The Grand Duchess Finishes Her Preparations
The Grand Duchess had finished her preparations.
"...It's enormous."
That was my impression as the Imperial Palace slowly came into view from inside the carriage.
Enormous. Majestic. Was there a single word beyond those two that could perfectly capture the palace? Come to think of it, "splendid" might just about make the cut—but more than any dazzling ornamentation, it was the grand, solemn air of the place that truly seized hold of me.
"Is this your first time visiting the palace?"
"Yes. Have you been here before, my lady?"
"A few times, accompanying my father."
"I see."
It made sense. Someone of a duke's standing would naturally have plenty of occasions to visit the palace, so it was hardly surprising that Rebecca wasn't a first-timer here.
"Then might I look forward to a guided tour from the Grand Duchess herself?"
"...You're asking your fiancée to escort you?"
Rebecca stared at me with an expression of pure incredulity. What kind of fiancé asks his fiancée to escort him? The Grand Duchess wore the look of someone gazing upon the most shameless creature in existence.
"A knowledgeable person instructing one who knows less is a time-honored tradition."
"..."
I was, in fact, far more shameless than the Grand Duchess gave me credit for.
"I'm only joking. Please relax that expression."
Of course, I stopped the moment I saw Rebecca's face beginning to scrunch up.
"A scrunched-up face makes a person look ugly."
"Did you just call me ugly..."
"I'm excluding the most beautiful woman in the world, who happens to be my fiancée, of course."
"..."
"Would I ever dare call my beloved Grand Duchess ugly?"
"...Stop teasing me."
Rebecca's fierce, ready-to-bite-and-tear expression crumbled utterly at those two words—beautiful and beloved. The way she melted at the slightest flattering remark never changed, and it never stopped being adorable.
"...Why do you keep staring at me?"
"My fiancée is so lovely that my eyes simply refuse to look anywhere else."
"..."
And so, passing the time gazing at Rebecca's flushed red face, we arrived before long at the palace entrance, where guards stood blocking the way.
"State your identities."
"Rebecca Valencia of the Ducal House of Valencia, and Albert Zernias of the County of Zernias."
"Present your invitations."
The guards, armed in armor that looked impressively strict, asked to see our invitations.
"Here you are."
"We'll need to verify them. Please wait a moment."
The guard who received the two invitations from my hand inspected them with meticulous care.
"This is taking a while."
"Tell me about it."
I wholeheartedly agreed with the Grand Duchess's bored complaint. If I had arrived in the carriage with my mother and father, we wouldn't have had to go through this tedious verification at all.
— I'll be going ahead with your father, so you're to ride with the Grand Duchess once she's awake, son.
— ...
And so, because a certain someone had enjoyed a truly magnificent lie-in, we'd ended up riding separately from our parents. A sorry state of affairs.
"Why do you keep staring at me like that?"
"...It's nothing at all."
Though the person in question seemed entirely unaware that this delay was her own doing. And to be fair, the only reason Rebecca had overslept was that she'd stayed up helping me practice my dance—so I didn't really have a leg to stand on. However proud I was of my own shamelessness, I wasn't quite shameless enough to lecture the person who'd helped me about waking up late.
"...Identity confirmed. Lady Rebecca of the Ducal House of Valencia, Young Lord Albert of the County of Zernias. Welcome to the Imperial Palace."
The guard, apparently finished with the verification, spoke his welcome and opened the way.
And so I set foot for the very first time inside the Imperial Palace—the stage upon which the original novel's most crucial event was about to unfold.
"...Did I arrive too early?"
I was now wandering the palace alone, without any particular destination in mind.
For one thing, there was still some time before the banquet was due to begin. And for another—
Having alighted from the carriage with her hand in mine, Rebecca had needed to head straight to where her mother, the Duchess, would be waiting. So after one last jab at the Grand Duchess, I saw her off.
It wasn't that I felt no disappointment at having to part the moment we arrived. But young noble ladies on the eve of their debutante always had a mountain of preparations to see to, and I made sure not to let it show.
Besides, I could have joined my parents if I'd truly wanted to. Even visiting the palace for the first time, a quick word with anyone passing by would have been enough to locate where my mother and father were. The reason I didn't seek them out was—well, that finding it strange to actually walk the halls of a palace I'd only ever read about on the page was... an excuse.
'If I went, I'd only be in the way.'
It had been a long time since the two of them had any time alone together, and I had no desire to drive a wedge into that. As their son, I had nothing bad to say about my parents' loving marriage—but a son watching his parents' displays of affection is uncomfortable for everyone involved. What kind of parent wants to perform their romance in front of their child? I'm sure such parents exist somewhere, but mine were certainly not among them.
So instead of following Rebecca's example and joining my parents, I chose to take in the sights of the palace. With roughly an hour remaining until the banquet proper began, it was plenty of time to look around, no matter how vast the palace might be. A leisurely circuit, then stroll over to the banquet hall. That was the plan.
...That was what I had thought, at any rate.
"What is your name?"
"...I greet the Little Sun of the Empire, His Highness the Crown Prince."
That was, until I met Mikhail Schuelgart—the Crown Prince of the Empire, and the protagonist of the novel I had transmigrated into.
Mikhail Schuelgart.
The protagonist of The Crown Prince Wields a Sword—the "Crown Prince" of the title. Befitting the future emperor, he was characterized as cold and ruthlessly levelheaded, with a devotion to his people that surpassed anyone else's. To borrow the novel's own words, Mikhail was the man most worthy of the title of "Emperor."
In the original story, he was a protagonist who drew the longing gaze of every character and every reader alike. But—
"I'll ask you once more. What is your name?"
"..."
I did not like the character called Mikhail. However slapdash the author's worldbuilding had been, the reason House Valencia—Rebecca's family—had been ruined was the very Crown Prince standing before me, demanding my name. That reason was why I had dropped the novel. And having dropped the novel was why I had been transmigrated into it. There was no way in the world I could harbor good feelings toward Mikhail.
"You roam the palace at your ease, so you're clearly a noble—and yet I don't recognize your face."
"...I am Albert Zernias, of the County of Zernias."
Still, no matter how I felt about him, if I committed the insolence of ignoring the Crown Prince outright, I had no doubt the County of Zernias would be ruined before the House of Valencia ever met its fate. So I answered him with the utmost courtesy I could muster.
"The County of Zernias, you say..."
Mikhail seemed to know of me despite never having seen my face before. Most likely, he knew me as the man betrothed to the only daughter of the Ducal House of Valencia.
"...The house engaged to the Ducal House of Valencia."
Just as I'd predicted, the Crown Prince had a rough grasp of who I was through my connection to the Valencias.
"That is correct."
I didn't deny it. There was no real need to hide my identity, and I wanted nothing more than to agree eagerly and extract myself from this uncomfortable conversation as quickly as possible.
"...I see. You're here for the banquet, then?"
"I am."
Fortunately, whether because Mikhail had no intention of detaining me any longer than necessary, or because he had other business waiting—
"There's little time left before the banquet. You'd best make your way to the hall soon."
"...Thank you, Your Highness."
He left me with that advice and walked on past. Only after confirming that the Crown Prince had retreated a good distance away did I—
"Phew."
—finally manage to exhale in relief.
I had known, ever since waking up inside this novel, that someday I would have to face its protagonist, Mikhail. What I hadn't expected was to face him this soon.
"...I hadn't thought it would be this early."
Personally, I wanted nothing to do with any of the original novel's characters except Rebecca. If circumstances forced an accidental encounter like the one just now, so be it—but I had not the slightest intention of seeking anyone out and entangling myself with them. If I, a variable, were inserted into the original story as it flowed along its destined course, I couldn't even begin to guess what events might be set in motion.
With my goal of protecting Rebecca's House of Valencia from the treason charge that would one day destroy it, even the smallest variable was unwelcome.
"...I suppose I should get going."
Unwelcome or not, the Crown Prince's advice to head to the banquet hall was sound.
"Excuse me, which way is the banquet—"
"Down that corridor, my lord."
I made my way toward the banquet hall, asking directions from the occasional imperial servant I passed—and there I found Rebecca, wearing an utterly prim expression.
"...What took you so long?"
The Grand Duchess who stood before me was a world apart from the casual, comfortable Rebecca I'd known until now: draped in a crimson dress that suited her flawlessly, her makeup and adornments complete, her already beautiful features elevated into something breathtaking.
"..."
"...Don't just stand there gawking. Come over here."
And that sight—that, I could say with complete confidence, was the most beautiful I had seen the Grand Duchess in all the three years I had known her.