Arc-7 Ch-05

On the vanity table, lipsticks, eyebrow ink, face powder, and rouge in a wide array of colors were neatly lined up. I had already finished washing my face and applying the makeup base, yet when it came to the final touches, no matter how old a woman becomes, she always finds herself hesitating. This, perhaps, is the sorrowful habit inherent to the creature known as woman.

Under normal circumstances, I would have either completed the task quickly myself or entrusted it to a maid waiting nearby. Yet today, of all days, I found myself examining each item with unusual care. Many people mistakenly believe that using expensive cosmetics will enhance one’s beauty. However, since ancient times, the act of applying makeup has amounted to nothing more than treating the face as a canvas and smearing it with pigments. Depending on the method and the combinations used, makeup can draw out the wearer’s charm. At the same time, it is by no means rare for it to transform a person into something grotesque.

There are tales of noble ladies who became obsessed with beauty, ordered cosmetics from every corner of the land, and squandered their family fortunes; of beautiful concubines who tested the latest beauty treatments on themselves, suffered harmful side effects, and fell from favor; of queens who could not accept the passage of time, drank the fresh blood of young maidens, and were ultimately executed. Even knowing full well that are foolish, we still cling desperately to our own beauty. Perhaps this is an instinctive behavior, much like how men obsess over physical strength.

After much indecision, I ultimately settled on my usual makeup, only slightly more emphasized than normal, fully aware of how foolish that choice was. I judged that welcoming my returning husband in a subdued appearance would leave a better impression than greeting him in gaudy attire. My husband would hardly notice such anguish. For nearly seventeen years, I have heard him repeat the same lovesick line: “Angie, you’re always beautiful even without all that.” Perhaps that attitude was merely his way of glossing over the fact that he never noticed my subtle changes in the first place.

To think that for all those years I remained oblivious to his true feelings, swaying back and forth between joy and anxiety, is the height of foolishness. In any case, maintaining one’s appearance as the wife of a lord is nothing less than a duty imposed upon me. A ruler must always remain conscious of the watchful eyes of those waiting for an opening, lest their position be threatened in an instant. It is better to display one’s own military might or wealth and inspire fear than to be underestimated and provoke conflict, as doing so avoids unnecessary bloodshed.

Many criticize the expense of cosmetics and dresses as wasteful, yet if the money spent prevents pointless disputes and ultimately circulates to stimulate the economy, then it should be understood as the proper conduct of kings and nobles. While musing vaguely over such matters, I lightly stroked my hair. Should I let it down and try a different style? 

No. Hairstyling is a world just as profound as makeup techniques. If I were to start obsessing over it, there would never be enough time. With a sigh, I took several dresses from the closet and lined them up. They were all familiar garments, yet I wanted to choose the very best I could manage for the occasion ahead. Suddenly anxious, I began removing my everyday clothes, and a few seconds later, the mirror reflected the shameless sight of me clad in nothing but my undergarments. For a moment, I wondered, “Should I reconsider everything, starting from the underwear?” but I quickly concluded that there was no need to go that far.

I fully understood that I was growing nervous, which was precisely why I dismissed the maids from the room and changed clothes with my own hands. It was an unbecoming act for the wife of a lord, and the realization left me astonished at my own folly. If something were to go wrong, it would be better if the fault lay with me alone. If it were someone else’s mistake, I would inevitably pursue blame with bitterness. That is simply human nature. Or perhaps it merely means that I am a narrow-minded woman. Several decades have already passed since I married him. Even after bearing several children, I myself cannot clearly perceive how my personality has changed.

After agonizing over it at length, I reached the conclusion of making only minor adjustments to the outfit I usually wear when going out. I quietly cursed my own cowardice for rejecting any attire that carried even the slightest risk of failing to attract my husband and instead choosing clothes I was accustomed to. But it could not be helped. If it were merely the two of us reuniting in private, that would be one thing, but with the children present as well, I could not behave like a lovestruck girl in her teens. I rang the bell to summon the waiting maid to help me dress, and as I stepped out of the dressing room, I noticed a small figure standing close by the door.

I gently stroked the approaching shadow. The golden hair that swayed as the child came closer clearly revealed whose blood flowed through their veins, marking them unmistakably as a member of the Bartfort Earl family. The uniquely soft and smooth texture of a young child’s hair felt wonderfully pleasant. Clearly delighted, the child gripped my fingers in return and rubbed their cheek against my palm.

“Dylan, what is it all of a sudden?”

“I got tired of waiting for Mother.”

The boy who answered in a slightly lisping voice was Dylan Fou Bartfort. He was the sixth child I had borne to Leon Fou Bartfort and the third son of the Earl family. His appearance strongly reminded me of Leon in his own childhood, though the greatest difference lay in his hair, which was a darker shade of gold. Dylan’s eyes were the same obsidian black as Leon’s, yet his hair color sat precisely between mine and Leon’s. He was a son who had inherited the traits of both parents in pleasing balance. Though my beloved child clearly enjoyed being stroked, his expression somehow betrayed dissatisfaction.

While I had been changing in the dressing room, I had entrusted Dylan’s care to the other children. At an age where he craved affection, it puzzled me that he had come to me all on his own.

“Dylan, even among family, quietly waiting while a lady changes is part of a young lord’s duties.”

“But my older brothers and sisters wouldn’t play with me.”

“…What are the three of them doing?”

“I don’t know.”

Leon was in the capital fulfilling his duties, and our eldest son, Lionel, and eldest daughter, Ariel, had enrolled in the royal academy, so they were absent from the manor. The children remaining in the territory with me were our second son Leah, second daughter Roxanne, third daughter Melanie, and third son Dylan. For a high-ranking noble couple with no concubines, having this many children might seem excessive, but the Bartfort family has always been known for its fertility.

Each additional child greatly increases the burden on the parents, and with six sons and daughters in total, that burden was considerable. I had believed that with the quiet Lionel gone and the boisterous Ariel enrolled in the academy, the manor would finally grow calmer. Instead, the shift in sibling dynamics meant there was little difference from before the twins departed. It was an unexpected miscalculation. With the strong-willed Ariel gone, the younger siblings unconsciously sensed that they were now free to do as they pleased, and they had caused me no end of trouble.

Even today, I had instructed them to watch over their youngest brother while I changed, yet they had apparently abandoned that duty. A faint surge of indignation rose within me, but I deliberately maintained a calm expression. In just a few hours, the three who had gone to the capital would return. I did not wish to create even the smallest flaw when welcoming my eldest son and daughter, whom I had not seen in months, and my husband, from whom I had been separated for a month. Taking Dylan’s hand gently, I headed toward the drawing room. Just what were the three children doing after abandoning their responsibility to watch their little brother?

“Yes, my win! Now pay me ten thousand dia!”

“Wait! I don’t have that kind of money!”

“Then just borrow it from me. The interest will be decided by the dice, so hurry up and roll.”

“I’m not rolling! The worst case is sixty percent, right? That’s impossible!”

“Melanie has no right to refuse. My victory is already decided, but you have to keep paying until you give up.”

“We were only playing between me and Roxanne! Then it should end with my loss, right!?”

“That would be boring. I want to watch Melanie suffer until she reaches the finish.”

“Roxanne is so mean!”

“Melanie is such an idiot!”

When I opened the door to the drawing room, the sight before me was of two girls, one golden-haired and one black-haired, shouting at each other and on the verge of coming to blows. Their neatly arranged hair was now in disarray, and they gripped each other’s hands tightly, trying to force the other into submission. The sight alone gave me a mild headache.

Stay calm. I am calm.

I am Angelica Fou Bartfort, wife of Earl Leon Fou Bartfort and acting lord in his absence. Have I not overcome every difficulty alongside my husband thus far?

Even when Leon is not by my side, and even when the unsightly daughters brawling before me are the very children I bore through pain. Of the two fighting in the drawing room, the golden-haired girl with red eyes was Roxanne Fou Bartfort, second daughter of the Bartfort Earl family. The black-haired, black-eyed girl was Melanie Fou Bartfort, the third daughter. They were the twin sisters I had borne during my third pregnancy.

“Both of you, stop this at once.”

“Agh…”

“Guh…”

“…I will warn you one more time. Both of you, stop this at once.”

“Urgh…”

“Gah…”

My words apparently failed to reach their ears, for Roxanne and Melanie continued to clutch one another’s hands without letting go. Even in such a situation, the fact that they deliberately avoided aiming at each other’s heads, which they had so carefully arranged, or at the torsos wrapped in their dresses, might have been the final remnant of rationality befitting young ladies. It seemed they had not yet arrived at the idea that a proper lady should refrain from fighting altogether.

Even so, I was obliged to fulfill my duty as a mother and put an end to the quarrel between my daughters, which only served to remind me that the path toward becoming a perfect parent was still far beyond my reach. I clenched both hands into fists and brought them down from above onto the heads of my two daughters, who were completely absorbed in their struggle.

Thump!!

Struck from an unexpected direction, the two instantly released their grip on one another and clutched their heads. I, too, had no desire to resort to disciplining my own children in this manner. However, there are times when force becomes necessary to restrain children who lack social awareness and act solely on their impulses. I believe that from the moment I became self-aware, I accepted without resistance the education befitting a duke’s daughter and the guidance imposed upon me by the royal family as a future queen. Yet since such matters are subjective, I cannot say with confidence how my parents perceived me as a child.

Personality is largely shaped by one’s innate disposition, and after bearing and raising many children, I had gradually come to understand that while physical traits are inherited from parents, personality is not necessarily passed down in the same way. Even so, guiding and disciplining one’s children at crucial moments, so that they do not stray from the proper path, is surely an expression of parental love and responsibility. I have no intention of endorsing corporal punishment, yet simply speaking patiently to children does not always lead them to understanding.

“Roxanne, Melanie. What did I instruct you to do?”

“…To wait quietly until Mother was ready.”

“That is not all, is it?”

“…You also told us to look after Dylan.”

“Correct. Then what have the two of you been doing until now?”

Scattered across the table in the drawing room were game sheets covered in various descriptions, dice, small human-shaped pieces, toy banknotes and coins, and other such items. It was obvious that, having grown bored while waiting for me, the two had abandoned their youngest brother and immersed themselves in a dice game. Children are restless by nature, and I am not so narrow-minded as to scold them simply for reading or playing games to pass the time. The real issue lay in the fact that they had left Dylan unattended while playing on their own, and that their argument had escalated into physical conflict.

“…Where is Leah?”

“He got tired of waiting for Mother and left.”

“I think he went to the airship port first.”

“My goodness, that child.”

To begin with, it was not only Roxanne and Melanie whom I had ordered to watch over the children. I had given the same instruction to Leah, who was currently the eldest among the lord’s children remaining in the Bartfort territory. And yet, it was that very second son who first violated my orders. It seemed that the second and third daughters, seeing this, had thought that they too were free to act as they pleased, and so they abandoned their youngest brother. Truly, why do the children born of Leon and myself so easily exhibit such unrestrained dispositions?

“Roxanne, Melanie, I am very angry right now. Do you understand why your mother is angry?”

“…Um, because we didn’t wait quietly for Mother.”

“Yes. That can be described as conduct unbecoming of young ladies.”

“And because we left Dylan by himself.”

“Indeed. Prioritizing your own enjoyment while neglecting your younger brother is not appropriate behavior for older siblings. Be more mindful in the future.”

“…I think fighting in front of Mother was also bad.”

“If you truly understand that, then the first person you should apologize to is not me.”

“…Dylan, I’m sorry. Melanie, I was wrong too.”

“…Dylan, please forgive me. Roxanne, I’ll be more careful next time.”

There were likely still lingering resentments between them, but for the moment, I had succeeded in reconciling my two daughters. Throughout my scolding, Dylan continued to hold my hand, yet he showed no inclination to blame his older sisters. The likelihood of quarrels increases dramatically as the number of people involved grows, and even the smallest social unit, the family, is no exception. That said, disputes over games or sweets are still endearing at this stage. Among high-ranking nobles, it is not uncommon for siblings to spill blood over succession rights or to compete fiercely over the status of their marriage partners. Dismissing minor childhood quarrels as trivial and leaving them unaddressed can sow the seeds of future disaster, which is why it is necessary to observe one’s children carefully and guide them as needed.

“What was the reason the two of you fought?”

“At first, Dylan, Melanie, and I were playing a dice game.”

“The one Father bought in the capital.”

I desperately suppressed the urge to click my tongue. To behave in a manner unbecoming a lady immediately after lecturing my children would set a poor example for my daughters. The game sheets spread across the table belonged to a board game Leon had previously purchased as a souvenir from the capital. At the start, each player’s status and assets are predetermined. The players then roll dice and advance their pieces according to the numbers rolled.

Depending on the square they land on, they must carry out various actions described on the sheet.

[T/N- Monopoly probably.]

For instance, landing on a square that reads “Distinguished yourself in war and became a noble” results in a change of status, while a square that reads “Advanced in society, collect taxes from other players” requires others to pay toy banknotes or coins.

Victory or defeat is decided at the finish line by considering a variety of factors, including status, wealth, and number of children. The reason this game became so popular was that a player who began as a wealthy noble could end up destitute and burdened with debt, while a poor-born adventurer might rise as high as royalty. In the former Holfort Kingdom, social standing was nearly fixed, and opportunities for advancement were scarce. The current era, however, is quite different. After the war with the former Fanoss Dukedom, the kingdom witnessed the rise of newly ennobled families, the fall of nobles stripped of their titles for treason, and even the emergence of a saint born among commoners. Social status had become fluid.

This game, which reflected the realities of the present age, grew so popular that not only children but even the parents who purchased it found themselves engrossed. Leon had merely regarded it as a fashionable novelty from the capital and bought it for the children. I, too, initially approved of it as a well-crafted educational toy. Now, however, I found myself harboring a faint sense of regret.

In this game, acts of sabotage against other competing players are explicitly permitted. In other words, tactics such as driving opponents into financial distress, lending them money in order to restrict their actions, and ultimately securing victory through such means are fully acknowledged by the rules. Those who favor this style of play may find it entertaining, but it is only natural that those on the receiving end would grow resentful.

I have heard that a newly revised edition of the game sheets, with certain square effects restricted, is now being sold. Within the Bartfort Earl family, the ones who excel most at this game are the second daughter, Roxanne, and myself. For me, sharpened by formal education from childhood and by years of managing territory, and for Roxanne, who is the most proficient in arithmetic among the children, strategies centered on seizing opponents’ assets prove overwhelmingly effective.

However, even if it is merely a game, very few people feel pleased when their money is taken from them. Unlike myself, who is capable of exercising restraint, Roxanne employs these tactics mercilessly, earning the resentment of the other players. Since the frequency of quarrels among the siblings increased after Leon purchased this game for them, it is now permitted only under my direct supervision. Roxanne likely chose this game as a way to pass the time during my absence. Leah, aware that he could not win, withdrew early, while Dylan, unable to understand the rules, grew bored and came to find me. Melanie alone continued competing against Roxanne, and the result was a quarrel between sisters. That much is easy to infer.

“I believe I forbade you from playing this game while I was away. No matter how bored you may be, instructions must be followed.”

“But Mother, we have been waiting for hours and hours.”

“That much time has not passed.”

“Please look at the clock, Mother.”

I check the wall clock that Melanie indicates.

…The hour hand had advanced nearly two full rotations beyond what my own sense of time had suggested. It seems I had spent far more time than I realized choosing dresses and applying makeup. Under these circumstances, I could hardly scold the children with full conviction. More importantly, if we do not depart soon, we will fail to arrive in time for Leon and the others.

“…Ahem. This is my fault. We will finish preparing quickly and depart. Has Leah already gone ahead to the airport?”

“I think so.”

“Then once the tidying and preparations are complete, we will follow. If we delay, Father will arrive before we do.”

“Yes.”

“Understood.”

I instruct the two to clean up the toys scattered across the table and check Dylan’s attire once more. In truth, such tasks could have been left to the servants, but teaching children to clean up after themselves is also part of proper discipline. Moreover, I have already ordered the manor staff to prioritize maintaining the estate and preparing the welcome for Leon and the others’ return. It would be inappropriate for me, the acting lord who issued those orders, to increase their workload unnecessarily.

“What were you doing, Mother?”

“…I was occupied with preparations to welcome your father. As the wife of a lord, the number of instructions given to the servants naturally increases.”

“You have been acting strange these past few days, Mother. It is unusual for you to make so many mistakes in succession.”

“….”

It was Melanie who pointed out my unusual behavior. Unlike Roxanne, who values logic above all else, Melanie places great weight on intuition and observation. Indeed, I had been repeating small mistakes over the past few days, yet I had not imagined that my daughters had noticed. Perhaps children possess greater perceptiveness and grow more than their parents realize.

“Stop it, Melanie. Mother is simply looking forward to Father’s return.”

“Everyone already knows that, right?”

“There is no need to point it out so directly. Why do you have such keen observation yet such a poor head?”

“But I think Father would like Mother even without her dressing up.”

“To remain loved by one’s husband, unseen effort is required. Look carefully. Can you not tell that she has applied her makeup more carefully than usual?”

“The dress is the same as always, is it not?”

“That is precisely why Mother tried to change things and spent so much time preparing, right, Mother?”

Roxanne shakes her head as if in exasperation, while Melanie looks dissatisfied. Despite being twins, the contrast between them is unmistakable. As for me, I can only desperately suppress the distortion of my expression, as though my inner thoughts have been laid bare by daughters who have only just passed the age of ten. Does Roxanne’s business acumen stem from such sharp observation of others, or does her talent for numbers allow her to detect subtle changes in people?

Either way, continuing this conversation would only invite further embarrassment.

“If the tidying is complete, we depart at once. We must hurry, or the airship carrying your father and the others will arrive before we do.”

“Then would it not be better to wait for Father at the manor?”

“That is exactly my point, Melanie. Mother wishes to meet Father as soon as possible.”

“Right now. Immediately. We depart. Hurry and prepare.”

I cannot allow Roxanne to speak any further, lest she reveal something truly mortifying. Raising my voice to cover my discomfort, I urge them onward and forcibly change the subject. After confirming that the two have finished cleaning, I pick up Dylan and hurry toward the entrance. The servants have already made preparations for our departure to the airport. That alone makes me acutely aware of how eagerly I have been awaiting Leon’s return and how flustered I have become, causing my cheeks to burn with embarrassment. I have the coachman open the carriage door, seat the children inside, and depart in haste. I want to believe that the warm gazes of the servants are nothing more than my imagination.

“What kind of souvenirs will Father bring back? I want a book about adventurers.”

“I want a new toy.”

“…Melanie, Dylan. Do you not feel happy about Father’s return?”

“Father is important too, you know.”

“Yeah.”

“Make sure not to say such things in front of your father.”

If Leon, who wishes to be loved by all his children, were to learn that they were more excited about souvenirs than about him, he would likely sulk for days, which might even interfere with his duties. It is better if this remains known to only a select few.

“Both Melanie and Dylan are hopeless.”

“And what about you, Roxanne?”

“For now, simply say, ‘I am happiest about Father’s return.’ Even if it is flattery, it will please him.”

“Roxanne, you as well. Remember that one’s true feelings should sometimes be kept hidden, even from family.”

“Yeees.”

Excessive innocence is problematic, but excessive calculation can cause trouble of a similar magnitude. In high society, where outward compliance and inner defiance are the norm, emotions must not be expressed too openly. At the same time, those who overestimate themselves and look down upon others will eventually find themselves ostracized. The Bartfort Earl family stands as the most successful among the emerging nobles and enjoys the favor of both the Holfort royal family and the Redgrave ducal house. There are as many who envy us as those who resent us, and thus we must remain constantly vigilant.

To soothe Leon, who is weary from his unfamiliar life in the capital, I must welcome and comfort him as soon as possible. Therefore, I am not mistaken in any of this. I am certainly not a foolish wife yearning for her husband’s return and counting the moments until he arrives. Having reached that conclusion, I turn my gaze toward the sky in the direction of the capital, listening to the lively chatter of the children.

┳⁠━━━━⁠━⁠⁠━⁠━⁠━━━⁠┳

Author’s Note

┻━⁠━━━━⁠━━⁠━━━⁠┻

This chapter depicts Angie’s daily life with her children, along with some explanatory elements.

For brief descriptions of the children, please refer to their self-introductions in Part 7.

The appearance of the twins in this chapter is based on ianzky-san’s illustration.

(Pixiv)

The children are planned to appear and play active roles periodically throughout Part 7.

I would be grateful for your thoughts and impressions, as they serve as motivation for future writing.