[V7C12] The Spring Sun

The wheels rattled as her carriage sped forward. The neighing of horses and the anxious voices of her attendants could be heard as well.

(…This must be a dream.)

In her dream, Cecilia sat trembling in the seat of a carriage.

Her maids were similarly shaking, with tears welling up in their eyes. Cecilia, too, wanted to scream in fright. However, to maintain the dignity of the Saintess, she endured the urge by clenching her fists atop her lap.

…Unfortunately, Cecilia’s shallow attempt at pride would prove utterly useless against the terror of impending doom.

Her carriage shook violently and came to a stop.

A man’s death throes resounded from just outside, and the windows were stained red with blood. Unable to endure any longer, Cecilia let out a scream.

“Kill the Saintess! Stamp out the blood of Achenwall!”

“Protect the Saintess! She is the hope of our country!”

Cecilia heard many voices, some shouting for her death, and others for her protection. However, both had the same effect of backing her into a corner.

(No, no! Stop!!)

As Cecilia finally broke down crying, a gleaming sword suddenly appeared right in front of her nose. One of the assassins had stabbed a blade through the walls of the carriage.

Death was coming for her!

In a panic, Cecilia rushed toward the carriage door, trying to escape outside. This was exactly the reaction the assassin was hoping for.

Right as Cecilia was about to put her hand on the door, Mia, her youngest maid, pushed her back.

“Princess, get down!!”

What Cecilia heard next was the sound of a sword piercing through flesh. A blood-stained blade was impaling Mia’s stomach.

Everything afterwards was a blur.

The knights had come to her rescue and eliminated all of the assassins. That said, the casualties were far too many.

Everywhere was a sea of blood, both inside and outside the carriage. A few survivors were still receiving first aid, and among them was Mia, who had used her body as a shield to protect Cecilia.

Cecilia approached Mia with shaky steps, but the guard giving first aid simply shook his head with a solemn expression.

…There was no saving her anymore.

“P-Prin…cess…”

Mia attempted to speak with her bloodied lips. Meanwhile, Cecilia knelt at her side, unable to do anything but weep.

“Mia… Mia… I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…”

The maid was younger than Cecilia, yet despite the pain, she formed a slight smile by raising the corners of her mouth.

“…I protected… the Saintess… I can pass on… with pride.”

Cecilia covered her face with trembling hands.

(No… no… This isn’t right…!)

Mia was about to journey to the land of the dead, proud at her feat of protecting the Saintess.

So how could Cecilia possibly tell her the truth?

(I… I don’t deserve to be protected at all.)

＊　＊　＊

Cecilia abruptly rose out of the bed. Her entire body was drenched in sweat, and her heart thumped with an unpleasant loudness.

She calmed herself by pressing her chest and repeating deep breaths, noticing a set of footsteps approaching her.

Once she caught her breath, Cecilia turned towards the sound. She found a petite girl with light brown hair, staring at her with concern.

——Good morning, Princess!

“…Mia…!”

For a moment, the image of her deceased maid overlapped with the girl in front of her. Indeed, Mia had also been short, young, and rather plain in appearance.

As Cecilia went completely frozen at this sight, the girl in question——the Silent Witch, Monica Everett——voiced her concerns hesitantly.

“Good morning. Um, are you okay, Cecilia-sama…? You seemed to be having a nightmare.”

Having changed from her dress robe into her Sage’s robe, Monica also held a staff close to her chest.

Last night, after Cecilia had confided to Monica about her mishaps, the two returned to Ausahorn Palace to retire for the night. However, Cecilia decided to chat with Monica in the bedroom even after changing into her sleepwear.

“When I enter a room, and all the eyes gather on me… I feel the urge to cover up my head with a cloth,” she had admitted.

“I, um, sometimes feel safe hiding behind curtains,” Monica had replied.

“I see, hehe… I’ve never tried hiding behind a curtain before… Does that seem to calm you down?”

“Yes, it is very, very calming… Back when I was in Minerva, I even fell asleep behind the curtains once and got scolded by the professors.”

Their conversation was not particularly lively. Rather, it was more like a back-and-forth recounting of past mistakes, with a few chuckles sprinkled in. Even such simple things felt comfortable to Cecilia.

Her brother and tutor would surely frown if they ever caught word of her venting to a foreigner like this. However, it was precisely because Monica was a foreigner that Cecilia could open up to her.

Only those from the Empire would force the role of the “Resolute and Wise Saintess” upon her. It had been so long since Cecilia found someone she could confide in.

The two chatted until well past midnight… until Cecilia eventually dozed off. Apparently, Monica had stayed awake to guard her the entire time.

“I’m sorry… I must have fallen asleep during our chat…”

“Don’t be, um, I’m your guard. Besides, staying up late is my specialty.”

Monica offered an awkward smile, and Cecilia responded in turn with her own similar-looking smile.

“Silent Witch-sama, you should get some rest now. As you can see, I am fine now…”

“Oh, yes. First, I’ll go check with the maids.”

Monica lowered her head and walked towards the door. Meanwhile, Cecilia hastily called out to her retreating figure.

“Um, Silent Witch-sama.”

“Y-Yes! What can I do for… Arh.”

Monica, who had bitten her tongue, covered her mouth with her hand and looked down sheepishly.

(Ah, I understand that feeling… It’s really awkward when you accidentally bite your tongue.)

While muttering that to herself in her heart, Cecilia smiled and said…

“…Would you like to join me for tea again sometime?”

Monica nodded repeatedly and shouted, “Yes!” with blushed cheeks.

＊　＊　＊

Today, the most important event on Cecilia’s schedule was a tea party with the King of Ridill’s first consort, Queen Wilma.

Seated at the table were three people: Queen Wilma, her son Prince Lionel, and Cecilia.

It was a very small tea party, but precisely because of that, Cecilia couldn’t help but feel a bit nervous. Queen Wilma was, in a sense, holding an interview with her.

Before becoming queen, Wilma was a princess from Randall, a small country located between Ridill and the Empire. Apparently, she was strong enough to defeat many knights at swordplay despite being a woman.

Wilma was currently adorned in an elegant dress, with her reddish-brown hair neatly tied up. However, her muscular physique was noticeable even through the dress. Her facial features were sharp, her cheekbones pronounced, and her eyes sharp, bearing a strong resemblance to her son Lionel.

“Princess Cecilia, did you enjoy the soirée the other night?”

Queen Wilma suddenly began speaking without so much as a smile.

Her straightforward and unsociable manner of speech seemed to be her usual tone rather than any sort of dislike towards Cecilia, in stark contrast to the always smiling Third Queen Firis.

Cecilia put on a smile and delivered the model response.

“Yes, I had a wonderful time. Thank you for hosting such a grand banquet for me.”

“I see.”

After returning an uninterested reply, Queen Wilma took a sip of her tea.

Lionel, who was sitting next to Cecilia, made no mention of her well-being. This was likely a consideration to prevent Queen Wilma from learning that Cecilia had departed early last night.

(I must secretly thank him after the tea party…)

Cecilia raised the teacup to her lips, taking a sip of the black tea.

It had a familiar flavor, being a tea commonly consumed in the Empire. Knowing this, she could safely comment on the quality.

Cecilia’s plan was to speak a little about the soirée last night, then steer the conversation towards the topic of tea once the conversation ran its course… But before she could start, Queen Wilma placed her cup back on the saucer.

“I dislike beating around the bush. Princess Cecilia, please allow me to ask you directly.”

The moment Queen Wilma’s sharp eyes focused on Cecilia, the atmosphere changed.

What had been a calm spring afternoon now carried an air of tension, pressing down on Cecilia’s shoulders like a heavy weight.

“Do you have the resolve to exchange marriage vows with my son, and thus share in the burden of ruling the country of Ridill?”

The flow Cecilia had in mind, aiming for a smooth and safe discussion without causing any ripples, was abruptly cut off by Queen Wilma.

Queen Wilma’s voice remained low and powerful. She was not shouting, yet her words resonated with a weight and pressure that hit Cecilia like a punch to the gut. Her eyes were focused on Cecilia, questioning her determination… How would Cecilia respond?

Her brother had told her to marry Lionel. She was the Saintess chosen by the ancient magical artifact, the Mirror of Bern. Her duty was to marry into Ridill and… become a hostage.

All Cecilia could do was comply.

(…But… I…)

Cecilia pressed her trembling hands against her stomach, feeling a sharp pain as if her innards were being wrung.

Her marriage into Ridill was decided by her brother. Since she was simply following her brother’s orders, she could not possibly possess the determination to serve as Queen of Ridill.

Moreover, Cecilia was hiding a dark secret from everyone around her.

(…I have no value as a hostage…)

Either way, the correct response was to nod at Queen Wilma’s question. And yet, her tongue was frozen and refused to move.

She could think of countless excuses to deflect the question and leave things vague. However, there was no way to deceive a woman of Queen Wilma’s caliber.

(…I…)

Cecilia remained silent with her head bowed for who knows how long.

Suddenly, a gulping sound came from her side. Lionel had chugged down his tea. He let out a sigh and placed his cup back on the saucer.

Queen Wilma lifted an eyebrow in a scolding manner, so Lionel chuckled and explained.

“I apologize for the breach of etiquette; I was very thirsty. This tea is truly exquisite. It must have been brewed by our maid Annemarie, isn’t that right?”

“Lionel.”

Despite Queen Wilma’s reprimanding tone, Lionel confidently continued without hesitation.

“As this is a tea party, we must first savor the flavor of the tea. Otherwise, that would be rude to the one who brewed it. Isn’t that right, Mother?”

“I must ask you the exact same question, Lionel. Are you prepared to bear the weight of this country?”

Queen Wilma glared at Lionel with the sharp eyes of a predatory bird.

She now exuded an intense aura of intimidation, suggesting that her attitude toward Cecilia had still been lenient. In the face of Queen Wilma’s pressure, Lionel answered without any change of expression.

“Allow me to be honest, I am not yet prepared to become king. I lack confidence, and I can do little besides swinging a sword. It is only natural that many still wish for Felix or Albert as the next king.”

Queen Wilma responded by making a face of clear anger and disgust. However, before she could raise her voice in admonishment, Lionel continued.

“That said, I love this country. Therefore, I intend to make every effort to make Ridill a better place. Does that answer satisfy you?”

After explaining his reasoning in a calm tone, Lionel glanced briefly at Cecilia. She noticed the gentle smile directed at her for a split second.

“Asking Princess Cecilia to resolve herself when I haven’t made up my own mind would be absurd, wouldn’t it? Mother, can you give us a little more time? At least until I can prove my resolve to you.”

Upon hearing Lionel’s argument, Cecilia became convinced.

(…He’s lying.)

Until recently, the Kingdom of Ridill had been split between the supporters of the First Prince and the Second Prince.

However, Duke Crockford, the leader of the Second Prince Faction, fell from grace, and the Second Prince relinquished his right to the throne.

If Lionel were to refuse the throne in this situation, the factional nobles would be left without a clear leader, creating the basis of a new conflict. Lionel could not possibly be unaware of this fact.

(He has already resolved himself to become king.)

That only reason he claimed that he hadn’t made up his mind was to shift the focus away from Cecilia. Moreover, Queen Wilma likely saw through Lionel’s intentions.

Queen Wilma looked alternately at Lionel and Cecilia with predatory eyes before speaking.

“A king will be required to make prompt decisions. Taking your time is equivalent to waiting with a noose around your neck.”

“That seems rather harsh. Well then, I pray we brace ourselves before you tighten the noose, Mother.”

Lionel smiled, revealing his white teeth, then called for a servant.

“I apologize for the additional work, but please bring a second serving of tea! Also, inform the one who brewed it that it was truly delicious.”

Cecilia glanced at Lionel’s stern-looking profile with various emotions welling up in her chest.

Lionel was like the sun.

If her brother was a black sun for burning everything to ashes, Lionel was a warm spring sun for gently illuminating the budding flowers.

(What a dazzling man he is…)

Gratitude and admiration dominated the greater portion of Cecilia’s chest.

…Which was precisely why she could not help but bow her head.

(I am nowhere near a match for him.)

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