The Lady Attends Class
Sweet as it had been, the private lunch for just the two of us came to an end—and under normal circumstances, it would have been time for me to head to the Zernias Count Estate's study for my next appointment, my private lesson.
"...Excuse me what?"
"..."
That is, if Rebecca hadn't shown up.
Had I known in advance that the Lady was coming, I would have asked my tutor long ago to push the lesson back. But since Rebecca had appeared without a word of warning, glaring at me from across the room the whole while, rescheduling was easier said than done.
"My Lady."
"What is it now?"
"It's time for my lesson."
"...And?"
"Would it be all right if I showed you somewhere to wait in the meantime?"
It was a gesture of consideration, of a sort. My tutor, having received no word of this, would be arriving at the estate any minute for the lesson as usual, and since he'd set out long before now, sending a letter hadn't even been an option. If I simply left for my lesson, Rebecca's position as my guest would become awkward—so I intended to escort her to the parlor, which existed precisely for receiving guests.
"...I refuse."
"..."
Until Rebecca flatly rejected my proposal, that is. I could practically feel the veins bulging in my forehead.
But snapping at her outright would be no way to treat my fiancée, so I resolved to hold my tongue. For now.
"...Might I dare ask why you refuse?"
"What kind of nobleman abandons a guest who has come all this way to go attend a lesson?"
Rebecca demanded that she be treated with the hospitality due a proper guest. And to be fair, on its face, her argument was perfectly reasonable. What aristocrat in the Empire would leave a visiting guest behind to go do something else? Even a commoner knows that treating one's guests well is basic human decency.
So yes—the Lady's point carried considerable persuasive force.
"You didn't send word that you intended to visit, though, did you? You simply showed up."
This time, however, an exception had to be made. As I'd already said, if Rebecca had sent a letter announcing her visit in advance, none of this would have happened.
"If you had replied to a letter and then come, I wouldn't have needed to leave for my lesson at all."
"...And yet whenever you visit the Valencia Ducal Mansion, you never announce it beforehand either."
Clearly chafing under my reproach, Rebecca seized on the fact that I always dropped in on the ducal mansion without any notice.
"I only ever visited on days when you had no lessons, My Lady."
For my part, I had made a point of visiting the ducal mansion only when Rebecca's schedule was clear—and since I visited far too often to announce each and every trip, the comparison didn't hold water in the first place.
"You're really one to talk, considering just two days ago you sulked because I hadn't visited for an entire week."
Besides, hadn't the Lady thrown a fit recently over my not coming to the mansion? I'd even gone and made ice cream—a skill God never intended for me—just to appease her. Hearing her say this now, nothing she said resonated with me at all.
"...Don't bring that up."
"..."
Rebecca clearly knew how embarrassing that episode was, because she shut my mouth before I could say another word about it.
"In any case—because you arrived without telling me, My Lady, I have a scheduled lesson to attend. So please wait in the parlor for a moment."
"...No."
Despite all my various attempts at persuasion, Rebecca stubbornly insisted she hated the idea of waiting alone in the parlor.
And so the standoff dragged on with no end in sight, and as the hour of my tutor's arrival drew closer, I began to grow anxious. If I didn't somehow talk Rebecca into sitting down somewhere, there'd be no attending my lesson in peace—but the impish Lady, one foot out the door with every word, showed not the slightest sign of listening.
Convinced this truly would drag on forever if I let it, I finally played my trump card.
"Then how about this."
"...What?"
"Why don't you attend the lesson with me, My Lady?"
Desperate times, desperate measures.
And so, in the present—the study of the Zernias Count Estate, where my lesson was about to begin.
"So, to confirm—you're telling me that Lady Valencia of Valencia will be joining today's lesson?"
"...It's a long story."
I was busy explaining everything to Fredric, my tutor. Unlike our usual one-on-one sessions, there would be someone else sitting beside me.
Honestly, when I'd first suggested she sit in on the lesson, I'd expected Rebecca to refuse. No one in this world genuinely enjoys studying, so I'd assumed the Lady would never accept such an offer. My plan, had she turned me down as predicted, was to coax her with some other enticement into waiting in the parlor instead.
- I'll listen in.
- ...Pardon?
- I said I'll join. The lesson.
Rebecca, forever dancing around my expectations, had slipped past them once again—she accepted my proposal to share the lesson without a moment's hesitation. And thus, the present situation: one tutor, two students.
Truly, an absolutely staggering turn of events.
"It makes little difference to me, as the one teaching, but... I must admit I worry Lady Valencia may find it dull."
Once I'd finished explaining, Fredric spoke with a faintly troubled look. Perfectly understandable. What tutor wouldn't be flustered to suddenly find his student roster doubled?
"You hear that? It might be more boring than you think."
I tried once more to dissuade Rebecca, leaning on Fredric's words.
"I don't care if it's boring."
"..."
Her mind was evidently made up; she showed no intention whatsoever of changing it. Which left me with exactly one available course of action.
"...I'm sorry."
All I could do was apologize to Fredric, whose class size had just doubled.
"Think nothing of it, my young lord. As I said, it's no trouble at all from where I stand."
"Still—really, I'm sorry."
"I'll accept your apology up to this point, young lord, and now let us begin the lesson."
Evidently unwilling to dwell on the matter any further, Fredric hurriedly launched into the lesson, and I found myself drawn into it in spite of everything.
"Last time, we discussed the Holy Order of the Empire. Do you remember?"
"Of course I do."
I remembered it very well indeed. True, I had heard it in a previous lesson—but the Holy Order was a rather important institution in the original novel, and there was no way I, someone who had devoured The Crown Prince Wields a Sword, could have forgotten it.
"It's the only religious organization in the Empire, and its priests can wield a special power called 'Sacred Power.' Correct?"
"Precisely correct. And do you also remember why the Holy Order holds such significance in the Empire?"
I remembered that too.
"Of course I—"
And so, just as before, I opened my mouth to answer with confidence—
"...Because every major ceremony in the Empire is hosted under the Holy Order's direction."
"..."
"Am I wrong?"
Rebecca stole my answer right out from under me.
"...That is correct. You know your material well, my Lady."
"That much is common knowledge."
At Fredric's confirmation that she'd answered correctly, the Lady's nose practically shot into the air.
Fredric seemed startled to find Rebecca far more learned than he'd imagined. I, however, was not surprised in the least. There were very good reasons why the readers of the original novel had settled on the nickname Munchkin Young Lady for Rebecca Valencia.
Up to now, I'd only ever emphasized Rebecca's physical prowess, so some might assume the Lady was dull-witted—but according to the author of The Crown Prince Wields a Sword, Rebecca's IQ was, by official setting, 140. Considering the average person sits around 100, that was a staggeringly high figure. She hadn't earned the fandom's nickname of Munchkin Young Lady for nothing.
"...Didn't you say you were only going to listen?"
Granted, my surprise aside, I was decidedly annoyed at having my answer snatched away.
"Answering the tutor's questions—isn't that what focusing on the lesson means?"
"...Well, yes, but."
"Besides, what exactly is your complaint? Could it be that you're irritated because I answered something you didn't know?"
"..."
Crack—
I could practically hear my temper splitting down the middle.
"...Hardly. Surely I can't be dumber than the Lady who loses to me at every turn."
"Me, dumber than you? That's the funniest joke I've heard all year."
"Is that so? I don't recall making a joke."
"Then was what you just said not speech, but some sort of squeaking?"
"How delightful this is, My Lady."
"Isn't it, though? I think so too."
Had a spell existed for materializing one's killing intent into visible form, I would have dearly loved to test it between Rebecca and myself. No doubt it would have manifested as roaring flames, blazing right before our eyes.
"My young lord? My Lady? Please don't fight—let's focus on the lesson..."
Sensing the distinctly murderous atmosphere between us, the gentle-hearted Fredric attempted to mediate in a small voice—
"Let's make a bet on it, then."
"...A Wish Bet, same as always?"
"Of course."
"Fine. Let's start right now."
"..."
But for Rebecca and me—our competitive spirits already well and truly ablaze—such words carried no meaning whatsoever.