Dwarves. Voyeurism. Legality. - 1
When someone sees the light, someone else grows jealous.
Just like the old saying that even a cousin buying land makes one’s stomach ache.
Tap. Tap.
Beatrix’s index finger stabbed at the desk—more precisely, at the paper lying atop it.
It was a report briefly summarizing the news the shadows had brought. As concise as the summary itself, the contents were simple and clear.
People talking behind Albert’s back were on the rise.
That was all.
"A man ought to know how to conduct himself with modesty, yet what is this? A man—and the Consort who should set an example, no less—openly selling women’s undergarments? How utterly vulgar!"
"Her Majesty has always been of firm character, even if excessive at times, and never once has her judgment clouded… yet how could she…"
Let them curse all they liked.
Beatrix thought so too, yet she could not help finding them an eyesore.
If I kill them all, I’d only be trampling on his will…
In the end, closing her ears was the best Beatrix could manage. Even applying indirect pressure would amount to ignoring Albert’s wishes.
Knock, knock.
A light rap sounded at the door, and someone stepped into the office without waiting for permission. Only Albert could get away with that.
In his hands he carried a silver tray. On it sat a bowl of milk sherbet and a silver spoon.
“What’s that…?”
“You should eat while you work. You’re almost finished, right?”
“Yeah. All done.”
In truth the work had been finished long ago. She had merely been brooding over the report.
As Albert approached the desk, Beatrix neatly cleared away the documents and the report. He set the finely shaved milk sherbet on the table and handed her the spoon from the tray.
“Thanks. I’ll enjoy it.”
Beatrix took the spoon and scooped up a bite of the snowflake-like sherbet. The refreshing sweetness spread through her mouth, and the unpleasant feeling gradually subsided.
Albert passed the silver tray to the maid who had followed him in, then sat down beside the queen as she ate her ice.
The report she had pushed to one corner caught his eye. The moment Albert’s hand reached for it, Beatrix stopped mid-bite and spoke in a hurry.
“Ah, that’s…”
Even Albert would surely feel hurt reading insults about himself. Beatrix flustered and fumbled, but—
“It’s fine.”
Albert smiled as if it were nothing and set the report back down.
“You’re… okay?”
When Beatrix asked carefully, Albert nodded.
“Yes. If anything, it even feels good.”
“Feels good?”
Did he enjoy being cursed at? Should she start spitting insults at him too? But he liked taking the lead in bed, so that couldn’t be it. Beatrix found herself thrown into confusion by the sudden absurd thought.
“If I hadn’t married Beatrix, talk like this never would have come up. Right?”
“That’s… true.”
There had not been a single complaint about the tailor shop that was actually making and selling the clothes. If anything, people were lining up with reservations.
“I think it means they’re jealous of me. Because of envy.”
“That makes sense too.”
Beatrix nodded readily, as if the reasoning held water.
No one curses a person they truly think nothing of. People curse when the target is superior in some way, or possesses something they themselves lack—or when harm has been done. That was human nature. Albert selling undergarments had harmed no one, so the reason for the curses was perfectly clear.
Come to think of it…
What else can you do besides curse me?
The words he had once thrown at Carl flashed through Albert’s mind. A young noble lady had been wandering the palace that day, and he had wondered what was going on—only to learn later that the man had drowned at sea. Poor bastard. May he live well in the next life.
Albert offered a brief prayer for him, assuming it had been a simple accident. He had never cared enough about the man to dig into the truth. The news felt as distant as hearing that some stranger in a far-off land had died.
“Eat up quickly. It’s going to melt.”
As if declaring the topic closed, Albert’s gaze pointed to the half-melted sherbet. Beatrix agreed and busily worked the spoon in her hand. Half-melted though it was, it remained cold and delicious.
Clink.
Beatrix set the spoon in the empty bowl and asked,
“Come to think of it… you said you were leaving tomorrow, right?”
Not long ago, Albert had said this in bed:
“You want to meet the dwarves? Why all of a sudden?”
“I’ve never seen them myself, but I hear their skill with iron is the best on the continent. I’ve always wanted to see it at least once.”
He had traveled many places while working for the trading company, but only within the East Kingdom. That had let him pick up all sorts of rumors and scraps of knowledge—and the more he learned, the more his curiosity grew. The dwarves said to live in the north were one of the things that had always piqued it.
He had simply been too busy scraping by. Then, after entering the palace, he had been so busy adapting that he had completely forgotten. But once life stabilized and he had room for other thoughts, the buried curiosity raised its head again.
Officially he was a state guest; unofficially he had come to keep the queens as his jojips. It was the perfect position for touring the continents. The idea that bringing the dwarves in might yield more profit had also crossed his mind. A race more skilled with iron and more intimate with fire than anyone. Watching and learning their techniques up close would help in all sorts of ways.
Normally it was not good for a consort to roam too freely. He did not particularly care about looking light-footed, but safety was another matter. On that point, however, even Beatrix had nothing to say. A simple flow of mana into the necklace around Albert’s neck would take him straight to the Tower of Reconciliation. From there he could flee to any of the four palaces—east, west, south, or north. They had secretly laid linked magic circles in each palace for exactly that purpose, so there was nothing more to argue.
No choice, then.
Even a dog, if starved too long, will bite its own master without recognizing him.
“Have a safe trip. Be careful.”
“Don’t worry. Everyone’s kind, after all.”
Albert smiled, saying there was nothing to worry about. The biggest reason Beatrix fretted was not safety, but…
“True enough.”
Albert surely knew as well, so she let it pass without putting it into words.
The next day.
Beatrix saw Albert off with her belly pleasantly full. It was only a trip, and he would return to the bedroom every night—yet she felt as wistful as if she were sending someone off to a distant land. Should she even call this a trip? Or just a short outing?
Albert scanned the first floor of the Tower of Reconciliation, then walked toward the northern magic circle. In the corners of the first floor, magic circles had been installed for each of the four directions. The four queens themselves had poured their hearts into carving them. Each circle linked to the palace where its ruler resided. The eastern circle led to the bedroom; the other three led to specially prepared guest chambers.
When Albert stepped onto the circle pointing north, the necklace at his throat blazed with light. It was so dazzling he had to squeeze his eyes shut. Otherwise the fierce radiance felt as if it would burn his eyeballs. A brief sensation of floating, as if his body were lifting into the air—then the feel of solid ground under his feet. Albert slowly opened his eyes.
Air similar to the east’s, yet somehow hotter, wrapped around him. The temperature was about the same, but the humidity was higher.
A bit stuffy.
Higher humidity naturally raised the discomfort index and made breathing feel oppressive. Albert clearly sensed the difference in the air as he looked around.
A room with a red carpet and not a speck of dust. A bed and sofa ready for rest at any time, and a door set into the side wall. Curious, he opened it and found a room very much like the bathroom attached to the bedroom. Clean tiled floor, bathtub, shower, fragrant oils for washing—much the same as the bathroom he used every day, except the tub was several times larger. Not the sort of tub found in an ordinary home, but the kind one saw in a proper bathhouse.
They’re serious about bathing, huh.
Given that they usually wore dresses that left their armpits fully exposed, it made sense. Albert closed the bathroom door with that idle thought and turned his gaze to the table in the center of the guest chamber. A small golden bell had been left there, as if inviting him to use it.
He approached the table and picked up the stick with the golden bell attached.
No sound?
He had expected a ring when he gave it a light shake, but it remained completely silent. Wondering if it was broken, he checked underneath; nothing seemed missing. Even when he shook it while staring straight at the bottom, no sound came.
The clapper inside is bouncing around, though…
Strange. Albert set the bell back down and tilted his head—when the guest chamber door suddenly swung open and a cascade of pink hair billowed like waves. A pair of breasts swollen enough to burst her pure-white dress came as a bonus.
“Welcome!”
The pink-haired woman—Maria—sparkled her eyes and shut the door. Locking the handle was one thing, but the expectant light in her gaze was something else entirely.
“What brings you here so suddenly without a word? Of course, you’re welcome anytime as far as I’m concerned, but…”
The moment she reached Albert’s side she chattered excitedly, for all the world like a giant dog greeting its master.
“Ahem. Calm down first.”
When Albert rested a hand on her shoulder with an awkward smile, Maria flushed and nodded.
“Ah… I’m sorry. I only talked about myself. Would you like to sit?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
Maria shyly offered a seat, and Albert planted himself in the chair as if he had been waiting for it.
Calm down.
She took a slow breath and composed herself; the flush in Maria’s cheeks gradually faded to white. There was no more fidgeting or startled air. Watching her regain composure so quickly, Albert thought anew that a queen was still a queen. Looking into her now-calm eyes, he found himself freshly impressed.
“You said it was a personal matter… may I ask what it is?”
Maria inquired in a composed voice. Albert straightened his back and answered.
“Yes. I’d like to meet the dwarves. I heard they live in the country Maria… no, the country you rule.”
When he hastily corrected the form of address, Maria’s face—which had been stiffening—brightened again. She, too, did not want the distance that “Lady” created.
“The dwarves?”
“Yes. I’ve always wanted to meet them at least once.”
“Hmm… it doesn’t seem like a lie, but are you thinking of lending strength to the East?”
Mad for a man she might be, a queen was still a queen. The moment official talk arose, her eyes sharpened. The soft air and smile remained, which only made the person facing her more tense. Albert felt the same, yet answered calmly. Tense, yes, but not excessively so.
“Nothing so grand. I was just thinking it would be nice if I could invite one or two of them.”
“Ah… I see.”
Dwarven techniques were not state secrets, yet the craftsmen were highly valued by the nation. Even an allied country would hesitate to send them. One or two. On the surface it looked fine. But if those one or two spread the techniques… it would be no different from several dwarves leaking out. Meeting them was fine; sending them was not. Maria hardened that resolve—until
“What if I pound it into you?”
“Then it’s possible.”
At the offer of his cock she dropped to her knees without resistance. Tyrant or not, she could not endure Albert’s massive member.
“When are you free?”
“Right now.”
Opportunities had to be seized when they appeared. Maria’s fierce gaze locked onto Albert’s crotch. Beatrix preferred to finish business quickly, so Maria would be the same. Albert decided there was no problem and spoke.
“Then lie down on the bed.”
Maria flung herself onto the bed before he had even finished the sentence. Once again he felt just how terrifying the women of this reversed world could be once they had gotten a taste for sex.