The Cow Harem Proclamation
A cow harem! Hurrah! Hurrah! Desuwa!
……………
Baron Trofimov's declaration split the air, and the cheers of everyone around us rose to meet it.
This man doesn't look the part at all… but he's surprisingly cunning, isn't he?
I belatedly saw through the Baron's intentions. Obviously enough, the presentation of the Mountain King was no simple gift of goodwill or token of gratitude.
My expression stiffened awkwardly. Caught up in the fervor around me, I exchanged a glance with Eliza, and in her face I read a faint but unmistakable warning.
There's no turning back now…
I put my mind into high gear and organized the situation.
Katerina, who had smashed a thick, tightly woven palisade of logs with her bare hands and freed a colossal bison.
Katerina, who had ridden that freed bison into battle and crushed the vile Baron Dmitri's cattle raiders.
And now Katerina, receiving the Mountain King as a "gift" in honor of all her exploits.
On the surface, it was a perfect ending. It was also a political snare, more skillfully woven than I'd expected.
"Will you accept it, my lady Grand Duchess?"
Baron Trofimov's voice sounded again. A smile had spread beneath his beard, but his eyes were sharp.
It suddenly occurred to me that the man was rather like a pig — sluggish and foolish in appearance thanks to people's preconceptions, but in truth clever and shrewd.
"…Why, of course I shall."
The answer left my mouth calmly. Thanks to the crowd hoisting her up on their shoulders, even Katerina — the Katerina deep in my heart, whom I had not yet fully merged with — had settled down considerably from the excitement she'd been whipped into.
Even the pure Katerina, not yet one with me, would by this point have realized the plain reality: she had walked straight into the trap.
"Thank you. I have gained a fine friend… a dear bovine companion."
The cheers erupted anew. The faces around me brimmed with joy and admiration. Even Bielka was clapping with a radiant smile.
So I really am a Grand Duchess, huh…
Every word I spoke, every gesture I made, rippled out to touch countless lives. I had known that in my head, but I hadn't imagined it would be anything on this scale.
The Baron bowed his head deeply.
"With chains forged of Volkov steel, striking down dozens of Dmitri's raiders single-handed to protect Trofimov's precious herd of cows — the valor you showed today, my lady, will be spoken of in the western Grand Duchy for generations to come. I confess I am quite curious to see the faces the Dmitri lot will make, and the House of Sokolov besides, when word of this reaches them."
His words drew an incredulous laugh out of me. His intention to spin this whole affair into political propaganda against Dmitri and Sokolov was transparent as glass.
And yet — oddly enough — it left a bad taste in my mouth.
He's made his profit, so he ought to quit while he's ahead. He's practically strutting over the line, isn't he?
"Baron Trofimov."
Ignoring the hubbub that still filled the air, I addressed him with a smile — though my voice had sunk to something considerably cooler.
"Today's affair was nothing more than recovering a stolen herd and driving off some raiders. I doubt it ought to bear upon my relations with the other houses."
At my words, Baron Trofimov's eyes narrowed slightly. For all his appearance, this man was anything but dull; he would have grasped my intent.
If you thought sweet-talking a young noblewoman into your camp would be so easy, you're sorely mistaken.
…Well, with the original Katerina it might have been. But the me standing here now is a different story.
Yet far from honoring my attempt to sidestep the coming political friction, he doubled down, smiling and inclining his head.
"Of course, my lady. But surely the truth cannot be hidden when justice has been done? The fact that the raiders employed by House Dmitri attacked our ranch is—"
"Do you have clear evidence?"
My abrupt question left the Baron momentarily flustered.
"My lady, a considerable number of the raiders have been confirmed as men of the Dmitri ranch. There are the testimonies of my own herdsmen as well…"
"Testimonies from your own side are insufficient grounds for striking at another house."
"But, my lady—"
"An investigation may well be necessary. It is simply too early to pass judgment."
The meaning behind my words was unmistakable: I have no intention of walking into the stage you've set.
Even that, by my standards, was about as diplomatic as I could manage.
This was a pre-modern society. If I dug in my heels and insisted that 'the cattle raiders had nothing to do with the Dmitri ranch,' then my word would simply become fact. Rumors might circulate, but officially the claim would never be recognized — which would render every attempt the Baron had made to profit off me utterly worthless.
From the moment I'd realized he'd been trying to exploit me politically, an irritation rising from somewhere deep inside had been almost impossible to suppress. Honestly, I'd have liked to slap him across the face.
Of course, according to Katerina's memories, a slap like mine would kill the man outright, so I restrained myself.
Baron Trofimov, for his part, wore his bewilderment plainly. I could hardly blame him; I was behaving nothing like he'd anticipated.
But with things as they were, he too was already riding the tiger's back. He'd set out to advertise the Grand Duchess as an ally and had managed to offend her mood instead.
"I shall defer to your wise judgment, my lady. Still — the truth will out, in the end."
Beneath the Baron's words lay a resolve he did not trouble to conceal. Whatever I said, he clearly meant to press his plan forward.
For now, the important thing is to avoid any statement that pits me openly against Dmitri and Sokolov.
Keeping my position from being delivered into their hands directly — that was the best I could do at the moment.
……………
Two weeks had already passed since our return from the Trofimov Barony. Short if you call it short, long if you call it long — and in that fortnight, a great many things happened.
First, Baron Trofimov delivered his report to Baron Dmitri, and the fallout proved larger than I'd expected.
Among the nobles of the western Grand Duchy, word spread that 'House Dmitri had attempted to steal a herd of cattle.'
Naturally, Baron Dmitri denied it vehemently — but with no hard evidence either way, there was plenty of testimony and circumstantial proof, and above all the suspicion against him ran so deep that his protests seemed to accomplish little.
Either way, looking at the outcome, there was 'no immediate' loss to me. If anything, Baron Trofimov and I both profited handsomely.
From this affair I gained the Mountain King, and the Baron gained a powerful pretext and the placard of standing beside the Grand Duchess — regardless of how true that actually was.
Well, even out of sheer spite, I have no intention of siding with him unconditionally.
Ah, and since the Mountain King has come up —
The creature had become quite the celebrity at the Grand Duchy's citadel.
His first passage through the gates of Eisenfels caused an uproar of frankly catastrophic proportions. The gate guards screamed, the merchants fled, and children swarmed after him with curious eyes to gawk from a safe distance.
"The Grand Duchess has returned, riding a beast out of legend!"
As stories like that spread, people came pouring out to see him. In the end, my return to the citadel turned into an impromptu parade.
The servants' reactions were entertaining in their own right. At first they were all terrified of him, but once word got around that the Mountain King obeyed me without question, their wariness gradually eased.
The nobles' reactions varied. Some offered remarks it was hard to call praise — 'the blood of the northerners certainly does run true in the Grand Duchess' — while others gazed at me with open reverence, murmuring that 'this is what our next ruler should be.'
Either way, in the northern Grand Duchy, strength was authority. Beyond the power that came with my station, my reputation — now cemented by having tamed a colossal bison and proven my physical might — grew stronger than ever… or so Eliza reported to me.
Upon our return, I immediately ordered a pen built for the Mountain King alone; no ordinary stable could accommodate his size.
At first the servants balked at caring for him, which caused a bit of difficulty, but little by little, people found their courage.
"The Mountain King seems to think he's everyone's superior — except yours, my lady. He gave a servant holding a broom this haughty little chin-lift, like he wanted his back scratched! So I decided to help scratch him too!"
The sight of Bielka laughing as she patted the Mountain King's head was genuinely worth watching. For a few of the male servants, it may well have been a direct hit on their particular tastes.
According to Bielka, the Mountain King had 'granted permission' for one servant and one only to pat his head: her. In truth, he seemed to regard Bielka as one of his own subordinates.
Well, they've gotten close, so it all worked out.
Except — reports had begun coming in that the Mountain King would now and then vanish beyond the castle walls without a word.
At first I naturally assumed he was simply taking walks around Eisenfels and running himself to his heart's content before coming home. However fine a stable he lived in, the Mountain King was at heart a bison; a life without running was no life at all.
But it turned out…
"My lady, the Mountain King has disappeared again."
"Again? Where does he mean to go running this time?"
"No, my lady. It's not running…"
Eliza continued carefully.
"I believe he's gone toward the Trofimov Barony. According to the Baron's message some days ago, the cows there have all conceived."
"………Pardon?"
"It's… whenever he finds an opening, the Mountain King runs off there to… with the Baron's improved-breed cows…"
Eliza's expression turned distinctly awkward.
Wait, hold on. So you're telling me my gigantic bison has been trekking all the way to the Trofimov Barony to mate with the cows?!
It wasn't exact, but we'd traveled by carriage across the open plains for roughly five days, so the distance between the Trofimov Barony and Eisenfels was somewhere around two hundred and fifty kilometers.
Which meant the Mountain King had covered a round trip of at least five hundred kilometers. For a mating run. The absolute menace.
So a huge black bull swooped in and stole every single cow away from the Trofimov ranch's stud bulls?
That's literally a BBC — Big Black Cow. Wait, hold on, isn't the size difference way too extreme? How does it even fit?
Ah, well, the calves are being born just fine, so I suppose it's not an issue… no, what am I even thinking.
I pulled myself together and shook my head.