Raising the Princess to Overcome Death Chapter 306: Beggar Siblings - Glasses

305: Beggar Siblings - Glasses

"Cancel all of today's plans."

Gilbert Forte silenced his servant mid-sentence. The servant, who had been informing him of a certain count’s young daughter attending the ball, quickly changed his words.

"Oh, you've already taken care of it, I see. Understood. Then... you must be off to see Lady Clara today?"

"No. I said cancel everything."

"Huh? Have you already, uh... dealt with Lady Clara too? That’s strange. I didn’t think you’d had the ti for that. Wait a mont, in that case... Ah, should I bring forward your lunch appointnt with Miss Becky instead?"

A vein bulged on Gilbert's forehead. This servant, who was usually quite useful due to his thorough knowledge of his master's love life, was dangerously close to getting his mouth shut—permanently. Gilbert spoke seriously.

"Cancel. Everything. I have sowhere else to be today."

But who was Gilbert?

He was the infamous libertine of Orville, the untamable scoundrel of the great Forte family. The servant didn’t harbor a shred of expectation in his eyes.

‘He’s probably off to the pleasure house today,’ the servant thought, and with that assumption, quietly disappeared. anwhile, Gilbert began dressing himself in more proper attire.

He didn’t slick his hair back with oil as he usually did. Today was a day he had been looking forward to, much like his father had.

"Father, I’m ready."

"Good."

Herman Forte, the Count who practically lived in the royal palace, hadn’t gone to court today for once.

He, too, had dressed neatly and was pacing nervously.

‘Why is ti passing so slowly?’ He checked the rising sun several tis before finally taking a mont to glance over his son.

"You look decent today. How’s your swordsmanship coming along?"

"...It’s fine."

An awkward silence fell between them.

However, nothing could stop Herman Forte, the only Swordmaster on the continent. Perceiving the awkwardness as nothing more than the stillness of the early morning, he continued pushing his youngest son.

"For soone who trains, your body’s in bad shape. I get your obsession with won, but... sigh. Try devoting so ti to your swordsmanship training."

"...Yes."

Another silence descended.

But inside, Gilbert was seething.

‘A little more ti? Seriously?’

He clenched his once-calloused hands, now softened over ti.

"How could you not know sothing that basic at your age?"

He could still clearly rember being berated for asking a sincere question when he was about twelve.

A great father, sure—but insensitive. Still, Gilbert said nothing to his father. The faded expectations that lingered between the two hung in the air.

Finally, the ti had co.

"Let’s go."

Herman and Gilbert mounted their horses and left the mansion.

They didn't need an escort, but four knights accompanied them. Gilbert was the only one not carrying a sword.

They tid their departure perfectly so that they would arrive at just the right mont.

Leaving Orville, they crossed the plains, riding swiftly until midday, when they encountered a procession up ahead.

Countless flags bearing the emblem of the ‘Water Droplet’ flapped in the wind.

It was the procession of Vivian de Isadora, the First Prince of the Aisel Kingdom. Herman and Gilbert hurriedly adjusted their slightly disheveled attire, ruffled by the wind.

Interrupting such a grand procession would have been considered a great offense, but fortunately, they had arrived just as the party stopped for lunch.

The Count Forte introduced himself and eagerly sought out the prince. Of course, they weren’t there to et Prince Vivian.

"Nice to et you, Prince Vivian de Isadora. Welco to the Kingdom of Bellita."

Prince Vivian responded, though Herman and Gilbert paid little attention to him.

Instead, their eyes were drawn to a dignified middle-aged woman who had just stepped down from her carriage.

"Mother!"

Bearing the emblem of the two water droplets, she was Princess Iina Isadora.

Her rare spectacles glinted in the light as she gazed warmly in the direction of her son with her gray, clouded eyes.

"My son."

Gilbert, who was well-versed in etiquette, rushed forward and embraced his mother. Iina patted his back, her movents tinged with guilt.

She then greeted the Count as well.

"It’s been a long ti, husband."

"...It has been a while."

The estranged husband stood as always, hands clasped behind his back.

The reason for their separation, but today, he did not seem so bitter. A shy hopefulness was hidden behind his clasped hands.

She had a favor to ask.

"It’s nice to see you all together."

At that mont, Vivian de Isadora clapped his hands, drawing everyone’s attention.

It was only then that they noticed what a robust and well-built young man the prince was.

Herman thought he must be quite the accomplished swordsman, unlike his own useless son.

Vivian addressed Princess Iina Isadora.

"Aunt, shall I have a separate al prepared for you? It feels improper for to intrude on such a family gathering."

"Oh my, no, dear nephew. It would be us who are being rude if we excluded you. Please join us for the al."

"Yes, Your Highness. While it may be odd for a guest to request food from the host, we would be honored if you joined us," added the Count Forte.

The prince replied with a hearty laugh.

"Haha! Then let’s all dine together. In fact, I have a guest I would like to introduce to you. I have not yet t them myself, but I am certain you will be surprised. Ah, Aunt, you may have t them before."

"Who else has co to greet us? It’s been a long ti since I was last in Orville. I’m curious."

"Yes, ah! They’re arriving now."

Following the prince’s gaze, Herman, Gilbert, and Iina turned their heads.

A man, not particularly tall but walking with a heavy, deliberate stride, approached.

His deep red suit, tailored to perfection, signaled the presence of a noble. Both Herman and Iina narrowed their eyes.

"Marquis Tatian!"

What are you doing here? Herman Forte swallowed his words.

‘So, this is the guest the prince ntioned,’ he thought, surprised.

However, his assumption was imdiately proven wrong.

Behind the marquis followed an unbelievably handso young man with golden blonde hair.

At that mont, Iina warmly spoke up.

"Oh my! Is that you, Marquis Tatian? It's been such a long ti."

"Yes, it's a pleasure to see you again, Princess Iina. However, I believe I shouldn’t be the first to greet you today."

"Hm? Why is that?"

"Well... Aunt, there's soone else here to greet you. Marquis, would you do the honors of introducing him?"

"...Of course."

Still sowhat confused, Princess Iina and the heir to the Aisel Kingdom looked towards the Marquis. Marquis Tatian introduced the young man with the golden blonde hair, who finally stepped forward.

"This is Prince Lean de Yeriel."

The prince who was thought to have died over a decade ago.

A ripple of shock ran through the group. No one was more stunned than Princess Iina, though. Prince Lean bowed deeply to her and spoke with respect.

"It is a pleasure to et you, Aunt. And greetings to you as well, Vivian de Isadora, my cousin."

Lean's mother, Ainas de Isadora, had been the younger sister of both King Alexander de Isadora of Aisel and Princess Iina. Everyone had believed that Lean had been killed by the traitor Eric de Yeriel years ago.

Princess Iina was overjoyed, exclaiming, "Oh my! Oh my goodness!" as she repeatedly expressed her astonishnt, while Gilbert frowned at the unfolding situation.

Whenever high-ranking individuals gather, the people serving them find themselves in quite a predicant. The head servant accompanying Prince Vivian de Isadora was deep in thought.

Who, after all, was the most important person here?

Clearly, the highest-ranking individual should have been Prince Vivian, the heir to the Aisel Kingdom. However, the unexpected appearance of another prince complicated matters.

On one side was Prince Lean de Yeriel, the legitimate heir of the Yeriel royal family—though deposed. On the other was Vivian, a contested heir in a kingdom where the true successor hadn’t yet been determined, with rival claims from both him and Prince Oscar.

Seating the deposed prince in the highest position could prove politically tricky, and yet, ignoring him completely would be inappropriate. In such delicate matters, an etiquette official might have spent hours unfurling family trees, debating which royal lineage had closer ties to the Arcaea Empire’s imperial bloodline.

But the head servant was a pragmatic man. He found a simple solution.

Ultimately, the seat of honor was given to Princess Iina Isadora. Rather than framing this as a eting between two princes, he interpreted it as a reunion of close family mbers.

As the eldest and the aunt of both princes, Iina was seated at the head, and luckily, neither prince appeared to be offended by this interpretation. However, not everyone was pleased...

"This seating arrangent is quite satisfying," Marquis Tatian muttered with sarcasm.

He had been seated across from Iina, on her ‘left,’ while Herman Forte, the Swordmaster, was assigned the ‘right’ seat across from her.

Traditionally, the left side was reserved for strategists, while the right was for military commanders.

In reality, there was no inherent superiority to either side, but in etiquette, proximity to the person of highest rank was key. And, if both sides were equally distant, the left side had historically been considered the more prestigious. This was because there could be multiple commanders, but only one chief strategist.

Thus, the knights were seated on the right side, while nobles, including strategists, were placed on the left, creating the perception that the left seat was more esteed.

This seating arrangent implicitly ranked Count Herman, a count, below Marquis Tatian.

Although the head servant felt it appropriate, given that Herman was a military man, in the Kingdom of Bellita, things weren’t quite so simple. The Kingdom had long been dominated by Swordmasters, and so they controlled the left side of the court, traditionally reserved for strategists. Herman Forte could easily have occupied either side.

Marquis Tatian, who generally disdained anything that appeared superficially impressive, couldn’t help but feel slighted.

So, he snarked, and his long-ti rival, Count Herman, frowned in response. It wasn’t a great look in front of his estranged wife, and the tension was palpable.

Further down the long table, separated by two seats from his mother, Gilbert scowled as well, making it clear that father and son were alike in more ways than one.

Iina couldn't help but chuckle.

"Well, I think it’s lovely seeing my husband and son seated together. Marquis Tatian, how have you been? It’s been a while since we’ve shared a al together."

It was not the servant’s job to smooth over ruffled feathers; that responsibility fell to the highest-ranking person present. Iina skillfully diffused the tension, soothing her disgruntled husband and son while gently asking the Marquis to set aside his pride for the sake of old friendships.

Thankfully, the Marquis relented.

"Sharing a al, yes... It has been a long ti," he mused with a strange expression, gazing up at the ceiling of the tent. He didn’t touch a single morsel of food.

In a world where poisoning was common, it was not considered rude to abstain from eating. However, his excessive caution did draw so frowns, though Iina quickly shifted the conversation to a fresher topic.

"So, Marquis Tatian, how did you co across my nephew Lean de Yeriel? I’d love to hear your story before we ask the prince about it."

"Haha! As if I could bring soone like him here! It was Prince Vivian who found —with an invitation, no less."

"Oh? Are you getting married?"

"No, but he’s getting engaged. I think you’ll be quite surprised when you hear who his fiancée is."

"Who could it be? What lucky lady has captured my charming nephew’s heart?"

Marquis Tatian glanced at Lean, seeking permission to reveal more. With a calm nod from Lean, Tatian continued.

"Lady Jenia Peter."

"Oh my! Edlin’s Jenia?"

Lean watched quietly as Iina referred to Edlin Peter so familiarly, while Marquis Tatian, who seed unusually close to her, sat across from her divorced husband Herman Forte and their son Gilbert. Then there was her nephew, Prince Vivian de Isadora.

The central figure of this entire group was not Prince Vivian, the supposed protagonist of this northern kingdom's intrigue.

It was Iina Isadora.

Lean had already observed how pivotal she was to everyone gathered here.

[Achievent: eting Vivian de Isadora – Earned slight favor with all nobles loyal to the Isadora family. Earned slight favor with Vivian de Isadora.]

He knew well that this kind of information was far more valuable than any achievent. Those cloudy gray eyes of hers were not unfamiliar to him.