The Stocking Clause
“The winner is Simon Polentia!”
There was no applause. No cheers. Only a deathly silence hung among the nobles, like mice gone stiff in a trap.
Today was the Dresden royal ball, and this was the royal palace. The nobles couldn't bring themselves to clap for the victorious Simon. They merely stole glances at him with wide, astonished eyes.
“Your Highness!”
“A-are you all right?”
The royalist nobles swarmed over to check on the fallen prince's condition.
Lorraine and Serne approached Simon with light, easy steps.
“Are you okay, Simon?”
Lorraine brushed the mess off his clothes as she spoke.
“Yeah, I'm fine.”
“Well done, Simon~”
Serne came closer, smiling with her eyes.
“It feels like your skills have really found their stride now—without even having to use that power.”
“That power?”
At Lorraine's question, Serne simply shrugged her shoulders.
“You don't need to know. It's a secret shared only between Simon and me.”
Simon gave a wry smile. If she went out of her way to explain it like that, misunderstandings were bound to...—
“Her Majesty the Queen Consort is arriving!”
“!”
Suddenly, the crowd parted to either side.
A woman in a lavish gown appeared—so unmistakably regal that anyone could tell at a glance she was the Queen. She was a somewhat plump middle-aged woman with a countenance cold enough to frost the air.
“We pay our respects to Her Majesty the Queen!”
Everyone bowed to her.
She walked forward and looked down at the fallen Andre. Just coming to his senses, he opened his eyes, spotted the Queen, and trembled violently with a terrified expression.
“Pathetic creature.”
Not a trace of affection could be found in the words she spat out coldly.
“I can't even stand the sight of you. Take him away.”
The black knights came forward, seized Andre by both arms, and dragged him off. Lorraine watched the Queen in silence.
It was all your scheme, wasn't it.
Unlike the King, who had been cooperative toward Kizen, the Queen was a prominent member of the anti-Kizen faction. Her dearest wish was for the kingdom to shake off Kizen's influence once and for all.
The party's sudden suspension, Andre's ambush—all of it must have been the Queen's design. Of course, Simon beating Andre into the ground had turned every bit of it to foam.
“......”
Perhaps it was the humiliation of a ruined plan, but the Queen glared at Simon with terrifying eyes.
At that, Lorraine stepped forward and met her gaze in Simon's place, while Serne shot a look toward the Queen as she prompted Simon to speak.
In the end, the Queen could say nothing more. She turned her back and vanished.
With the duel over, the ball resumed as normal.
Simon was taken to receive treatment. The royal physicians examined him and, thankfully, diagnosed nothing worse than slight fatigue and mild anemia.
While Simon was being treated—
Wham!
Crack!
A scene of raw, unvarnished violence was unfolding in the separate palace where the Queen resided.
“To be humiliated like this at the ball!”
The Queen was mercilessly beating Andre with the heel of her shoe.
She was an ordinary civilian and Andre was a necromancer, yet Andre dared not even meet her eyes properly.
The truth was, Andre's cruel temperament came from none other than the Queen herself. When her temper snapped, family meant nothing. Aside from Princess Molly, whom the King doted on endlessly, there wasn't a single child of hers who hadn't felt her hand.
“Did you think I gave you that chance so you could end up like this?”
Upon learning that Princess Molly had invited Simon's group to this ball, the Queen had decided to exploit it.
She'd told Andre—who held a grudge against Simon—to go demand a duel, promising she would handle all the aftermath herself.
It had been the perfect chance to break Kizen's pride, and yet Andre, absurdly, had lost to a first-year. The royal house had been humiliated on a grand scale, and Kizen's honor had soared yet again.
She stopped mid-strike, panting, nostrils flaring with fury. Her shoes were smeared with blood, and so was Andre's face.
“The promise.”
Her mouth opened.
“What was the promise you made to that boy, should you lose?”
The Queen had already heard everything from the black knights.
Andre had traced the letter R across his chest, pledged it on the royal house's name, and agreed to accept Simon's terms.
“......”
Andre, who had endured the beating with dead calm until now, felt his lips begin to quiver.
Immense fear and utter mortification spread across his face.
“Speak, without a single lie.”
She said, eyes blazing. Andre, trembling as though he were about to die, forced the words out through a strangled voice.
“The exclusive exploitation rights to one of the kingdom's dungeons......”
Her expression froze over, ice-cold.
And at the same time, her foot slowly lowered. Andre knew this was not mercy—knowing she was about to stop the violence, he screamed as if clinging for his life.
“Mother! I—!”
“You are no longer my son.”
Andre's heart plummeted. Leaving him gaping up at her with hollow eyes, the Queen walked out of the room.
You fool!
Dungeons held astronomical latent value.
Who knew what resources or treasures lay within them—and now one of them would fall, without contest, into the hands of a clueless seventeen-year-old brat.
Depending on that boy's choices, the fate of the kingdom itself might swing back and forth.
She'd wanted to apply a quiet threat, the old-fashioned way, and get him to settle for a more reasonable reward—but that boy had powerhouses like Lorraine and Serne at his side. Intimidation was impossible.
Still, he's just a clueless teenager. I'll have a different reward proposed tomorrow morning.
“I decline.”
Simon said, resting in bed.
The royal treasurer, who had come all this way carrying the Queen's new proposal, was thrown into confusion by Simon's razor-sharp refusal.
Contrary to the assumption that a little sweet-talking would win him over, Simon hadn't even heard the offer out.
“S-student.”
The treasurer clasped his hands together and put on a business smile.
“Double the original fee would be a full four thousand gold. Four thousand! That's enough to buy several houses! If you'd only reconsider—”
“Ooooh~ the grown-ups are trying to rip off the kids~”
Serne cut in. She had been camped out in Simon's room since the previous day, and was currently sitting in a chair filing her nails.
“Sell the dungeon exploitation rights and four thousand gold turns into tens of thousands. And you're trying to swindle us out of it for a measly two thousand? You really do throw numbers around however you like, just because we're kids who supposedly wouldn't know better.”
Would you please, PLEASE stop interfering...!
The treasurer seethed inside, but forced his smile to hold.
“Haha! Her Majesty has graciously offered to raise it to triple! And that's not all—she will personally bestow a medal of honor upon—”
“Lord Treasurer.”
This time, a voice came from the opposite side of the room. A girl with jet-black hair, wearing pink pajamas brought from home, was sprawled on the sofa swinging her legs back and forth.
She looked up briefly from the book she was reading.
“Simon was named for a duel against his will, and he fought with his life on the line to win. All he's asking for is the reward that was promised. Has the royal house's name always been this cheap?”
This is driving me insane!
Before Simon could say a word, the two girls had taken up flanking positions and were coaching him like defense attorneys.
The carrot strategy wasn't working. If this kept up, he would need to pivot the approach somewhat.
“I'm ashamed to admit this to guests from foreign lands, but...”
Moisture welled at the corners of his eyes.
“The kingdom's finances are in dire straits. Recently, a terrible drought struck our breadbasket, and Her Majesty herself has been skipping meals, saying she would share in her people's suffering—”
“Ah, that's your problem, not ours.”
Serne, having cut the treasurer off, set her hand mirror down with a click and crossed her legs with languid elegance.
“What exactly do you think you're doing right now? If you made a promise on the royal house's name, you keep it. Did you really think you could fob off a couple of students with whatever sob story you make up?”
“I-I am speaking with Simon right now!”
Sweat beading down his face, the treasurer looked at Simon. Simon replied with a gentle smile.
“What Serne said is exactly what I wanted to say.”
Ugh...!
He'd tangled with exactly the wrong girls.
This was shaping up to be a brutal negotiation. He was starting to genuinely resent Prince Andre for blurting his promise out in front of that enormous crowd without thinking.
And I can't exactly crush them with the authority of an adult, either.
His gaze drifted briefly toward Lorraine in her pink pajamas.
If that girl so much as raised an eyebrow before the Witch of Death, the entire kingdom could be wiped off the map.
Rumor had it she'd scorched even Efnel's Sky Island. Why not Langestin too?
“Don't worry too much.”
Simon said.
“I'll choose a dungeon that won't be too great a burden on the kingdom.”
“S-Simon! Please, reconsider just once more—!”
“Wait, then how about this?”
Serne stretched one leg straight out and propped it up on the chair.
Then, without warning, she began peeling off one of her stockings.
“???”
While the treasurer stared at her sudden antics in a daze, she finished removing the stocking, crumpled it up, and walked over to him.
“Hold out your hand.”
As if hypnotized, the treasurer extended his hand, and she placed the stocking in it.
“An added clause. You give us this, and in exchange, the dungeon passes over as promised. How about it?”
“......!!”
The treasurer's eyes trembled with emotion. His hopelessly clogged chest burst open, and it felt as though a lifetime's worth of tangled knots had come undone all at once. Such catharsis!
Was this how the ancient scholars felt when, after a hundred years, they finally cracked the secrets of Rune Script?
“I-I see it now! The stocking! The stocking! I never would have dreamed of such a brilliant solution!”
“Then go report to Her Majesty.”
“Yes! Yes! Right away!”
“Wait, what are you—? H-hold on a moment!”
Before Simon could stop him, the treasurer sprinted out of the room at full speed.
Lorraine gave him a look of utter disdain and said flatly:
“You're genuinely a terrible person.”
“Hohoho!”
The treasurer pelted through the palace halls, gasping for breath. The only thought in his head was that he simply had to deliver this wonderful news to Her Majesty at once.
“Your Majesty! Your Majesty!”
The treasurer burst into the Queen's chambers.
She happened to be holding an emergency council with her officials, and at the sight of the treasurer's beaming face, she sprang to her feet.
“You look pleased with yourself! Did you reach an agreement with those brats?”
“Yes, I did it!”
The treasurer held the stocking aloft, triumphant. The stocking—now full of holes and completely unwearable—slithered down from his hand.
“The stocking! The stocking! I added the condition that we receive this stocking to the contract!”
“......”
A thick silence filled the room.
“Magnificent, isn't it! At this level, I thought the dungeon was absolutely no loss at all!”
The officials stared at the treasurer as though he were a raving madman.
The Queen, of course—but even the maids tidying the room were shooting him looks of pure contempt.
“Drag that wretch out and beat him senseless with a club until he comes back to his senses.”
“Y-yes?”
The officials seized the treasurer by both arms and dragged him from the room.
“Y-Your Majesty! This is an injustice! Just look at this, please! I'm telling you, it's the stocking!”
Ranting about the stocking right up until the moment they hauled him away, the treasurer was dragged out.
And on the back of his neck, a single feather was planted, plain as day.