An unfamiliar picture frame sat prominently in Marquis Strateg's office.
Adorning rooms with paintings was perfectly ordinary for nobility. Looking back now, I should have realized how strange it was that the First Prince's room, spacious as it was, lacked a single painting. Well, I don't keep furniture beyond practical necessities either, so I hadn't noticed. I had suspected he might be hiding things he didn't want seen, so I figured he had just tidied them away.
But the problem with the painting placed in Marquis Strateg's office was its subject.
"Isn't it bad for you, my lord, if the First Prince's side complains about you confiscating this in the first place?"
"Ugh..."
At my pointed remark, my superior let out a groan before the painting.
It was a portrait of a young girl with orange hair flowing gently. Her white skin was flush with health, her intelligent eyes clear and direct, her shapely lips adorable. The subject was Princess Diora of Lukiusaria.
And the one who had made a mess of things was Marquis Strateg, who refused to hand over the portrait gifted to the First Prince.
"Really, should you stop this?"
"Don't say that. Even I didn't think it would come to this..."
"You're really obsessed, aren't you?"
"I said don't say that!"
Marquis Strateg was infatuated with Princess Diora, who reminded him of his first love—his aunt. He had acted on the impulse of not wanting to give a portrait bearing the resemblance of his first love to another man. I hadn't thought he was like this when we first met. He had seemed more strict and unapproachable, as if he had no interest in anything but work.
Yet here he was, a man tormented by guilt for obstructing the romance of his aunt's grandson while being obsessed with his first love.
"I've already given them a warning, at least."
The painting was a gift to the First Prince; Marquis Strateg had no right to snatch it away. He didn't, but there were circumstances that made it somewhat understandable.
"Does that First Prince even know what it means to exchange portraits?"
"Isn't that common knowledge?"
At my question, the Marquis finally tore his eyes away from the portrait. As Marquis Strateg said, it was common knowledge that any royal or noble should know.
"But did that prince grow up with the common sense of nobility?"
The Marquis fell silent at my pointed remark. The First Prince was born to a Count's family and moved to the palace as the Emperor's son at age three. Since then, he had lived at the edge of the palace with only four attendants. Among those attendants, the wet nurse who had likely taught him noble manners, being of noble birth herself, had left the previous year to remarry. What he had been taught before age eight was unclear.
"Maybe he was taught just barely? He was proposed to by Princess Diora, after all."
"If he knew that exchanging portraits is practically the preliminary stage of engagement, what was his reaction?"
I had already told the First Prince that we wouldn't hand over the portrait. Until now, while we might inspect gifts beforehand, we had never snatched presents meant for others. Therefore, at first, he had looked puzzled. He probably didn't know, or even if he did, couldn't imagine it applying to himself.
Moreover, not just the First Prince, but his three attendants showed no particular objection either. One held a noble title, but Ikt Totos was originally a commoner. It wouldn't be strange if he didn't know.
"Reaction? Well... he looked at me like I was too old to be doing such things."
"Guh...!? No, I mean, that's not wrong, but it's not like that..."
From the First Prince's perspective, it was probably a question of whether Princess Diora was really that cute. Or perhaps, whether she was worth obstructing so much? Either way, while he seemed exasperated by such childish behavior, he didn't appear angry. Honestly, I thought it was childish too.
"Ah, and one more thing. They said we should be the ones to explain why the portrait isn't in Princess Diora's hands."
"...We could say it was soiled during transport."
"That would be the safest option. However..."
"C-Couldn't we say the packaging was torn?"
Before I could speak, Marquis Strateg squeezed out an excuse. The gifted portrait had been carefully wrapped in multiple layers. Wrapped in oil paper to keep out water, wrapped in cloth to cushion impacts, and packed in a wooden crate to prevent soiling—it had been transported with utmost care.
"Just how rough are the roads in the Imperial Capital?"
That seemed a bit far-fetched. Admittedly, while it could only be transported by carriage, the roads between capitals were well-maintained. The carriage provided by the royal family wouldn't be rattling, and any accidents would be reported as major incidents.
"We'll have to say there was a flaw in how we stored it here."
It seemed Marquis Strateg would take the blame with this excuse. It was mud he didn't need to wear, but he probably meant that he didn't want to hand it over even if he had to wear it.
"Really, if she finds out, she'll hate you."
"Guh."
He let out a pained voice, clutching his chest. Did he hate the idea that much? Just how much did he love his aunt? I found it a bit irritating.
"You... aren't you being too harsh today?"
He found me out. But I pretended not to know.
"The atmosphere when I said we have the portrait but can't hand it over, won't bring it, won't even show it. Do you understand?"
"I apologize for that."
I was playing the victim to deflect, but the atmosphere had actually been unbearable. But that was usually the case. I was an outsider there. On top of that, I was rude to the prince that his attendants cherished. I wondered about the prince silently tolerating such rudeness—was that generosity? Perhaps it was tolerance born of lack of interest in me. No, was the lack of interest toward the position of prince itself?
"What's wrong? You're deep in thought. Did something happen?"
"Ah, no. I was just wondering how long the First Prince will remain a prince."
"How long, you say."
At my casually raised question, the Count also pondered.
"Before the previous Emperor, one would either be granted the Emperor's territory and leave as a lord, or establish merit and leave to found a ducal house. Either way, one would eventually renounce imperial status. The age depends on the circumstances of the time."
"Speaking of ducal houses, what about Duke Eurasion?"
"He inherited the house founded by the previous Emperor's younger brother. Ah, I see. The ducal house was established before he turned forty. So the current Duke Eurasion was already born by then."
His nodding to himself meant he had realized the root of why Duke Eurasion had come to covet the throne. Probably from his experience growing up as a member of the imperial family, he found meaning in ascending to the throne and living in the palace again.
According to the Count, the previous Duke Eurasion, being close in blood to the Emperor, had long been entrusted with work in the imperial household. On top of that, one ducal house had no male heirs and died out. The Eurasion Ducal House was newly established to fill that gap.
"Therefore, the Duke of Eurasion's heir is unofficially engaged to the daughter of the extinct ducal house."
"Ugh, being a noble sounds tough."
"...You have noble blood too, don't you?"
"Yes, yes, and I'm enjoying the freedom of not being told to marry for my family."
Even at my joking words, Marquis Strateg only gave a bitter smile. However, I reflected that I had spoken too much.
"Ah, right. I asked what that Highness has been up to lately since he's been so quiet."
I decided to change the subject with an interesting story.
"He gave boring answers like studying or alchemy. When I asked if there wasn't something more interesting going on, you know what he said? Hide-and-seek."
"Huh? Some kind of metaphor?"
"No, literally. Apparently he's playing hide-and-seek with his three attendants who have various nicknames."
Marquis Strateg made an indescribable face at my report.
The First Prince had said he was good at hiding, but I thought that was impossible. In the world, they call that "throwing the game." I considered saying so, but didn't. I'm an adult.
Thinking about it that way, the First Prince, who had seemed so happy, struck me as childlike for the first time—appropriate for his age.
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Wait, I need to check the name ストラテーグ. This is "Strateg" from "Strategy"? Or "Stratege"? It's likely a fantasy name derived from "Strategy". I'll use "Marquis Strateg".
Also "ルキウサリア" = Lukiusaria? Rukiusaria? I'll go with Lukiusaria.
"ユーラシオン" = Eurasion.
"イクト・トトス" = Ikt Totos.
The tone should remain casual and slightly sarcastic.
One tricky sentence:
"それを世では接待という。"
This refers to the attendants letting the Prince win at hide-and-seek. "接待" in this context means "letting someone win" or "going easy on them" as a form of hospitality/entertainment. I translated it as "throwing the game" which is idiomatic in English.
Another tricky part:
"俺、大人。"
This is a short, punchy line. "I'm an adult." or "Me, being an adult." I used "I'm an adult."
The section about the First Prince's background:
"先帝以前であれば、皇帝の領地を任されて領主として出る、手柄を立てて公爵家を立てて出る。どちらにしても臣籍降下をいずれする。"
This describes how princes used to leave the imperial family to become lords or found ducal houses. "臣籍降下" specifically means leaving the imperial register to become a subject.
The translation looks good. I'll make sure to maintain the paragraph breaks as requested.An unfamiliar picture frame sat prominently in Marquis Strateg's office.
Decorating rooms with paintings was perfectly ordinary for nobility. Looking back now, I should have realized how strange it was that the First Prince's room, spacious as it was, lacked a single painting. Well, I don't keep furniture beyond practical necessities either, so I hadn't noticed. I had suspected he might be hiding things he didn't want seen, so I figured he had just tidied them away.
But the problem with the painting placed in Marquis Strateg's office was its subject.
"Isn't it bad for you, my lord, if the First Prince's side complains about you confiscating this in the first place?"
"Ugh..."
At my pointed remark, my superior let out a groan before the painting.
It was a portrait of a young girl with orange hair flowing gently. Her white skin was flush with health, her intelligent eyes clear and direct, her shapely lips adorable. The subject was Princess Diora of Lukiusaria.
And the one who had made a mess of things was Marquis Strateg, who refused to hand over the portrait gifted to the First Prince.
"Really, should you stop this?"
"Don't say that. Even I didn't think it would come to this..."
"You're really obsessed, aren't you?"
"I said don't say that!"
Marquis Strateg was infatuated with Princess Diora, who reminded him of his first love—his aunt. He had acted on the impulse of not wanting to give a portrait bearing the resemblance of his first love to another man. I hadn't thought he was like this when we first met. He had seemed more strict and unapproachable, as if he had no interest in anything but work.
Yet here he was, a man tormented by guilt for obstructing the romance of his aunt's grandson while being obsessed with his first love.
"I've already given them a warning, at least."
The painting was a gift to the First Prince; Marquis Strateg had no right to snatch it away. He didn't, but there were circumstances that made it somewhat understandable.
"Does that First Prince even know what it means to exchange portraits?"
"Isn't that common knowledge?"
At my question, the Marquis finally tore his eyes away from the portrait. As Marquis Strateg said, it was common knowledge that any royal or noble should know.
"But did that prince grow up with the common sense of nobility?"
The Marquis fell silent at my pointed remark. The First Prince was born to a Count's family and moved to the palace as the Emperor's son at age three. Since then, he had lived at the edge of the palace with only four attendants. Among those attendants, the wet nurse who had likely taught him noble manners, being of noble birth herself, had left the previous year to remarry. What he had been taught before age eight was unclear.
"Maybe he was taught just barely? He was proposed to by Princess Diora, after all."
"If he knew that exchanging portraits is practically the preliminary stage of engagement, what was his reaction?"
I had already told the First Prince that we wouldn't hand over the portrait. Until now, while we might inspect gifts beforehand, we had never snatched presents meant for others. Therefore, at first, he had looked puzzled. He probably didn't know, or even if he did, couldn't imagine it applying to himself.
Moreover, not just the First Prince, but his three attendants showed no particular objection either. One held a noble title, but Ikt Totos was originally a commoner. It wouldn't be strange if he didn't know.
"Reaction? Well... he looked at me like I was too old to be doing such things."
"Guh...!? No, I mean, that's not wrong, but it's not like that..."
From the First Prince's perspective, it was probably a question of whether Princess Diora was really that cute. Or perhaps, whether she was worth obstructing so much? Either way, while he seemed exasperated by such childish behavior, he didn't appear angry. Honestly, I thought it was childish too.
"Ah, and one more thing. They said we should be the ones to explain why the portrait isn't in Princess Diora's hands."
"...We could say it was soiled during transport."
"That would be the safest option. However..."
"C-Couldn't we say the packaging was torn?"
Before I could speak, Marquis Strateg squeezed out an excuse. The gifted portrait had been carefully wrapped in multiple layers. Wrapped in oil paper to keep out water, wrapped in cloth to cushion impacts, and packed in a wooden crate to prevent soiling—it had been transported with utmost care.
"Just how rough are the roads in the Imperial Capital?"
That seemed a bit far-fetched. Admittedly, while it could only be transported by carriage, the roads between capitals were well-maintained. The carriage provided by the royal family wouldn't be rattling, and any accidents would be reported as major incidents.
"We'll have to say there was a flaw in how we stored it here."
It seemed Marquis Strateg would take the blame with this excuse. It was mud he didn't need to wear, but he probably meant that he didn't want to hand it over even if he had to wear it.
"Really, if she finds out, she'll hate you."
"Guh."
He let out a pained voice, clutching his chest. Did he hate the idea that much? Just how much did he love his aunt? I found it a bit irritating.
"You... aren't you being too harsh today?"
He found me out. But I pretended not to know.
"The atmosphere when I said we have the portrait but can't hand it over, won't bring it, won't even show it. Do you understand?"
"I apologize for that."
I was playing the victim to deflect, but the atmosphere had actually been unbearable. But that was usually the case. I was an outsider there. On top of that, I was rude to the prince that his attendants cherished. I wondered about the prince silently tolerating such rudeness—was that generosity? Perhaps it was tolerance born of lack of interest in me. No, was the lack of interest toward the position of prince itself?
"What's wrong? You're deep in thought. Did something happen?"
"Ah, no. I was just wondering how long the First Prince will remain a prince."
"How long, you say."
At my casually raised question, the Marquis also pondered.
"Before the previous Emperor, one would either be granted the Emperor's territory and leave as a lord, or establish merit and leave to found a ducal house. Either way, one would eventually renounce imperial status. The age depends on the circumstances of the time."
"Speaking of ducal houses, what about Duke Eurasion?"
"He inherited the house founded by the previous Emperor's younger brother. Ah, I see. The ducal house was established before he turned forty. So the current Duke Eurasion was already born by then."
His nodding to himself meant he had realized the root of why Duke Eurasion had come to covet the throne. Probably from his experience growing up as a member of the imperial family, he found meaning in ascending to the throne and living in the palace again.
According to the Marquis, the previous Duke Eurasion, being close in blood to the Emperor, had long been entrusted with work in the imperial household. On top of that, one ducal house had no male heirs and died out. The Eurasion Ducal House was newly established to fill that gap.
"Therefore, the Duke of Eurasion's heir is unofficially engaged to the daughter of the extinct ducal house."
"Ugh, being a noble sounds tough."
"...You have noble blood too, don't you?"
"Yes, yes, and I'm enjoying the freedom of not being told to marry for my family."
Even at my joking words, Marquis Strateg only gave a bitter smile. However, I reflected that I had spoken too much.
"Ah, right. I asked what that Highness has been up to lately since he's been so quiet."
I decided to change the subject with an interesting story.
"He gave boring answers like studying or alchemy. When I asked if there wasn't something more interesting going on, you know what he said? Hide-and-seek."
"Huh? Some kind of metaphor?"
"No, literally. Apparently he's playing hide-and-seek with his three attendants who have various nicknames."
Marquis Strateg made an indescribable face at my report.
The First Prince had said he was good at hiding, but I thought that was impossible. In the world, they call that "throwing the game." I considered saying so, but didn't. I'm an adult.
Thinking about it that way, the First Prince, who had seemed so happy, struck me as childlike for the first time—appropriate for his age.
500 Bookmarks Commemoration