#111. Do I Really Have to Be Swayed by These Fools
My face stiffened as I read through the continuing report.
“…Wait. Don’t tell me these bastards really…”
A suspicion had crossed my mind—and, as usual, I was almost certain it was the truth.
The kingdom, strangely enough, maintained deeper ties with the Retaile Empire, which was separated by the natural barrier of the Larkel Mountains, rather than with the Kartian Kingdom that directly shared its borders.
And the reason for that was simple: the barbarians.
“At this rate, it’s hard to tell whether the kingdom belongs to the royal family or the barbarians.”
Every winter, the barbarians would endlessly descend from the mountains. They didn’t only raid southward—they struck northward too.
And what lay north of the Larkel Mountains? Naturally, the Empire.
Thus, Ramore—nothing more than a burdensome chicken rib to Kartian—became a real nuisance to the Empire.
Of course, unlike the kingdom, the Empire’s defenses were solid. Still, no nation welcomes constant raids from savage tribes that crawl down from the mountains whenever they please.
Naturally, the Empire wished to use these incursions as a pretext to sweep the Larkel Mountains clean, while the kingdom was desperate to prevent that.
For if the barbarians were wiped out, Kartian might immediately launch an invasion. And beyond that, allowing another country to conduct military operations on one’s own soil was a humiliation beyond words.
That was why Ramore regularly sent envoys to the Empire, practically begging them not to cross the border.
“Well, that was all before I became His Majesty’s playmate, apparently.”
After I entered the picture, the Empire seemed inclined to show not only me but even the kingdom a degree of favor.
Among those favors was respecting the border.
And my damn homeland, trusting that, decided to abandon diplomacy with the Empire altogether.
“Since the kingdom was never strong in diplomacy to begin with, maybe they thought it was a blessing…”
A country with virtually no foreign relations and no real incursions to worry about.
Of course, if I had been entrusted with state affairs, I’d never have let diplomacy collapse for such a pathetic reason.
“That’s why they never said a word to me all this time.”
Truly—I couldn’t tell if this was a blessing or the worst possible disaster.
A three-year-old hostage, sent off without expectation, became the Archduke’s playmate, and the kingdom profited diplomatically from it.
In any ordinary nation, they would have been desperate to know: who exactly is this Archduke, what sort of bond does he have with me, and is there more they could extract from this relationship?
But my homeland, once their immediate needs were met, abandoned even the bare minimum of effort.
“This is just… mind-numbing.”
They abandoned diplomacy. They never even bothered to communicate with me, their hostage.
Which meant that outside of whatever the Empire itself relayed, the kingdom had no way of knowing anything about it.
That, no doubt, is also why they remain completely ignorant of the fact that the Archduke’s consort is also the next Empress.
“So they’ve been blindly obsessed with only the most immediate benefits…”
Two years ago, the Empire informed the kingdom that His Majesty and I would be engaged.
Formally, they phrased it as “sounding out” the kingdom’s opinion. But there was never a chance of refusal—the kingdom could never reject the Empire’s proposal, nor would the Empire have accepted a refusal. To call it a “notification” is far more accurate.
It had been discussed as far back as when I was six years old, but they didn’t even bother to bring it up formally until two years ago. Obvious, isn’t it?
And, naturally, the kingdom accepted the proposal in full.
To them, there was no reason to be picky. I had been nothing but a discarded pawn.
For a child who could have just as easily died in the Empire to end up the Archduke’s playmate—and then become Archduchess—how fortunate it must have seemed.
“At least up to that point, it could’ve been a fairly win-win arrangement.”
The kingdom was content with easy gains, and I only wanted to be left alone without interference.
If things had continued like that, the kingdom and I might have maintained a polite, arm’s-length relationship, almost as if we didn’t exist to each other.
But everything unraveled because of the “attempted poisoning incident” I staged.
That incident allowed me to annul the engagement smoothly, just as I had intended.
Inside the Empire, it was relatively easy to manage the fallout.
After all, the Empire had never officially declared or codified our engagement.
Which meant no one could step forward to demand, “Why was an official engagement announced and then suddenly abandoned?”
But the kingdom was different. As my guardian, they had known the engagement was a confirmed fact.
And then, without warning, it was annulled for “reasons that cannot be explained.”
Naturally, they must have felt as if something had been stolen from them. That would explain why they finally decided to haul their lazy asses off their seats.
The problem is…
“These idiots didn’t know a damn thing, and just blamed me outright.”
I slammed the report down on my desk.
The kingdom had no reliable way to gather information about the Empire.
Given the time it took for Countess Griff to arrive and properly settle at the Academy, the conclusion is obvious:
The kingdom doesn’t even know that the annulment was my doing.
They don’t know about the rumors of discord between His Majesty and me, nor that I nearly got assassinated and that the engagement suspiciously fell apart right afterward.
Which means Countess Griff was sent here simply to scold me for the annulment, knowing nothing else.
I was the only scapegoat within reach, so they thought they’d push me around.
Never mind that the engagement could’ve been broken not because the Archduke lost interest in me, but because he found someone else.
“And I’m supposed to let myself be pushed around by such fools?”
I couldn’t keep my expression under control.
The only other time I’d felt dragged down by such utter incompetence was when I first went to war in my past life.
“If I’d known, I should’ve just gone in harder from the start.”
According to the report, the informational advantage between me and the kingdom couldn’t be clearer.
Whoever they send, if I simply pressed them—“What do you actually know?”—they’d have shriveled on the spot. Because the truth is, they really don’t know a thing.
“In that sense, you could even say their choice of envoy was perfect.”
Since Countess Griff knew how to put up a convincing façade, I assumed she had some knowledge.
I never imagined she knew absolutely nothing.
“…Ha. When I meet her this weekend, I’ll have to try persuading her again.”
I pressed a hand against my throbbing temple. With this much, I felt I could easily hold out for five years with nothing more than my silver tongue.
It’s not like I need to lick the king’s boots. Playing weak in letters is hardly an insult to my pride.
A little intimidation by borrowing the Empress’s authority now and then, then softening them up with flattery. Acting like I’d do anything for my country out of “patriotism” I don’t feel in the slightest.
Deliberately slowing down correspondence through controlled delivery routes. Even just counting the tools I can use immediately, there’s no end to them.
“It’s fine. I just let my guard down a little. Nothing serious. I can handle this.”
Suppressing the sticky discomfort rising inside me, I consoled myself with the thought that at least it’s better to deal with weak, foolish enemies than sharp and powerful ones.
If only I could ignore the shame of being forced to deal with such idiots at all.
“Still… I’ll need to come up with a way to eliminate the root cause.”
Managing things for now is simple. Buying time is easy.
But unless I want to live in perpetual humiliation, I’ll eventually have to remove the root of the problem.
That root being: the fact that I’m a princess of Ramore, bound to obey the king’s commands.
“The simplest method is to get involved in the struggle for the throne…”
Of course, the easiest option of all would be to accept His Majesty’s suggestion—turning Ramore into a vassal state under my ownership.
But that would have to remain the absolute last resort.
At present, the King of Ramore is fifty-eight years old. Still in his prime, but not too young to consider abdication either.
He has seven children in total: four sons and three daughters. Leaving me aside, adopted away to the Empire, the crown prince is naturally the eldest son.
To a great power, the kingdom is little more than a worthless scrap. But to those who grew up inside its walls, frogs at the bottom of a well, the throne must look like the juiciest bait.
If I were to involve myself in the succession struggle, backing a candidate with little chance at the crown in exchange for my freedom…
Well, manipulating a country that knows nothing of diplomacy or international politics would be child’s play.
I began searching the report for the section detailing the royal family.
“By now, the kingdom’s reply should have arrived. Don’t you agree?”
The princess before him dabbed her lips elegantly, asking at the precise moment conversation was permitted, according to the kingdom’s dining etiquette.
Countess Griff shut her eyes tightly, recalling the letter she had received earlier that day.
There was no point in lying—the girl would already know she had received the message.
After all, the only letters Griff could receive here were replies from her homeland.
“The homeland believes it best to keep all options open.”
She had tried to phrase it delicately, but the sharp-minded disciple before her saw through the meaning at once.
“So they still judge the Archduke’s mistress to be more useful than the lady favored by the Empress.”
