A Noble Mediation

By "this opportunity," he meant Philippe Deltang's stunt at the diplomatic banquet. From what he had heard, now that the dust had settled, the Grand Duchess seemed intent on using the incident as a pretext to clean house. For the King, his attempt to catch a flea was turning into a blunder that might burn down the entire house. To this, Crown Princess Beatrice replied calmly.

"I cannot be the one to send her maids."

"Not because she lacks staff, but because you 'cannot'?"

"I am well aware that the majority of the servants in the Grand Ducal Residence are spies planted by His Majesty."

Frederick nodded. Starting with Philippe Deltang, there were likely at least fifty spies of the King among the maids and servants working at the residence.

"She is likely trying to sweep them out of the estate. If I send maids from my own natal household, it will only make the Grand Duchess uncomfortable."

"It is to put my father at ease. And it was also Curtis's request."

It was a smokescreen. If they were maids from the Crown Princess's family, the King would assume he could still make use of them, even if they weren't his direct pawns. But Frederick wanted his uncle to sleep soundly at night. And Curtis felt the same.

'There are too few people working around the Grand Duchess. Maids to tend to the bedchamber would be best.'

It made sense. The position of the mistress of the Grand Ducal Residence had been vacant for far too long. Between the recent butler incident and everything else, Curtis's request was for reliable, highly skilled maids. The fact that he specifically singled out the "bedchamber" was slightly bothersome, but Frederick chose to believe it was merely a figure of speech for close personal attendants.

As Beatrice pondered, she spoke up hesitantly.

"I will try. However, the Grand Duchess might not accept them."

"My uncle might not, but the Grand Duchess is someone who has many needs right now."

Beatrice blinked her clear eyes. Frederick smiled and added an explanation.

"What if the Crown Princess were to arrange a chaperone for the Grand Duchess's youngest sister?"

"Ah."

A soft exclamation escaped the Crown Princess's lips. The rumor that the Grand Duchess had a younger sister of uncertain origins was widely known. As was the rumor that the Grand ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Duchess fiercely protected and doted on this sister, unable to even send her to school for various reasons. Thus, the Grand Duchess would find it incredibly difficult to refuse this peace offering. No matter which noble lady became the chaperone, using the Crown Princess's command as a pretext would save everyone's face.

"I understand. In return, I have a favor to ask..."

For the Crown Princess to ask him for a favor was unusual. As Frederick tilted his head in curiosity, Beatrice offered a faint smile—a shy one, quite different from before.

"My... evening schedule is clear for today and tomorrow."

"...Ah."

A faint blush crept onto Frederick's cheeks. The royal couple, married for barely a year, did not yet have an heir. Beatrice's words were clearly spoken with this in mind. Instead of answering, Frederick cleared his throat. It was certainly not a rejection.

The Crown Princess stepped forward to mediate the incident between the Duchess of Glintland and the Grand Duchess. Having recovered her health after two weeks, Crown Princess Beatrice gave an interview to the newspapers.

Framing the deceased maid as the culprit required very little effort. In truth, the royal court didn't even bother to make the cover-up look convincing.

"Seriously, even if I am the Grand Duchess, Camille already pointed out that replicating a vase of that caliber on such short notice is practically impossible."

Chloe grumbled, standing in the middle of the toilette room while Julia tended to her dress. Julia lightly tightened the sash around Chloe's waist, pinning a beautiful blue topaz brooch over it. She tried attaching a couple of decorative tassels, then tilted her head. She didn't seem satisfied.

"Could you bring over the gold tassels from over there?"

A maid quickly bowed and scurried off to the accessory room. It seemed this wouldn't end anytime soon. Thanks to Julia, who was utterly engrossed in trying out the latest fashion trends she had recently learned on Chloe, the time Chloe spent in the toilette room had grown significantly longer. Chloe continued her rant.

"Just how incredible was this Glintland maid supposed to be? She managed to prepare a replica vase right under the envoy's nose, sell it, and embezzle three million shings? And she was a laundry maid, of all things!"

Indeed. To the public, it was reported that the deceased maid had swapped the vase with a replica. The narrative claimed that the maid, blinded by greed, had hatched a plan back in Glintland and prepared the fake vase. After receiving orders from the Duchess, she allegedly sent the fake to the Grand Ducal Residence, sold the real one, and was stabbed to death by a fence who wanted to reclaim the money. Crown Princess Beatrice summarized it as an "unfortunate incident," emphasizing ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that it was merely a mishap born of a misunderstanding between the Grand Duchess and the Duchess of Glintland. She also made it clear that, thanks to her mediation, there would be no ill will between the two.

"And once again, the Royal Guard had to work themselves to the bone!"

Thanks to this, not only the capital guard but also the Royal Guard had to help ransack every shady shop behind Papetin Street. In other words, it was overtime yet again. The ones suffering the most were Georges and the rest of the 1st Squad.

"That is the Royal Guard's job. Don't complain about overtime when you didn't even have to pull any."

Curtis's nonchalant voice drifted in through the open door of the parlor. Chloe raised her arms to let Julia adjust her dress as she retorted.

"I just find it absurd that I have to wear a dress like this and go play nice with that woman."

Indeed, the Crown Princess's "mediation" was conducted in a thoroughly aristocratic manner. Under the pretext of commending their hard work for the grand banquet, Crown Princess Beatrice decided to host a tea party, inviting all members of the Eleonora Society. Naturally, it was the perfect stage to resolve the "misunderstanding" between the Grand Duchess and the Duchess of Glintland.

"I only feel sorry for the maid. She came all this way just to work, only to be framed and killed. Meanwhile, the actual culprit gets off scot-free and continues to live in luxury."

"..."

At those words, even Julia bit her lip and fell silent. For the servants, it was incredibly easy to empathize with a maid who had been used and discarded so ruthlessly. Most of the servants at the Grand Ducal Residence knew exactly what kind of scheme the Duchess of Glintland had pulled. In fact, it would have been harder not to know.

"Chloe, worry about yourself. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to rehabilitate an image?"

It was Curtis who delivered the sharp reminder.

"Crown Princess Beatrice went out of her way to host this tea party for the sake of mediation. By tomorrow, the newspapers will be flooded with interviews and articles."

Chloe snorted.

"Rehabilitate my image? I'll be lucky if I don't get humiliated again."

An event with the Crown Princess herself. She would have to act so refined and elegant again. In truth, having trained herself to perform those very acts, it wasn't particularly difficult. But having to sit in the same room as Isabelle la Glintland was bound to be a chore. To think that the woman who had calmly spoken of preparing for death was now framing a maid, roaming the royal castle of Ivanes as if she were entirely innocent. For Chloe, it was a sight guaranteed to extinguish whatever microscopic shred of patriotism she had left.

"If you don't want to think about yourself, at least think of Miss Iris."

At that, Chloe fell silent. Curtis folded his newspaper in the parlor and added another word.

"You know what kind of rumors will spread if you look grumpy in front ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of Miss Iris, right?"

Why, that man... Chloe glared in Curtis's direction.

"What are you talking about, Your Grace? The Grand Duchess is the sweetest, most lovely person."

Regardless of Curtis's teasing, Julia stepped up in indignation. She clenched her fists and declared passionately:

"Of all the noble ladies I know, the Grand Duchess is the prettiest, coolest, and kindest!"

"Julia, you're a terrible liar..."

Instantly embarrassed, Chloe laughed in disbelief. Since childhood, she had been far removed from words like "lovely" or "pretty"—largely due to the tall stature she had inherited from her parents. But Julia snapped the clasp of Chloe's bracelet shut with a click and insisted once more:

"You look absolutely stunning today! It was worth getting a new dress! Wear these beautiful clothes and crush that woman today!"

"Crush who...?"

"Isabelle la Glintland!"

Crush that beauty? Of all people? Of course, Julia didn't mean physically. Chloe imagined Isabelle la Glintland standing before her, laughing daintily. Though her imagination was slightly exaggerated, it was clear that even without her personal feelings toward Isabelle, competing with her in beauty was an impossible battle.

"I'm sorry, but I don't think that's going to happen..."

At Chloe's quiet murmur, Julia clenched her fists again and stomped her foot.

"Ah, Your Grace! It's all about spirit! Besides, if you say things like that, the Grand Duke over there will be so, so disappointed. Right?"

Why would that man be disappointed? Chloe was about to turn around and ask, but she froze.

"Right, Your Grace? Please tell her so. Hurry!"

Because the man who was supposed to be sitting in the parlor had somehow slipped into the toilette room, standing right behind her with his arms crossed and a mischievous smile on his face.

"Why would I be disappointed?"