Interlude: The Marquess of Emmental’s Troubles

Before him on the desk of his office, the Marquess Mascy von Emmental sat with his head in his hands.

The season was summer.

He had not long to prepare for the first time in years that he would return to the estate with his eldest daughters, yet the matter at hand drained him of even the will to begin.

On one side, a letter from the Empress, adorned with a rose motif, dragon-bound.

On the other, a letter from the Empress Dowager, bearing a peony design, also dragon-bound.

Both letters requested that his daughter be betrothed to the Third Prince, yet each named a different daughter as the intended—this was the source of his deep vexation.

He opened the letters again, but the contents remained unchanged.

The Queen Mother has designated her eldest daughter, Stella, as the intended bride for the Third Prince, while the Empress Dowager has sent a tentative letter inquiring whether the second daughter, Spica—renowned as a paragon of refinement—might instead be considered as the Third Prince’s bride or as the Second Wife to His Highness the Crown Prince.

We are both elated and distressed by this; yet Stella has only just returned to noble society and remains unrefined in her manners.

From the Queen Mother’s letter, one senses a clear aim: to strengthen the royal family’s standing by marrying the Crown Prince to Stella, the miraculous maiden known to the common folk for her purity and grace.

The Queen Mother is known to be sensitive to novelty and new discourse…

The letter also assures Spica, now excluded from the list of potential brides, that a suitable match shall be arranged for her.

The Empress Dowager, by contrast, is a cautious noblewoman who holds tradition and order in high regard.

I have known Spica since childhood and have cherished her as a granddaughter.

It was only due to her influence—more precisely, her request—that Spica became a candidate for the Third Prince’s bride.

If she truly dislikes the engagement to His Highness Arthur, she has gone so far as to request that Spica be taken as the second consort of the Crown Prince, who still lacks an heir.

The presence of white in Spica’s sacred power is undoubtedly one of the factors the Imperial House would wish to claim. Blood that is too thick distorts the lineage. Spica, with distant blood ties and a sacred power of the desired hue, is exceptionally appealing to the Imperial Family.

For now, I sent only a reply: “The time has not yet come.”

The season had begun to shift from summer into autumn.

In the audience chamber of the Imperial Palace, I faced Spica—the daughter who had spent the summer at a friend’s home.

She reported her safe return and how she had spent the summer with me.

Though bandits had attacked three times, the guards and Lord Colloid had swiftly responded, ensuring her safety, though her return had been delayed. She apologized first for the delay.

Borderlands were often plagued by bandits, making nobles frequent targets. I rejoiced in her safe return, dismissing any concern.

Though time was short, her joy was so vividly conveyed that I could not help but smile.

Then, her gaze faltered for a moment, as if searching for the right words, before she steeled herself and spoke:

"Your Highness! I have… received the heart of His Highness Arthur. I wish to return his affection. Please, grant me your support."

She placed upon the table a Sacred Stone, wrapped in a handkerchief, its hues of white and deep violet appearing nearly black in the dim light.

Undeniably the stone of a royal bloodline.

A flicker of joy stirred within her at her daughter’s recognition, yet this was no mere personal matter—it was an alliance with the royal house. As head of the household, she must weigh all considerations with care.

“I have received your report. I am deeply proud that you have grown into a maiden worthy of Your Highness’s favor. Yet I cannot confirm this matter immediately. There are matters of household dignity to uphold. The processing of the Sacred Stone must wait for now.”

With that, she dismissed Spica that day.

To transform the Sacred Stone of proposal into a wedding ornament was the formal act of betrothal. For now, she was asked to refrain…

I understand Your Highness’s intent, but noble marriages require careful balancing of power—this is unavoidable.

Yet, the girl I have known since infancy—her face now bearing a look of quiet maturity, I believe it must be because she has come to feel something for Your Highness… to have known love. My heart grows heavy with that thought.

I am moved with nostalgia, as though the matter of betrothal were to be settled at last, and I feel a sorrow at the thought of my daughter leaving. Yet, it is this complex heart of a father that wishes her happiness.

I find myself reflecting with quiet regret that lately I have given all my attention to Stella, and have scarcely spoken with Spica, who has been so capable and easy to manage. I wonder if I have been remiss.

Yet, I smile faintly at the memory of my own youth, when I too had little contact with my parents.

I realize now, with age, that there are things one cannot see until one stands in a parent’s place.

And though I feel I should apologize to Her Majesty the Empress for such inaction, I cannot help but think that the third prince’s bride shall be Spica. Still, I hesitate to speak it plainly, caught in my own indecision.

Mascy is the lord of the great domain of Emmental, yet differs slightly in nature from past generations of its rulers.

It is said that the first of the Emmental family, a loyal retainer since the realm's founding, was a formidable warrior.

When the first emperor subdued this land and established the nation,

he bestowed it upon them with the words:

“Rich and nurturing seas shall become a vital stronghold, coveted by foreign powers and brigands alike.

To govern the northern seas, strength is required. Only one so mighty that all tremble before him is worthy of this land.”

Thanks to this legacy, successive heads of the Emmental family have generally been men of martial prowess.

Indeed, pirates and seafaring men were often unruly, and the simplest way to subdue them was through force—making this inevitability.

The previous lord, for instance, had served as commander of the Second Division of the National Defense Force, and currently holds the titles of Supreme Admiral of the Emmental Navy and Advisor to the National Defense Force.

Yet Mascy lacked talent for military affairs.

His skill with the blade was unremarkable; he was surpassed by his third son, who had taken up the sword only three months prior.

He was not notably gifted in study, and his academic standing at the academy was middling—neither outstanding nor poor, a position adequate for the heir of a great domain. Compared to his younger brother, who had inherited his mother’s famed brilliance, he seemed lacking.

Yet his family—parents and siblings alike—had long regarded him as the future head of the house. He knew his own weakness. Thus, he had taken the position of leader not by force, but by inviting aid and guidance from those around him.

This was a rare virtue among high nobles, especially among the haughty lords of great domains. But somewhere along the way, he had forgotten how to accept such help...

No—perhaps he had still consulted others, but had lost the ability to receive their counsel with honesty.

Just as he had believed there was no matter of concern, the incident occurred during the autumn Shin祭.

Spica had fallen ill due to Stella’s proposal of conduct.

Spica—praised as a paragon of refinement—had vomited and collapsed in public, even at a private gathering within the family.

This was ample disgrace. It was reasonable to doubt her suitability for marriage, yet Mascy felt relief.

Now, another pretext had arisen for selecting the daughters…

Yet the matter took a turn even worse than Mascy had imagined.

Spica refused all food and her body grew weaker by the day.

Even Mascy’s family was now alarmed.

At first, they had suspected Stella of deliberate provocation, as if staging a hunger strike.

But the physician had said she wished to eat—her body simply rejected nourishment. If this continued, her life would be in danger.

And day by day, her strength waned further, until even the water she had once accepted was now rejected. The physician had advised that she be entrusted to the church.

At this time, the Count of Emmental and his wife contacted the church, declaring that their daughter’s life was worth more than any price, and arrangements were made for her to rest within the church’s care.

The church, upon seeing the young lady—emaciated beyond measure, weakened to the point of unconsciousness, unable even to drink water properly—began to suspect abuse.

In noble households, young daughters were sometimes punished excessively under the guise of discipline. Especially in families with complicated circumstances, where children born of illicit unions or those with disabilities were common.

Yet this time, a young lady of perfect virtue, well known to the church, had been brought in.

The church officials stood speechless at the sight of the young lady—so often seen before, visiting the orphanage in慰问, so devout in her prayers at the church—now appearing in such a state. Based on recent whispers, they had resolved to refuse any meeting with the Emmental family.

The rumor was that the true heiress, the miraculous lady of the Emmental line, had returned, and thus the adopted daughter—used as a stand-in—was being tormented.

Though the Earl of Emmental dismissed the tale as baseless, he could not see the truth.

All he perceived was the church’s cruel refusal to allow the girl’s family near her, despite her evident distress.

He had brought offerings countless times, but each was turned away. He was astonished when Stella’s own plea—bringing a unicorn stew she had prepared—was rejected as if it were some petty insult. Was it not common knowledge that the meat possessed healing power? He had heard she had begun to eat it gradually, and yet they had gone to the trouble of making stew from such a precious salted meat. The church, and even Spica, had dismissed the kindness of others, pretending their own injustice was justified.

This only deepened suspicion among the church’s ranks, and ultimately became the reason the visitation ban was extended until Spica’s return. The Earl of Emmental, however, had no way of knowing this.

The season shifted once more, and winter’s end drew near.

Why had it come to this…

Rumors among the nobility had finally reached the Earl of Emmental’s ears.

Apologies for the attack on the road during the summer holidays had already been made by both the Marle Border Lords and the Count Colloid—by late summer, they had been delivered.

I offer my deepest apologies for having caused such unparalleled fear to your most cherished daughter, despite having invited you forth. Nevertheless, I assure you here and now that not a single finger of the thief has touched your daughter—may you find peace in this assurance.

That was the nature of it.

Mascy also

I have received word from my daughter, so please be at ease. She spoke with great admiration of the valor of the Marle and Colloid families, saying there was no journey more secure. Let this praise inspire you to redouble your efforts in state affairs.

responding with such content

It was only after the rumors had spread completely that she realized how it did not appear to the eyes of the world.

She had never imagined such idle rumors—of her daughter having fallen into the hands of thieves—could be spoken with such conviction...

Moreover, the true essence of the rumor lies beyond the academy.

If so, I thought, then I should question Stella, who attends the same academy, and indeed, she replied with tears welling in her eyes, “I didn’t know such rumors were spreading… And what was wrong with telling my friend only the truth?”

The nobleman, pitying his innocent daughter’s ignorance of courtly ways, chose to overlook the matter.

The rumor, already widespread within the academy, gained further credibility when it became known that Spica had been unable to leave the church.

The church, therefore, insisted that Spica must be brought directly to them to defend herself, despite the difficulty.

Yet the church offered no favorable response.

And it was no wonder—Spica had only recently begun to eat nuts and fruit, having barely escaped death’s grasp.

It was natural, then, that distrust toward the Emmental baron grew within the church, no matter how many times she was explained.

By the time spring arrived, the rumors had become common knowledge.

The baron concluded that dispelling such rumors would require considerable effort, and so he adopted a stance of deliberate ignorance—denying them outright, insisting they were merely rumors, not truth.

By then, Spica had begun sending replies in letters, but she hesitated to write about the rumors.

"Father, I think I’d be happy to marry the prince, if it came to it."

It was a quiet afternoon on a holiday.

Stella suddenly declared this during a tea gathering with her parents.

After swallowing the tea she had been sipping, the baron asked,

"What’s this sudden thought, now?"

"I heard from Mother that I’ve been offered many matches. If I could choose, I’d prefer one with Arthur."

If I were to take Arthur as my husband, I could have Spica come to live with me and assist me in ways I still lack.

And with such rumors spreading, what match could possibly suit Spica? She cannot even eat meat, and is too frail to attend dinner parties or mingle in society—how pitiful she must seem. How could she hope to bear children? But if we wait until the passion cools, and then have Spica marry Arthur, everything might yet be resolved, I thought.

Stella, how devoted you are to your sister... But are you truly content with that? To begin your marriage with a lover already at your side?

For Spica’s matter, we ourselves will take responsibility and find a suitable match.

Then Spica would be so pitiful! Just think—rumors have reached even wealthy merchants in retirement, widowed noblemen of lower rank, and even invitations from foreign harems have come calling.

If I must choose, I would at least like to be by the side of someone I love…

Even if the royal family is no longer an option, to marry into another household alone would be lonely…

But if I were to marry alongside Spica, she could do what she does best, and I could endure the difficult social duties she finds burdensome—just as I am able to do.

And even if it comes to me taking what is hers, I still believe we will end up laughing together in the end! After all, we are family."

Ah… how kind Stella is… and yet her words feel strangely soothing.

Lord Emmental, utterly convinced that Stella’s thoughts were the only correct answer, found himself compelled to follow them.

Hearing her speak, he felt an odd sense of obedience, though perhaps it was only because she was his true daughter.

"Ah… that is a fine idea. Let us consider this proposal."

Nodding in agreement, his wife also murmured, "I believe it is a good thought as well."

How fortunate, how kind, how compassionate their daughter is, Lord Emmental thinks, filled only with joy.

And how blessed he feels, to have such a dutiful child.

Thus, unaware of how twisted this decision truly is, he begins to believe Spica’s return may yet be possible.

Stella’s proposal from days prior had been considered, formalized in writing, and sent to the royal court.

Whether it will be accepted remains uncertain—perhaps fifty-fifty—but should it be granted, every request from the royal house could be fulfilled.

Even if the royal court rejects it, to be allowed to take two wives from the House of Emmental under these terms would be an extraordinary offer.

One, unskilled in society, raised among commoners,

Yet of true bloodline, a noble lady famed as a miracle, the reigning beauty of the social world.

The other, flawless in etiquette and manners, a genius whose name is synonymous with the perfect lady,

Yet, a pitiful adopted daughter, wounded by malicious rumors, once the most cherished jewel of the social sphere.

The count had praised himself so highly, boasting that the plan they had devised—each filling the other’s lack—was truly splendid.

Yet several miscalculations had been made by the count.

One, that Prince Arthur cared for Spica far more deeply than the count had anticipated.

One, that Spica, in turn, had opened her heart to Prince Arthur.

And one, that Spica would react with such unexpected resistance…

The consequences of acting without the usual careful preparations came swiftly.

When Spica confronted him directly, he was seized with terror at having spoken words he had never imagined uttering—words that wounded her.

He felt as though he were no longer himself, and the thought of facing her became unbearable; he turned away every request for an audience.

He was not at fault.

It was Spica who had done wrong—by behaving in a way that invited such scandalous rumors…

It was Spica who had become a defective, unworthy thing—she was the one at fault.

It was she who was at fault—refusing such a clever proposal…

Ever since Stella returned, that child had become nothing but trouble.

Stella has her own faults, but why could she not forgive the mistakes born of ignorance of noble society?

The noble sank deeply into the chair in the administrative chamber, exhaling a heavy breath.

Mascy could not see it.

That Spica had not truly caused any trouble at all…

Mascy and the others could not see it…

And that day, too, she came to the administrative chamber. Yet Mascy did not answer, choosing silence instead.

Soon, he felt relief as the presence before the door faded away.

After a while, the noble, still troubled by Spica’s state, sent word to the senior steward to check on her. The steward bowed once and departed.

And almost immediately, Stella’s cry reached the noble’s ears.

Stella collapsed at the stair landing, and Spica stood frozen in silence.

Mascy hurried down the carpeted staircase.

The steward, already ahead, reported her safety, but Mascy paid him no mind, gathering Stella into his arms.

“Fetch a physician! Are you well? Stella? Does anything hurt?”

“I’m fine, Father. Please don’t scold Spica. This was my own carelessness…”

Mascy felt a pang of emotion at his dutiful daughter’s words, his gaze shifting to the other girl standing above on the stairs.

Her brow furrowed, her eyes pleading—yet beneath them, loathing swelled.

“Spica. You’ve done something unforgivable. Had it been anyone else, I would have cast you out without hesitation. But this time, it is Stella’s own plea. You will remain confined until you have truly repented. You are confined to the penitent chamber.”

"Father, please listen! I have done nothing! I have done nothing at all…"

Spica’s plea, offered now in her own defense, only deepened the frustration that had already settled upon her.

"Silence! What more can you say after this? You show no remorse! Someone, take Spica away at once!"

Spica’s voice, begging to be heard, soon faded into nothingness.

And with that silence, Mascy felt a quiet relief.

Days passed. And again, Mascy felt relief.

The decree had come.

"The royal family fully grants the request of the Emmental house, and acknowledges the betrothal between the Third Prince Arthur and Stella von Emmental, eldest daughter of the Emmental line, under Emmental leadership."

Mascy sank into a profound, deep relief—sure now that his judgment had not been wrong.

The season had turned to summer.