It was a perfect day for a tea party in the garden. The late spring sun wasn’t harsh yet, the sky was cloudless, and beyond the arches of the colonnade, lilacs heavy with buds released their sweet fragrance.

Two hours ago, a tea party had actually been held. And that party ended in complete failure amid an utterly frigid atmosphere. 

The Crown Princess, who had been both the host and guest of honor of the tea party, felt so upset that she planned to return to her room, bury her face in her pet cat’s fur, and have a little cry.

If only the man who stopped her on her way back to her quarters hadn’t interfered.

“I heard Your Highness the Crown Princess held a tea party today? What a coincidence. My mother, the Dowager Duchess of Bodley, is also holding a tea party at the Bodley townhouse today.”

“So?”

“I merely hope my mother didn’t unintentionally steal Your Highness the Crown Princess’s guests.”

The guard knight accompanying the Crown Princess two steps behind, Sir Jude, spoke to this unwelcome visitor.

“Lord Bishop. Her Highness needs rest. If you’ve finished what you have to say, I’ll escort Her Highness now.”

“How unfortunate, Your Highness the Crown Princess.”

The black-haired Duke continued in a tone that suggested he found nothing unfortunate about it at all.

“No one knows Fenwick’s customs and etiquette better than the palace nobility. If Your Highness weren’t so tired, I would have recommended you visit the Dowager Duchess of Bodley right now to learn a thing or two.”

The Crown Princess was a foreigner. Moreover, she was a princess from a distant land who hadn’t originally been scheduled to marry into the Kingdom of Fenwick. 

So what the Duke said was a clear insult to anyone listening, and one of the people who couldn’t let it stand was the Crown Princess’s guard knight. Furthermore, the guard knight had been at odds with this Duke of Bodley from before.

“Apologize to Her Highness for what you just said, Lord Bishop.”

“If I may explain, since you seem to have misunderstood my intention—I was trying to help as a vassal because Her Highness seems unfamiliar with Fenwick’s customs. Not only are you too dull to understand even this much, but you dare interrupt a conversation between the Crown Princess and a Duke. How rude, Sir Jude.”

“The one who committed rudeness is Lord Bishop. If you beg Her Highness’s forgiveness here and now, I’ll overlook it just this once.”

The Duke of Bodley crossed his arms.

“A mere guard knight telling me to beg for forgiveness? …And if I refuse?”

Neither the Duke nor Sir Jude looked away from each other. Unlike last time, Sir Jude was the one who spoke first.

“My lady has been insulted, so as a knight, I must naturally repay this. In a knight’s way.”

“Sir Jude.”

The Crown Princess quietly tried to stop him. But it was insufficient to calm the fighting spirit of the two men already ignited. 

Though the blond knight was the first to reach for his waist, the black-haired Duke was the one who drew his sword first. The Crown Princess stepped back. In the colonnade, in the courtyard—where had all those knights gone? 

Not a single person was in sight.

“Do you understand what you’re doing right now, Sir Jude?”

“No more than Lord Bishop, who drew his sword within the royal palace and in front of Her Highness the Crown Princess?”

The two men looked ready to cross swords at any moment. Even when the Crown Princess called their names once more to stop them, it was useless. 

The clever Crown Princess instinctively realized this fight wouldn’t end until one of them died or was injured badly enough to eventually die. There was no time to call for someone by shouting.

So she acted.

“…Your Highness the Crown Princess.”

The tip of Sir Jude’s sword trembled. The knight’s voice shook mercilessly as well. Normally, this would have been an opportunity for the Duke of Bodley. However, the Duke was equally frozen and speechless at the Crown Princess’s action that exceeded imagination.

Red blood dripped to the floor. The blood flowing from the Crown Princess’s white hand soaked her hand, the hem of her ivory dress, and the colonnade floor, seeping into it. 

Still, far from letting go, she gripped the blade cutting into her palm with even greater force.

“Your Highness, let go.”

“If you sheathe your weap*ns.”

“I’ll sheathe it, so please let go.”

The knight repeated.

Instead of answering, the Crown Princess looked toward the Duke, who still hadn’t moved. An interesting light flickered through the man’s eyes. Even if she let go, even if Sir Jude sheathed his sword, that man wouldn’t do the same. 

If he didn’t sheathe his sword, Sir Jude would have no choice but to swing his sword, this time to protect her. That’s why the Crown Princess couldn’t let go.

The breakthrough in the situation appeared from the opposite side of the colonnade, from the ‘King’s Path.’

“Edith!”

The one who appeared was the Crown Prince. 

She hadn’t been able to see it while trying to stop the fight between her two vassals, but upon discovering this absurd scene, the young Crown Prince’s uncommonly handsome face turned pale, and he leaped over the railing of the ‘King’s Path’ in one bound, crossed the shallow shallows of the pond dug in the courtyard, and rushed into the colonnade.

He spoke very carefully.

“Let go of this, Edith.”

“…”

She wasn’t being stubborn. The words just didn’t come to her quickly in Fenwick’s language. Meanwhile, blood continued to flow, now streaming down the blade itself.

The Crown Prince’s tone became desperate.

“Please.”

“If Your Highness sheathes your sword.”

She finally said, the words coming to her.

So the Crown Prince, Wilfred, drew his sword. Toward the Duke of Bodley, who had dared to point his blade at the Crown Princess and her guard knight.

* * *

There were considerable twists and turns before the princess from the Duchy of Aberdeen, who was poor at speaking, became the Crown Princess of the island nation of Fenwick.

The story went like this.

“You had Edith take the Trial of the Goddess Frieze in your place? Lucille, what have you done? Fenwick is already preparing to receive you as Crown Princess!”

Grand Duke Angelic raged furiously. Edith’s half-sister, Lucille, blinked her large fawn-colored eyes.

“Edith envied me so much I had no choice, Your Grace the Grand Duke. If I didn’t yield to her like this, how else would Edith marry into such a good place?”

Yield—it was a lie.

Lucille didn’t want to marry into a distant, unfamiliar island nation, so she had her half-sister take the Trial of the Goddess Frieze in her place, which all prospective brides in the duchy were required to undergo.

“How can you be so reckless…! Lucille, this isn’t child’s play. You know well that a maiden once chosen by the goddess’s eye must marry! Moreover, diplomatic relations with Fenwick are at stake…”

In Aberdeen, marriage was sacred. Though there was no state religion, many faithful people lived in the duchy. Among them, belief in the Goddess Frieze was particularly widespread. 

The territory where Aberdeen was located was land blessed and protected by the Goddess Frieze, and thanks to this, the belief had been passed down among the people that Aberdeen had maintained its unique identity for over a thousand years.

The benevolent goddess was known to watch over each and every person of Aberdeen and preside over marriages, the union of family and family, woman and man.

‘But why is the goddess so inflexible?’

Edith thought irreverently.

A maiden once chosen by the goddess’s eye must marry—this was related to the various trials and ceremonies prospective brides underwent at the Temple of Frieze before marriage. 

Through these, the bride was ‘purified’ and received the goddess’s blessing. Washing the body with holy water, moistening the lips with fruit wine that the priests brewed first each year, drawing fortune through star divination at the moment the day changed, and so on.

All these procedures were conducted in complete secrecy to prevent impurity from tainting the sacred marriage. 

From the moment she received the summons from the Temple of Frieze, the prospective bride had to maintain strict secrecy. Only women who had gone through all this were finally ready to marry.

In other words, a woman who went through this entire process but didn’t marry was considered to have forsaken the blessing. It wasn’t something to be taken lightly as mere custom. 

A woman who didn’t receive the goddess’s blessing was considered to lack not only the qualification to marry but even the qualification to be respected and protected as a woman, and was sometimes driven from her family.

That’s exactly what the Grand Duke was talking about.

However, Edith, who had been tricked by Lucille into drawing the fortune for the new bride in her place, was not at fault. If she had known it was the Trial of the Goddess Frieze, she naturally would never have touched it. 

But what could she do when custom dictated that unmarried women shouldn’t even know about the procedures the goddess presided over? 

Only after being victimized did she realize this system could be abused to force women into marriage.

“Then write to Fenwick saying I’ve fallen gravely ill. It’s not unheard of for a sister to marry in place of another.”

Lucille remained nonchalant. The Grand Duke shook his head.

“What if we offend the Crown Prince of Fenwick’s feelings and they refuse to supply us with salt?”

“You said they’re already preparing for the wedding. His Highness the Crown Prince won’t go back on preparations already made and promises already formed. It’s too late for that. And… perhaps Edith could serve as a bridge.”

Only then did the Grand Duke turn his attention to his youngest daughter.

“Edith, must you become the Crown Princess of Fenwick, even through means like this?”

Edith had never even thought about wanting to become Crown Princess. Anyone watching might misunderstand and think she had schemed out of jealousy for her half-sister’s position. 

Look no further than her father, the Grand Duke, who seemed to think exactly that.

“I…”

“Can you go to Fenwick in Lucille’s place and make the Crown Prince continue supplying salt to Aberdeen?”

Salt supply for Aberdeen.

Perhaps Lucille had orchestrated all this simply because she didn’t want to appear to be sold for salt.

Aberdeen was a duchy in the middle of the Svelta continent, wedged between formidable great powers. 

Thanks to its geographical position surrounded by steep mountain ranges and the diplomatic sense that rulers of such small nations were born with, it had been recognized as a proper nation for 300 years, but that was all. The landlocked duchy produced no salt.

A year ago, when the supply of this ingredient, which depended entirely on imports, was cut off due to circumstances in neighboring countries, they faced economic decline in the short term and even had to worry about a serious food crisis in the long term. 

When the national treasury’s reserves were running out, the one who extended a helping hand was that northern island nation, Fenwick.

Until then, there had been no significant exchange between the two countries. 

Pragonia, the great power of the northern continent that faced Fenwick across the strait, was the undisputed hegemon of Svelta, and Pragonia was blocking Fenwick’s continental expansion as Fenwick had been steadily building its power for decades.