33 Emilia’s First Battle

Moving to the venue by carriage accompanied by a priest dispatched to prevent foul play, I could see the Crown Prince and Grace standing with a guide. Observing the carriages lined up a few vehicles ahead, it seemed the two were responding to noble guests from outside the academy.

The selection task for the Oracle can be viewed by the candidate’s relatives or any noble with the right to attend the House of Lords, provided they make a request in advance.

Even though they cross paths at the House of Lords, opportunities for anyone other than high-ranking nobles to speak directly with the Crown Prince are rare. The position of an Oracle of Shanak is considered one of the highest honors for a noble lady, as even being selected as a candidate brings honor to the head of the house.

…However, Emilia will not be able to fully enjoy that honor. Full-scale diplomacy will not begin until next year, and even then, it will be restricted to within the territory of Marquis Junas Freche for some time.

The day Emilia’s kin set foot on the soil of the Arksia Royal Capital will not come for at least another ten years. If the Archduke’s family cannot revive its hollowed-out position within Lindal, it may be even longer.

“Good day, Caldia. It seems I’ve kept you waiting quite a while. My apologies, so please don’t look so stern.”

I was brought back to my senses by a voice from outside the carriage. The line seemed to have moved forward while I was lost in thought; just outside the window, the Crown Prince was smiling pleasantly at me. Grace, perhaps still affected by our hostile exchange the other day, did not even approach today.

“No, Your Highness, it’s not that…”

“It’s a joke. I thought perhaps you were nervous.”

“Well, in my own way.”

“Hehe. Caldia is serious, after all.”

The Crown Prince’s casual generosity is likely a good thing in a place like this. I saw Emilia, who is prone to tension, visibly relax her expression in relief.

In the meantime, the coachman prepared the footstool, so I stepped out of the carriage first. As I shook out the hanging cloth I had been holding to prevent creases and swept it around to my back, I heard a small voice say, “Eh, wa…”

“Your Highness?”

Suspicious of the strange sound, I called out to him. The Crown Prince quickly covered his mouth with his hand, as if acting on impulse.

“Ah… sorry, excuse me.”

The expression I caught a glimpse of just a moment ago was quite vacant and dazed, which was surprising for a setting close to official business.

“The outfit is, well, very… dignified… yes. It looks cool…”

The phrasing was so childish that it was unthinkable given his usual behavior, making me wonder for a moment if it was a roundabout way of criticism.

But then I noticed the Crown Prince’s ears were gradually turning red. It seemed he was praising me from the bottom of his heart.

“…I am honored.”

Does he have a preference for this kind of attire? It would likely suit him far better than it does me.

Before the atmosphere could become any stranger, I escorted Emilia out of the carriage. As expected, the Crown Prince switched gears quickly and smiled brilliantly in his usual manner, “Good day, Lady Emilia.”

“Good day to you, Your Royal Highness.”

“Lady Emilia’s dress is also very beautiful. I am looking forward to the content of your task.”

“Thank you. Receiving such words from Your Highness is deeply encouraging.”

When Emilia responded to the greeting, the Crown Prince blinked once while maintaining his smile. His expression didn’t change, but he looked somehow satisfied.

“…Yes. Good luck.”

As Elise had said, the interpretation of the task varies from person to person.

We created the outfits based on the interpretation that this was a religious rite involved in the selection of an Oracle, but looking at the pairs lined up on the stage, it seems not everyone shared that view.

There were young ladies in gorgeous dresses clearly intended for an evening ball, and others in extravagant costumes resembling stage actors. Some wore outfits of such complex construction that they could hardly be called dresses, looking strangely like works of art.

Once the introduction of the candidates to the spectators and judges was finished, the presentations of the tasks began one pair at a time.

The presentations were divided into three groups based on social rank, and the order was determined by lottery within each group. Emilia was in the third group, set to be the 12th presentation out of all 15 candidates.

Until the turn comes, one can choose to wait in the waiting room or in the seats within the venue.

When I let Emilia choose, she surprisingly picked the venue. By all appearances, her mind was focused on the waiting room, but it wasn’t a slip of the tongue; she insisted, “I will watch all the presentations of the other ladies.”

She is strangely fired up, but I wonder if she’ll be alright. Well, considering various factors, it is certainly better for Emilia to remain in the venue…

“Understood. There will be a short break after the 10th candidate’s presentation. At that time, we shall go to the waiting room once.”

Emilia nodded with a look of resolve, as if she were about to stand upon a battlefield.

The early stages of the opening should be equivalent to mere skirmishes, but I wonder if she will truly be okay with that level of intensity.

End of 256