Célia Von Althlein had left the kingdom, and Lockwood Marcell had followed Granard in taking his own life.
Meanwhile – in the Alsatian Empire, the dominant power in the middle of the continent, a disturbance is brewing.
Four women are gathered in a room at the back of the royal castle in the centre of the imperial capital.
The large room, normally used as a salon, is furnished with many fine pieces of furniture, and the walls are decorated with paintings by court painters.
The ladies were all dressed in fine silk dresses of the highest quality. The ornaments they wore were of a flamboyant design, glittering.
At first glance, the women seemed to be of respectable status. Some are sitting in chairs sipping tea, others are standing at the window looking out over the castle, waiting for the man who has summoned them.
After a while, from outside the room they hear someone running down the corridor. It was a noisy sound, unsuitable for a royal castle where the royal family lived.
Eventually, the door was thrown open with great force and a large man burst into the room.
“Sorry to keep you waiting, my little girls!”
The man who appeared was large and richly dressed was the emperor, Zacharias Von Althlein, lord of the castle and monarch of the Empire.
On his back, he carried a large sword as tall as he. It was Durandal, the holy sword of fire and Zacharias was not dressed for a visit to the salon.
“Mmmmmmm! What a glorious sight to see all the splendours of the Empire together! It is so bright that it burns the eyes!”
“….. It’s good to see you looking as well as ever. Father.”
Zacharias praises the women while laughing, “Fuhahaha”.
The name of the woman who called the Emperor her father is Mariastella Rin Althlein.
She is the first lady of the Empire, the first of the imperial princesses, the top of all imperial women except the empress.
She is 25 years old and wears an immaculate white dress and her silver hair flows down her back in gentle waves.
Her hair is as silver as a snowfield reflecting the moonlight. Mariastella is of the bloodline of the Goldcross Divine Empire in the north of the continent.
She has perfected her beauty. A body composed of the golden ratio. Her beauty is like that of a goddess of beauty, and her translucent white skin seems to shine in the sunlight that shines through the window.
(マリアステラ・リィン・アルスライン)
Mariastella rises from her chair, pinches the hem of her dress with a beautiful gesture of courtesy.
She bows to her father, and the other women rise to follow her.
“’Good day to you, Your Majesty.”
“Well, it’s good to see you again after all these years, my dear princesses!”
In this room are gathered the imperial princesses, led by Mariastella.
Known for his love of warfare and colour at the same time, Zacharias had a thousand wives in his rear court and had more than a hundred children.
The four women here were among those whose mothers were of high status and who held important positions in the royal family.
“Well now,…… I’ve asked you all to gather here for one reason and one reason only! Today I want one of you to marry into another country!”
“…… That’s very hasty of you. I’d like to know what’s going on before I agree.”
Among the four sisters, Mariastella likes her father the most.
It is a bad habit of Zacharias to make unpredictable suggestions without warning. It’s a quick and decisive move, but it’s a nuisance to those around him who have to deal with it.
Mariastella puts her hand on her cheek and sighs languidly.
The beauty of the princess makes even the most casual of gestures look like a painting, and if a young man were here he would be captivated by her grace.
Fortunately, Zacharias is the only other man in the room, so there is no need for the joke that often occurs in the Empire when a man becomes so enamoured of a beautiful princess that he is unable to work or eat.
“So,……Who will we marry? Will we marry a powerful man from another country, or a vassal who has done good to us?”
“Oou, That’s right. We are dealing with royalty.”
In response to Mariastella’s question, Zacharias puffed out his chest, somehow proud of himself.