“Whaaat? Why can’t I call a tailor from Louve?”
Heidmarie’s hysterical scream echoed through the room. Facing her, Diethardt responded calmly without so much as a twitch of his eyebrow.
“That is because Her Highness Heidmarie is a Princess of the Deigeln Royal Family.”
“Precisely because I’m a princess, the dress I wear should be the latest fashion! I want to go to my wedding wearing a dress from Louve in Fradenia, the center of fashion in the Western Continent!”
“We cannot bestow the honor of preparing the wedding dress on a foreign dressmaker. Furthermore, calling a craftsman from the country two borders over would cost both money and time. It is an unnecessary hassle.”
“That’s not what you really think.”
“No. Supporting domestic industry is the duty of a royal princess.”
“The designs proposed by the people from the Royal Warranted shops are all so old-fashioned! When I show them fashion plates I’ve ordered from Fradenia, they just frown. I want a dress made by the most popular shop in Louve, the capital of the Kingdom of Fradenia, the birthplace of fashion!”
Heidmarie insisted, arching her eyebrows as if she were lecturing a ignorant father.
The maid who fading into the walls, watched exchange their conversation. Their eyes all held the same unspoken thought like “Here we go again…”
While Heidmarie presented a modest and princess-like demeanor in public and at social events, she was quite open about expressing her feelings in the inner palace.
After all, she was seventeen years old, right in the middle of puberty, and highly sensitive to what others thought of her.
Ilse could understand Heidmarie’s desire for a dress from a popular shop in Louve, the capital of Fradenia, the country two borders to the west, which was considered the cultural leader of the Western Continent.
Ilse remembered how, before her father died, she had innocently dreamed of and longed for her own social debut. She used to imagine all the beautiful dresses she would wear. This memory prompted a sudden realization for Ilse.
(That’s right, I don’t have a dress to wear to the ball!)
She was planning to attend the Royal Ball in response to Count Kallenberg’s unreasonable demand, but since she had been placed in a convent boarding school until age seventeen and then immediately became a maid, Ilse naturally did not own a single dress for evening party.
(I wonder If I ask my brother, will he provide one…? No, he absolutely should provide one. It’s a necessary expense. It’s absurd for me to pay for it for myself.)
While Ilse was deep in thought, Heidmarie and Diethardt continued their battle of wills a short distance away. It was impressive that a princess could openly defy the Ice-Cold Prime Minister. She having been raised with countless people waiting on her since birth, Heidmarie was unfazed by Diethardt’s icy gaze.
She was maintaining a strong stance today, too. Ilse secretly thought that with this personality, she would manage just fine when she married into Rheitis.
“It was the same when my engagement was decided! You said something that trampled all over my girlish desire to look pretty for my fiancé!”
“Did I say something?”
“Don’t pretend to forget! When I called the portrait artists, you told me, ‘You’ll show him the real thing eventually. There’s no point in trying to deceive him. If anything, he’ll only be more disappointed because his expectations were raised.’ I will never forget your words from that day!”
Heidmarie’s voice was low, like a demon crawling out of the earth.
The incident she referred to had happened about a year ago, when Heidmarie’s engagement to the Second Prince of Rheitis was decided. By custom, the two sides were to exchange portraits as gift to mark the engagement.
Wanting to make the best possible impression to be thought of as cute and desirable, Heidmarie had summoned several acclaimed portrait artists from outside the court and had them compete by drawing preliminary sketches. Ignoring the deadline for submission, the Princess insisted on the single best portrait, causing the diplomat in charge to panic and eventually appeal to the Prime Minister.
You have to do something, he had pleaded. The words Diethardt had delivered were, as mentioned, “The disappointment will be the other party’s when he sees the real thing”
(a condensed paraphrase). After that incident, Heidmarie designated Diethardt as her enemy.
“Prime Minister Schwarzen simply doesn’t understand a young woman’s desire to be and to look pretty. Ilse, you nodded in agreement with me that day, didn’t you!”
“Huh!?”
Her voice cracked at the sudden call-out.
(She’s dragging me into this right now?!)
Her heart began to pound unpleasantly, and sweat broke out on her palms. She met Heidmarie’s eyes.
She felt the silent, piercing pressure “of course, you’re on my side, aren’t you?”
As the Princess’s maid, she tought to take her side. In fact, Ilse who had witnessed the exchange, had thought at the time that his comment was completely unnecessary.
she’d thought, there had to be a better way to say it. She also remembered after the argument, all the maid having to soothe Heidmarie, who had been too agitated to calm down after the argument.
(But if I side with Her Highness Heidmarie here, Prime Minister Schwarzen might not believe me when I tell him I like him at the next ball…)
She was prepared to be rejected instantly, but she didn’t want to actively increase the chances of that happening. If possible, she needed to fool Count Kallenberg for at least a short time.
“Well… that is…”
The result was a few muffled and speaking in an hesitant words. Diethardt’s piercing who scrutinizing gaze fixed on her. His pale brown, glass-like eyes seemed to be judging her, and she dropped her eyes diagonally downward to escape his look. Because of this, Ilse failed to notice the fleeting look of shock that crossed his eyes.
“Both of you, please stop involving the maid.”
“But Lady Frisch, you also thought this malicious Prime Minister’s words were terrible, didn’t you?”
Heidmarie pressed that trying to enlist the support of the Court Lady who had just returned and stepped in to mediate the argument.
“Your Highness, please stop conveying your wishes directly to His Majesty without going through me. It will only escalate matters. And Prime Minister Schwarzen, please try to be more considerate of Her Highness’s feelings.”
Lady Frisch addressed both parties equally, moving the discussion forward efficiently.
In the end, her compromise was adopted that two or three tailors who had returned to the capital from Louve and had shops with the Royal Capital, in addition to the shops that supplied dress the royal family.