Chapter 16: Princess Mia and Her Devotees

“Hnnngh... I feel...terribly tired...”

Now back at the imperial capital, Mia woke in her soft and fluffy bed feeling particularly lackadaisical. She rubbed her face against the thick, furry nightclothes she’d received from the Lulu and all but purred with pleasure.

“I want to go back to sleep...”

The journey by carriage from the Holy Principality of Belluga to Tearmoon, soon followed by a visit to the Newmoon District before departing for the Berman Viscounty, with an extra excursion to the Lulu village thrown in, had been one hell of an endurance test, and even Mia, with the infinite energy of youth, was feeling rather spent.

“I-It’s definitely not because of all that standing I did in the forest is finally catching up to me! Nope! I mean, I’m still a young and healthy thirteen-year-old. I’m not old enough to know fatigue,” she muttered, justifying her not-fatigue to no one in particular.

She conveniently left out the part about the twenty-odd years her psyche had under its belt.

“Milady, I’m told breakfast is ready. Would you like to have some now?” asked Anne as she entered the room.

Mia eyed her drowsily.

“Is it just me...” she mumbled, barely coherent, “or are the mornings coming earlier every year?”

Nevertheless, she got up, drawn by the allure of breakfast, and stretched. After trying unsuccessfully to rub the sleep from her eyes, she tottered toward the door.

“Milady, how about we get you changed first? I don’t think you should walk out in those clothes...”

Anne gently turned Mia away from the door and removed her nightclothes, taking a quick moment to confirm the quality of her pearlescent skin, now exposed in its entirety save for some regal undergarments. Seeing no blemishes or traces of sweat, she promptly turned to the wardrobe. Faced with its abundant options, she swiftly considered a number of factors, including the weather outside, the temperature inside, and Mia’s likely range of movement, to determine the optimal attire for her mistress.

Reaching into the wardrobe, she produced a gorgeous yellow dress. Designed for comfort indoors, its looser cut hid the contours of the body, maintaining decorum while eschewing the need for a corset. She dressed the zombified Mia in it with expert deftness, practiced motions placing fabric over skin without the need for the wearer’s cooperation. It was definitely a high-level maid technique, performable only by seasoned veterans. For Anne, who’d never been particularly handy, the only path to proficiency was through grueling, tireless repetition, and her present competence was proof that she’d walked it.

That’s right. It wasn’t just horse riding. In addition to honing her abilities as a maid, she’d been applying herself to her studies at Saint-Noel, on top of learning to cook, all so she could be useful to Mia. The slow accumulation of hard-earned skills had laid down a solid bedrock of expertise while paving the path to true mastery, which she now walked step by diligent step. None of this was in any way apparent to Mia...but Anne liked it that way. If her mistress could notice changes in her dressing technique—be they for better or worse—then that meant she still had a long way to go. In Anne’s opinion, true maids did their job unnoticed. For those they served, it should seem like daily chores and matters of personal care simply took care of themselves.

“Mmm, I must say...” said Mia with a yawn, watery eyes still heavy with sleep. “You’re really spoiling me today, Anne. Thank you. As always.”

The statement of appreciation, so genuine and unguarded, strummed her heartstrings, filling her chest with harmonics of joy. She didn’t think she deserved it. After all, she was just doing her job. Nevertheless, she couldn’t help but feel a welling happiness at the acknowledgment.

“Th-Thank you, milady.” A few seconds later, she corrected, “I-I mean, you’re welcome.”

With her yellow dress properly affixed to her person, Mia shambled down the hall.

Ah, I want to go back to bed...and do a whole lot of nothing for the rest of the day...

Her lethargic thoughts were mirrored in her lazy, foot-dragging gait. When she finally reached the cafeteria, she shuffled toward the long dining tables and plopped her delicate rump down on one of the seats before opening her mouth in another yawn. The head chef approached her.

“Good morning, Your Highness.”

“Gwood mworning...”

She groggily rubbed her eyes and blinked a few more times before turning to look at him. His brows furrowed in concern.

“You seem rather tired.”

“I suppose I am. Inspecting Princess Town, among other things, has kept me quite busy lately, and I’m feeling a little spent. Just between the two of us, I wouldn’t mind a more generous menu today.”

“Generous, you say?”

“Yes. Exchanging a few breakfast items for sweets, for example...”

The chef fell silent, his expression unreadable. A few seconds later, he turned and walked away. Figuring her proposal had exasperated him, she sighed.

“Well, I was definitely pushing my luck there. I can’t really expect them to bring out a bunch of sweets in the morning. I mean, the food here is good and everything, but I just wish I could have some cake right now. Or even a few cookies. They’d do wonders as a morning pick-me-up. Oh well. So much for that...” she said, glumly accepting that her sweet tooth would remain unsatisfied.

Which would be why she almost shrieked in astonishment when the chef returned and placed a plate of something decidedly unbreakfast-like in front of her.

“My! Th-This is... Cake?!”

A yellow pastry sat on the plate. There was a whiff of fruity piquancy in its fresh-from-the-oven aroma that, along with its soft, spongy texture, exerted an irresistible pull on her senses. Her audible slurp and gulp was, if not entirely polite, understandable.

“This early in the morning?! A-Are you sure this is okay?”

She stared at the chef with disbelief in her eyes.

“Yes. Your Highness seemed tired, so...we made this for you.”

The stocky chef scratched his cheek, glad for her delight but also embarrassed by its sheer effusiveness.

“B-But, isn’t it bad for me to be eating sweets all the time? I remember you said something like that before.”

Despite her question, she wrapped her arms around the cake with the kind of hunched posture that evoked the words my precious. The chef answered with a gentle smile.

“I’m glad Your Highness remembers. I did indeed say that, and I still stand by my words. Eating sweets with excessive frequency will harm your health. That’s why...” Pride entered his expression. “I decided to challenge myself. That cake is a new creation of mine, made with a mix of vegetables.”

“V-Vegetables?! You can’t be serious!”

She stared at the cake with new eyes. She even spun it around a few times, examining it from all angles. It still looked like a cake. There was no vegetable-ness to it at all. She prodded it cautiously with her fork. Then she scooped out a small piece and, with a gulp of resolve, put it into her mouth.

“Mmmm... Mmmmmm!”

Slowly but surely, her guarded expression melted into pure bliss.

“It’s sweet and...and...delicious! Mmmm!” She let out a sigh of pleasure before looking back at the chef. “Oh, you terrible, terrible person. You almost had me there. Vegetable cakes,” she said with a laugh. “As if something this sweet could be made with vegetables.”

“As a matter of fact, Your Highness, in their natural state, many vegetables are sweet. For this cake, we used ambermoon tomatoes, ambermoon carrots, and mini kabocha squashes to give that tarty sweetness.”

“My... You mean you can make something this good using vegetables?”

She looked at the cake with astonishment now. The truth of the cake’s ingredients was a stunning revelation for her, but it was the chef’s next statement that truly robbed her of breath.

“Indeed we can. Moreover, because it’s made with vegetables, it’s good for your health as well.”

“What?! Y-You mean... I can eat as much of this cake as I want and be perfectly fine?!”

She stared at the cake for the third time, regarding it like some sort of impossible dream that bent the very laws of reality.

“Uh, well, not exactly, but within reason... For example, it’s perfectly fine to have this in the morning,” he said, then he shook his head. It was clear that Mia was no longer listening.

“Ah, wonderful. Just wonderful...” she said, her hands a blur as she split the cake and started shoveling pieces into her mouth. “You’ve done— Mmm. A wonderful job— Mmmmm. Head Chef. I have the— Mmmmmmm! The utmost respect for your skill! It’s—”

She suddenly stopped, her fork inserted halfway into her next piece.

“Head chef... Tell me something. Did you come up with this recipe...just for me?”

“It is our duty as subjects to care for and ensure the wellness of His Majesty and Your Highness.”

He respectfully lowered his head.

“My...” Mia was moved. “Such thoughtful diligence. Please accept my formal thanks, Head Chef. Your cooking is a marvel, and I am impressed beyond words. By the way...how many of these did you make?”

She managed to parlay her compliments into another cake. Emboldened by her success, she tried two more times before Anne finally put her foot down and barred the head chef from complying with any further requests.

In other words, it was business as usual for Mia and her daily shenanigans.