretion and acting on them undermines his authority?”

But Duke Seymour would not truly listen. In the past, she would have hung her head at his reprimand and done nothing but apologize over and over.

“If you understand the gravity of His Majesty's commands, Duke Seymour, then surely you realize that treating me this way insults the very king who appointed me to lead this delegation.”

But not now. She was no longer a powerless princess yearning for others' meager respect and affection. Duke Seymour's expression stiffened.

“That was not my intention. I was merely concerned that His Majesty might censure you.”

“I have completed the task His Majesty entrusted to me. Opening trade in dwarven arms and armor is a gain even he did not expect. Don't you think that deserves praise rather than censure?”

The duke could not answer. He merely looked at her with a little confusion and a great deal more wariness. Hestia liked that look very much. At last, she felt they were equals.

Still, she had no intention of letting the feeling go to her head and making an enemy of her uncle so soon, when he held such absolute power in Teuton.

“I am already looking forward to it. How magnificent the Rose Thorn Knights will look equipped with dwarven arms and armor.”

The duke closed the mouth he had just opened.

“Every treasure has its rightful owner. The keen, precious swords made by dwarves must be no exception. Unfortunately, I lack the eye to judge such things. I need a knight who knows swords well and is skilled enough to discern who deserves them.”

Hestia drew the sword the crown prince had placed in her hand.

“Someone like you, Uncle.”

And she wielded it freely.

The duke's expression changed. Greed rose to the surface of a face that had held displeasure and suspicion. He would never have shown such an expression before. He had been a knight so proud that he had relinquished even the throne to pursue perfection with the sword.

But that lofty pride had already been shattered—by the eldest son of the Royal House of Leonberk.

“If my humble talents can be of service to the kingdom, what reason would I have to refuse?”

Having lost his pride, the duke chose power.

“I will gladly cooperate with you, Princess.”

A radiant smile blossomed on her face, beautiful as a rose and sharp as its thorns.

Hestia was about to inform the king of her return home and bid him farewell.

“I hope Teuton will attend the upcoming banquet as our ally. Would you oblige me?”

“I can only apologize, Your Majesty. Urgent matters at home prevent me from doing so.”

Bowing repeatedly, she prepared to offer the farewell she had rehearsed.

“We will be choosing a crown princess at the upcoming banquet. Given the times, the wedding will also be held as soon as possible. I thought congratulations from our ally would make the occasion all the more meaningful. But with urgent matters awaiting you at home, I cannot selfishly keep you here.”

At least, that had been her intention before she heard the banquet's purpose.

“Then of course I must attend!”

The moment she heard his words, Hestia cried out despite herself.

“I seem to recall you saying there were urgent matters at home.”

“None so urgent as attending our ally's happy occasion as an envoy of goodwill.”

The king laughed heartily and thanked her. And so she and the Teuton delegation postponed their return to attend the Leonberk Kingdom's banquet.

Ordinarily, I would have refused every request for an audience out of hand. But I couldn't. Not because the visitors were of high rank—quite the opposite. They were barons or viscounts at most, minor nobles of the kingdom.

These were provincial lords who had steadfastly held their ground even as great lords and high-ranking nobles sided with the Empire and betrayed their country. Fathers who had entrusted their children to me. It was hard to turn them away.

“Well, it's been a while, Baron Tailheim.”

At my greeting, the kindly-looking man prostrated himself, looking deeply honored.

“I should have visited more often to pay my respects. I can only apologize for failing to do so.”

“I was the inconsiderate one. I should have sent you news of Taylor, but I've been too busy to think straight.”

“No news is good news, as they say. I simply trusted that he was spending his time fruitfully under Your Highness's wise guidance.”

After exchanging the usual pleasantries, I asked outright what had brought them all the way to the capital.

“His Majesty issued a royal command that all nobles of the kingdom attend a banquet in the capital.”

I assumed the banquet Baron Tailheim mentioned was merely a victory celebration.

“Allow me to congratulate you in advance. I sincerely hope you find a match worthy of your brilliance, Your Highness.”

It wasn't.

“What?”

Frowning at the unexpected remark, I asked what he meant. Baron Tailheim's eyes widened.

“I heard it was a banquet to choose your consort... Surely you knew?”

I hadn't. Holed up in my quarters wrestling with my original body, I had had no idea what was happening outside.

“I was told that many foreign envoys would be attending, as well as our kingdom's nobles. Most are said to be accompanied by young ladies from the foremost houses of their homelands. His Majesty intends to choose one of them as your consort...”

I could no longer sit still after hearing that. I sprang up, ready to storm straight into the king's quarters, only for more visitors to arrive. Siorin was one of them.

“Your Highness. At the upcoming banquet, Ar...”

“Out!”

He was plainly about to spout nonsense, so I threw him out on the spot. Then the princess of Teuton came to see me.

“I thought Duke Seymour would be different, being called the Finest Knight in the West. But he was no different at all.”

“Isn't that good for you?”

“It is, but it leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I did admire my uncle, after all, and his true face turned out to be uglier than I expected.”

“Is that something you should be telling a foreigner?”

“What does it matter? You've already seen everything I have to offer.”

“Anyone listening would think we were very close.”

The princess put on a wounded expression.

“I thought we were quite close, Your Highness. Apparently that was only me.”

“I told you not to put on that pathetic act in front of me.”

“If only you were like other men. Then you couldn't be so cold to me.”

She smiled as she answered, as though she had never looked crestfallen.

“Forget it. Just tell me what you want. Surely you didn't come here to bad-mouth your own country's knight.”

When I asked her business, she evaded the question, then suddenly launched into something completely unrelated. Some kingdom's princess had a terrible reputation. Another looked like an entirely different person without her makeup. Some young lady had such an awful temper that she couldn't find a husband even in her own country.

My face twisted into a deep scowl as she reeled off gossip about people I didn't know.

“So what? What do you want me to do about it?”

Even at my irritated question, she offered no answer, continuing for some time to disparage women I had never heard of.

“Of course, since even my looks left you unmoved, I doubt there will be much of a problem. None of them is as pretty as I am.”

“I have no idea what you're trying to say.”

“I merely hope you won't be taken in by those sly vixens hiding their true intentions.”

Having said that and everything else she wished to say, the princess left.

“What the...”

Scowling and clicking my tongue, I headed straight for the king's bedchamber.

“His Majesty is taking his afternoon nap.”

The king would not see me.

I went back again and again.

“His Majesty is fatigued and has retired.”

“His Majesty has only just gone to bed...”

Each time, the king refused to meet me, offering one ridiculous excuse after another. I trembled with betrayal. Damn it, this wasn't what I'd saved his life for.