The Princesses of the Orphanage (6)
Imperial Palace of the Empire, Crown Prince's office.
Scrape, scrape.
Only the sound of cutlery echoed softly through the vast, silent room. A middle-aged man with steel-blue hair, dressed in a military uniform, wielded silver utensils to slice into the food on a white plate.
Fwoosh.
White steam rose gently from something grayish-white. Oil seeped from the well-cooked flesh, and the man picked up a small glass bottle from beside him, pouring its red sauce directly over it.
"Hm, hmm, hm."
He even hummed a low tune under his breath. Just as he cut a bite-sized piece, lightly spearing a chunk of meat with his fork—
BAM—!
The office door flew open with a violent crash.
"Crown Prince—!"
"...Hah."
A white-haired noblewoman with faint wrinkles around her mouth stormed in, letting out a sharp shriek.
"I was finally setting the mood to enjoy this."
"Is it true you've sent Astasia to Gibraltar?!"
"Indeed. Ah. Stop."
As the woman strode to the center of the office, the middle-aged man—the Crown Prince—raised a hand to halt her.
"Isabella. Come any closer, and I'll assume it's an assassination attempt and strike."
"...I'm your wife! The Crown Princess Consort!!"
"Merely the woman of the highest—and most noble—blood among the many."
"You, you...!"
Crown Princess Consort Isabella clenched and unclenched her hands, gloved in white. Rage poured from her entire body, yet she couldn't take another step forward.
"Wise choice."
The Crown Prince toyed with the fork dripping red sauce. One more step, and that fork would have plunged into her throat, heart—or forehead.
"I'll give you fifteen minutes. You're my wife, after all. Surely I can spare that much in twenty-four hours."
"...You've sent an imperial granddaughter to Gibraltar. Do you think that makes any sense?!"
"Are you asking my intentions? Or Erwin's?"
"B-both."
"I see. Nothing special."
The Crown Prince lightly lifted the wine glass beside him.
"Erwin wanted to pry Astasia away from me by any means. And she provided a suitable pretext."
"A pretext?"
"That the girls sent to Gibraltar, Astasia included, could seduce the children of the Gibraltar margrave."
"That woman Erwin said something like...?"
"She must want to whisk her daughter away that badly. Foolishly so."
The Crown Prince smirked as he filled his glass with red wine.
"Calculations put the success rate at about 0.3 percent, but if it works, it'd be a miracle."
"If, if that happens...!"
"When I become emperor, the first in line for the throne would naturally pass to Astasia."
"No!!"
Isabella cried out desperately—
"Ah, not Astasia! I have my own children!!"
—and took a step back, dropping to her knees.
"No confidence to step forward and kneel, but begging like this is fine?"
"P-please! Give Isaac and Francesca a chance too!"
"Isaac, Francesca. Hmm..."
The Crown Prince furrowed his brow. As if rummaging through a stack of documents for data, he twirled his wine glass, lost in thought.
"...Ah, yes. Truly noble children, just like you. Noble in name only, with no other value."
"Bloodline is value!"
"Born to a crown prince, so they're imperial? No, they're not. Born to nobles, so they're noble? That's the outdated mindset of a place like Nostrum Kingdom. Lady Isabella, Marchioness."
"Crown Princess Consort!!"
The Crown Prince openly mocked Isabella.
"The imperial granddaughter's study abroad in Gibraltar has already been approved by His Imperial Majesty, and I'm personally quite looking forward to it. Officially, she's just away temporarily—so if you breathe a word... it'll be treason."
"Th-the imperial granddaughter's vacancy...!"
"Thinking Francesca can fill it is your delusion. As a mother, shouldn't you be more realistic about your children's talents?"
The Crown Prince shook his head as if genuinely regretful.
"Trees that can't reach should never be gazed upon. Better they find happiness knowing their place than plant false dreams that lead to despair."
"......"
"I'm personally curious. Just a hypothetical."
The Crown Prince speared another piece of meat with his fork, grinning broadly.
"If Astasia succeeds in seducing the Gibraltar margrave's son, Gibraltar effectively becomes an imperial autonomous territory, doesn't it?"
"......"
"If you're that anxious, why don't you go to Nostrum yourself? Who knows. Crimson Gibraltar might consider an affair under your charms."
"Is that something for the Crown Princess Consort to hear...?!"
"Seems you've forgotten—if you hadn't made such a fuss over bloodlines, that position wouldn't even be yours."
"Erwin, that woman...!"
"No."
Chomp.
"Not just Erwin."
The Crown Prince took a large bite of meat before continuing.
"There are plenty of women who could be Crown Princess Consort besides you."
"......"
"And if Astasia truly succeeds in seducing Gibraltar..."
The Crown Prince wiped his mouth with a napkin and smirked.
"Erwin becomes empress."
Sending girls to the Gibraltar margrave's family to seduce them with beauty.
"...Under that pretext, I've successfully extracted the children."
While Grey Gibraltar chatted briefly with the girls inside the container,
"I didn't expect such frankness."
"Transparency makes for a clean deal."
Chairwoman Erwin laid everything out neatly in her separate talk with Margrave Crimson.
"The Empire's situation is complicated. The Crown Prince... isn't exactly normal in many ways."
"Hmm..."
"You might not understand, Margrave, but some children aren't born of love. Ah, of course I love my daughter."
"Certainly a bit hard to grasp."
The margrave said little, pulling an item from his bosom.
"What you requested. This will lay the foundation for our deal."
Erwin took the camera from the margrave, her face surprised.
"You really took the photos?"
"Taken naturally, like by a spy. There are some Grey took too, so it won't look off."
"...Hope it passes scrutiny."
The camera held several photos of Margrave Crimson taken from a great distance.
"No close-ups...?"
"All from beyond a Sword Master's sensing range. They said getting closer might raise suspicions."
"Grey did?"
"Yes."
The faces weren't clear from so far, but the hair color stood out vividly.
"I'll inform Grey of the situation. He'll play along appropriately—seduced just enough without hurting feelings."
"...I'm sorry. Truly. I didn't want to go this far."
"It's within what Gibraltar can accept, so no need to worry that much. However."
"Yes. Once the southern accord is signed and trade permits issued, I'll open a mart—no, a department store right away."
"Mm. And..."
Margrave Crimson paused in thought.
"I'd like you to create an identity for a child. An Empire-born orphan."
"Pardon?"
"Circumstances require it."
He gestured to the carriage behind.
"Wait a moment."
The carriage was some distance away, but the margrave reached it in one breath, escorting a girl back.
"Name's Zabes. Age thirteen."
"...Hold on. This girl is...?"
"......"
The margrave closed his eyes briefly, while Chairwoman Erwin quickly scanned the girl called Zaves up and down.
"...Blonde hair and green eyes are common enough in the Empire. No issues there. I won't pry."
"This could be tremendous intelligence for the Empire."
"I'm not inclined to help the Crown Prince, so rest easy. In return, handle our matter too..."
"Just a secret between Gibraltar and Iferia."
The margrave and chairwoman exchanged glances, then nodded lightly in unison.
"So the one I'm taking... no, that doesn't make sense."
"Make it eleven instead of ten."
"But I heard orphanage cohorts are in tens."
"One more changes nothing. For this girl here, or those in the container."
The margrave swallowed briefly.
"They'll think she's a daughter from me and my wife."
"Thank you. Sincerely. Though it's odd to say this."
Erwin pulled another camera from her bosom, handing it to the margrave with a low chuckle.
"If it really turns into that kind of relationship, then I'll truly ask for your care. I might have to flee to Nostrum."
"Could go the other way."
"Hahaha! Margrave, such jokes."
"Heh."
Margrave Crimson pocketed the camera swiftly and returned.
"Then, moving that container whole is the task..."
"Ah."
"What's wrong?"
"...Is there only one horse, by chance?"
"......"
Only a single horse was tied to the carriage.
"...Dragging that will draw eyes inevitably."
"Loading it on the carriage..."
"Four-seater. Impossible."
"Uh, um... Can't we ask her to pull it...?"
And the horse, as if sensing it would have to pull from the start, kept its head turned from the container, staring at the ground.
"No choice. I'll handle it without drawing notice, so you go. Any last words for the children, say them now."
"Mm, no need. Your son seems to have them well in hand already."
Erwin pointed to the container.
"They're still inside, chatting like this, right?"
Focus. Get it together, Grey.
He'd met Astasia, but work came first.
"Others, introduce yourselves."
"Uh... um..."
"Don't ask. I haven't permitted questions."
The girls sensed it instinctively. Even Astasia stepped aside briefly at his actions.
"Answer what's asked. I don't like repeating myself."
That his tone with Astasia was worlds apart from theirs.
"Yeah. Feels odd, right? We'll talk after introductions."
The quick ones suspected; the others exchanged glances.
"Introduce your official identities for being sent here. Make it clear for me."
"!!"
"No nonsense."
The nine Empire orphans exchanged looks, then began sharing their backgrounds one by one.
A child raised in a beggar den. One abandoned after entering a stepfamily without a father. One orphanage-born but dormitory-placed via Iferia aid.
"...I see. Your identities make sense now."
While the adults talked outside, he'd finished background checks starting with Astasia.
"Fathers unknown, hometowns, pasts, ages all different. Taken in by Chairwoman Erwin, raised in mid-level academy dorms, selected to come to Gibraltar."
Some girls nodded.
"One more commonality."
"Yes?"
"You're all spies sent by the Empire."
"......"
No one spoke.
"Hit the mark and flustered? But I won't chase you out or abandon you. ...Hear me out."
The eldest lunged, but he extended a hand swiftly.
"Whether you spy or seduce, I won't interfere."
"Wh-what...?"
"And I need to speak."
He steadied his breath.
"Please, please sit up front."
"Why~?"
Astasia drawled, swinging her legs from atop a crate right beside him.
"It's distracting."
"Just enjoying the best seat?"
"Sit with me. Please."
He pleaded with Astasia, who sat on the adjacent crate, watching him sideways.
"I already know you're an imperial granddaughter."
"Eek, really?! Chairwoman wouldn't tell!"
"Gibraltar knows more than you think. You're the imperial granddaughter; they're here to support you."
And not just support—candidates ready to usurp her position at a chance.
They're hiding it, but greed fills their eyes.
He could see it. Above all, the fundamental desire in their hearts.
And about three of them.
Shadows mixed in.
A faint scent concealed in their bosoms.
"Princess Astasia. With just me and the margrave, speak freely. Distinction... honorifics versus casual?"
"Honorifics for princess, casual for slave?"
"...Not slave."
"Oops! Orphan! Hehe. Master then?"
"...We'll sort titles on the way."
Chatting with Astasia drained him in every way.
"Hm? What's wrong? Feeling ill?"
"...You're giving me a headache, Princess."
The more they talked, the more she overlapped with her.
"Princess. I'll make time later—cooperate now?"
"Mm..."
"Please, Princess."
"Wooow!"
Astasia's eyes sparkled as she raised both arms.
"Can't refuse a prince's request! Quiet mode, on!"
She clapped her hands over her mouth, eyes twinkling.
"Yes, good girl."
"Hehe."
Did I do well?
"...Anyway, back to it."
He turned to the orphan spies.
"Same for you. Maintain your 'identities' with everyone else—never reveal you're Empire agents. I won't use honorifics with you, of course."
They seemed to understand yet puzzled.
"Why? Why accept Empire spies? Reasons abound, but..."
He raised one hand lightly.
"Tools."
The emperor had said.
"Don't bother understanding heads."
"......!!"
If incomprehensible, make comprehension unnecessary. Tools are used, not questioning.
"I hate complications and annoyances. Details... on the way."
Footsteps approached outside.
"Talk done?"
"Yes."
As his father entered the container,
"Just as you said."
"Gasp..."
The girls' gazes locked on his father instantly.
"Explain details yourself. Plenty of time en route."
"Yes."
A touch bitter. He'd set the mood perfectly, but one look at Father's face turned spies silent and attentive.
Still couldn't beat an adult's presence, huh.
"Chairwoman Erwin?"
"Left first. That..."
"We already said goodbyes before the gate opened! It's fine!"
Astasia shot up her hand, hopped off the crate, clasped hers, and bowed ninety degrees.
"Please take care of us, Margrave!!"
"...Ah, yes."
Father glanced between Astasia and him.
"...Tch. No way. Surely not."
"What 'no way'?"
"Nothing. More pressing issue."
Behind Father, Princess Naria pointed to the carriage.
"The horse finally bolted. Snapped the reins itself."
At the carriage front: frayed reins and hoofprints fleeing.
"...Who trained that horse?"
"Good question. First time for me too."
The horse had fled.
It looked startled at the container's size, as if dreading pulling it—but
Scared of the magitech engine's vibrations.
Off now, but fled from the powered container's hum.
"Grey. Wait here. I'll fetch five from the estate—"
"Father."
He descended the container, approached the carriage, untied the reins.
"That'll draw attention. Handle this quietly—you know that, right?"
He secured it firmly to the container's hitch.
"Pull."
He handed the rope to Father.
"Can't stay forever. In this cold night. Everyone'll catch colds."
It had wheels, after all.
"Even talking, let's do it over warm cocoa. Not here. Okay?"
"...Get on."
About thirty minutes later.
The wheeled container carrying twelve children passed the gorge, arriving at the orphanage.