A Curious Woman
Sir Krakow furrowed his brow as if trying to iron the stiffness from his expression. It occurred to him that his lord had apparently intended to assign her a personal maid from the very beginning.
After all, he was answering the suggestion of hiring a maid — his own sister, who had never served in a palace — without so much as a flicker of hesitation on his face.
The protection, and surveillance, of a woman from a foreign land was already being carried out with meticulous thoroughness.
Then why go out of his way to assign a personal maid now? Had he done so before this important banquet, a minor disturbance like today's would never have occurred at all.
"Your Highness, if I may presume to ask... are you certain you meant it when you called her a little puppy?"
Sir Krakow asked again, half in doubt, though he had already understood his lord's meaning.
"Hard to say. Perhaps like Marie, the cat our Warsza keeps? Yes, there's quite a resemblance there, don't you think?"
Henrik didn't so much as glance at his knight, still leisurely savoring the music that enlivened the banquet hall.
The knight's reaction meant nothing to Henrik. He did not believe himself mistaken. She was abrupt, audacious, and forever saying things designed to catch one's interest.
The only cats Henrik knew were the ones his sister kept — small, sharp-eyed, graceful creatures.
Warsza always said that cats were delightful simply to watch.
Well, she really was rather like a cat. Though who in their right mind would pick a quarrel with a daughter of House Biauby at a banquet like this?
Come to think of it, she had shown that stubborn steel of hers from the very first moment they'd met face to face. He simply couldn't picture her cowed into silence by a few barbed remarks and sidelong glances.
Even if House Biauby had warned her in advance of their considerable power, that woman would have flung one last jab at them regardless.
Her demand at the contract's signing had been of exactly that sort. Even though nothing in her dealings with him touched on rivals for his affections, it had been more than intriguing enough for Henrik — and that, he'd decided, was enough.
"...Yes. The Head of the Biauby family is unlikely to make much of a scene over this."
Sir Krakow made no effort to hide his displeasure. Then again, the head of House Biauby would never pick an open quarrel with the royal family over a trifle like this.
The man would sooner make a jest of it — claim his young, lovely daughter had merely been refreshingly honest. Though no doubt the scrutiny of the princess consort would continue quietly, behind the scenes.
"He's the sort who would. His daughter and I both proved rather honest, you see. It was entirely to be expected."
Henrik let out a soft, wry snort. If he ever dared call her a cat to her face, he half expected her to rise up in arms and demand he take it back.
Watching his lord suppress a smile, Sir Krakow tilted his head slightly. The knight's expression had softened completely now, in perfect keeping with the atmosphere of the banquet hall.
He knew his prince had a certain weakness in one particular regard. This was the man who, even on the battlefield, never once forgot his gifts for Princess Warsza. But since that woman was beneath his prince in standing, it hardly seemed worth worrying over.
Only after today's incident did the knight fully grasp the intent behind assigning her a personal maid.
His lord had left her be today as well — as a test. And once again, she had succeeded in capturing the prince's interest. A truly remarkable woman, Sir Krakow thought.
The view beyond the terrace of the Bwendowska royal banquet hall was, to put it crudely, breathtaking.
"Ahh... this is refreshing."
The thick doors and heavy curtains of the terrace shut out the din of the banquet, and the scene before my eyes — autumn foliage mingled with lingering green — made it feel as though I stood in the heart of a forest.
I leaned limply against the railing, squeezed my eyes shut, and drank in the cool wind and the stillness. It was the perfect place to soothe the fury that had been boiling inside me thanks to Tatra.
I'd done it again — snapped at someone who'd done nothing wrong, knowing full well that's all it was. And yet something inside me had hissed, would you really be so confident if a woman like that showed up as your rival?
The answer, of course, was no. My words had been nothing but bluster. For one thing, my arrangement with Henrik had been the simple kind — the sort in which rivals for his affections were never even mentioned.
And for another, I had no grounds to care about rivals or mistresses in the first place.
"Ahh, I'm exhausted."
I pressed a hand lightly to my aching forehead. I truly needed to sharpen my ability to handle the unexpected.
It would have been wonderful if I could have read today's events in advance through magic.
But after coughing up blood so recently, I couldn't bring myself to attempt anything so reckless.
No — the most important thing, in the end, was catching the spy I'd promised Henrik. I'd been so focused on that, I hadn't even considered other possibilities.
"Whew..."
I wanted to blow my sigh away, out into that crisp autumn breeze.
The fortune of being able to use magic at all — granted to a woman who had never even seen a spirit and barely believed in them — was entirely thanks to my mother's power. And I couldn't help feeling I'd failed to make proper use of even that.
"If I'd handled it properly, I could have dealt with today far more skillfully. For the sake of my reputation, my honor..."
I bit down hard on my lip. That was enough regret. If I wanted to raise my standing here, I had to think all the more about what lay ahead.
My first consideration was a plan to use magic to read the future before every major event like this one.
I glanced down at the ring adorning my hand — an old thing that seemed to carry centuries of history. It shimmered with a light far too enigmatic to be called a mere black gem.
"...What kind of magic did the dragon possess, I wonder?"
I thought of the legendary being passed down through this land's history — the Black Dragon, Błędia.
The Francia Kingdom where I'd lived worshipped the Goddess Fria, so I had heard precious little about dragons.
"The Black Dragon, Błędia..."
I spoke the name softly. The dragon must have worn the jet-black hide of its epithet, but beyond that, I knew almost nothing.
It would have wielded magic no mortal could hope to touch, surely? There my imagination slammed into a wall and stopped dead.
This world held more than one kind of transcendent being besides the gods — dragons and spirits chief among them.
Humans worshipped such beings, borrowed their power, and could cast extraordinary magic through them.
"Ah... wait."
A thought suddenly flashed through my mind.
Just as I had inherited my mother's ability to borrow the power of spirits I'd only ever heard about in stories — couldn't I, with enough effort, borrow the power of that dragon as well?
"I'll have to look into it."
Rousing myself from my slumped posture, I made a firm resolve. Better to lose myself in this than to drown in pointless regret and self-blame — it was far more efficient, and far more worthy of me.
"Your Highness, I come to pay my respects. I am Poznan, of House Krakow. I will serve as your personal maid from this day forward, and give my utmost to all that you entrust to me."
The next day. I gazed quietly at the woman who had come to greet me. She was striking — grey eyes and black hair tinged with red.
Krakow — of course. That was the family of the knight who attended Henrik at close quarters. Poznan, who resembled the black-armored knight exactly, had likely been sent by Henrik himself.
I had never requested a maid, nor did I have any prior connection to House Krakow.
It was a fine choice, entrusting the family of his most trusted adjutant to my side. Still, I felt the need to take her measure.
She, too, might have once admired Henrik — and might harbor a needless jealousy toward me because of it. I had no patience for any more of that nonsense.
"A pleasure, Poznan. Tell me — what is your first impression of me?"
As if she had prepared for precisely this question, Poznan respectfully presented me with a stack of newspapers. Seated on the soft sofa, I skimmed through them. The front pages were filled to the brim with coverage of yesterday's wedding banquet.
"The word is that despite coming from a foreign land, Your Highness performed every rite of Bwendowska flawlessly — so I beg you, worry yourself no further."