The Maid of the Cursed Princess

The palace servants were pushing the task of attending to her onto inferiors. Seeing the steadily declining quality of those arriving at the High Tower calling themselves servants, the Princess realized this.

Who would enjoy caring for a diseased invalid whose body was rotting? And yet the Princess was hurt by their blatant displays of dislike toward her.

Thus, the Princess did not place much expectation in the servants. What was the point of giving her affection to those who would quickly tire and leave?

No matter how hard they tried not to show it, their eyes betrayed their emotions – the Princess remembered the fear and disgust in the eyes of every servant who said ‘I won’t mind you, Princess.’

Thinking the palace had finally run out of servants to send to the High Tower, the Princess intended to pay no heed to the foolish, discourteous newly arrived servant.

“What kind of flowers might the Princess like? Well, putting that aside…”

But she, Dorothy Gale, was different.

When the Princess first saw Dorothy, she was surprised – because she couldn’t read any emotion in her eyes.

It is rare for someone to completely conceal their feelings from others. And the palace servants, mostly of noble birth, were particularly unskillful at hiding their emotions.

Thus, the Princess could only be surprised at Dorothy’s gaze, devoid of any disgust or fear. But:

“Haah… when will I finish planting these…”

Dorothy was not hiding her emotions. She simply had none.

While the Princess’s appearance was certainly unsightly, even more hideous sights were commonplace in the slums. For the slum-born Dorothy, the Princess’s appearance was not particularly dreadful.

Moreover, Dorothy was not someone with a very expressive face to begin with, even after taking on a woman’s body.

“Should I till the soil first? I hear farmers always do that…”

What mattered to Dorothy now was not the Princess’s visage, but the overgrown courtyard ill-suited for planting.

The completely unmaintained courtyard was overrun with weeds – resilient nuisances that monopolize soil nutrients and prolific reproducers, a lifelong enemy to any farmer.

Even if planting flowers rather than crops, the need to thoroughly remove the weeds remained unchanged.

“Haaah… no choice.”

As the saying goes, if the bull’s horn is stuck, you might as well pull it all the way out. Having already rolled up her sleeves, it would be better to finish the task a little faster.

Having procured a hoe, shovel, and iron rake from a nearby shed, Dorothy thought it would at least be easier than doing it barehanded.

Just one problem.

“…How exactly do you till the soil?”

Dorothy wasn’t a farmer. Born and raised in the slums her entire life, farming was merely a tale she had heard from former farmers who migrated to the city.

Till the soil, spread fertilizer, then plant crops – she could understand the fertilizing and planting parts.

“…Till it… with this? How?”

The tilling part was the problem, as to Dorothy the verb ‘to till’ only referred to sharpening blades or replacing components, or was used in relation to people.

“…A book, I need a book.”

In the end, the foolish maid once again turned to the study for help.

At least she had the will to learn, so perhaps she deserved some credit for that?

Though spending excessive time learning how to till the soil did result in the minor issue of skipping the Princess’s lunch and delaying dinner.

* * *

The position of the Kingdom’s chamberlain is a weighty responsibility of managing and supervising the entire palace while conveying the King’s words to the people.

A weighty responsibility means, in other words, an abundance of work. As the overseer of the palace where the sovereign ruler resides, any mistake by a subordinate causing issues in the palace falls squarely on the chamberlain’s shoulders.

Thus, it was customary for the King to personally select a capable, trusted noble as chamberlain. Even the capable chamberlains handpicked this way frequently resigned or perished from overwork.

“Chamberlain, about the palace’s expenditures last month…”

“Hmm.”

Having managed the royal palace as the royal family’s chamberlain for nearly decades, Matthieu was an exceedingly rare case.

“Personally, I think reducing expenditures slightly may be advisable, but there will likely be strong objections that it would undermine the sun’s dignity. For now, let us allocate the same budget as last month.”

“Yes, understood.”

The reason Matthieu could maintain the chamberlainship for so long was his rigorous self-discipline bordering on self-torture. Despite his advanced age, his back was straight and physique more robust than many younger servants.

“You may leave, Mr. Franz… it seems an esteemed guest has come to seek this old man.”

“Sir? Yes, Chamberlain.”

Thanks to this, the chamberlain’s intuition would sometimes convey borderline precognitive insights to his master.

“Then I shall take my lea- Oh, Your Highness the Crown Prince!”

“Greetings, Your Royal Highness.”

Beholding the radiant blond hair and blue eyes of the Crown Prince, reminiscent of yet distinct from the current King in his youth, Matthieu rose and bowed.

“Did I interrupt your work?”

“Not at all, I had just finished.”

Even if he hadn’t finished, Matthieu would have said so, for the one ruling Orléans now was not the King but the Crown Prince.

“Have a seat.”

“Yes. Mr. Franz, you are dismissed. Give my regards to your father as well.”

“Understood!”

Watching the young servant depart with a vigorous voice, Matthieu sighed.

“Quite different from his father in many ways. So full of youthful vim.”

“Is that not for the better? The more such vigorous youths we have, the more prosperity this nation will enjoy.”

Seating the Crown Prince at the head before fetching a teapot and cups, Matthieu poured him a cup of tea.

“What matter brings you to seek this old servant, Your Highness?”

“I have something to say.”

And just as Matthieu was about to drink his own cup of tea:

“There are those who seek the Princess’s life.”

“…!?”

The words that suddenly left the Crown Prince’s mouth were like a bombshell.

“…What is the… is this truly fact?”

“It is. I swear it on the blood of the sun.”

Swearing on the blood of the sun was, to the Orléans royals, tantamount to staking everything on their honesty.

Only then did Matthieu realize this was not mere deception from the Crown Prince, but his sincere belief.

“…If what you say is indeed true, Your Highness, this is an issue that cannot be overlooked.”

Threatening the life of a royal, let alone the direct bloodline, was an absolute taboo in Orléans where the King was regarded as a living deity.

Who dared set their sights on the sun itself? It was an unforgivable evil.

“But who dares seek to kill the Princess?”

“I don’t know the details. But their intent is clear.”

Moreover, to target the powerless Princess confined to a tower due to a curse, without even a faction to call her own within the palace…

“To transfer… the curse?”

It was clear the intent wasn’t directed at the Princess herself, but the curse afflicting her. When a cursed royal dies, the curse transfers to the youngest royal, and the youngest royal in Orléans now was-

“To my son.”

The Crown Prince’s newborn son.

“How could such a tragedy…!! Ah, pardon me. To speak so rashly before Your Highness…”

Unconsciously rising from his seat at those words, Matthieu belatedly realized his blunder and apologized as he sat back down.

“…This cannot be tolerated. The culprit must be found and executed in the most severe…!”

Though his outrage hadn’t fully subsided.

“Calm yourself. If I knew who the culprit was, I would have handled it myself without telling you. So consider – who stands to gain by transferring the curse to the Crown Prince’s firstborn son?”

“Hmm…”

Numerous individuals flashed through Matthieu’s mind – regional nobles frequently at odds with the royal family, foreign kings praying for Orléans’s downfall, and…

“Perhaps my own little brother.”

The Second Prince, who could increase his standing as heir should any blemish befall the Crown Prince.

“…But you know better than anyone that the Second Prince is not that kind of man.”

However, Matthieu, who had witnessed the upbringing of the King’s sons, shook his head.

The Second Prince cherished family more than anyone and greatly disliked harming others. It was unthinkable that he would seek to kill his own brother for power.

Of course, there was the saying that family meant nothing before power, as evidenced by the many disruptions plotted by royals eyeing the throne during the current King’s coronation.

But the Second Prince, that Matthieu knew, would never do such a thing. Someone who would kill their own kin for power was rather…

“Your-“

You, the Crown Prince, are you not?

Swallowing the blasphemous words he couldn’t voice, Matthieu let out a hushed sigh.