Meeting His Imperial Majesty (1)

It was the day Yune first arrived in the imperial capital. After he'd gone on about breaking off the engagement, he had returned from the Charlottenburg ducal residence.

Having spoken seriously with her daughter, Duchess Schmut came to realize that Kir wasn't entirely indifferent to Yune. And given that Yune had said he thought Kir was perfectly fine as a friend, he didn't seem to dislike her either.

Once she had a rough grasp of the situation, Schmut arrived at a simple conclusion.

'There's no reason at all to break this engagement, is there?'

Marriages among imperial nobility were, in the vast majority of cases, political matches. Unions meant to strengthen ties between houses or serve as tokens of a contract between families.

Of course, there were exceptions—Erengard, who had found her own partner without regard to house, or Schmut herself, who had grown to love the match her family arranged and lived happily. But those were rare cases.

In truth, it wasn't common for politically married couples to get along well. It was normal enough for them to keep separate bedrooms ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠even after the wedding.

So by Schmut's standards, Yune and Kir were practically a heaven-sent match. Kir clearly had feelings for Yune.

True, Yune had said he thought of Kir as a friend... but a friend becoming a lover, and soon a spouse—that was as natural as water flowing downhill. To Schmut's ears, "we're friends" sounded like "we're about to get married."

And so, for Kir's sake and for Yune's, she resolved to help their romance along.

She was firm in her conviction that if this engagement fell apart, neither of them would ever find a match of equal standing again.

"Kir? You haven't already decided what to wear to the Founding Festival, have you?"

"No...."

"Then I'll choose for you. Something absolutely stunning."

"...Yes."

* * * * * *

And so time passed, until the day of the Founding Festival.

Dressed in the gown Schmut had specially prepared, Kir fidgeted as she stood before her mother.

"M-Mother... are you certain I may attend dressed like this...?"

A daring dress that laid bare her cleavage, the sides of her breasts, her underarms, and her flanks. For the timid Kir, who normally shied away from exposing skin, it was an overwhelmingly bold choice.

But Schmut kept giving her an enthusiastic thumbs-up. Kir herself seemed mortified, but in Schmut's eyes, it was the very picture of a 'womanly' appearance.

"Magnificent. Walk in dressed like this and every man in the room will have eyes only for you. Yune will be utterly mesmerized, you know."

"Wh-why are you bringing up Yune?"

"Didn't you say you don't dislike him? Don't you want him to see you at your best?"

"Th-that's...."

The moment Yune's name came up, Kir grew even more bashful. Schmut grinned roguishly and gave Kir's bare white back a slap.

-Smack.

"Kyaa?!"

"Oh my, listen to that squeal. What am I going to do with this hopeless innocent? ...Yune said it himself, didn't he? That you weren't womanly enough, so he didn't want to marry you. So what must you do? First, become more womanly, yes? So chin up. And chest out."

"But still...."

"For the record, if you keep your shoulders hunched like that, the fabric will slip, and your chest might just pop right out."

"...!"

Only upon realizing a wardrobe malfunction was a real possibility did Kir's shoulders snap straight.

Schmut smiled with satisfaction.

"There. That's my proud daughter. The look on Yune's face when he sees you at the Founding Festival... I can hardly wait."

...Of course, when Schmut had first met Yune, she'd shown him an outfit a hundred times more embarrassing than this. So seeing Kir in such attire wouldn't stir any particular reaction from Yune.

But Schmut, unaware of this fact, simply smiled. And Kir, inwardly looking forward to seeing Yune again, let the corners of her lips curl up just a little.

* * * * * *

There I was, dressed in the formal suit—no, the maid outfit—I'd prepared long ago for this day, with the artifacts Mother had given me piled on top in layers.

My thoughts drifted to Kir, whom I'd be seeing at the party.

'Come to think of it, what sort of outfit is Kir going to wear? ...She wouldn't show up in something with a codpiece, trying to dress like the boys, would she? Ugh. That'd be a bit much.'

The moment I imagined Kir in trousers with a bulge at the crotch, my expression soured.

But my sisters, watching me, never missed a chance to praise.

"Whoa, what kind of outfit is that? It's incredibly dashing."

"Oh, a maid outfit—so elegant and striking. That's got real romance to it, real romance."

"...Yune. You look wonderful."

"Hehe. Right? Ta-da!"

At their compliments, my stiffened lips melted back into a smile.

Right. Kir would dress herself properly. I just had to focus on my own part.

I was busy striking poses in front of my sisters, happily soaking up their approval, when Mother quietly approached and stroked my hair.

"Honestly. How can anyone be this lovable?"

"...Mother, you do know you mustn't pet Yune like that once we're in public, yes?"

"Of course I do. Which is precisely why I'm petting him in advance, before we leave."

"Uh... does that logic actually hold?"

If she couldn't pet me outside, then she'd just pet me beforehand and go. Mother's miraculous reasoning. Mar and Albert looked somewhat dubious, but—

-Stroke, stroke.

"Charl, Big Sis?"

"...Is she wrong? Yune has the look of someone who wants to be petted, so following the Head of House's lead and petting him seems perfectly acceptable."

Charl came right over and stroked my hair.

Ah, look at my sister's lips twitching at the corners. She's really enjoying this, isn't she?

"That hopeless excuse for an eldest sister, I swear...."

"...Oh, fine. I'll pet him too."

"Albert, you too?!"

Before I knew it, Albert had also come over to pet me. And at last, the sister who'd been wearing an expression that said surely this has gone too far let out a deep sigh and petted me as well.

-Pat. Pat.

"...Ugh."

Though calling it petting might be a stretch—it was more like tapping my head.

Since it felt entirely different from the affectionate strokes of my other sisters, I puffed out my cheeks and glared at her.

"Mar, Big Sis. Again."

"...Huh?"

"I'm not satisfied. Do it again!"

"Haa... fine."

-Stroke. Stroke.

"Hmm... eighty-five points?"

"This little brother of mine, honestly."

Only after Mar gave me a proper petting did I fold my arms, satisfied, and assign a score. Even she let out a chuckle, finding it funny.

"Well then... it seems we're all ready. Let us depart. To the imperial palace."

"Yes."

After that warm family moment, we began heading outside to board the carriage.

As we did, Chloe stopped me for a moment.

"Ah, Young Master. Your necktie is askew. Pardon me a moment."

"Hm? Thanks, Chloe...."

-Smooth.

-Squish. Squish, squish.

"...Huh?"

But Chloe glanced around briefly, then slid the hand that had been adjusting my necktie upward and pressed her palm against my chin.

Her thumb sank into my cheek, and she began scratching under my chin as if petting a cat.

'What's she suddenly... — ah, this actually feels kind of nice.'

Normally I'd have kicked up a fuss about what she thought she was doing to a manly man, but... her touch felt unexpectedly good. So I silently savored Chloe's caresses for a moment.

After treating me to about three seconds of this novel form of petting, Chloe smoothly withdrew her hand.

"...Phew. That's done."

"Huh. Chloe, you're something else."

"I do have some confidence in my manual skills."

When I praised the petting—a touch brimming ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠with an animalistic instinct that could rival even Mother's—Chloe looked rather proud.

"Yune, what are you doing? Hurry up."

"Ah, yeah."

I quickly followed my family down to the first floor.

Chloe let out a satisfied puff of air through her nose and followed.

* * * * * *

A brief carriage ride brought us to our destination: the imperial palace of the Kaiserreich Empire, Palast Palace.

Though there was still considerable time before the ceremony began, servants were already bustling about in every direction.

Yet even servants who'd been practically running stopped in their tracks and gaped at the sight of me. As if they'd laid eyes on something rare and precious.

I thrust out my chest, savoring their gazes.

'Heh heh. Well? My formal attire—impressive, isn't it?'

-So that's the youngest son of the Grand Ducal House? He's incredibly adorable. And that maid outfit suits him so well.

-Can you even call that a maid outfit...? It doesn't compare to what maids normally wear.

-The maid outfits nobles wear must be different... that explains it.

But in the servants' whispered murmurs, I caught the faint word 'maid outfit,' and my confidence deflated a notch.

...Call it a splendid formal suit and I sound like a total manly man. Call it a splendid maid outfit and the feeling gets weirdly awkward.

"Now then. Charl. Mar. Albert. I trust you three can manage on your own. Mingle with the other nobles ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠until the ceremony begins."

"Yes."

Leaving their deflated little brother behind, my three sisters headed first toward the ballroom.

Mother took my hand and led me away, in the opposite direction from where my sisters had gone.

"Huh? Where are we going? The ballroom's that way, I think."

"First, we are going to meet Her Majesty the Empress."

"...Her Majesty the Empress?!"

When I asked why we were heading this way, Mother said we were going to meet the Empress. My heart dropped.

I mean, sure, I'd studied etiquette. But not to the point where I could meet the Empress in person without causing offense.

"Will it be all right...? I hate to say it, but my etiquette isn't exactly outstanding."

"She said she wishes to see your fresh, unpolished side. So do not fret. Her Majesty is a wise and merciful ruler. She will overlook minor blunders."

"Really? Phew. That's a relief."

When I made no effort to hide my anxiety, Mother reassured me. Well, of course. She must ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠have a reason for bringing me along.

We walked a little farther, passing through the outer palace and into the inner palace.

"Your Grace. I have been awaiting you."

At the palace gate, a woman in a splendid maid uniform—that is, formal attire—greeted Mother.

"Head Butler. I have come to request an audience with Her Majesty the Empress."

"Indeed. I have already been informed. Allow me to guide you."

The Head Butler then began walking ahead of us with refined, antique steps. We followed slowly behind.

I'd heard that normally, obtaining an audience with the Empress required passing through gatekeepers, attendants, royal guards, and so on, one by one. But we proceeded deeper inside without any such complications.

Well, who was going to stop the Imperial Head Butler and the Grand Duchess walking side by side?

And so we reached the Audience Chamber—and its enormous doors.

The imperial guard knights, recognizing us, gave a slight nod and stepped aside...

The doors of the Audience Chamber opened.