4

A bit light on the portion, but it’s a clean break—

we’re led into the parlor and pass the time with idle chatter while dinner’s prepared.

Mostly about nobles.

I know what nobles are and how to act around them—Ange and I do, anyway. But that’s how we acted when we were commoners.

Leon says things change once you’re one of them.

“Put simply, don’t apologize right away. When in trouble, lean on them for support. Those two things matter most to a lesser noble.”

“Support, I get. But not apologizing? What’s that about?”

Apologizing means admitting you’re wrong. Once you do that, the other nobles’ll start squeezing you dry—just waiting to take what they can. That’s why nobles don’t apologize lightly. We find common ground through talk, settle things that way.

Sounds like a pain in the neck, but Leon says it, so it’s gotta be true.

“Not even to higher nobles?”

“Yeah. As long as you’re a noble, it doesn’t matter who’s above or below—most of the time, we just find a middle ground. Otherwise, trouble spreads all the way down to the higher nobles backing the lower ones. Only when the King himself admits fault do we have to apologize right away.”

“Fair enough. If His Majesty says so, it’s only right.”

Everyone belongs to the royal family. Even nobles are no exception.

If the king says white, even black turns white—well, maybe not quite that extreme—but the power of a word from the royal family is immense. Especially in the towns around the capital, where the current king’s influence has grown strong, loyalty runs deep. Cross him the wrong way, and you’re outcast in an instant. That’s why the princess moves with care, double-checking every step.

“Two things to keep in mind, as a noble. Otherwise, if you don’t hold land, there’s not much to worry about.”

“Ah. Good to know. Fewer things to watch out for.”

“Yeah, well, part of that’s because we’re knights, too. Pure nobles, though? They’re always at parties, networking, getting pulled into politics. Heard it’s a real pain to learn all that.”

Just because you’re a noble doesn’t mean you can just lounge around in a fancy house all day. You’ve got to manage your own lands, collect taxes, oversee harvests, handle trade. Nobles without lands? They’re stuck helping the ones who’ve got them, playing second fiddle.

If you’re a noble involved in national politics, you’re often away from your estate—sometimes even sending a trusted lower noble to run things in your place.

Me and Leon? We’re knights. We’re part of the military, so we don’t get stuck with that kind of work. Even when we retire, we’ll either teach at the academy or be sent out as commanders to the various outposts.

“Parties, huh. I learned how to guard them, but I’ve never been a guest at one.”

“Leave that to me and Batis when we’ve got time. And Ange, too.”

“Y-yes!”

Ange, who’d been sitting there quiet as a borrowed cat, suddenly jerked upright when the conversation turned to her.

Seeing that, Simeir grinned, eyes crinkling.

“Now, now, no need to be so tense. You’re our guests, after all. And I know you’ve been commoners up until now. If anything’s unclear, just ask—anything at all.”

“Ah, t-thank you…”

“Ange, you’ll likely be invited to parties and tea gatherings from now on. As a noblewoman, even if only a minor one, refusing would be tricky.”

Right. Everyone already knew Ange was engaged to me. And we planned to tie the knot during the Princess’s confinement.

So Ange would have to act the part—properly, from now on.

“I don’t really know much about what women are supposed to do…” I said, then paused—

“So I’ve decided to teach you all sorts of things, Ange-sama. You’ll be alright, won’t you?”

“I’m truly grateful, but… is it really alright? You’re busy, even before marriage.”

“It’s fine. Leon-sama will be returning to the front soon, and once he does, he’ll be free again. It’ll be my little distraction too—would you mind keeping me company?”

“If that’s the case, then I’d be honored. I’ll look forward to it.”

While the two shook hands firmly, I turned to Leon with the question I’d been meaning to ask.

“How big are the mansions of lower nobles, anyway?”

“Ah, so I’m supposed to own a house now?”

Being a noble meant having your own home—standard practice. In fact, living in a dorm as a noble would be a source of mockery.

“Just be quick about it. The princess is covering the cost, so don’t dawdle.”

“Then I’ll hook you up with a friend who’s got property. If you’re okay with an old manor, I can probably find something decent at a fair price.”

“Really? I’m grateful. Honestly, I’ve been blowing through my entire income just to afford the wedding venue.”

“Can’t be helped. But the reward money should come through, right?”

The country’s supposed to hand out a decent sum along with the knighthood title—but with everything in such a mess right now, even the wedding date hasn’t been set yet.

So all that’s gotten out ahead of schedule is my becoming a noble. That’s how we ended up here.

“The castle’s in chaos for the princess’s fiancé meeting. The ceremony and the reward money’ll have to wait a bit.”

“Makes sense. Probably a few months from now, things’ll settle down. Might as well hold the wedding then.”

“That’s the plan.”

Honestly, we couldn’t even think about a proper wedding unless we did this first. Marriage ceremonies—gotta figure out the venue, the order of events, who to invite… too many things to keep track of. If we don’t handle each one properly, I’m afraid we’ll end up making some stupid, game-breaking mistake somewhere.

“Right now, our main goal’s the princess’s matchmaking meeting. Once that’s done, everything else should start falling into place.”

“Ah, right. Was it next week, wasn’t it?”

“Still, it’s kind of surprising they managed to come all this way, even with the war going on.”

We’re not exactly close to the capital, and there’s still the threat of Avilabomb hanging over us. Yet they still sent a prince over. Talk about nerve.

The Westerian Duchy probably wants to strengthen the alliance fast. After all, in recent battles, Abnomyle and other weapons have advanced way ahead of us and the Empire. If we’re allied, we can more easily get their data.

Makes sense. If the gap in power grows too wide, even an alliance feels shaky.

Sure, the Westerian Duchy has Armunale too, and their factories for refining Hyimagia Liquid are fully equipped. But since they’ve had fewer wars, research hasn’t been prioritized like it is here. Their machines are, apparently, a generation behind ours. So if Abnomyle shows up now… I can see why they’d panic.

Anyway, I’ll pass you the real estate agent’s referral later. Take a look when you’ve got time.

Yeah, thanks.

First things first—some of the house’s troubles were sorted out, and just then, the drawing room door clicked open and a maid slipped in.

“Lord Leon, dinner is ready.”

“Ah. Then let’s call it a day on the heavy stuff and head to dinner with a light heart, shall we?”

“Yes, indeed. Then, Miss Ange, shall we?”

“Huh? Where to, exactly?”

“Why, changing into something proper, of course. It’s not every day we get to dress up—let’s wear our gowns and practice dinner etiquette right from the start.”

“Eh? Eeeh?!?”

Ange, still flustered, was whisked away by Miss Shimeiru.

After Ange was taken, we’d already arrived at the dining hall ahead of time.

There, dazzling tableware lined the tables, and maids stood along the walls, finishing preparations.

We’d only just sat down and waited a little when, finally, the ladies made their appearance.

Simeir’s dress was a soft peach, matching her hair. And Ange wore a deep crimson one.

“How do you think it looks? I thought nothing else would bring out the beauty of your golden hair quite so well.”

“Looks good, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, Ange, you look great.”

“Hehe, thank you.”

Ange usually prefers light-colored dresses, white as a base, but the crimson one suits her just fine.

Still… she looks a little flustered. A red dress calls for more poise. You can’t wear it like you’re hiding behind it.

Simeir must’ve thought the same, slipping behind Ange and gently gripping her shoulders, straightening her spine with a firm nudge.

“Ange-sama, a dress looks shabby if you don’t stand straight. You’re beautiful—so hold your chest up, now.”

“Chest…”

Ange’s face went dark at the mention of “Shimel’s chest.”

Leon and I glanced at each other, casual as ever, and instantly understood why she’d suddenly gone quiet.

That dress must’ve been lent by Shimel. Which meant the size was tailored to that impossible bust.

Ange wasn’t exactly small—she wasn’t— but compared to that? She felt like a child with a handful of pebbles.

“Eld, buy Ange a dress next time. If she’s becoming a noble, she’ll need a few on hand.”

“Got it. Might as well get you to show me the place too.”

“Yeah, I’ll show you Shimel’s usual shop.”

The noble dinner passed without a hitch, calm and uneventful.

I’d picked up table manners long ago, and Ange had too. The course structure even reminded me of French dining—faintly nostalgic, like a memory half-forgotten.

"Thank you for the meal. Today was a real help."

"Yeah, the hard part’s just starting. Hang in there. Here’s your introduction to the real estate agent and the clothing shop."

"Thanks."

"Thank you so much, Mr. Shimel."

"Miss Ange, come again anytime, won’t you?"

"Yes, I suppose I’ll be visiting sooner than I thought—there’s so much I still need to learn. I’ll be counting on your kindness."

The conversation during the meal had loosened things up a bit—Ange was greeting Shimel without a hitch.

"Mr. Eld, please tell me more stories another time."

"Ah, if the chance comes."

This time, we’d talked about the old days when I and Ange were still in the village. War stories? Too bloody for the table. Not right for eating.

But tales of hunting, farming—those were rare for nobles, and they seemed to like them quite a bit.

"Say, Eld, you hear anything about the mass-produced ones?"

"Huh?"

I’d been avoiding the storage bay as much as possible—couldn’t touch Armunale, after all. Naturally, I’d never heard anything like that before.

“Word is the kingdom’s mass-produced model’s finished. Supposedly sitting in the base’s storage bay. If you’re curious, just go take a look.”

“But I can’t touch it…”

“Hmph. What’s a sneak thief like you complaining about? Did becoming a knight make you too serious?”

“Hey! I did it because Leon said I could. Ended up nearly getting caught, didn’t it?”

In our first year’s second term, we’d snuck into the military’s storage bay. Simple reason—couldn’t stop myself from wanting to touch Armunale. Still, he’d been fully in on the plan.

“You’re the one at fault. You kept rubbing your cheek against the unit while I kept saying a guard was coming.”

Shut up. It’s been half a year since I last touched the Armunale—I’m allowed a little cheek-rub, even if it makes Rayla recoil in horror!

“That aside… what’re you getting at?”

“Eld’s forbidden from touching the Armunale. Nothing’s banned about touching the Abnomule.”

That hadn’t even crossed my mind.

But now that you say it… yeah, that’s true.

I’m banned from touching the Armunale. But touching the Abnomule—same thing, different name—no such rule.

So then… I’ve gotta go.

“Know which storage bay?”

“Rumor says the eighth. Just poke around there—figure it out.”

“Right. I’ll check it out first thing tomorrow.”

“Hey, what about the Princess’s guard?”

“She’s probably still sewing her dress. No need for me to stick to her like glue.”

“S-sure…”

See you later. Don’t know when we’ll meet again.

Leon’ll be out of his suspension soon—back with the front-line unit. After that, we won’t see each other for a while. Probably won’t even make it to the wedding.

Yeah, we’ll both do our best.

We gripped hands tight—me and Ange—and climbed into the waiting carriage, heading back to the castle’s quarters.