Arrival at the Bayern Ducal Residence
“I’m considering it from various angles. It was at the king’s birthday party, after all. I remember attending myself. I left early, so I only heard about what happened afterward... That’s when the incident occurred.”
Franche to the west and Richter to the east were nations that shared a border.
Richter’s southern region stretched out diagonally.
In other words, the Bayern Duchy bordered Franche directly.
As two of the continent’s great powers, they had long been locked in a battle of pride.
Their national temperaments were polar opposites, and even though they were so close, they spoke different languages—that was likely the root of the problem.
“I suppose I’ll be attending another party this time.”
“Yes. You’ll be going with me.”
“I want to help somehow... if there’s anything I can do. Maybe stay until the end of the party and prevent the incident.”
Victor conveyed his gratitude with a look.
“From what I recall, the king of Franche’s stance was this: It was an act born of drunkenness, and Richter’s king lacks mercy. If anyone felt insulted, it was us.”
“Hah.”
“But anyone who knows the king of Franche wouldn’t believe that for a second. He planned it from the start. Even now, Franche is preparing for war behind the scenes.”
His tone was impassive, but Victor’s mind was a whirlwind.
If he planted a specially trained informant in Franche, where should he embed them?
How could he uncover evidence of their war preparations?
And even if he did, would Richter’s king believe it and prepare accordingly?
The current Richter royal family was rotten to the core.
Honestly, he wished the whole lot of them would drop dead... but with no successor, it would plunge the nation into chaos.
Nor could Bayern secede and pretend not to notice.
Franche would march through Bayern’s lands for the war anyway.
“...But that party is still a ways off, so for now, we should focus on sorting out things at home. Ah, we’ve arrived.”
“Is this Bayern territory from here on?”
“Yes.”
A faint smile curved Victor’s lips.
The scent of peaches flooded in through the open window.
Ibel, who had been admiring the peach trees planted along the outskirts of the territory, soon gasped in admiration at the sight of an old church.
The people looked leisurely and at peace, and the children’s faces were free of hunger’s grime.
This meant the territory’s residents were well-fed. In other words, Victor and his administrative aides truly cared about their lives.
Ibel found this unfeigned tranquility deeply appealing.
“The mansion is just ahead.”
After passing through gates marked with signs declaring private property and traveling a bit farther, the mansion came into view, covered in white and blue tiles.
The servants lined up before it as well.
My name is Ibel Eberstein.
Before descending, Ibel murmured her new surname to herself a few times.
Just that alone made her feel as though the axis of the future had shifted dramatically.
“The master has arrived!”
Willen, the butler of the Bayern Ducal Residence, clasped his hands behind his back and raised his voice. The assembled servants bowed in unison.
They had already been informed by the butler that the new lady of the house would be arriving with the master today.
Who on earth could it be, to make him decide on marriage so suddenly?
That person from the newspaper ad, right?
Some noble lady...?
Is she incredibly beautiful?
Honestly, it was all too abrupt.
Usually, a noble’s intended spouse would be the talk of the town long in advance.
Because the partner was always nobility anyway, and a family name couldn’t be hidden.
Yet there had been no chaperoned visits, no matchmakers, not even a hint of which house she came from.
From the servants’ perspective, they knew nothing about the lady who would hold their livelihoods in her hands.
At least if they knew, they could try to cater to her undoubtedly picky tastes!
It was right then.
“Careful.”
“Thank you.”
A serene voice, like moonlight on still water, seeped into everyone’s ears. The faint rustle of skirts accompanied it intermittently.
As soon as the master and his lady entered through the entrance, the servants snapped their heads up to sneak peeks at their backs.
“Welcome. I am Willen, the butler who has long served House Bayern. I look forward to your guidance.”
“Guidance? I’m the one who should be learning. Please take care of me.”
“Your words are too kind. We’ve prepared your chambers on the second floor for now. They get excellent sunlight—I hope it suits you.”
The butler, usually so intimidating and fearsome to the servants, was beaming.
Having noted that first, they then saw the two masters holding hands tightly—and let out silent screams.
His Grace, holding hands!
Gripping so tightly like that!
Who would’ve thought I’d live to see His Grace in love...!
If there was one thing most entertaining about noble estates, it was undoubtedly the master’s private life.
Victor had never once brought a lady to the territory, so the servants’ curiosity knew no bounds.
Not even the butler’s glares could contain it.
“Oh my! Victor, you’re back already!”
At that moment, Genevieve appeared, gripping the banister as she descended the stairs.
“Aunt.”
“You must be exhausted, as always. So, this young lady is the one you’re seeing? From which house, dear?”
Genevieve descended slowly, surveying the murmuring servants with what should have been positive buzz, then plastered on a forced smile to greet the pair. She didn’t forget to probe for information either.
But the moment Ibel finished her greeting, Victor intervened.
“She’s feeling nauseous from the long carriage ride. Shall we discuss the details over dinner after she rests? This isn’t the place for a long talk anyway.”
Victor’s demeanor was off.
He was clearly losing his head over his first taste of young love.
Genevieve, clenching her fist out of sight, decided to retreat for now.
The woman Victor had brought... well, her looks were excessively pretty, but she seemed mild-mannered enough—probably nothing to worry about.
“Oh, right! Of course. Goodness, I’m all flustered from the surprise. You understand, don’t you?”
“Where are the children?”
Ignoring Genevieve’s words, Victor slowly scanned the surroundings.
The faces that should have been there were, predictably, absent.
No small heads or feet peeked from behind the large vases or curtains, so they must have fled somewhere.
As he tried to brush it off, Genevieve immediately vented her complaints.
“Even Anselm’s been acting up lately. He ignores everything I say! Just a few days ago...”
“So where are they?”
Cutting off Genevieve’s lament, Victor swept a weary hand over his face. Pouting, she pointed upstairs with obvious sulkiness.
“The end room on the second floor, remember? I locked Damian in there. He needed some discipline. Anselm said he’d come but didn’t, so he needs a talking-to as well.”
“Understood. We’ll see you at dinner, then.”
Having grasped the situation, Victor left only those curt words and led Ibel upstairs.
He couldn’t let Ibel observe proper etiquette toward Genevieve in a place full of eavesdroppers and gossipers.
He’d brought her precisely to avoid that.
And to make the servants recognize Ibel as superior to Genevieve, his intervention had been the most natural way.
“She had such an air of authority, didn’t she? The atmosphere, I mean.”
“Yeah, I thought so too. She somehow resembles His Grace. In vibe!”
“You think so? Me too! There was something similar about her.”
With the masters gone, the younger maids’ mouths immediately ran wild.
They quieted only at the butler’s pointed cough, then scattered to their tasks in groups.
All while envying Eloi, who had been chosen as the lady’s close attendant.