Proving My Worth (11)

Why on earth did this woman come out in person?

I stared at the affected smile on Senar Soladin's lips, utterly unable to hide my bewilderment. It simply hadn't occurred to me that Senar would reach out personally at this point in time.

You don't have time for this! A year and a half from now the King announces his heir, and this is the stretch where you're running yourself ragged back and forth without a moment's rest!

She's so busy darting all over the place that she barely even appears in the game — and now she shows her face in the flesh, why?!

The situation was not good. Senar was the Second Queen of the current kingdom and a daughter of House Bedford. The de facto ruler of the Second Prince's faction.

Simply put, this woman was one of the most powerful people in all of Soladin.

Try spewing insults at someone of her standing, and you will find yourself in an extremely tiresome situation.

I'd already been calling her son the Idiot Prince and piling up faction grudges as it was — add a personal vendetta on top of that, and who knew what would happen?

I'd rather not imagine it.

What worried me even more was that I had no idea how the Mesugaki skill would choose to address this woman. Senar had never carried a nickname in the game, since her role in it was so small.

Going by her conduct from the lore books that came later, I could guess. Lewd? Trashy? A total trainwreck? It would probably be something along those lines.

Though I couldn't rule out the possibility that it would call her the Idiot Queen, just because she was the Idiot Prince's mother.

Either way, I figured opening my mouth would only make things worse, so I was keeping it firmly shut — until Senar let out a laugh.

"You seem quite flustered. I understand. I did appear without any warning whatsoever."

She interpreted my silence as panic and carried on of her own accord.

"I have a great deal to say to you. Starting with trivial things like whether Sir Benedict has been keeping well, on down to why I sought you out at all. Or perhaps the recent matter concerning the Second Prince."

Between her smiling eyes, Senar's frigid gaze glinted through.

Sharp eyes laced with reproach.

Ordinarily, that look would mean fury at someone who had insulted her own child — but with Senar, it was different. This woman could not care less how thoroughly her son got demolished.

Then why was Senar showing irritation?

Obvious. Because of me, the Second Prince's public reputation had been blown to pieces.

"Idiot Prince. Direct, insulting, and a term that describes our prince far too well. That sort of thing is a problem, you see. The better an insult fits, the faster it spreads."

See. This woman isn't saying a single word about the part where I called her son an idiot.

Instead, by remarking how well the nickname suited him, she'd just admitted with her own mouth that her son was one. If that nickname hadn't been spreading alongside the rumors, she wouldn't have even brought it up.

"To smooth this over, the proper course would be to lodge an official protest against House Alrn and gift thread and needle to all who dare speak the insult aloud."

Listening to her, the word threat rose unbidden in my mind —

"However, I will do no such thing."

— but no. It wasn't.

"Our prince bears his share of the blame in this affair. I can hardly trouble the future of this kingdom over something like this."

She had flatly declared that she would not press the matter any further.

"If anything, His Highness has gained a certain enlightenment from it. And thanks to that, word of the prince's worthlessness — his achievements — has spread far and wide. It seems we come out ahead, all things considered. Which is why I've prepared a gift. Nabil?"

"Yes, my lady."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

That wasn't ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠all. No sooner had Senar finished speaking than Nabil drew two potion vials from within his coat.

"Elixirs, I'm told. Selected with the young lady's growth in mind."

I confirmed it with my Appraisal skill.

An Elixir of Strength and an Elixir of Stamina.

Treasures so rare that even House Alrn's vault held only a handful of them — and undeniably useful to the current me.

And here this woman was, holding them out before me as a "gift."

The affair with the Second Prince had begun with me picking the fight, and ended with me demolishing him.

...What on earth is this, Grandfather?

It had been nearly a year since I'd last consumed an elixir, which meant I was due to acquire more — that part was true. Two of the three I needed had just rolled right into my lap for free, so the normal reaction would be joy. But I couldn't manage it.

Because I feared goodwill more than hostility. Because I didn't know what would happen once I accepted that thing with a smile.

Why is this lady acting like this?!

That's not the person you're supposed to be!

A variable?!

What kind of variable could there possibly be?!

"There are several plausible reasons."

Unlike me, paralyzed by confusion, Halbae continued his explanation in a voice of perfect calm.

Perhaps she rated my value that highly.

Perhaps she judged that I was not a person who could be bent by threats.

Perhaps, Second Prince aside, she wanted me to think the Second Prince's faction itself was worth joining.

"But above all, the greatest reason is that she means to use you to reel in Benedict."

...What do you mean by that?

"Think, girl. That man is helpless before a single word from his own daughter. What do you suppose would happen if you told Benedict you hoped the Second Prince would take the throne?"

Oh, come on, Grandfather. You're exaggerating. Benedict may be a hopeless daughter-doting fool, but surely not to the point of meddling in a war of succession.

...Right? He wouldn't. I can't actually swear to it.

If I called him "Papa" and wheedled him with aegyo, he'd probably say something like "well, it can't be helped." That's just how catastrophically devoted he is to his daughter.

"Even setting that aside, she must have calculated that putting Benedict in her debt holds value in itself. The boy is a knight born and bred — he will not treat a debt of gratitude like this lightly."

I called Benedict's reputation to mind.

Hero of the nation's salvation. Guardian of the kingdom. Strongest knight on the continent. The object of admiration, respect, and envy alike.

If you could put a man like that in your debt, I suppose granting a little forgiveness would be a bargain.

...Wait. Was that what the First Prince meant when he mentioned a debt?!

Was that the "Benedict use-right" he took?!

So that's how he got out of that situation?!

...Wow. Having Benedict as a backer really is an enormous advantage.

"Simply put, it is political arithmetic. She judged that forgiving you and displaying magnanimity would profit her more than pressing the matter."

Hearing Halbae's explanation, I let out a breath of relief. I'd been startled into thinking this lady had turned into some kind of variable, but no — she was exactly the person I'd always known.

What a relief. I was worried she might have changed somehow.

"We hold you in the very highest regard, young lady—"

"Your Majesty. One moment."

Another voice — not Senar's — drifted through from beyond the crystal orb. At that, Senar begged my pardon, rose from her seat, and headed off somewhere.

"My apologies, young lady."

She returned only briefly, said something urgent had come up, and cut the connection.

I don't know what happened, but thank goodness. Thanks to that, I never had to find out what the Mesugaki skill would call Senar.

"Well, then. My apologies. As you no doubt understand, Her Majesty is an exceedingly busy woman. I ask for your kind understanding."

Nabil offered an awkward smile, tucked the crystal orb away inside his coat, and went on.

"Let us conclude our business here for today. You did say you were pressed for time yourself, young lady."

Really? You're just going to let everything involving the Second Prince slide and end it here? Shouldn't there be more — a request, an inducement, something?

I was blinking at him in confusion when Nabil settled his fedora onto his head.

"Ah, and should the chance to speak arise again — do offer Her Majesty your most courteous greetings. She is the Queen, after all."

W-well. Believe me, if it were up to me, I'd love nothing more than to mind my manners.

Problem is, my mouth is the root of all evil — opening it tends to make things worse.

So, you see—

I'm sorr-yyyy.

"Why should I be polite to that filthy old hag queen? I don't share your taste for wrinkly skin, old man."

The apology I'd unconsciously murmured in my head came out transformed by the Mesugaki skill, and I froze solid on the spot.

Nabil was no better.

He'd forgotten even to arrange his expression, staring at me with a blank face before quickly gathering himself and producing a smile.

Along with those thin, perfectly level eyes.

"...Hoo. Is that so."

With that brief murmur as his parting line, Nabil vanished without a trace. Left alone in the room, I gazed at the two elixir bottles sitting abandoned on the table, then let my whole body go slack and leaned back into the chair.

...Thank God I kept my mouth shut during the actual call.

I was seriously about to be so, so screwed.

*

"Um. Boss? When you said 'filthy old hag'... you meant the Second Queen, right?"

Yeees. Apparently so.

"Huh? But doesn't it suit her perfectly?"

"...Understood. From now on, I will do everything in my power to ensure that you and Her Majesty never cross paths."

This was the title the Mesugaki skill had bestowed upon Senar.

Filthy Old Hag Queen.

An epithet that insulted both the Second Queen's conduct and her appearance alike — a phrase more than sufficient to make Senar decide to destroy me.

I'd barely survived the Idiot Prince bombshell, and now a brand-new bombshell had sprouted in its place.

The one silver lining was that Senar was unlikely to run into me often. She'd be busy scurrying this way and that over the succession, after all.

"Still, to think Her Majesty would reach out to you personally. That faction must want you quite badly, Boss."

I thought so too. Whether it was me they valued or Benedict behind me, I couldn't say — but it was obvious she wanted me on her side.

Sending Nabil was one thing, but showing her own face on top of that? If she was going to this much trouble, wouldn't it have been better to step in herself from the start, instead of the Second Prince? Then I'd never have formed that ugly history with her at all.

...No, wait. If she had, the Filthy Old Hag would have popped out instead of the Idiot Prince. An even uglier history. Yeah. Definitely dodged a bullet there.

"Her Majesty has been moving frantically over matters tied to the Burrow Duchy, so for her to carve out time to speak with you..."

The Burrow Duchy?

"Burrow?"

"Ah, right — you wouldn't know, Boss. It hasn't been made public yet. Your classmate, young Lord Burrow, filed for a leave of absence from the Academy, remember? That's why."

Lord Burrow? He's been away from the Academy?

No wonder I never once ran into him!

I'd assumed he was just avoiding me like he had during the first semester — turns out he'd been on leave entirely. What on earth had happened to make that dog take a leave of—

...Huh?

Something was wrong.

In none of the scenarios I knew did the rival underdog ever take a leave of absence from school.

He was a man whose inferiority complex drove him to struggle desperately, tooth and claw, until the very end.

The man who wouldn't set down his pen even while deathly ill — that man was taking time off from the Academy?

A chill crawled up my spine.

This was a variable.

The kind of variable I didn't know about.

I had crossed paths with countless variables like this by now.

Which is exactly why I knew.

I knew that these variables almost always came back around as problems.

The foreboding wouldn't leave me.

No matter how I tried to soothe myself that it was surely nothing, the only things surfacing in my head were hypotheticals — one worst-case scenario after another.

Positive thinking was impossible.

I'd survived far too many dangers for ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that.

— Ding.

The sudden chime froze every ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠thought in my head.

No. Don't you dare.

I told you already, Cursed One — don't but in when you have no idea what's going on.

This is not the time for jokes.

I am dead serious right now.

Hoping against hope that Cursed One was merely pranking me to mess with me, as usual, I lifted my head —

But it was no prank.

There was no trace of a joke anywhere in that message.

It was, unmistakably, a sentence of calamity.