"Announcing His Highness, Prince Avalude Crassis!"
Oho—the prince of our neighbor to the east.
He has been in the country on an official visit, as I recall.
Handsome as advertised. Twenty-one this year and still without a fiancée—one of those people about whom society keeps asking, what exactly is going on there?
Lady Luminaria glided over to pay her respects without missing a beat.
Political maneuvering rather frightens me, so I observe from a comfortable distance.
At a glance the two of them chat pleasantly enough—but look closer, and Prince Avalude's expression is held together by trembling threads, and the mana he gives off has the color it takes when one is not enjoying oneself.
Not that mana is literally visible. But one comes to sense it—if one is a mage of sufficient rank.
On and on Lady Luminaria chatters, cheerfully recounting her trials in the healing arts; he does not appear to be biting.
She was angling for our royal family as well, so which one is she courting, exactly? At this rate she will chase two hares and catch neither.
None of my business, of course. And yet I worry a little.
If she is ever stabbed in the back, I cannot promise I could save her.
Somehow, everyone recovered their composure.
And then Prince Avalude took an interest in the wyvern karaage.
"This is good. And four flavors—I like that."
He took two of each and popped them into his mouth, one after another.
You could see him chewing slowly, savoring every piece.
"Every one of them, delicious."
As the host family, we could not have been prouder.
Lady Luminaria stood with a furrow in her brow—but when she tried the karaage, for one instant, I saw her cheeks soften.
See? Good food makes everyone happy.
—That's just your household.
If anyone said that to me, I would be deeply offended.
Prince Avalude went on grazing his way across the dishes, ate himself thoroughly full by the look of it, and departed wearing an excellent expression.
That left Lady Luminaria.
Thinking herself unobserved, perhaps, she turned a look of naked hostility on me.
"One day, you... you of all people..."
But that was as far as she got. The wine must have caught up with her—she swayed where she stood, on the verge of falling.
Everyone nearby knew exactly who she was—Lady Luminaria of the "human experiments"—and no one was eager to reach out and catch her.
"My daughter... my apologies."
"Marquis Dabundorde—"
Her father appeared and led her away home.
"W-wait, I still have things to do—!"
She protested like a child, but out she went all the same.
Good grief... for a moment there, I feared the worst. Ohohoho.
A true showdown with Lady Luminaria is coming someday, I suspect—and the thought weighs on me.
So I eat meat, and think about something else instead.
(The End)