Chapter 4: Berman Gains Mia’s Trust

Upon arriving at Viscount Berman’s domain, Mia received a lavish welcome.

“It is an absolute honor to have Your Highness grace our humble domain. I and my people alike are moved to tears by this joyous occasion,” proclaimed the viscount in a statement that sounded like exaggeration but, to Mia’s bewilderment, turned out to be anything but.

The enthusiasm with which the townspeople greeted her was, frankly, a bit much.

I have to admit this is a little scary.

Men, women, and children alike swarmed out of their houses and into the streets. A single path was kept open for her carriage, the entire length of which was adorned by a bed of flowers. As the vehicle traveled down the path, chants of “Long live the Great Sage of the Empire!” erupted from all sides. Some of the onlookers even had literal tears streaming down their faces. Mia was a veritable idol here.

Ever since her birthday festival in the winter, Mia’s popularity in the empire had reached incredible new heights. Berman’s people, partly due to Princess Town being constructed in their viscounty, were especially fond of her, more so than even the emperor himself.

Mia’s shock, however, was not shared by Bel who looked, if anything, a bit smug.

“The people of Viscount Berman’s domain were known as, uh... I think they were called ‘pro-princess hardliners.’ They helped me out quite a bit during the civil war,” Bel explained.

“Pro-princess hardliners, huh...? I see. That’s good, I guess. Also a little creepy.”

As someone who’d been subject to all manners of verbal abuse when she’d visited famine-stricken areas in the previous timeline, Mia wasn’t used to such effusive displays of approval.

“Not that it’s a bad thing. I hope the things I do from now on will allow me to continue to enjoy welcomes like this,” Mia concluded in a pensive tone.

That night, Mia was treated to a grand banquet. Tables groaned under the weight of the mountains of extravagant food piled atop them. She felt her whole body being drawn toward the delectable meals and had to shake herself to escape their spell.

“Thank you for this very generous welcome, Viscount Berman. I have no doubt I’ll enjoy myself tonight,” she said, trying not to sound too eager.

“It is our absolute pleasure, Your Highness.”

Berman beamed at her so brightly that she was loath to douse his enthusiasm. Sadly, mission trumped manners, and she resolved to be the rain to his parade.

“However,” said Mia, “I must ask that from now on, you refrain from wasting any food.”

“I... Huh?” Berman stared agape, incomprehension clear on his face. Mia tried her best to speak in a calm, nonconfrontational voice.

“Listen, just between the two of us,” Mia quietly continued, “there’s a very good chance that various parts of the empire will start seeing food shortages this summer. I’d like you to prepare for this eventuality by being more frugal with your food.”

In truth, Mia didn’t expect Berman to cooperate willingly. Considering his personality, vehement opposition was the more likely response.

Still, I have to tell him, or I’ll feel bad. Oh, also...

She promptly voiced an additional request.

“And don’t go around telling everyone, all right? Only a select few know about this, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

The confidentiality of the matter seemed a point worth reinforcing. Berman wasn’t exactly known for his taciturnity. This was the man who’d once picked a very public fight with Outcount Rudolvon over the size of their domains. There was a good chance he’d flaunt the information he’d just gained for ego-stroking purposes, and that would be problematic.

“Only a select few...” murmured Berman.

“That’s right. And they’re a few that I personally selected. After all, the future is normally something that nobody can predict. If word spreads, people might start getting weird ideas.”

She gave him a stern look, silently implying, “And those weird ideas will apply to you too! So if you don’t want people thinking you joined a cult, then just keep your mouth shut and start saving food!”

All right, that should keep him from blabbing to everyone about it. I don’t know if he’ll actually believe me and reduce wastage, but whatever...

With her attention turned inwards, Mia failed to hear the soft, trembling murmur that escaped Berman’s lips. “Which means...I’m one of the few that you trust with this information...”

“Oh, by the way, I’m counting on you for Princess Town,” she added as the thought occurred to her. “We can’t let the children go hungry.”

Berman, to her surprise, nodded with a sober expression. “Absolutely, Your Highness. That goes without saying. I will give my life before I allow Princess Town to come to any harm.”

Mia shook her head at his extreme devotion. “I appreciate the sentiment, Viscount Berman, but if anything happens, I’d much rather you let me know instead of attempting any noble sacrifices on your own. Ludwig is always in the capital, so feel free to contact him whenever necessary.”

Knowing he was willing to give his life was nice, but frankly, she’d be much happier if he just updated her as soon as possible on every development. The earlier she knew about a problem, the easier it would likely be to solve. That was a fact of life. If he tried too hard to be a martyr, he might end up bungling something badly—beyond repair, even. That was the last thing she needed.

The way she saw it, if you don’t understand something, never pretend you do. You need to tell people you don’t understand at the earliest opportunity!

Then again, from here, it seems faster to ask Outcount Rudolvon for help instead of going all the way to the capital. Though, considering their past woes, I can’t imagine Berman being too eager to do that. Hmm...

“Your Highness?” Berman’s voice interrupted her silent pensiveness.

“Hm? Oh, it’s nothing. Anyway, let’s enjoy some of this food.”

Needless extravagance was certainly a problem, but Mia wasn’t about to decline a mouth-watering feast that was sitting right in front of her. She had to uphold her identity as the gourmand princess. Principles could come later.

“By the way,” she added, “tomorrow, I’ll be going on our scheduled inspection of the academy. I’m looking forward to speaking with Headmaster Galv. Oh, and Princess Arshia as well. I wonder how she’s doing as a lecturer...”

“Understood. I’ve already arranged for a carriage and guards. All that remains is for Your Highness to enjoy a relaxing evening at my humble abode,” said Berman with a deferential bow. “I thank you for trusting me with this remarkable secret. I have nothing but the deepest gratitude and will make every effort to meet your expectations.”

“I have no doubt you will,” replied Mia offhandedly. Her attention had already shifted elsewhere. There was a pot of stew on the table, and it was filled to the brim with mushrooms. It looked delicious. Mushrooms! Mushrooms in stew! Someone here definitely knows what they’re doing. Not bad, Berman! Not bad at all!

Mia’s trust in Berman rose by one hundred points! She gained a class specialization! Her identity was now “Gourmand Princess: Type Mushroom.”

The following day, Mia departed the Berman manor at dawn. Being both an early sleeper and an early riser, Mia was in fact quite the morning person. When she didn’t decide to indulge in a morning nap or two, that is.

Accompanied by a company of guards, her carriage made its way toward Princess Town, which sat at the edge of the Sealence Forest. After a period of trundling, a line of trees came into view.

“Aaah, it’s been a while since I last came here. Moons, this place looks different, doesn’t it? I barely recognize it,” she said with audible surprise.

A sizable building stood before the forest. It paled in comparison to the Whitemoon Palace, of course. Even Saint-Noel’s main building was bigger. It did, however, give the average noble manor a run for its money. Surrounding the building were vast fields used for farming. The path they took toward the campus was flanked by these fields, making it feel like she was commuting to school through farmland.

“Those weren’t here last time, were they? Are they being used for agricultural experiments?”

Despite the lingering cold in the air, the fields were filled with greenery.

“Those don’t look like weeds; they’re growing in neat lines. Someone must be tending to them. I wonder if that little house over there is an observation cabin or something... My, this is all very impressive.”

The primary objective of this academy was, after all, the development of a wheat strain that could survive the cold. Seeing that steady progress was being made on this front, Mia couldn’t help but beam with satisfaction. Just then...

“Wow, is that Saint Mia Academy?” Bel hugged the carriage window and squealed with excitement. The sound pulled Mia out of her thoughts.

“Saint Mia Academy... Right, that’s what it was called...”

She still wasn’t entirely okay with the name, but it was far too late for Mia to be making a fuss. Whatever. I’ll let it slide. It’s just a name, after all...

Unfortunately, her acceptance of the academy’s branding would prove fleeting...

As Mia’s carriage neared the school building, she discovered that a number of houses had been built in a rough circle around it—the beginnings of a small settlement. They were still too few in number to function as a town, but that didn’t bother her. Her top priority was wheat research. As long as that was progressing, all was well.

Eventually, the carriage stopped in front of the school. Mia stepped out and regarded the building before her. Immediately, she noticed something out of the corner of her eye that gave her a bad feeling. There was a strange shed-like structure at the front of the school. It had a roof and walls on only three sides. The last side was wide open. The odd design precluded any form of human residence. It looked more like a shelter from the elements. Or maybe...an insulated shrine.

As she directed her gaze toward the structure, it became clear that something was indeed enshrined within, something whitish. It looked like a statue. The moment she noticed, Mia immediately looked away. At this point, she was in full “please don’t let that be what I think it is” mode. Chills were racing up and down her spine. She really didn’t want to look at it again, lest her fears be confirmed...but she had to. There was no avoiding it. So, with extreme reluctance, she laid her eyes upon the enshrined object.

“Gah! What in the—”

She stared dumbfounded at an iridescent sculpture twice her height. She had to crane her neck back to see the top, whereupon a horn protruded from an equine head. A hand lay upon the unicorn’s neck, belonging to a young girl with a radiant smile. The girl’s visage bore more than a passing resemblance to Mia.

Huuuh, that girl seems sort of familiar... Fascinating. I wonder if— Ack! No, I need to accept reality! That’s definitely me! She was reminded of what her father had said during her birthday festival. He definitely mentioned how Viscount Berman was building some sort of statue. So this is the scene of the crime, then...

The massive snow sculpture from the festival would melt once the weather got warmer, but this wouldn’t disappear so easily. She didn’t know how long wooden sculptures remained discernible, but it was probably years at the very least.

Viscount Berman didn’t say a thing about this... Was it meant to be a surprise? I definitely don’t need a surprise like this!

The Mia in the sculpture wore a one-piece garment that resembled the dress of woodland fairies. Actually, she didn’t just resemble a fairy. She was a fairy! There were literal wings coming out of her back!

Th-This is taking things a step too far, isn’t it? We’re totally in the realm of fiction now. It’s honestly sort of embarrassing.

History has never wanted for powerful people who saw themselves as gods. Their desire to be portrayed as omnipotent deities was undoubtedly egotistical, but it was nevertheless an understandable urge. Those who portrayed themselves as adorable fairies, however, were far rarer. This, too, was understandable. After all, it was straight up embarrassing. Cringe-worthy, even, and the wide-eyed “look at me, I’m so innocent and charming” smile on her winged counterpart’s face made it that much worse.

Then, there was the kicker: everyone who saw this sculpture would naturally assume she’d commissioned it, and therefore had specifically requested to be depicted in this fashion. Her insides all but twisted around themselves at the thought. She began to tremble.

“What do you think, Your Highness? Do you like it?”

A calm voice stopped Mia from descending further into cringe-induced madness. She turned to find the headmaster of Saint Mia Academy approaching.

“Ah, Wiseman Galv. Good to see you.” She greeted him with a gracious curtsy. “Thank you for all your help in setting up this academy.”

“No, no, the gratitude flows in reverse. I must thank you for giving this old sack of bones an opportunity to feel alive again. It is a great honor to be involved in such a meaningful project.”

Mia then introduced the headmaster to Bel before gazing again at the sculpture.

“I must say though, this sculpture...”

“It was made by the Lulus,” explained Galv, “as a symbol of their loyalty toward Your Highness. Beautiful, isn’t it?”

She nodded. The old man was right. Implications to her image aside, the artistic merit of the sculpture was undeniable. One could feel the sheer passion of the creators in every curve and groove. Whoever carved this must have deeply admired Mia...or really loved fairies.

“Originally, it was supposed to be three times the current size,” said Galv, “but I dissuaded them from that idea by explaining to them that Your Highness is not fond of ostentatious displays of self-praise and would not appreciate such a large sculpture.”

Oh thank the moons, this guy gets it! No wonder they call him a wise man. Good going, Galv!

“So, I told them to keep it to twice your actual size.”

So close! Augh, you were so close! Why didn’t you just tell them not to build the thing in the first place?! Mia barely managed to hold back a scream. The fact that he’d almost made the perfect call made it that much more maddening.

“There was also the opinion that the sculpture should be made to your exact likeness, but it was eventually decided that some artistic liberty to obfuscate the identity of the girl in the sculpture would best serve our interests. We then added some elements of fantasy to reflect your literary preferences.”

Okay, I don’t know if we have different definitions of the word “obfuscation,” but it is not hard to tell that’s me in the sculpture. The academy is named after me, for crying out— Wait, for the love of the moon, there’s a plaque at the bottom! And it says “The Frolicking of Saint Mia and a Unicorn”!

So much for artistic liberty. There was definitely no obfuscation going on here whatsoever.

Ugh, I wonder if I can get this removed somehow...

It was clear from the sculpture’s rainbow-colored glitter that it shared an origin with the unicorn hairpin. Both were made from the trees of this forest whose wood, when debarked, exuded a simple, grounded beauty.

Galv, noticing the way she scrutinized the sculpture, said, “They carved it from an ancient tree that grew deep in the forest. It was likely centuries old. A priceless treasure, undoubtedly, especially considering the Lulus’ belief that trees are gifts from heaven. Nevertheless, they said they would be more than happy to provide us with the wood if it would be used for a sculpture of Your Highness.”

Hnnngh... I-It’s certainly true that the Lulus care a lot about the trees in their forest. I merely kicked one, and they almost put a bunch of holes in me for it. If that’s how they react to normal trees, then one that’s hundreds of years old... Gah, the sheer amount of goodwill! It’s too much!

“Once the Lulus carved the wood to shape,” Galv continued, “Viscount Berman arranged for its surface to be treated using the empire’s most advanced woodworking technology. This sculpture is truly an inspiring symbol of two parties overcoming past differences and uniting under their shared loyalty toward Your Highness.”

Augh! The backstory is too heartwarming! Why is there so much significance to this damn sculpture?! How am I supposed to ask for its removal now?!

It was becoming painfully apparent to Mia that this sculpture was here to stay. She closed her eyes and took a slow breath.

“W-Wow,” she said in the stiff monotone of an unengaged actor, “that is so wonderful. It is such an honor to be the model for a sculpture like this. I am so happy I could cry.”

And she almost did, but for the sake of propriety, she swallowed her tears of happiness.

Though her mental state had been reduced to shavings by the sight of her proud wooden effigy, Mia regathered herself as she entered the school building. Inside, a group of children had arranged themselves in lines to greet her. In the front row were a number of familiar faces.

“My, you’re...”

“It’s a pleasure...to see you again...Your Highness!”

“Wagul? Is that you? Moons, it’s been a while.”

The first to speak was the Lulu chieftain’s grandson. With his neatly trimmed hair and uniform, she almost didn’t recognize him.

“Have you been well?” she asked with a smile.

“Yes, I’ve been well... But schoolwork is a little tough...”

Ah, of course. I know what you mean, Wagul.

She smiled gently, feeling a profound sympathy for the boy. Schoolwork was pain. Necessary pain perhaps, but still pain. No one in their right mind would do it willing—

“And for me, I’ve kept up with all my studies as promised,” said the girl beside Wagul. “Thank you very much for giving me the chance to spend so much time in school.”

Mia’s smile began to twitch as she turned toward the prodigy of the orphanage, who greeted her with a deep bow. “Ah. That’s, uh, good to hear. I’m glad you’re working hard, Selia,” she replied as a sheen of cold sweat developed on the back of her neck.

This was, after all, the girl she’d vindictively enrolled in the academy by the principle of “if I’m going down, then you’re going down with me, buddy.” She’d even rubbed salt in the wound by assigning Selia to a special class that would receive Galv’s personal and rigorous instruction. And yet she’d completely forgotten all of this until this very moment.

She regarded the girl, wondering if her comment had been sarcastic. Unfortunately, she couldn’t tell, so she opted for a cautious smile.

“But, uh... Do you feel okay, overall? Is anything stressing you out?” she asked, feeling a little guilty for sentencing the girl to Galv’s intensive educational torture. Back when she’d been a pupil, Ludwig the teacher had been bad enough. The teacher of Ludwig the teacher could only be worse. “If you ever feel like, you know, it’s all becoming a little much, then let me know, okay? I’ll do something about it.”

Mia was no stranger to the concept of reaping what you sow. Figuring she’d sowed a pretty mean seed here, she offered Selia a way out as a means of covering her own behind. By being extra nice, she was hoping to keep Selia from swinging the scythe of reprisal. The brave would simply accept the consequences of one’s actions, but Mia was a coward, so she was going to do whatever she could to attack Selia’s conscience and avoid said consequences.

And then Selia promptly teared up.

Eek! Wh-Why is she crying? Are Galv’s lessons that bad? Or does she hate me so much that it’s bringing her to tears?!

Just as panic began to set in...

“Thank you, Your Highness...but I’m fine. The teachers here are really nice to me, and I get to learn so much... It’s like a dream. I mean it,” Selia said, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye before smiling once more.

“I-Is that so? Well, uh... Keep it up, then. But don’t hesitate to tell me if you feel like there’s too much on your plate, okay?”

Then, Mia turned to another boy.

“And... Greetings, Cyril. It’s a pleasure to see you again,” she said with as much courtesy as she could muster. Her expression all but blossomed. It was fake blossoming, of course, but Cyril played a key role in her plan, so she was bringing her A-game. The successful development of the new wheat strain could very well hinge on his whims. She needed to keep him happy and motivated.

“It’s a pleasure to see you too, Your Highness.” Cyril bowed. The motion was perfectly respectful, but she couldn’t help but notice some stiffness.

“Hm? Is something the matter?”

“...No. Nothing at all.”

His words were at odds with the pout of his lips. Mia frowned in confusion, but Selia promptly leaned over and whispered in a voice that wasn’t particularly soft.

“Apparently, he feels like you’re very friendly with me and Wagul, but you’re always very formal with him, and he’s jealous about it.”

“S-Selia! That’s none of your business!” exclaimed a flustered Cyril.

He tried to pull her away from Mia, only for the motion to expose his flushed cheeks.

My! How terribly adorable!

The subtle emotional turbulence of his puerile soul strummed a rapturous chord across her heartstrings. She loved this kind of thing. Mia, at a technical twenty-two years of age, was super into young boys and their insecurities. Now, one should never judge another on their tastes and predilections, but Mia could probably afford to recalibrate her preferred age-range up a tad.

Huh, I remember Abel saying something like that a long time ago too. I guess boys really are all the same!

A fond smile crept across her lips, and she giggled a little. “Looks like someone feels a little left out, doesn’t he?” she said, trading her usual courtesy for affability. “Let’s fix that.”

“Huh?”

She patted a gaping Cyril on the head and gave his hair a good rub. “I was worried you’d feel lonely here, you know? Or get sick. I’m glad you’re healthy. And that you seem to have made a very good friend who pays attention to you,” she said, nodding toward Selia.

Cyril’s cheeks deepened in hue.

“Th-Thank you for your concern, Your Highness.”

He averted his gaze downward. The innocent gesture delighted Mia.

Oho ho, if a pat on the head is all it takes to cheer him up, then I’ll do it all day. I need him in top-form, after all, or we’ll never get our new wheat strain. I’m counting on you, boy. She smiled, entertaining thoughts that were decidedly less innocent.

Then, she looked past them toward the rest of the children.

“And who are the children behind you?”

There were about a dozen of them, all of whom tensed when they caught Mia’s gaze.

“Most of them were enrolled on a recommendation from the priest in the Newmoon District,” Galv explained. “A few from Outcount Rudolvon, and a couple more from other outland nobles nearby. Unfortunately, with many of our facilities still under construction and anti-agriculturalist beliefs circulating through their ranks, not a single child from the central nobility has applied.”

Mia arched an eyebrow, then shrugged. “Is that so? Forget about them, then. If they don’t want to come, then they won’t come.” She honestly couldn’t care less. The primary purpose of this academy was to facilitate Cyril Rudolvon’s development of cold-resistant wheat. She didn’t want a bunch of stuck-up noble children prancing around. At best, they’d be useless; at worst, they’d be an active distraction. Then, deciding that her statement was too dismissive, she qualified it with an additional remark. “Besides, once the academy makes a name for itself from its high standard of education, people will start flocking to it naturally.”

The purpose of this remark was twofold. Firstly, it was flattery directed at Galv; any success on the educational front would obviously be his doing. At the same time, it was also dissociating herself from the academy’s performance, allowing her to avoid taking any responsibility if the project happened to flop.

The reasoning went as follows.

Clause: if the academy performed well and became famous, people would flock to it.

Corollary: if people didn’t flock to it, it was because the academy didn’t perform well.

Conclusion: people not flocking to the academy was by no means her fault.

Just as she began to secretly gloat over her skillful—and entirely selfish—execution of defensive logicking, a woman approached her.

“Greetings, Princess Mia. Thank you for coming all this way to see us.”

“Ah, greetings to you too, Princess Arshia,” said Mia before promptly doing a double take at Arshia’s attire.

“Yes, I know. I apologize for my appearance.” Arshia grimaced as she looked down at her own clothes. They were made of a thickly-layered, cheap-looking fabric that resembled the kind commoners usually wore. “They’re work clothes. Perujin farmers always wear things like these. I can’t head to the fields in a dress, after all...”

“My, how fascinating. Can I...touch it? Hm... I see. Presentation aside, this is some pretty good fabric. It feels nice and durable. The next time I go mushroom hunting, I should look into getting some...”

Mia’s inquisitive mind was constantly on the lookout for new and interesting information. When it was relevant to her mushroom addiction, anyway.