Chapter 61
Preparations for women on the day of the Music Festival begin in the dark hours before dawn.
The reasons for taking so much time on preparations vary, but most often, it's to be invited to tea parties hosted by high-ranking noblewomen.
For official events hosted by the royal family each year, such as banquets or balls, one must have the wealth to prepare appropriate attire tailored to the occasion, along with proper manners, a good reputation, and the favor of the hostess.
Since one's status in high society is determined by these events, both the inviters and the invited are desperate to make an impression.
When I was learning about these things at home from tutors, I thought they had nothing to do with me, and in fact, I still haven't been invited to a tea party.
However, even young girls before adulthood are forced to dress in a manner befitting their peerage.
Early in the morning, I was rudely awakened by my nursemaid, dragged to the bathroom with my eyes still closed, polished meticulously from head to toe, and then given a full-body oil massage by all the maids. Special attention was paid to my décolletage, arms, back, and legs, leaving my skin soft and emitting a pleasant fragrance from the oil.
The moisturizing oil not only offers an enjoyable scent but also retains its fragrance for a long time, so many women choose different oils depending on the social occasion.
After the massage, I was ushered back to my room, staggering as I fought off sleepiness, made to sit in a chair, and while my makeup and hair were being done, fruit was silently stuffed into my mouth.
I absentmindedly nodded to my nursemaid's words, got scolded for it, and was made to repeat the instructions until I finally woke up, was dressed in a gown, and finished the preparations that were more exhausting than early morning training. By then, the outside world was already bright.
The Music Festival, which starts in the evening, prompts nobles with secondary residences in the Royal Capital to head to the venue, the Royal Music Theater, all at once by carriage on the day of the event.
The Royal Capital's gates, adorned with intricate carvings, number five in total, varying in size. The largest gate is usually tightly shut and only opened for emergencies, while the smallest gate is exclusively for the Royal Capital's guards and knights.
The remaining three gates are for the royal family, dukes and marquesses, other nobles, merchants, and the general public.
To avoid congestion, the royal family moves to the theater the day before, lower-ranking nobles begin their journey in the morning, and higher-ranking nobles start in the afternoon, as predetermined.
Although attendance at the Music Festival hosted by the royal family is mandatory for nobles, there are always a certain number of absentees each year. These are often poorer nobles who do not own secondary residences in the Royal Capital, hold no official positions, and have unstable income from their territories. They cannot afford expensive carriages, and even renting one for a few days to weeks is a burden, so their absence is permitted.
Others, such as those suffering from illness, also fall into this category, and I used this excuse to be absent for several years.
Poor nobles often pour all their resources into a once-in-a-lifetime debutante or a ball at the royal palace, so many of them do not leave their territories for other events. As a result, the nobles gathered at the Music Festival are predominantly wealthy.
Slowly descending the grand staircase in heels I hadn't worn in a while, I smiled at Grandfather and Father, who were waiting outside, before boarding the carriage with them.
Two carriages were prepared.
Since Grandfather is with us this year, the front carriage carries the former lord, the current lord, and me—three people—while the rear carriage carries my stepmother and Mirabel. Mirabel, who boarded the carriage without complaint or even a frown, was in an unusually good mood, which made her seem even more unsettling than usual. Tilting my head in confusion, I placed a basket of light snacks on my lap and held it carefully.
"Luant Palace is breathtaking no matter how many times I see it..."
"It's a testament to how much favor it was built with."
At the entrance to the palace, each carriage is stopped, and invitations are required to be presented.
After confirming the number of attendees and escort knights, the carriage proceeds through the gate. However, the exterior of the palace, filled with the love, wealth, and passion of the first king, appears very small from the gate. The carriage advances along the stone paths on either side of the vast garden, taking a long time to reach the palace from the gate.
It's simply on a different scale from the start.
As Father disembarks from the carriage first, followed by Grandfather, the surroundings become so noisy that I can hear it even from inside the carriage.
When I place my hand on the offered one and step out of the carriage, the clamor doesn't subside but grows even louder. Perhaps due to the rumor that the heir of the Rotish family has entered Military School, I'm met with curious gazes.
"There's no need to be understood by everyone, but that doesn't mean I'll quietly accept malice either."
"Yes."
"Those who don't understand why Fildé Rotish came here can be left to me. Celestia, just enjoy the Music Festival."
"I'll leave it to you."
"I'm here too, you know..."
"Baldo, didn't I give you the task of sorting things out?"
"I've already started..."
Escorted by Grandfather, I walk along the red carpet laid out in the palace corridor.
The gazes we attract still don't diminish, but when Grandfather approaches, everyone falls silent. Some stare intently, others flush with excitement, some deliberately look away as if uninterested, and others wear superficial smiles—reactions vary.
Ahead of us are Father and my stepmother, while behind us are the escort knights and Mirabel.
In formal settings, my stepmother stands beside Father as the nominal Countess, and Mirabel, as the nominal adopted daughter, walks behind me.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing..."
I couldn't help but glance back at Mirabel, who has been smiling the whole time since we left the secondary residence. Noticing this, Grandfather quietly asked me, and I shook my head.
I can't burden him with worry just because I find her unsettling.
At the end of the long corridor is the entrance to the theater, which serves as a social venue during the Music Festival.
The area in front of the stairs leading to the viewing seats is occupied by the wives of high-ranking nobles, while the wives of lower-ranking nobles spare no effort in providing topics of conversation to catch their attention.
Here, too, Grandfather's appearance causes a stir in the entrance hall, but it gradually subsides as some high-ranking nobles, accustomed to seeing Grandfather, begin to move.
"It's been a while."
"You really came..."
The first to approach us were Floyd and Drea Armul, the Prime Minister of this country.
Since the Prime Minister is a relative of Floyd, it's not strange for them to be together, but I was so surprised by his presence—given his reputation for never attending such events—that I couldn't immediately offer a greeting.
"Didn't I send a letter saying I would attend...?"
"True, but no matter how many times I asked you to come to the Royal Capital, you stubbornly refused to leave your fortress, claiming you had retired."
"It's for my granddaughter."
"Granddaughter..."
"It's a pleasure to meet you. I am Celestia Rotisch."
I only know of him unilaterally and am meeting him for the first time.
As instructed by my nursemaid, I put on layers of ladylike decorum and greeted him with a bright smile.
"I'm Drea Armul."
"I'm aware of your visage and achievements. It's an honor to meet you."
"Your appearance may be similar, but... your character is quite different."
"Hey..."
"I hear you've entered Military School. Among noble children, you're likely the first and last to take such a bold step. Tonight, the rumor is the talk of the town. But why did you choose Military School over the Academy?"
Imagining everyone around us holding their breath and straining their ears to listen makes me feel oddly amused.
I feel a bit sorry for the Prime Minister and those around us waiting for my response, but I simply smile.
"There's only one reason. She's my granddaughter."
Tonight, I've entrusted everything to Grandfather.
"So, if anyone has complaints, they should speak to Fildé Rotish. Is that it?"
"I can come to them if they'd like."
With a mischievous smile, Grandfather intimidates those around us. The Prime Minister lets out a deep sigh and mutters, "Don't let your character become too similar, alright?" before gently pushing Floyd, who stands beside him, forward.
"That dress suits you very well."
"...Thank you."
As I blankly stared at Floyd, who shyly complimented my dress, Grandfather tapped my shoulder. I maintained my composure and expressed my thanks.
Since I've never been complimented on a dress before, I think it's understandable that I didn't notice.
Even though we've been engaged for over three years, I doubt there are many couples as awkward as us...
"Are our seats next to each other?"
"It seems so."
While listening to the conversation between Grandfather and the Prime Minister, I glanced again at Mirabel, who stood a little distance away.
She made no attempt to approach us and didn't even spare a glance at Floyd. Unlike yesterday, Mirabel's attitude seemed to show a complete loss of interest in him.
"...What is she plotting?"
The words that slipped from my mouth were drowned out by the sound of the opera music.
Even after the performance ended, and even when Grandfather stepped away for a moment, Mirabel's demeanor didn't change, deepening my suspicion. However, I could only dwell on such concerns until we moved to the ballroom in the palace, which would serve as the venue for the evening party.
"Greetings to Your Majesty and the Queen. I am Celestia Rotisch, granddaughter of Fildé Rotish."
At the far end of the ballroom, a raised platform holds the royal seats, and no one other than royalty is permitted to ascend it... or so it should be. Yet, somehow, I'm standing on the platform greeting them, dragged along by Grandfather, who said, "There's someone annoying who keeps insisting on seeing your face."
Without being stopped by the escort knights waiting below, I ascended the platform. Seeing His Majesty's delighted expression at Grandfather's words, "I've come to pay my respects," I couldn't help but be stunned.
Desperately trying to make sense of the situation, I doubted my ears at the terrifying words casually spilling from Grandfather's mouth, while discreetly hiding my faintly trembling hands in the shadow of my dress.