Chapter 2 – Part 7

As the bystander, Mail felt conflicted. No matter who became Empress, the Empire’s fate seemed grim. They’d be better off giving up on revival altogether.

If it didn’t fall apart completely, that would be a miracle. Still, loyalty to her own side prompted Mail to give Riela a slightly higher score in Empress potential. After all, even a simple brain was better than no brain at all.

At that moment, the brainless one launched a personal attack.

“You’re ugly too!”

Naturally, the target was Riela. Of course, Riela wasn’t ugly. Even without looking at her closely, you could just trace her outline with your hand and know she was beautiful. There couldn’t be a more absurd claim.

The issue, if there was one, might be that Ormil was just a bit prettier than Riela. The deep blue hair that had been belittled as mold on the way here was, in reality, as beautiful as silk, reflecting the sea.

And let’s not even mention her sky-blue eyes. Even without makeup, each line of her face was graceful. She probably lived quite comfortably in her homeland, based on her looks alone.

By the way, the prettier the person making the insult, the more infuriating it tends to be. Riela, utterly shocked and enraged, opened her mouth.

“What! Me, ugly? Are you sick? Oh wait, are you blind?”

“Your plain blonde hair… hmph, in our country, that face would blend right into the crowd.”

“What did you say? Hey! You’re the lowest of the low!”

“What… what did you just say?”

“You’re the lowest one here! Even your status is trash! A count’s family? Honestly, dreaming of becoming empress with that status? You don’t even know what shame is, do you?”

Shame. Like the princess knows what that is, Mail thought to herself, swallowing the words. A team kill here wouldn’t be wise.

At that moment, enraged by being countered on status after attacking Riela’s appearance, Ormil let out a more severe insult.

“Hah! A pathetic princess from a third-rate nation dares to…!”

‘Oh no!’

The one who was alarmed this time was Mail, who had been standing quietly until now. This was serious. Ormil had insulted her entire country! An insult to one’s nation is second only to insulting someone’s family when it comes to provoking fury!

“Lady Ormil Petten!”

Thud.

Mail made a flashy entrance. Stepping forward, she spun dramatically before slamming her hand down on the center of the table as if to conclude her performance.

She would have been lying if she said it wasn’t embarrassing, but it certainly drew everyone’s attention. Even Riela, who had been so enraged she was ready to summon Rose, stopped and looked at Mail in surprise.

With Ormil staring at her in disbelief, Mail met her eyes and spoke.

“My apologies for the late introduction. I am Mail Fonz Vizeart, eldest daughter of the Vizeart Ducal House, loyal to the Kingdom of Belthier. But, Lady Ormil, I wasn’t aware that what you desired was an international dispute.”

Mail’s demeanor was serious, in stark contrast to her earlier theatrics. Her expression was grave, and her voice was low. Ormil’s eyebrows shot up.

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s simple. You’ve just used vulgar language to insult my country, and I’m letting you know that we’re more than willing to hold your kingdom accountable for it. It wouldn’t be difficult. I could write a letter and have the princess affix her seal, and it would be done.”

Mail’s calm and precise explanation carried weight. Ormil visibly flinched. Her voice trembled slightly as she responded.

“…Over something like this?”

“Something like this? You didn’t just insult an individual—you insulted an entire nation. You’d be surprised how many wars have started over trivial matters. And, just to be clear, it’s not you who gets to decide the severity of this situation. We do. We could declare war on Bainsha based solely on your statement.”

War. Mail had intentionally chosen a provocative word, but it wasn’t entirely untrue.

Even the smallest issue could serve as a pretext for war, if one so desired. And those in power who decided on wars rarely risked their own necks in battle. It would have been easy to stamp a seal approving a war they wouldn’t personally fight in. If the king of Belthier had been hot-headed and foolish, they might very well have mobilized the army.

Ormil remained silent, her face pale, her expression frozen in shock. Seeing this, Mail decided to drive the point home.

“If your aim was to incite conflict between Belthier and Bainsha, congratulations—you’re about to succeed. But let me ask you something: Is Bainsha even in a position to send its forces abroad? Last I checked, Bainsha was in the middle of a civil war.”

Indeed, Ormil’s homeland, the Kingdom of Bainsha, had been engulfed in a bloody conflict for some time now.

The king had died suddenly in an accident, leaving no heir. The royal family members, all with equal claim to the throne, immediately formed factions and plunged into a war for the crown. It was a brutal conflict with no end in sight.

“And yet, here you are, boldly provoking another country. What a delightful piece of news for them, don’t you think?”

“…”

“You get one warning. And no, I’m not saying we’ll overlook what you said today. I’m just offering a reprieve. If you don’t want to experience the misery of being abandoned by your homeland, you’d better keep that mouth of yours shut, Lady Petten.”

Having said her piece, Mail turned sharply. She spoke to Riela, who was still wide-eyed.

“Shall we go, Princess?”

Riela, who had been silently watching with big eyes, sprang up from her chair. Her expression had brightened like the sun. With a beaming smile, she threw one last jab at Ormil.

“Hey, you heard her! If you want to live long, keep your mouth shut!”

Her tone was cheerful. Seeing her opponent standing there, trembling, unable to respond, must have been incredibly satisfying.

With that snappy remark as her farewell, Riela left the room, accompanied by Rose and Mail, just as she had entered. Her steps as she crossed the threshold were as light as feathers.

Thud!

Ormil bit her lip so hard it bled as she glared at the closed door. A moment later, a sharp scream rang out, followed by the sound of furniture being destroyed.

Once in the hallway, Mail’s first thought was relief. She was truly grateful that her threat had worked. Even while cornering Ormil by talking about war, a part of her had been worried the entire time.

What if Ormil completely lost it and didn’t care about war or anything else? It might seem impossible, but what if she was so mentally unhinged that she didn’t care at all?

There was another concern too. What if Riela didn’t calm down just because Mail had stepped in? What if she went ahead and summoned Rose to give Ormil an eternal rest? What would she say in court if she were called as a witness in a murder trial?

Thankfully, none of that happened. The situation ended peacefully. Mail let out a sigh of relief and patted her chest.

“Hey, how did you know things were so bad in their country?” Riela asked as they walked back. Mail gave a brief reply.

“I had a reason to look into that kingdom not long ago. It just happened by chance.”

It was common for noblewomen, even those who seemed only interested in embroidery and knitting, to study the state of neighboring countries. But Bainsha wasn’t considered one of those neighboring countries due to its location.

The real reason Mail knew about the situation in Bainsha, a distant land with no ties to her own country, was actually because of her interest in flower cultivation.

She had become intrigued by a particular flower that was difficult to grow here, but thrived easily in Bainsha, where all you had to do was scatter the seeds. Wondering what conditions caused such a stark difference, she had thoroughly researched Bainsha’s soil and climate, and in doing so, had unintentionally learned about the kingdom’s political turmoil. In a way, her passion as a gardening enthusiast had helped her play the role of a hero.

Riela didn’t seem particularly curious about the rest and fell silent again. As they walked, a breeze blew in through an open window.

Mail, standing close to the window, had her hair lifted by the wind, the strands of her brown hair floating in the air like loose threads. Riela, noticing this, spoke up as if something had occurred to her.

“Mail, about your hair color.”

“Yes?”

“Now that I look at it, the color is kind of like…”

Hearing Riela’s lead-in, Mail visibly flinched. Riela had a peculiar talent for becoming a verbal alchemist when it came to insults.

For instance, she could describe beautiful blue hair as mold or liken breathtaking green locks to withered spinach.

Mail could imagine what kind of disaster might unfold if Riela decided to evaluate her dark brown hair with that ability.

She had an idea. Perhaps something starting with “d” in Korean, or maybe a synonym starting with “b,” or a single character with a double consonant “dd,” something that would reek just from hearing it…

“Like a tree.”

“…What?”

“It’s the same color as tree bark. Your hair color.”

A tree?

Mail, who had braced herself not to be shaken by any shocking metaphor, suddenly stopped in surprise. Riela tilted her head as if to ask why Mail had stopped walking, then continued.

“Why are you just standing there? Oh, and now that I think about it, your eyes are green too. You kind of resemble a tree overall.”

“I…”

The unexpected comparison left Mail speechless. Her green eyes quivered, their pupils shaking wildly. Me? I look like a tree? I look like a tree?!

“…Princess.”

“Stop standing there and hurry up.”

“I’ll work hard.”

“Huh?”

“I’ll really work hard.”

So that the country doesn’t burn. And so that the princess’s head doesn’t get chopped off in a fit of rage, like in my nightmares.

Mail vowed to do everything she could, more determined than ever. TL NOTE: More advanced chapter of this story is already up to the site. Visit dusk blossoms for more advanced chapters and stories