Shock and Horror
Richelle hummed a little tune. It was a popular song from the streets that she had heard once before. Herbert knew it well too. The lyrics told of a shy maiden who, having finally steeled her resolve to confess her feelings to the one she loved, prepared an evening meal for him. Of course, the most memorable part was something else entirely.
By some cruel coincidence, she began to hum the very section of the song that had made it famous.
“I’ve never seen a sausage so enormous before.
Drop it in a pot of boiling water and it bubbles and froths.
A thick sausage with no slits cut into it……”
“Y-Your Majesty!”
“H-Herbert? Were you there all along?”
Both of their faces flushed bright red in an instant. Herbert spoke with an expression of utter disbelief.
“There were many documents requiring Your Majesty’s approval, so I was attending to them.”
“R-Right. I’m sorry, Herbert. I was simply too excited……”
Richelle cleared her throat, her face still burning. Herbert said,
“Not at all. I should have finished my work more quickly.”
In truth, he had only overheard her at that particular verse because the task was nearly complete. As he rose from his seat, he continued,
“You appeared deep in thought, so I tried not to disturb you—yet it seems I have done exactly that. Please forgive my transgression, Your Majesty.”
“It’s fine, Herbert.”
Though she spoke those words, inside she was seething with fury. Not only had her pleasant moment been interrupted, but the last person she wanted to witness such an embarrassing sight had seen it. For all she knew, that meddlesome Herbert might run off and tell Prince Consort Marion. Though the man resembled a great bear and hardly seemed the type to engage in such petty gossip, she had already felt betrayed by him on multiple occasions.
During her coronation, Herbert had refused to crown her—the rightful and perfect heir—claiming she was “unwomanly.” Since then, the two had steadily built up mutual resentment. And just last week, during the Trial by Combat, he had humiliated her with the ridiculous conditions he proposed for the duel. Now it seemed he had seized yet another piece of her private life with which to embarrass her.
She said to Herbert, “About this matter… please don’t speak of it to anyone.”
“P-Pardon? May I ask what Your Majesty just said?”
He could not believe his own ears. Richelle repeated herself.
“Ahem… I asked you not to tell anyone. Please. How else must I beg you?”
He had not misheard. Richelle was gazing up at him with a sorrowful expression. As she stood and approached, he swallowed hard.
“I know you dislike me. But if word of this behavior were to spread… Yes. Are you not the kingdom’s chancellor and the queen’s chamberlain? For the sake of my honor, will you not keep this secret? Hm?”
“Your Majesty?”
“Please, at least from Marion… or if not, at least until after tonight’s dinner? Yes? Will you do that for me? I implore you.”
“Your Majesty. While I am indeed the kingdom’s chancellor and Your Majesty’s chamberlain, I am not Your Majesty’s nanny. I know how to separate public duty from private matters. You need not worry on that account.”
The more Herbert spoke, the more Richelle’s expression softened. She truly felt relieved. This was the first time the man who had always seemed nothing but vicious, the enormous Eranian who reeked of conspiracy and betrayal, had appeared so trustworthy.
With tears of joy glistening in her eyes, she gently embraced him.
“Thank you, Herbert. I will never forget this kindness.”
“N-No, Your Majesty! There is no need to thank me! I was simply doing what any—”
Herbert’s face turned scarlet. He avoided her gaze, unable to find the right words. She laughed brightly, wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes, and called for the royal guard.
“Guard! Are you there?”
“Yes, Your Majesty! You called?”
The guard wondered why. A dark premonition flashed through Herbert’s mind. Surely she wasn’t planning to repay his kindness by sending him to the Lord’s side? If it were the Richard he once knew, such a thing was entirely possible. Every hair on his body stood on end as he hastily backed away from both Richelle and the guard.
Seeing his reaction, they looked at him in surprise.
“What is the matter, Your Eminence?”
“Why are you so startled, Herbert? Have I done something strange?”
“Ah… No, Your Majesty. I was simply a little tired.”
“Oh dear. In that case, I shall grant you leave tomorrow. And guard—”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Herbert grew even more tense at her words. Leave? Richard had never been the sort to let his subordinates relax. Especially not someone who had merely put him in a good mood. He prayed his voice would not tremble as he asked,
“It won’t be… permanent leave, will it?”
“If that is what you wish, I could arrange it, though I doubt you truly desire such a thing. Do you truly wish to rest forever?”
Herbert felt his heart pound violently and his face flush crimson in an instant. This was unfair. The expression on Richelle’s face as she spoke was impossibly adorable. Even when she wasn’t making such a face, she was beautiful—but when she behaved in a truly feminine manner, she became more womanly, more beautiful, and more captivating than any woman he had ever seen.
If only she were not the Queen of Zylan.
Herbert shook his head vigorously, trying to banish the thought. The beautiful woman before him was not that sort of person. Queen Richelle might appear lovely, but she was a cruel tyrant, and beneath it all, she was a man. Though why she was acting this way now, he could not begin to fathom. Besides, he was a priest. Moreover…
His mind refused to function properly. Queen Richelle spoke the very thought he should have had.
“Do not look at me that way, Archbishop. You are, after all, a priest bound by vows of chastity, are you not? I am Lord Marion’s wife.”
“F-Forgive me, Your Majesty……”
“It’s fine. Guard?”
The guard, who had been watching their exchange with a silly grin, suddenly came to his senses and answered in a fluster.
“Y-Yes! Your Majesty!”
“Tell the head maid to draw up a certificate stating that I am gifting Herbert the sapphire ring with the largest stone from my jewel box.”
“Understood, Your Majesty.”
“And have someone instruct Gina to prepare an outfit for the dinner. Add that it is a meal shared with Prince Consort Marion, so she must take special care. Understood?”
“Understood, Your Majesty.”
At her words, Herbert was even more astonished. Something was terribly wrong. There was a problem with Queen Richelle. A very large one. This concerned the very safety of the kingdom.
“How wonderful it is to see you behaving so demurely!”
Virginia had called it demure, but that was only on the surface. For the past week, Richelle had felt more stifled than ever before. An indescribable sensation, like wearing clothes that didn’t fit, a feeling that her balance was off—she could not escape it.
She had never lost a fight before. But that was now a thing of the past. Eight days ago, she had been defeated by a mere provincial lord despite the surprise attack. The very next day, she had lost to a beginner who had only studied the sword for a week, even if it was partly due to her attire.
She had completely lost her confidence. Until now she had acted like a lively tomboy, but after suffering that humiliating defeat at Marion’s hands last week, the thought had occurred to her that perhaps that path was not truly hers.
So she had decided to behave differently. If the tomboyish actions she had chosen of her own free will were not the right path, then she would follow the behavior expected of her by those around her.
Thus, she had forced herself to wear loose, flowing garments as others suggested. She had let the maids dress her in the simplest clothes possible. She had even tried on the skirts she had avoided for so long.
Acting like a proper woman turned out to be surprisingly comfortable and calming. Perhaps it was the result of twenty years of education, even if she had never truly absorbed it—she had at least memorized it by rote.
Her change delighted the maids around her, especially Dame Virginia. Yet even this method could not completely free her from that strange, stifling sense of dissonance.
Once again, as she tried to play the part of a well-behaved and graceful young lady, that oppressive feeling crept over her chest. She hid it and said to Virginia,
“Stop teasing me.”
“Oh dear. So if I tease you, this is how you react. Don’t get angry, and don’t draw your sword!”
Virginia felt the worries of ten days ago melt away like snow. In the past week, Richelle had changed beyond recognition. If the Richelle from a week ago saw her now, she would surely think it was an entirely different person who merely shared the same appearance.
Virginia thought to herself, To think someone like this was actually a man. It’s impossible. What man in the world could become such an adorable, well-mannered, refined young lady in just half a month?
While Virginia was thinking this, Richelle answered in a sulky voice.
“When did I ever draw my sword?”
“You did. Last week.”
“That was……”
Richelle met Virginia’s eyes in the mirror, then lowered her head. Virginia smiled gently and comforted her.
“It’s all right, miss. You’ve changed now. I’m sure Prince Consort Marion will be very pleased.”
“Do you think so?”
“Of course. How could anyone dislike someone as beautiful as you, miss?”
Richelle’s face reddened at Virginia’s words.
“I told you to stop teasing me, Gina.”
“No, I mean it. Lift your head and look in the mirror.”
Virginia stood behind her, gently lifting her cheeks so she faced the mirror. Reflected there was Richelle with ears flushed red. Aside from the short hair cut just below her ears, she looked like the perfect beautiful woman who had stepped out of a painting.
“See? You resemble Her Late Majesty the Queen so much. You’re truly beautiful.”
“Really? I look like Mother?”
She studied her reflection carefully. Now that she was conscious of Virginia’s words, the sense of dissonance felt stronger than ever before.
Virginia said, “Yes. Both you and His Highness Prince Rio resemble Her Late Majesty. You are both so beautiful.”
“Not Father?”
It was true. Even though she saw Rio every day and checked her own reflection in the mirror, and even though she occasionally glanced at the portraits of her mother hanging throughout the castle, she had never once felt that the two resembled her.
It was very strange.
“You resemble His Late Majesty the Prince Consort more in temperament. He was an incredibly masculine man, wasn’t he? In both appearance and personality.”
“Yes… he was, wasn’t he?”
She could not understand why she had been so mistaken. She recalled her father, Bernard of Rainshire, who had died over ten years ago. Virginia was right. The only things she shared with her father were his (violent) temperament, and the golden hair and blue eyes she had inherited from her mother as well.
No matter how long ago the memories were, no matter how rarely people who had not often met the queen and her consort might have seen them, these were her parents. It made no sense for her memories to be so faint.
Something was wrong. It felt as though something else—something more—was blocking her thoughts. Her head felt heavy, and not only her head but her chest felt tight. She had brushed it off earlier, but now her stomach felt slightly nauseous too.
It was as if… she had forgotten something very important.
“Strange……”
“What is, miss?”
“It feels like I’m forgetting something.”
“That the dinner with Prince Consort Marion is less than thirty minutes away?”
At Virginia’s words, Richelle gasped and looked at the clock. Just as her nanny had said. She jumped up from the vanity in a panic.
“W-What should I do? Something to change into! Clothes! What should I wear?”
“Sigh.”
“Don’t just sigh, Gina!”
“I’ve prepared everything, so don’t worry.”
With those words, Virginia opened the wardrobe beside the vanity. Inside hung a dress of red and white silk embroidered with gold thread. Seeing the unusual luster of the silk, Richelle said,
“This? I’ve never seen this formal attire before… Wait, is this Zelon fashion?”
Virginia shook her head.
“It is my coronation gift to you, miss.”
But it was far too current in style to be called formal court attire. The garment Virginia held out was not an old-fashioned ceremonial robe but a dress in what appeared to be the latest Zelon style. The most eye-catching part of the gold embroidery was a lion—the undisputed symbol of the Zylan royal family. Yet surrounding it were also patterns of rose vines and stags, symbols of the North.
“At first I planned to embroider larks and grapes, but since you’ve become so modest, I regret not changing the design.”
“No, no. Larks and grapes would have been far too embarrassing.”
That was no lie. A lark symbolized obedience to one’s husband, and grapes, of course, represented fertility—in this case, the blessing of many children. In truth, the modern Zelon-style dress made her more uncomfortable than larks and grapes ever could have, but she hid that feeling and said to Virginia,
“This is much better as a coronation gift. Um… thank you, Gina. May I try it on?”
Virginia smiled and replied,
“May you? If you don’t put it on now, we’ll be late.”
“Ah, yes, of course.”
“I’ll help you dress, miss. Please stand.”
“Thank you, Gina.”
Richelle rose from her seat. The moment she stood, she felt a twisting pain in her lower abdomen, as though her insides were being wrung. She staggered from the sudden agony.
“Ugh!”
“Are you all right, miss?”
Virginia caught her by the shoulder. Richelle felt something flowing between her legs. A hot, sticky liquid soaked her thighs and stained the hem of her chemise. Richard’s vision shook. The woman in the mirror stared back with wide, shocked eyes, blood streaming down her legs.
He lost all strength and collapsed onto the vanity stool. Virginia screamed in alarm at the sudden turn of events and shook him, calling out, but her voice sounded impossibly distant.