Arc-3 Ch-09

“…What are your thoughts?”

I had laid out every idea that came to me during my conversation with Leon.

To be candid, it was far from polished.

It was a spontaneous concept, one I hadn't yet backed with a proper plan for securing funds or manpower.

After all, if brilliant strategies conceived at a desk were enough to change the world, anyone could be a legendary tactician.

The silence that followed felt suffocating.

An immediate rejection would at least leave room to pivot.

But moving forward only to uncover fatal flaws mid-implementation could lead to irreversible disaster.

For the Holfort Kingdom, already precariously balanced, a single misstep could erode what little trust remains among the nobility and the people—potentially pushing the nation to collapse.

If we’re not committed to this path, it’s better to discard the idea now and seek alternatives.

But if we are to act, then swift and decisive execution is imperative.

The sooner we can restore domestic stability, the better.

Ultimately, a ruler’s competence lies in discerning the merit of a proposal and having the resolve to act without hesitation.

As things stand, I’m merely a former noblewoman married to a frontier lord.

I have no real sway over the royal family or the ducal houses.

The best I can offer is careful thought and well-intentioned proposals.

My eyes drifted to His Highness Julius, who sat deep in contemplation.

Back when I was betrothed to the prince, I could have played a more proactive role.

Now, I must rely on persuasion—lobbying the right people, framing my ideas with precision, and hoping they resonate.

Since marrying Leon, I’ve found myself entangled in bureaucratic intricacies—but surprisingly, I don’t mind it. In fact, I find a strange fulfillment in the process.

Reading legal documents and departmental protocols provides some insight, but there’s no substitute for hands-on experience.

Through direct involvement, I’ve come to understand the people’s needs on a more intimate level.

I can see the gaps in the current system and consider how best to present solutions to those in power.

Possessing the perspectives of both noble and commoner isn’t a contradiction—it’s an asset.

“It’s not bad. No—actually, I think it’s quite a good proposal,” Lady Mylene said, finally breaking the silence.

It wasn’t a rejection.

Relief flooded my chest, and I only then realized how tense I’d been.

As I exhaled, my limbs, stiff with anxiety, slowly regained their strength.

“The problem lies in execution. The kingdom currently lacks the manpower and funding to see it through. More importantly, we’ll need someone persuasive enough to rally noble support behind it.”

With that, Lady Mylene turned to Leon.

“Leon, did you fully understand Angie’s proposal?”

“…Sorry, I grasped about half of it.”

“Then our immediate priorities are: simplifying the proposal, securing noble support, and identifying funding sources.”

That was no surprise.

Even as I explained it, I became increasingly aware of its many flaws.

Thinking is easy—implementation is hard.

What I’d proposed aimed to create something entirely unprecedented in the Holfort Kingdom.

A simple misunderstanding could derail it—but in the worst case, it might threaten the interests of the aristocracy or even destabilize the class hierarchy.

“The biggest obstacle is the budget. The treasury is already strained with defense spending barely being met.”

“…I may have a suggestion regarding the funding,” said His Highness Julius, drawing something from his pocket.

It was a cloth pouch—luxuriously made and embroidered with the royal crest.

“…Why do you have this, Julius?” Lady Mylene asked sharply.

“Father entrusted it to me. Along with instructions for certain confidential tasks.”

Lady Mylene opened the pouch and retrieved several small metal boxes.

“What are those?” I asked, sensing their importance.

“Royal seals,” she replied, rolling one in her hand. “Not the ones for state affairs—these are for His Majesty’s personal business.”

She handled them with casual familiarity, but the implication was anything but trivial.

Even used privately, a royal seal signifies the king’s will.

With such a seal, one could forge documents and have them accepted as authentic.

In the wrong hands, they could plunge the kingdom into chaos—or worse, destruction.

And yet, such dangerous tools were entrusted to Julius, the eldest son of King Roland—whose place in the succession had dwindled to almost nothing.

This alone could ignite a succession crisis, possibly even civil war.

“What was His Majesty thinking, handing you these?”

“He instructed me to help Mother and Erika escape to the Lepart United Kingdom. He also asked that I discreetly provide money to his mistress and her child and help them vanish.”

“…What a foolish plan,” Lady Mylene sighed, visibly weary.

While Julius and I were frozen by the weight of it all, Leon—seemingly unfazed—poured himself a cup of tea.

“He’s probably planning to turn himself over to the ducal house in exchange for sparing his wife and child. Always the martyr,” she scoffed. “If only he were half as devoted to governing, my life would be far simpler.”

“Father’s worried about you and Erika, Mother.”

“I don’t need his protection. It’s laughable to imagine him worrying about me while I’m the one holding this kingdom together.”

Her words were brutally candid. I had no response.

To Lady Mylene, King Roland’s dramatic gestures were merely performative—a means of easing his conscience.

“I’ll take custody of the seals. Is that acceptable?”

“Of course. They’re a bit too much for me to carry around.”

“‘A bit’?” she repeated flatly. “You do realize these are more important than your life, don’t you?”

Julius opened his mouth to protest, but no words came. Silence stretched on.

That alone underscored the immense weight these seals carried.

“There’s still a few months' worth of the national budget left in reserve. Plus, the royal family’s private assets. We’ll find a way to address any deficit that remains.”

“…And perhaps,” Leon added, “the royal family should formally apologize to the ducal house?”

Though his tone was casual, his suggestion hit like a thunderclap.

But he wasn’t wrong.

To this day, the Holfort royal family has yet to offer a formal apology to the Redgrave house.

After Marquis Frampton’s treachery was exposed and his faction purged, conciliatory gestures were made.

Ironically, those concessions only strengthened the ducal house’s position.

A monarch who fails to command the loyalty of their vassals is unfit to rule—and will eventually be overthrown.

That’s why mending relations with the ducal house is urgent.

Still, Lady Mylene, Julius, and I couldn’t hide our grimaces.

For the royal family to admit fault would be tantamount to undermining its own legitimacy.

A ruler must appear infallible—strong, wise, and unwavering.

To acknowledge mistakes is to expose vulnerability, and that could destabilize the monarchy itself.

“That’s a difficult path. A royal apology might tip the scales too far in the ducal house’s favor,” Lady Mylene said.

“It’s already tipped,” Leon replied bluntly.

“Leon!” I snapped.

His words were dangerously reckless.

He might not be well-versed in noble etiquette, but such remarks could easily brand him an anti-royalist—or worse, a revolutionary.

But Lady Mylene remained unshaken.

“Go on, Leon.”

“The worst kinds of leaders, whether in battle or development, are always the same. The ones who rely on titles, brag about their education, refuse to lift a finger, and yet love to meddle. Useless, every last one of them.”

“You’re suggesting most nobles fall into that category?”

“Even heads of prestigious families were like that. They’d flaunt their status, ignore field reports, and retreat at the first sign of danger—yet they’d hoard resources like elite armor instead of giving it to someone competent. When things went wrong, they blamed others. When things went right, they took credit. That kind of leadership crushes morale—and invites mutiny.”

“…That hits a little too close to home,” Lady Mylene muttered. “We’ve struggled for years with noble reports that contradict soldiers’ accounts.”

“Angie made me read countless history books. They all praise kings who listen to their vassals—but that’s just basic common sense. Without clear, accurate information, no one can lead effectively. Nobles love to mock commoners, but they see the truth on the ground far better than aristocrats give them credit for.”

Leon himself was living proof of that.

Born to a low-ranking noble and a commoner, he had accomplished feats far beyond what most highborns could even dream of.

The higher one's rank, the further they tend to drift from the realities of the world.

That’s precisely why they need accurate information—and the humility to act on it.

Looking back, when I was still a ducal heiress, I lacked that insight.

Only after getting engaged to Leon and working at the frontier did I realize: commoners are just as human as we are.

“Even if your logic is sound, no one listens if they dislike the speaker. No matter how valid Angie’s plan is, if the duke discovers we’ve been scheming behind his back, everything will fall apart. Which is why… an apology and reconciliation are unavoidable.”

"I understand Leon is right. And that’s precisely what makes this so difficult."

"It’s just like our marital disputes, really—"

"Hey!"

What nonsense is he spouting now?

I stomp down on the top of Leon’s foot with the heel of my shoe, but the effort proves useless. His thick leather boots and his well-conditioned body render it ineffective.

"Our arguments usually revolve around territory management, parenting philosophies, or—well—other marital matters."

"Angie, you’ve got quite the entertaining husband," Lady Mylene remarked, her expression amused as I reached over and pinched Leon’s cheek.

Why must he air our personal issues in front of others?

"Trying to reason with someone who's angry just sounds like you're trying to wriggle out of blame. So, when I know I’m at fault, I apologize immediately."

"And you think it’s appropriate to bring that up right now?" I glare.

"She doesn't think so. That’s why I’m getting smacked. Angie, I’m sorry. Can you please stop?"

You absolute fool! How can you flirt so shamelessly in front of Lady Mylene?

I smack him on the head, more out of embarrassment than anger. I didn’t hit him hard, but it probably still stung.

Satisfied—for now—I let it go.

"Angie, I truly am sorry. Please forgive me."

"Do what you want. You started this. I want no part in it."

"If you forgive me here, it’ll make it seem like I said something really meaningful."

"How many times have I warned you not to humiliate our family in public?"

Lady Mylene continued observing us, clearly entertained.

With little else to amuse her in the royal palace these days, our antics must be quite the spectacle.

"Angie, that’s enough. Forgive him," she said gently.

"…Understood."

"I said I’m sorry."

"Ahem. I’ll take your ‘wisdom’ under advisement."

"Thank you."

Lady Mylene straightened, returning to a more formal tone. "We’ll review this proposal within a small circle of trusted aides. When the time comes, we’ll reach out to coordinate. Julius will be your primary contact."

"Me?" His Highness Julius said, blinking in surprise.

Even I was taken aback.

Clearly, Lady Mylene was trying to use this as a chance to mend the relationship between Julius and me.

To be frank, I no longer harbored deep resentment. But that didn’t mean I could simply smile and pretend nothing had happened.

The human heart is not so easily healed. And that, more than anything, mirrors the rift between the royal family and the ducal house.

"I have other duties assigned to me."

"Some of those have since been reassigned. Consider this your new responsibility."

"…Understood."

"That will be all for today. Thank you both."

"Yes. Farewell, Your Highness Mylene."

"May you remain in good health, Lady Mylene."

We bowed and departed the room.

It had been some time since we first arrived at the inn. If we didn’t return soon, the Bartfort family would likely begin to worry.

Just before reaching the entrance, footsteps echoed behind us.

Turning, I saw someone hurrying toward us.

It was His Highness Julius.

My heart tensed—though not nearly as much as it had when we’d met earlier that day.

"Your Highness Julius. Is something the matter?"

"No. I merely forgot to greet you properly earlier. Are you well, Angelica?"

"I am."

"I heard you’ve endured quite a lot."

"It’s the frontier. Challenges are to be expected—but it’s rewarding work."

"I see."

The conversation felt forced, the tension thick in the air.

There was no salvaging our relationship. No amount of words could restore what was once there—the adoring daughter of a ducal house who once dreamed of standing beside a prince.

And yet, something stirred within me. An impulse. A rising heat that refused to be ignored.

He was as handsome as ever.

And yet, I felt only irritation.

"Your Highness, allow me to apologize in advance."

I dipped into a graceful curtsy.

Then I raised my head, met his eyes squarely—and with no hesitation, lifted my right hand.

Smack!

The sound of the slap rang out sharp and clear.

A small, sharp sound echoed down the corridor.

Both His Highness and Leon stared at me, stunned—wearing matching expressions of disbelief.

Striking a member of the royal family is considered an unforgivable offense. In peacetime, I wouldn’t even be granted a chance to explain myself before being thrown into a dungeon.

Yet, strangely, the resentment that had long festered in my chest felt as though it had finally lifted.

“Angie, what are you doing?”

Leon grabbed my shoulder, clearly flustered.

Truthfully, I hadn’t hit His Highness very hard. I’d shown more force earlier when pinching and striking Leon. There was no visible mark on Julius’s cheek—he probably barely felt it.

“…Was that enough to satisfy you?” Julius asked, his tone quiet.

“Yes,” I replied with a bright smile. “I feel quite refreshed.”

The old me might’ve done far worse.

Though my emotions had once burned wildly out of control, I was surprised at how calmly I’d acted now.

Had five—no, six—years dulled the edge of my hatred?

Or maybe being married to Leon, content with my current life, had softened the anger I once harbored against Julius. Perhaps seeing him now—standing before me, no longer the untouchable prince but simply a man with regrets—had given me closure.

I couldn’t even tell if the me who had once stormed into Bartfort territory, seething over a broken engagement, was the same woman I was today.

“Stay well,”

“You too, Your Highness.”

“…Alright.”

With that, Julius turned and walked away, returning to the room in silence.

And just like that, my first conversation with him in years ended without incident—almost anticlimactically.

I’d expected fury to boil over the moment I saw his face. I thought I’d confront him with all the words I’d once rehearsed in my head.

But instead… there was only a mild tension. A brief awkwardness. And then it was over.

“Was that really all you had to say?” Leon asked beside me.

“What do you mean?”

“He was your former fiancé. I thought you'd have more to get off your chest.”

“Honestly, I’m surprised too. I guess I’m more indifferent than I thought.”

“An indifferent woman doesn’t pinch her husband in public… or slap a prince.”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t keep ogling other women, Leon.”

“I keep telling you, Angie—there’s no one else. You’re the only one I adore.”

Our lighthearted banter felt oddly comforting—like a breeze cutting through long-stagnant air.

Yes, being the wife of a frontier lord suits me far more than being a prince’s fiancée ever did.

“The matchmaking meeting should be over by now. We should hurry back.”

“It’s probably already fallen apart. Who knows what the Roseblade family’s doing right now.”

“The earl isn’t that reckless. Still, with Dorothea’s engagement prospects collapsing again, she’s likely devastated.”

“I wish my siblings would just get married already. Is there truly no one suitable out there?”

The Bartfort siblings’ matchmaking prospects were likely hindered by their connection to me—and by extension, the ducal house.

I’d have to discuss this with Leon later.

Our marriage had clearly rippled into their lives.

With a heavy heart, I stepped into the carriage prepared by the Roseblade family.

※　※　※　※　※

“How did it go?”

The queen asked as her son returned to the room, sipping tea with practiced elegance.

Gone was the playful air she’d worn earlier while teasing her son’s former fiancée and the upstart noble who had risen through the ranks.

In its place was the poised presence of a seasoned noblewoman—one who had long played the game of power from behind the throne.

“She slapped me,” Julius replied flatly.

“Oh? Doesn’t seem like your face is swollen.”

“She didn’t hit me that hard.”

“Ah. So she didn’t even think you were worth hurting properly.”

“…I would’ve preferred if she’d yelled or struck me with more force.”

“Don’t get melodramatic. Self-pitying men only want an excuse to wallow.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

The queen sighed, idly toying with the royal seal resting on the table.

“His Majesty is such a burden these days. If he spent half as much energy governing as he does meddling in our affairs, the kingdom would be in far better shape.”

“He’s just concerned about you.”

“If that’s his idea of concern, he’s wasting his time. I don’t need protection from a man who failed me. And I’m certainly not some fragile thing, clinging to past love. If I wanted to flee this kingdom and return to my homeland, I’d do so openly and with dignity.”

Queen Mylene’s words were sharp—unyielding.

Julius fell silent, subdued under the weight of her conviction.

“Focus on escaping with Erika. I’ll stay here until the end.”

“But Father doesn’t want you caught in the coming conflict.”

“And what does he plan to do now? Divorce me at my age? That would be laughable. If he’d truly wanted to cast me aside, he should’ve done so ten years ago.”

Her voice grew more heated, frustration crackling beneath her noble composure.

This situation had spiraled due to his father’s neglect… her own miscalculations… and Julius’s blind choices.

“I’ve grown stubborn. I’ll remain here and complain until the end. Even in the afterlife, I’ll haunt him with my nagging.”

“Didn’t you say you gave up on Father long ago?”

“I did. As a husband, he lost my affection. But as family, I still care. He gave me all of you, after all.”

Her voice softened just a little—an echo of the woman she once was.

Whether it stemmed from pride, duty, or something more intimate, even she couldn’t say.

“Worry about yourself, not your parents. What’s the situation with the princess?”

“…"

“Really now. First, you break off your engagement to a promising ducal heiress. Then you let a brilliant commoner girl be taken by the temple. And now the princess despises you. Are you truly that hopeless with women?”

In the world of nobles, marriage is a matter of strategy. Romance, while not forbidden, is expected to come second.

“I don’t dislike Olivia,” Julius admitted. “She may be a commoner, but she’s wiser than most nobles. I even considered stepping aside as heir if it meant she’d be accepted. But instead… we let her be used as a tool for the temple’s gain. And the others—none of them tried to stop it. That’s the real failure.”

“I hold some blame for that,” the queen said quietly. “I entered this kingdom without allies and struggled to survive. So, I surrounded you with sons of nobles loyal to the crown, hoping it would secure your future. But I ended up raising a pack of pampered boys who enabled your whims rather than challenged them. I tried to protect the royal line, and in doing so… nearly doomed it.”

It was a bitter truth—one she had long kept buried.

Even the finest seed will rot in poor soil.

She had sheltered Julius too much, raised him in a greenhouse where no harsh wind could reach him.

And in contrast, someone like Bartfort—who had clawed his way up from nothing—had been forged in fire.

“He had the strength to survive hardship. The boldness to speak honestly, even when it wasn’t safe. That’s what you needed—a man like Lord Bartfort at your side.”

'Bartfort… If you want to stop Vince, bring Bartfort into the fold. That’s the ducal house’s weakness.'

Bartfort, again.

Julius silently recalled his father’s words.

Was that man—whom he’d only seen a few times—truly so significant?

Compared to his former retainers—Jilk, Brad, Chris, and Greg—Leon seemed unimpressive.

Certainly, in terms of strength, intelligence, and political savvy, Leon surpassed the average noble heir.

But his capabilities still felt within reach for any diligent, competent individual.

Julius couldn’t help but wonder why so many influential people placed such faith in someone so unremarkable on the surface.

“I’ll have you shoulder your share of responsibility,” the queen said. “At the very least, clean up your own mess.”

“…Yes.”

There were countless matters demanding attention.

And so, thoughts of that baffling upstart named Bartfort were temporarily set aside.

※ ※ ※ ※ ※

“Why the hell did it work out?”

That was Leon’s first outburst to brother-in-law upon returning to the Roseblade manor.

“I’m not sure myself,” Nicks replied, scratching his head. “I just started feeling bad for her while we were talking.”

“You sure you’re okay, big brother? She’s not deceiving you, is she? Putting on a show during matchmaking meetings is a classic tactic. Tears from a woman you just met are the least reliable thing in the world.”

“You’re not wrong. But it’s not like we’re engaged—we’re just going to date for a while.”

When we returned to the manor, the servants who greeted us were a far cry from the stiff, funereal staff that welcomed us earlier.

Now, their cheerfulness was almost unnerving.

Not a single person scolded us for wandering off in the middle of an official escort mission.

Even the earl, who should’ve been furious, was in high spirits, enthusiastically shaking hands with my father-in-law and even embracing my brother-in-law.

“Dorothea probably mistook me for her first love,” Nicks mused. “I’m the kind of man she’s never encountered before. Her tastes are so peculiar, she’s never found someone who really understood her. That’s probably why her past engagements kept falling through.”

“So now you’re dating her to fix her strange preferences? You’re too soft-hearted for your own good.”

“She’s already in her mid-twenties. Her marriage prospects are getting bleak. I’m a guy—I’ve still got time.”

“And where is this all-important Dorothea? We should hear her true intentions.”

“She fainted from the emotional shock and was carried to her room. Mother and Father are looking after her now.”

“Deirdre-sama, what are you doing here?”

“What’s so strange about me being in my own family’s manor?”

It wasn’t exactly strange, but this guest room was filled entirely with the Bartfort family.

What was strange was how overly familiar she acted with Leon.

“I bring a message from Father,” Deirdre announced. “He already thinks of Nicks as a son. If he marries my sister, the Roseblade family will offer its unwavering support to the Bartfort house, no matter what comes.”

“That’s an incredibly generous offer for just an engagement. What’s the catch?”

“Isn’t it romantic? First love fulfilled and all that?”

To be honest, it’s impossible to predict what impact Dorothea will have on the Bartfort family.

The intricate web of interests involving the Holfort royal family, the Redgrave ducal house, and the Roseblade earldom—all centered on the Bartfort name—makes any optimal decision elusive.

A wave of exhaustion crashes over me as I sink into a nearby sofa, the pace of political undercurrents leaving me dizzy.

“You’re not being blackmailed, are you? Like, ‘Marry her or we’ll destroy your territory’?”

“If it came to that, even I would refuse.”

“Still, it’s clearly a mismatch. You? Marrying an earl’s daughter?”

“I never said I was marrying her!”

“Leon, you married Angelica, didn’t you? Nicks isn’t exactly a nobody.”

“Our boys are outstanding.”

“Mom, I still don’t have a fiancée, you know.”

The warm, easy banter of the Bartfort family feels both heartening and strangely foreign.

The world I was raised in is completely different.

No—perhaps most of the world is like this.

It’s my upbringing that was warped.

I gently cradle my belly, thinking of the children I’d left in the care of my sister-in-law and brother-in-law.

If I had been born a commoner, I wouldn’t be burdened with such worries.

Just tilling the soil, raising children, and falling asleep in the arms of my beloved husband…

I can’t help but long for a life like that.

But I’m a flower raised in a greenhouse—pampered, shielded from wind and frost, watered and nurtured carefully.

I don’t have the strength to survive outside nobility’s artificial shelter.

“What’s wrong, Angie?”

Leon sat beside me, instantly noticing my weariness.

His gentle presence warmed my heart—but also filled me with guilt.

“I’m just a little tired. I’ll be fine once we’re home.”

“Got it. How about I make you something to eat?”

“Donuts? Those are oily and sweet. I’ll just gain weight.”

“I’ll bake something with less sugar. Something soft and warm, made with more than just flour.”

“…So your plan is to fix my mood through my stomach?”

“It’s only natural to take care of my wife.”

I’m five months pregnant now, and my belly is growing enough to hinder my daily routine.

Too much weight gain could make childbirth difficult, and it might take time to return to my pre-pregnancy body.

My mother, who gave birth to five children, has taught me many things, but there are still times I feel lost.

And with Leon constantly fussing over me, it’s hard not to depend on him.

“…You’re the most important person to me, Angie.”

“What about our family?”

“They’re important too… but only when the kids aren’t around.”

“You’re so shameless.”

Still… Dorothea as my sister-in-law?

I just can’t picture it.

What kind of ripple will this engagement send through Bartfort territory?

I glanced quietly at the cheerful Bartfalt family, chatting excitedly about Nicks’s engagement, my thoughts drifting into the uncertain future.

┳⁠━━━━⁠━⁠⁠━⁠━⁠━━━⁠┳

Authors Note

┻━⁠━━━━⁠━━⁠━━━⁠┻

With this chapter, the matchmaking arc concludes. The details behind Angelica’s proposal remain under wraps—for now. Dorothea will return, so please look forward to her reappearance. The next chapter will feature a short interlude with some lovey-dovey moments between Leon and Angelica. 

At the end of the “fluffy arc,” I plan to include a mature-themed scene. (Thanks to the client, Illustrations are already prepared.)

In the next chapter, that character will finally appear. Your feedback and comments are a huge source of motivation, so please keep them coming!