The Maid of the Cursed Princess

News of the attempted assassination on the second Prince, Louis Ferdinand d’Orléans, was tightly controlled under the oversight of the royal family.

They barely managed to prevent information from leaking out, as the ambush had occurred in a secluded location with little foot traffic and late at night.

However, no matter how much secrecy was maintained, nobles were ones who learned perceptiveness and social graces from a young age. It was inevitable for the foreign dignitaries to sense that something was amiss.

“The nobles are spreading rumors throughout Hyperion.”

Moreover, some Orléans nobles were fanning the guests’ suspicions by deliberately disseminating rumors – strictly speaking facts, rendering ‘rumors’ somewhat inaccurate.

“…While it may seem an overreach, the timing is too uncanny. As if…”

“You wish to say it is as if they knew Prince Louis would be ambushed from the start?”

At the Crown Prince’s words, his aide silently nodded in affirmation.

“There were few who witnessed Prince Louis being escorted. Even fewer who saw him bleeding. Yet they are simultaneously spreading remarkably accurate rumors that the Prince was attacked by an assassin.”

The Second Prince’s ambush had occurred in a secluded area, and the servants who first discovered the bleeding Prince had been strictly sworn to silence.

Yet their seemingly coordinated efforts to widely propagate the same rumor, as if having prepared in advance, were highly suspicious.

“For now, I believe it would be wise to record the names of those nobles and secretly monitor them.”

“Do as you suggest.”

They were presently unable to take direct action against such adversaries without firm evidence, despite their suspicions.

However, by committing them to memory, it would save effort when the time came to eventually purge them. The Crown Prince accepted his aide’s counsel.

“And regarding Prince Louis’s injuries…”

“Were they severe?”

“His life isn’t in danger, but it was a grave wound – had it gone any deeper, he might have lost complete use of one arm. He was incredibly fortunate it didn’t penetrate further.”

The woman describing the Prince’s injuries didn’t seem particularly cheerful. For the capitalists supporting the Crown Prince, Prince Louis was not only their rival’s leader, but also an esteemed individual who transcended class distinctions and a benefactor.

Thus, she could neither rejoice nor lament. While the Second Prince as the nobles’ central figure being injured could be seen as glad tidings, from her personal perspective knowing his benevolent character, it was anything but.

“…What are your plans? For now, I have had a physician accompany the Prince to the villa he frequents…”

“Instruct him to focus solely on recovery. I too do not wish for Louis’s demise.”

The popular Prince Louis meeting such an assassin’s end would reflect poorly on Orléans as a nation, so the Crown Prince saw no need to actively seek his own brother’s death.

“And have it announced that Louis was ambushed.”

“Pardon? But if we do that…”

“It doesn’t matter. Sooner or later, all will become known regardless. How could those lacking such basic perception survive high society? And moreover…”

Rather than futilely concealing the truth until the end and inviting further suspicion, the Crown Prince judged it better to openly disclose the facts.

“If we utilize their actions properly, we can turn their weapon against them instead.”

From the battlefield as his tutor, the Crown Prince had learned:

How to turn crisis into opportunity.

* * *

That very morning, the royal family officially announced that Second Prince Louis Ferdinand d’Orléans had been ambushed by an assassin.

This occurred right as the central nobles supporting Prince Louis were busy disseminating rumors and subtly insinuating that the shadowy forces were the Crown Prince and his supporters.

Ordinarily in similar situations, the Orléans royals would always vehemently deny such incidents to avoid damaging their prestige.

Thus, their frank admission of the facts while attributing responsibility to their own lax security was an unexpected decision that thoroughly perplexed the foreign guests.

“We will take stringent measures to ensure such an incident never recurs, and the vile perpetrator behind this atrocious act will be caught and duly punished. The royal family offers its sincere apologies to all Orléans citizens and esteemed guests attending the Heroes’ Festival…”

A sincere apology from the typically arrogant Orléans royals.

“In light of this calamity, we have judged it improper to continue with the existing festivities. Thus, we will abridge the remaining events and hold the final day’s activities tomorrow instead…”

Moreover, their uncharacteristically unorthodox departure from tradition and procedure left all astonished.

“…It seems my brother Charles was quite eager to see me depart Hyperion post-haste.”

Though it didn’t strike the one who had discerned that intention as particularly surprising.

“Are you displeased with the Crown Prince’s decision?”

“I can’t say I am pleased or displeased. While fortunate I can return to the High Tower sooner, is this not simply treating me as a nuisance to be rid of?”

It wasn’t that she was unperturbed by such unfavorable treatment, for she had grown accustomed to it. Uncertain whether to laugh or cry at that irony, Sibylla could only let out a resigned sigh.

“But the ball will not be omitted, I suppose… I think I know the reason.”

The other events besides the ball were outdoor festivities open to all Orléans citizens, implying a larger scale that would be difficult to control if any untoward incident occurred.

Thus, they were likely omitted to minimize potential losses.

However, the ball was held within the palace with limited attendance.

A relatively lighter burden, and sending the distant guests home without any event was also unbecoming.

“The ball, is it… Have you ever danced with a partner before?”

Suddenly, Sibylla asked the nearby Dorothy.

“Yes, I have. For a request.”

“I see. As for me… I have learned dance, as it is considered a basic requirement for nobility.”

Sibylla recalled her eccentric yet artistic dance instructor from childhood, their peculiar demeanor and speech.

“An odd character, but a skilled teacher nonetheless. I wonder where that eccentric is now, what they are up to.”

“So you know how to dance, Princess.”

“Yes. Though I question whether there is any meaning in it.”

Under the pretext of cultivating social graces required to participate in high society, Sibylla had endured rigorous training.

“…Social graces, what nonsense. Without a partner, it is but a half-measure, useless.”

Yet she had never once had the opportunity to put that training to use.

“Would you like to dance, Princess?”

“No, I have long discarded such wistful notions.”

Sibylla shook her head at Dorothy’s question.

“Where could I possibly find a partner willing to dance with someone as cursed and withered as I? Would you, even if I ordered you to?”

“If you so commanded, I would gladly oblige.”

“…Hah…”

Yes, that was precisely the sort of person Dorothy was.

“Forget it. Rather than invoke our hierarchical relationship to force you, it is better if we do not.”

Human hearts were truly insidious things, Sibylla thought.

For it had been none other than Princess Sibylla herself who had repeatedly invoked that hierarchy to compel Dorothy until now.

And yet, fearing Dorothy’s resentment, she now made the same excuse.

“…How unsightly.”

“What?”

“I wasn’t referring to you.”

Unsightly – Sibylla couldn’t bear her own unsightliness. If her physical form was unsightly, her heart should have at least remained beautiful. But if her heart too became as sullied as her body, what then?

“Leave me for now. But don’t simply loiter outside my door like last time, converse with others instead.”

“Yes, Princess.”

In the end, Sibylla once again dismissed Dorothy with those very words.

The conflicting desires to keep her close, yet inability to do so.

Bridging that gap was impossible for Sibylla in her current state.

* * *

Another dismissal, was it?

As she exited, Dorothy pondered why the Princess subjected her to such trials – demanding they share a bed one moment, only to drive her out the next.

“Just what rhythm am I supposed to follow…?”

Heaving a deep sigh as if the ground might cave in, Dorothy walked on, for this time the command wasn’t to wait outside like before.

Should she consider it fortunate or unfortunate? Since she had been told to go somewhere, was that a blessing? Or was it a misfortune, since she had been instructed to converse with others?

“I dislike getting entangled with people…”

While not to Sibylla’s extent, Dorothy too wasn’t particularly extroverted – preferring solitude over company, indoors over outdoors.

For someone like her, the command to mingle with complete strangers was difficult to readily fulfill, even if it came from her master.

“…”

It seems you haven’t noticed yet.

My small surprise, prepared for you.

“…”

I wonder how you will react, my master.

Anticipating the following day, Dorothy headed toward the chamberlain’s office.