Chapter 1 — Problem on the Salt Road

“What? No salt has been delivered?” Aura asked gravely, raising a single eyebrow as she reclined in her throne and listened to the appeals of the morning court.

The room they were in was small, located within the depths of the palace. Even the windows were merely small grids placed far higher than a person was tall, giving the room a gloomy atmosphere. The chamber was one where periodic meetings were held to determine the path of the country. Dominating the center of the small rectangular space was a long, sturdy table with wooden seats all around it.

As queen, Aura was naturally seated at the head of the table with Fabio behind her. He was permitted to enter the room but had no formal right to a seat or even a right to speak. The only people allowed a place and voice at the table were those who held the rank of minister or general.

“I would hear the details, Margrave Gaziel.”

When the queen uttered his name, the margrave nodded in affirmation as he stood from his seat at the lower end of the table. He was a man whose appearance was beginning to show the signs of age. His skin was dark even for a Capuan, and the wrinkles etched into his face showed his years.

Even so, his movements were smooth as he stood. Coupled with his broad shoulders, you could tell that the physical decline that came with age was still being held off by tough training. The old warrior spoke in a deep, carrying voice that matched the impression of his bulky frame in its similarities to a rugby player.

“Two days ago, I received a dwarf wyvern message from my son, who is working to maintain our territory. It seems that despite seven days having passed since the estimated date, the season’s salt has yet to arrive. Our stockpile amounts to approximately three months’ worth. My son, as my representative, is requesting permission to send our forces along the Salt Road to determine the cause. And, if I may say so, I share his opinion that we should investigate.”

The margrave completed his flowing report and seated himself, once more moving with smooth motions that would have suited a far younger man.

Gaziel’s territory was remote and bordered by other countries. The area had no coastline or salt deposits and was entirely dependent on imports for the salt that they needed. The Salt Road was a national route established by a prior king in order to make the distribution of vast amounts of salt possible within all the kingdom’s territories. It was for that reason that the margrave’s statement could not pass unchallenged.

“I disagree,” General Pujol replied firmly. “The lack of salt in the border regions is indeed dire, and there should be no doubt that maintaining the safety of the road will involve soldiers. However, those soldiers should be from the royal army, not your own.”

After Aura, General Pujol, who was in his early thirties, was the youngest of those gathered in the room. Despite the margrave being old enough to be his father, however, the general had no hesitation when it came to pushing his views. And he was by no means wrong. The Salt Road had been instituted by the state, so maintaining its safety was fundamentally the national army’s domain.

Gaziel, however, showed no sign of backing down. “You are quite correct, General. I am in agreement that the road is the kingdom’s responsibility. However, taking history into account, the likely cause of the delay is an increase in the raptor population,” he countered, revealing the core of his argument. “Should that be the case, it will be necessary to send forces into the forests and plains around the road and cull the lizards that are attacking people. Those locations away from the road are part of my domain.”

Falling silent, he met the young general’s gaze. Aura watched this rare display of blatant antagonism between the two high-ranking nobles and remained outwardly calm while sighing inside. This will surely be a nuisance. The local lords always loathe the idea of allowing royal soldiers on their land, and Pujol Guillén’s desire to achieve some glamorous feat with the army is likewise business as usual.

As she considered the matter, Aura recalled that the margrave had lost two of his sons to the war: his possible successor—his eldest child—and the second son who had made a name for himself on the battlefield. The son he had mentioned a moment ago must have been his third, the only surviving one.

She seemed to remember the boy being a late birth and had heard that he had yet to reach even twenty years of age. With that knowledge, she could make an assumption about why the margrave was insisting that his own forces address the issue.

He likely wants to use the relatively low risk of this to give his son an achievement worthy of succeeding him.

If the margrave was correct in his guess that the delay was being caused by raptors and the damage they did, subduing the creatures’ population wouldn’t be too difficult. The salt trade was all but nationalized and the merchants always had a large escort with them, although it was more of a facade, lacking any true strength. Even a third son with no real combat experience was unlikely to fail at leading a regional army against wild lizards. The situation could actually be considered a rather fortunate state of affairs for someone looking for a public win.

Of course, this was all predicated on their theories being accurate, but the circumstantial evidence pointed in that direction. Aura considered the pros and cons of leaving it to the margrave’s army and likewise the advantages and disadvantages of handing the task to the royal troops. Having performed a minimal cost-benefit calculation in her mind, she spoke sharply to the two men, who were still glaring at each other.

“Very well. Margrave?”

“Yes?” answered the veteran, immediately moving his gaze from Pujol to the queen and bowing politely.

Her eyes resting on the dusting of white atop his head, Aura continued evenly. “We will agree to your suggestion and entrust the resolution of this matter to you. On the occasion of your success, we shall see that you are suitably rewarded.”

In other words, she was telling him that he would be paid later, including reimbursement for any expenses, but that if he should fail, the responsibility would lie solely with him. Even so, he had been granted permission to attempt what he was hoping for.

“Indeed! I understand. I shall bring good news back to you,” he replied, his voice filled with ambition as a bold smile deepened the wrinkles on his face.

On the other hand, General Pujol’s desires had been rejected wholesale, and his displeasure was clear. But he was not ignorant of etiquette and would not openly oppose his queen.

Aura folded her arms gently under her full chest, surveying the generals and ministers arrayed before her, beginning with Pujol. Then she addressed the margrave again.

“Heed my words. This only holds if the cause is in line with your expectations and the threat is limited to a reasonable number of raptors. Scout the area, and if you should find some other cause for the delay, you will contact the palace immediately without fail. Is that understood?”

It was a rather strict order. Border regions usually had a large degree of autonomy in military matters due to their distance from the central administration and the necessity of maintaining control. Aura’s instructions amounted to shackling that autonomy, even if only for a short time. Yet the margrave could not object to an order that prevented the fate of the salt supply from resting entirely in the hands of an inexperienced teenager.

“Very well, Your Majesty.”

Aura replied with a nod as he bowed, her arms still folded as she casually added, “Good. Oh, I will also present the award for the act personally. This will require your son to come to the capital, so bear that in mind.”

The margrave struggled to maintain his composure at that, flinching as he furrowed his brows. His reaction was no surprise; he had understood her intentions completely. The “award” would be no physical medal but rather payment for the materials required by his region, special pay for the soldiers, and any relevant expenses. Determining what this vast “reward” would be would take several months as a matter of course, and could even take longer than half a year. That meant that the margrave’s son would be staying in the capital for as long as the better part of a year.

The margraves tended to have a strong sense of independence, but inviting one’s son to the capital while he was young could heighten the boy’s sense of belonging to the kingdom as a whole, which was likely Aura’s goal. Then again, the Capuan royal family was exceedingly powerful, so making inroads with them was by no means a bad proposition. If anything, it was practically indispensable in maintaining their own family’s status.

Ultimately, it was a matter of moderation. They needed to remain distant enough to not be swallowed up by the royal family yet close enough not to be shunned. Even with his own biases in favor of his son, Gaziel doubted the youth could pull off such a fine balancing act. But it wasn’t enough of an issue for him to spurn the offer and complicate the matter.

Besides, a stronger connection with the royal family on his son’s part would be unlikely to make him refuse the reward, and it would be well-appreciated for the still-recovering territory. Gaziel quickly put his thoughts in order and replied, filling the brief silence that had fallen.

“I understand. I am sure there is much my son can learn here as well, and I thank you for the consideration shown.”

He bowed again politely, settling on that as his answer.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆

While Aura was in her meeting, Zenjirou was alone in the inner palace with the shutters closed as he sat in a corner of the living room. The fan was blowing over the usual hunk of ice, cooling him as he typed away.

“Right, that should do it,” he murmured, linking his hands and stretching upwards, working the kinks from his body.

The screen was displaying a spreadsheet program, familiar from his long years of office employment. Off to the left of the keyboard was a loose pile of drake parchments that he had been given by Aura, which recorded the year’s revenue. He had been transferring that data over the past few days and had finally finished. He still needed to go over it again at least three more times to ensure that he hadn’t made any mistakes, but he felt that he could afford a break for the time being.

Once he’d cracked his neck and taken a deep breath, Zenjirou glanced over the rows of data again. “Still, it’s practically a wall of red...”

He’d done the same thing as last time, making the program highlight cells in red if there was a deficit and in blue if there was a surfeit. The large number of red cells meant that the revenue was often lower than the calculations said it should be.

“Hm, while I’m here, I might as well try to make it easier to understand,” he mused, an idea coming to him as he studied the screen.

His solution wasn’t particularly complex; he simply added a third column for the value on paper and the calculated values that showed the difference between the two. Then if the value was off by more than ten percent, the program marked the cell with a filled triangle.

He finished quickly. All that remained was to put a formula into the top cell, grab the handle on the bottom right and drag it down, copying it to the entire column.

Zenjirou studied the new figures, frowning and then groaning. “Ugh, there are still so many triangles, even with that. You can’t explain away over ten percent as a simple miscalculation or clumsy mistake.”

Actually, the tax calculations being unintentionally wrong by that much would have indicated a far greater problem with the skills of the workers than if it had been done intentionally. Aura had led a crackdown to a certain extent, but it had been naive to expect that a proper precedent would be set by it, thus decreasing the occurrences of tax evasion.

“Aura’s got it tough. Nope, I can’t pretend it’s got nothing to do with me, can I?” he asked himself.

A year had passed since he had come to this world, and Zenjirou was now often standing in as her representative. He couldn’t just laze around and sponge forever. Although it had only been on occasion, he had indeed appeared in public and spoken with others, which saddled him with clear social obligations.

Although Aura had taken back the bulk of her work after the birth, it was difficult for Zenjirou to return to shutting himself away entirely. The biggest factor in that was probably his own disposition. He’d attended school until university, and even during his years of work, he hadn’t had any major problems with the job itself. He was without a doubt someone who lacked the tendency to simply shut himself away.

When he’d first decided to come here, he’d been focused on quitting work and living a relaxing, carefree life. He’d been worn down by the hell of constant overtime and had reached the point of mental exhaustion. But those three years of hell aside, he was still in his mid-twenties. The fatigue had been healed by a mere three days of rest, and the mental burden had naturally faded after several months away from work.

There hadn’t been any major issues for a while now. He’d come to a whole new world, married a woman who was exactly his type, and even had a baby with her. The life-changing events had come one after another at first, so it felt like time had flown. On top of that, he’d brought a mass of recorded dramas, programs, and soccer games along with him.

He hadn’t exaggerated; in the beginning, he’d genuinely been fulfilled by sleeping, eating, watching TV, and playing games. Unfortunately, Zenjirou’s core values meant that he couldn’t be content with such a life forever.

“I’ll need to pick up more work sooner or later. I’ve got a full schedule with learning magic right now, so I’m fine, but once that finishes up, I’ll have more time than I know what to do with,” he reflected.

For the most part, his situation was comfortable. He was feeling refreshed, mind and body, but he had very few responsibilities and a narrow scope of things he could do. Basically, he felt out of place. No one around him had offered any rebukes, but he felt a sense of guilt for doing nothing productive with his time. In the end, his values were similar to those of any other Japanese citizen.

He wasn’t a workaholic to the extent that his job was his life or that he considered his calling to be working as a cog in the corporate machine. Yet he wasn’t lethargic enough to accept room and board without doing anything to earn it.

“Well, I can’t do anything to stand out, but if I offer my work to the public through Aura, that should be fine. There are a bunch of things I want to try.”

At the moment, Zenjirou was wrestling with refining spirits. Knowing that the only alcohol in this world was extremely weak fruit liqueur and the like, he had brought a domestic still with him. It used a hot plate as a heat source and automatically regulated the temperature, so even an amateur shouldn’t be able to fail.

Of course, being a domestic still, it wouldn’t distill too much at once, and he could only make enough for himself. But Aura was very interested in the idea as well. While Capua had no spirits, there were plenty of people who enjoyed alcohol. There was a certain value to even an amateurish attempt with an overwhelming flavor, solely because of its strength.

The principle behind distillation was simple. Water boiled at about one hundred degrees while ethanol did so at under eighty. So—simplifying the process greatly—one could heat a solution of the two liquids at eighty degrees and preferentially boil off the alcohol. Then the vapors would need to be contained and condensed, which would provide an extremely strong solution—a distilled liquor.

Of course, there was a particularly annoying property of achieving a mix between the two: azeotropes. An azeotrope was a certain combination of the two liquids where they both boiled together despite usually having different boiling points. It meant that a beginner couldn’t just use a thermometer and completely separate the alcohol from the water, but repeated cycles would allow one to make it stronger bit by bit.

Zenjirou’s original goal had been to get it to be burnable, but he had the feeling his priorities had shifted slightly. Alcohol pure enough to use as a fuel was too strong and flavorless, so most people wouldn’t drink it. Still, there was an undeniable utility to concentrated alcohol, so it would definitely prove to be a useful contribution to the country if he could perfect the purification process.

“I’ll need to look into soap after that. Actually, the soap’s probably fine for now; it’s the shampoo and conditioner that we’re tight on. I underestimated how much a long-haired woman uses,” he grumbled, crossing his arms.

Most of the things that he’d brought with him were reusable. He’d known that he would only be able to bring a limited number of consumables, so it was a sensible decision. However, he’d made an exception when it came to bathing products, bringing as much of those as he could... Solid bars of soap to wash his body with, face soap, and shampoo and conditioner for his hair.

The solid soap wasn’t an issue; he’d brought plenty of it and made sure to take it out of the bath when he was done so that it didn’t dissolve. It would likely be some time before that ran out. The more pressing concern was the limited amount of hair products.

Zenjirou himself kept his hair short, even for a man, and had underestimated just how much his wife would need to wash her waist-length hair by a significant margin.

“At this rate, we’ll be out within the year. I did download a tutorial on how to make soap and shampoo, but...”

The problems with creating shampoo went without saying, but he’d never made soap either. On top of that, the recipes listed items like “caustic soda” and “additive-free soap,” which were items he had no way of obtaining here. He had another recipe that called for ash and oil to make a more primitive kind of soap, but the overall nuance seemed to imply that it was even more difficult to produce than the one requiring caustic soda.

Plus, he couldn’t use any of them immediately after their completion. They’d have been made by an amateur with limited knowledge and could therefore be too strong, drying out the skin, or else have some problem that he didn’t know about which made them painful or itchy.

Still, while he was not usually one for luxuries, he didn’t think that he’d be able to stand regressing where bathing was concerned.

“I’ll have to try out the soap by just washing my hands first to see how it goes. I can test the shampoo on animals... Ah, no, I can’t. The ‘cattle’ here are all lizards. They don’t have fur.”

Zenjirou’s tone as he mumbled was one of rare seriousness for him.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆

Even after the morning’s meeting, Aura still had work remaining. She was accompanied only by Fabio as they arrived at an office inside the palace.

Aura let out a deep sigh, settling into the wicker chair that was practically a second throne. She was of the opinion that she was well used to negotiating with and managing high-ranking nobles, but decisions like this always weighed heavily on her.

“Fabio, draw up the documents,” she instructed, straightening in her chair and drawing a sheet of drake parchment from the desk.

“Very well. Please wait a moment,” he answered, taking the parchment and striding over to another desk in the corner of the room, his dragon-bone quill moving with practiced motions.

With the secretary’s experience, the document was finished in minutes, and he returned to her side with it in hand. “Here you are, Your Majesty. Please review and sign it.”

The document laid out the terms for Margrave Gaziel’s forces to mobilize, investigate, and hopefully solve the problem going on with the Salt Road. It would give the margrave the legal right to send his own army to the state-owned road and to demand recompense from the kingdom at a later date.

“Very well,” she said after reading it through twice and checking for any issues before signing at the bottom with familiar movements with a ballpoint pen.

The paper was already embossed with the Capuan crest (an open door and a sand timer flowing upwards), so the signature alone made it official. Such parchments were guarded heavily, and anyone who took one without the queen’s permission found themselves facing the death penalty.

“So, Your Majesty, may I take this to the margrave?” Fabio queried, but Aura immediately shook her head.

“No, it would take too long. The Salt Road is a matter of national importance. I will send the documents directly. Tell Margrave Gaziel to select one of his subordinates to serve as the messenger.”

She would use her teleportation magic to send the envoy entrusted with the documents straight to the region in question. The ability to do this was one of Capua’s strengths. Any other country would have had to take an alternate route to the blockaded Salt Road, sending the documents by dwarf wyvern or possibly breaking through with a sufficient escort. Naturally, she would never use dwarf wyverns for such matters.

The teleportation magic was a large part of the influence that Capua, despite its size, had over its most remote regions. Similar situations in other countries would have been dealt with arbitrarily by the margrave of the region and several days would have passed before the central government was simply informed of the results.

Much as the Twin Kingdoms of Sharou-Gilbelle were ruled with the Sharou family’s magic tools and the Gilbelles’ healing, Capua was held together as a nation through the existence of their Space-Time Magic. Taking that into account, it was understandable that Aura being the only individual who could cast such magic was a public concern, and it was also why concubines were still being pushed at Zenjirou, seeing as he held that latent power himself.

“Understood. I shall convey that to the margrave. However, I must ask if you are certain,” Fabio said, bowing shortly and sealing the document inside a wooden tube once he was sure that the ink was dry. The second half of his words were laden with meaning.

“Of what?” It was a common exchange between the two. Despite the clear exasperation on her face, the queen’s tone was not harsh as she urged her secretary to continue.

Unmoved by the look on her face, the middle-aged man spoke plainly. “Of your decision on this matter. You need not allow the margrave such freedoms. The current issues with the Salt Road are more than enough to justify the royal army’s mobilization, are they not?”

The question was exactly what she had anticipated. The slender-faced man always acted like this, playing devil’s advocate for any decision that Aura faced. He did so both when the decision had already been made and when it made sense to bring his opinions to bear beforehand.

He didn’t make these propositions because he agreed with them wholeheartedly. It was simply a way for him to stimulate Aura’s mind and guide her to the exploration of new solutions. When they had such discussions before a decision was made, it also served to prepare her for dealing with dissenting opinions during the actual meetings where the matters were finalized.

He was a useful man, without a doubt. That much was true, but...

He is truly irritating, Aura thought. She’d lost count of the number of times she’d told herself that, but she answered him regardless.

“Pujol Guillén already suggested such a solution himself. If he is allowed successes at will, there is a fair chance that he will become a marshal. I cannot welcome such an outcome.”

“Yet there are gains to be made if the royal army were to solve a problem during one of their marches. It might even allow us a breakthrough and a permanent garrison in the region, no?”

It would certainly enable a transition from entrusting the regional armies with the defense of their kingdom’s borders to having the royal troops take the lead instead. That would be the kind of revolution of their national defense system that Aura had been working towards for quite some time. From that perspective, Fabio was correct. This was a situation that would allow them to send in the army and establish a precedent for doing so, making it seem like a normal response, so the suggestion was not a bad one.

Still, she shook her head without hesitation. “Out of the question. The strengthening of our army and garrisoning the borders must be completed in one fell swoop. Spreading the changes out will only result in exposing ourselves for a greater period of time. Now is not the moment to act.”

“If you focus too much on waiting for things to be just right, you may miss your chance. For all we know, this could be the only chance that presents itself during your reign. Are you still certain?”

“I am. We cannot afford to be too eager for the best and then find ourselves in a worse position. Governance is no gamble.”

Aura remained adamant. It was a fact that she had been aiming to place the border defense under the auspices of the royal army in order to enable a quicker response to foreign threats. However, she was well aware that such reforms would invite great risk. If they strengthened their presence without weakening the various lords’ holds on the individual regions, it could spark civil war.

That said, weakening the holds before moving in would leave those lords and their lands defenseless against external threats. If forcing such a change caused the remote regions to rebel or invited neighboring countries to nose around, maintaining the status quo was far better.

Besides, Capua was a big country, and while resting on their laurels was dangerous, they weren’t in a position to launch an all-or-nothing attempt.

Aura continued, “The best-placed forces to send into the margrave’s territory are those stationed here. Sending troops that far will take too much time. With the deadline placed due to their reserves running out, we need a quicker solution.”

“Then would it perhaps be best to have the army on standby in the unlikely event that his son should fail?” Fabio prompted.

“Is that necessary? I find it difficult to imagine Guillén will be lax about his preparations for such an event. Should anything go wrong, I assume he would mobilize immediately.”

“That makes it all the more important. If the army moves at General Guillén’s request, it makes his achievements even more significant. It is important to make a show of the army moving in on your own orders,” he warned flatly, prompting the first hesitation from Aura thus far.

She put her chin in her hand and considered. “That certainly is true. Very well. Before the general can make any suggestions of his own, I shall instruct the troops to carry out a long-term maneuver in the border regions. I shall leave the precise composition of his forces up to him.”

It went without saying that the location for these exercises would be the closest camp to Gaziel’s territory.

“Understood. I shall ensure that there are enough provisions for an expedition along the Salt Road to encounter no issues even after their maneuvers. It may be better if the margrave is made aware.”

This time, Aura shook her head once he had finished his almost prepared response. “Do not bother. There is no need to conceal it from him but no need to actively inform him either. He will likely hear about it sooner or later, and purposely telling him might be construed as placing pressure on him.”

“Very well, ma’am.”

The secretary seemed to have said all that he felt was necessary. His words this time were perfectly polite and bland as he gave a final bow.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆

As a queen, Aura’s life was quite hectic. She had meetings of political and military importance, held audiences for domestic and foreign matters in the throne room, and had piles of paperwork waiting in her office.

If she insisted upon absolute perfection at every turn, she would need to start taking an LED lamp to her office and working through the night in order to complete every task. In her position, that was doubtlessly the route that Zenjirou would have taken.

But Aura was efficient and managed the distribution of her efforts well. Given her position, if she worked herself to the bone, she would collapse sooner or later. In the long term, some imperfections were preferable.

It was that distinction that found her taking the afternoon off to spend some time with her beloved husband. The noon sun was beating down, and the sounds of clashing wood echoed across a courtyard in the inner palace.

“Come, now! Your right!”

“Ugh!”

The noise was coming from the wooden poles wielded by both Aura and Zenjirou. Each pole was about a meter and a half in length. Aura, wearing a thin military uniform, wove her faux short spear through the air. Zenjirou, who had donned a T-shirt and sweatpants, managed a clumsy block.

“Left now!”

“Gah!”

“And right again!”

“Agh!”

Naturally, Aura was holding back considerably, but Zenjirou was already gasping for air. With a frantic expression on his face, he somehow managed to use the basic defense techniques that Aura had drilled into him to ward off her attacks.

“Watch your legs!”

“Huh?! Ack!”

He hadn’t focused enough on his footwork, and Aura had swiped his legs out from under him, sending him sprawling. The ground was a soft lawn, so it didn’t truly injure him, but it certainly hurt.

He didn’t have time to cry out in pain.

“Look alive! You make a good target when you cease to move like that. On your feet! Or, if you cannot, at least roll away!” She brought her weapon down near his face repeatedly.

“Shit!” he yelled, rolling to the side as quickly as he could. As he did, water flew off him like a dog shaking himself after a dip in the pool.

Both of them were drenched, and not solely from the sweat they had worked up while exercising. The pair was training on a patch of lawn right next to a marble fountain that sprayed water higher than Zenjirou was tall, and they were sparring directly under it.

That was, of course, intentional. Considering peak temperatures reached over forty degrees, most people would be incapable of vigorous exercise without such accommodations.

“Right, your legs again!”

Zenjirou gave a cry and managed to ward off the blow by thrusting his weapon into the ground, but Aura’s attack didn’t stop there.

“Not enough. Your flank is open.” She let her spear slide up along his own and then under his arm, hoisting him up.

“Whoa!”

He’d only just gotten to his feet and once more found himself on the ground.

There were two reasons the couple had chosen to spend their precious time together training in such oppressive heat. Zenjirou had worried that he wasn’t getting enough exercise, and Aura wanted to bid farewell to the weight that she had gained during her pregnancy. The birth was over, but her weight and figure had yet to return to what they had once been, which was only natural.

In modern Japan, Aura might have spent her pregnancy under the strict supervision of a dietician who would have prescribed a diet to provide the necessary nutrition for both her and her child without causing her to grow fat. But nutritional science was not as advanced in this world, and a lack of nutrition would have been risky for the baby.

Therefore, a slight excess of weight was better, and she had faithfully followed Doctor Michel’s advice to “eat for two,” which had inevitably led to weight gain. It was by no means a bad thing that she had put on a few pounds, but whatever her feelings as a mother might have been, she could not abide being in such shape as a woman.

For better or worse, Aura had at her disposal the mirror that Zenjirou had brought from home, and with it came a merciless view of her body. While her reflection in a pool of water or the small polished metal mirrors was indistinct, the glass pane showed everything in painful detail. Once she had looked into it and seen her softened jawline, she was no longer able to deceive herself.

Zenjirou, fortunately, had shown no hint of dissatisfaction that might put their marriage in jeopardy, but she would not rely on his magnanimity. While the adage that love followed lust wasn’t the case for all marriages, there was a certain amount of truth to it.

“Right, we shall end it here. Ready yourself—this one is from above!” she called, purposefully telegraphing her attack as she brought the pole straight down towards his head.

She’d held back enough that she could halt the attack at the last moment, but he still barely managed to react in time. With a grunt, he brought his own weapon to bear. The two pieces of wood collided with an almost metallic sound.

Zenjirou’s staff had stopped her blow a hair’s breadth from his head. There was a moment of silence.

“Very well. Shall we leave it there for the day?” she asked, her face easing from its unyielding expression into a smile.

“Agh!” he gasped, collapsing onto the lawn.

“Phew.” Her own breath came quickly as she sat on the edge of the fountain, enjoying the spray on her back and closing her eyes in pleasure. Zenjirou, meanwhile, could only manage ragged breaths as he lay sprawled on the grass.

“Can you drink?” she asked, having recovered far more quickly. She pulled a plastic bottle from the fountain and put it close to his face as he lay there.

“Ugh... Hahh, hahh... Guh, hah...”

He managed, somehow, to right himself and drain the bottle, unable to offer even a word of thanks. The bottle contained a mix of sugar, water, and juice from a citrus fruit. While keeping it in the fountain water didn’t cool it all that much, the lukewarm temperature at least made it easier to drink.

“Phew... I needed that!” he declared earnestly once he had finished the half-liter refreshment. The sudden influx of water caused him to sweat even more. The warm glow from their session along with the light blows from Aura made him want to leap straight into the fountain.

“It would appear you have managed to catch your breath. How was it? I tried to moderate my attacks, but are you hurt anywhere?”

Zenjirou patted his still tired body in response. He had been struck repeatedly during their match, but there was no severe pain anywhere. The tips of the faux spears were wrapped in a soft cloth, but it was still a meter and a half of hardwood. If they were ever unlucky, it could rupture tendons or blood vessels, or even break bones.

“Looks like I’m fine. My left side and my right thigh kinda sting, but that’s it. Look.”

To demonstrate, he stood up and waved his arms around. He was still exhausted and about as steady as a newborn foal, but even the extra effort of moving around didn’t reveal any exceptional pains.

He joined his wife, sitting down on the edge of the fountain. His weary body felt like it might pitch into the water if he wasn’t careful, but it wasn’t deep enough to drown in, so he would probably be fine.

Actually, there was a definite temptation to do just that; to soak his flushed body in the pool. Aura addressed him as he glanced back at the surface and seriously considered the option.

“So, what did you think of your first spear drills? I would like to hear your opinion.”

She moved to sit next to him as they spoke. When they were standing, Zenjirou was about two finger-widths taller than her, but while they were both sitting, their difference in height widened to a whole handspan. Either his legs were particularly short or Aura’s were especially long, but he decided that overthinking it would likely not end well and quickly turned his thoughts to the conversation.

“Man, I thought it’d be pretty tough. I was sure from the start that I wouldn’t be able to keep up, but it was even worse than I expected. I’m completely wrecked. It reminds me of back when I was in the soccer club in high school or when we were practicing for the youth cup,” he admitted, shaking his head exaggeratedly.

The phrases “high school,” “soccer club,” and “youth cup” were ones for which the Soul of Language had no equivalent, but the first half of his answer allowed Aura to get the gist.

“Well, no amateur can stand against an expert in martial arts unless they have exceptional natural talent. You might have defeated me if you too had trained from a very young age,” she said with a chuckle, not overestimating her own strength.

In truth, her skills were much the same as an average knight’s. She couldn’t compare with men like General Pujol Guillén, who was famed throughout the land for his martial prowess. For a man, Zenjirou wasn’t particularly blessed in terms of his constitution or athleticism, but he was by no means inferior. If he had trained as much as Aura had, and from the same age, he would likely have had a similar level of ability by now.

Zenjirou knew that she was being entirely truthful, but he also caught the implication that he wouldn’t reach the same level starting at his current age, so the grimace on his face only deepened.

“Aha, thanks. Well, I just want to stay in shape, not stand on the battlefield.”

“That is the best choice. Obviously, if you truly wished to do so, I would not stop you. But there is no need to force yourself,” she agreed with a laugh.

Of course, if one considered Zenjirou’s status as one of Capua’s few royals, it was doubtful that there would ever be a situation where his shallow skills would be of any use. Even though he wanted to learn how to wield a sword or spear as a sport, he couldn’t imagine himself in an actual battle.

“Yeah, I’m not that serious about it. Besides, I can barely wield this with one hand with my current strength.”

As he spoke, he hefted the mock spear in his right hand. He was currently learning the fundamentals, wielding the shaft with both hands, but these weapons were often used with only one hand in combat, with a wooden shield on the other arm. Furthermore, a person had to be able to throw the spear in an emergency before they were considered proficient, so waving it around with both hands was seen as nothing more than an exercise.

“Indeed. I suppose you are not quite strong enough to wield these as a soldier would.”

Aura’s statement prompted an exaggerated cry of despair from her husband. “Ugh, that sure put me in my place. Still, it’s true. I mean, your blows were so heavy, I thought my spear was going to go flying.”

His mind must have been truly dulled by fatigue for the word “heavy”—the one word absolutely forbidden around dieting women—to pass his lips. It was the kind of mistake he would usually never make.

“I-I see. Was I truly that heavy?” Aura asked, her sophisticated facade cracking.

“Yeah, crazy heavy. It felt like each attack was gonna push me into the ground. They were that heavy. I can’t believe you’re only as strong as an average knight with all that weight behind your blows. Well, I guess I’m just that weak,” he said with an innocent laugh.

“Ah...”

Crazy heavy. Heavy enough to push him into the ground. The words, despite their lack of malice, stabbed her deeply. At this rate, they would have ended up in the first real argument of their marriage.

“I-I see. Actually, to change the subject,” she began, speaking far more quickly than she normally would, forcefully switching topics to maintain their currently harmonious relationship, “there was an issue during a meeting this morning. It most likely will not impact you directly, but I believe I should bring it up regardless. I assume that Lady Octavia has discussed the Salt Road during your lessons? Well, an area of the road has seen...”

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆

That night, the living room—having been the site of Zenjirou’s hours of distillation that morning—still had a faint scent of alcohol despite the time that had passed. The afternoon had been spent sparring with Aura, so the windows had been thrown open to allow the smell to dissipate, but it still clung stubbornly to the room. Maybe the fumes had permeated the furniture and carpet at this point.

I should probably do it outside next time... Zenjirou thought as he poured his homemade alcohol into a couple of glasses from a whiskey bottle they’d finished earlier. The glasses had the same designs etched into them, one in red, the other in blue. They were a type of glass called Satsuma kiriko—the most valuable tableware that he owned.

The repeated distillations had increased the alcoholic concentration of the drink, and while it still had a faint amber tinge, it was mostly colorless now.

“Want to give it a go?” he asked before his smile turned self-deprecating. “I asked some of the maids who were free to try it earlier, and they didn’t seem too taken.” He held out the red-cut glass to his wife, who was sitting on the sofa.

In spite of the fact that Zenjirou had made it himself, it would have been unthinkable to allow the prince consort, let alone the queen herself, to sample something that had not yet been verified to be safe. To that end, he had asked some off-duty maids to taste it and confirm that it had had no ill effects.

As for what they had actually thought of the product... Well, it was just as Zenjirou had said. Unfortunately, Aura was of much the same mind.

“Hmm... How should I put it? The taste is rather flavorless,” she told him after bringing the glass to her lips, frowning slightly.

“Yeah. Figures,” he sighed. He was well aware of that fact, and even as he slumped in disappointment, he couldn’t disagree.

The electric element maintained its temperature automatically, so the distillation itself wasn’t too difficult, but he was still an amateur. Getting the distilled alcohol to produce a flavor and aroma was completely out of his wheelhouse. In the end, he had managed to create a simple high-percentage alcoholic drink with just a hint of amber.

Aura took another mouthful of the liquid and consoled its creator, who was hanging his head in front of her. “Still, it is, as you say, a surprisingly strong drink. The strength itself should lead to sufficient sales. The flavor and scent can be dealt with by adding fruit juices or spices when it is to be consumed. Poor quality fruit liqueurs and grain alcohols are often handled in such a way.”

Her words prompted him to clap his hands together. “Oh, right. So we should drink it like vodka. You don’t just drink it straight, you can cut it with soda water or lime.”

He inclined his own glass. Back in Japan, he had only really bought low-malt beer and cheap whiskey, but he had to admit there was some value to what he’d made, even with no flavor or perks other than the strength itself, and it improved his mood.

“Actually,” he muttered, relying on vague memories, “they mature whiskey and brandy in casks for a few years after they distill them. I guess that makes sense, right?”

Aura had finished her drink first, and she returned her empty glass to the table before answering. “I see, so there is still room for improvement? Incidentally, this distillation... Is it possible without the specific equipment you brought?”

Zenjirou tilted his head curiously at her question, frowned, then answered, “Well, it’s not impossible. It’s simple enough when it comes down to it. You essentially need to keep it heated at around seventy to eighty degrees, then condense the vapors and collect them. I think you could probably get it done with a normal wood fire, but it’d take a lot of trial and error.”

“Ah, so heat management is the issue. Roughly how hot is seventy to eighty degrees?”

Zenjirou let his gaze wander to the ceiling as he considered that, still leaning back into the sofa. “Uhh... How do I explain this? Oh, I know. How about a recent example? Fresh water boils at a hundred degrees, and the bath we use is probably just under forty, so roughly halfway between the two. Does that make sense?”

He’d intended it to be a rough explanation, but it looked like she had understood well enough. “I see,” his wife replied, leaning forward from the opposite sofa. “That would make it a fairly high temperature; too hot to judge by touch, at least.”

“Yeah, best not. You’d get scalded.”

The thought had Zenjirou frowning and hunching in on himself. In truth, a momentary contact would probably not burn much, but that didn’t mean checking the temperature by touch on a regular basis was realistic.

“Still, it is possible. The specifics may be different, but those with experience in extracting sugar may be able to judge it correctly,” Aura suggested.

“Right, that’s true,” he nodded. “Even back on Earth, distillation has been around for ages, so if you know the basics, it just depends on the intuition and experience of the people doing it, I think.”

His home world had a long history of distillation, and it was fundamentally simple, so even without electric thermostats, relying on craftsmen’s skills and eyes might mean that it was possible to replicate. Ancient blacksmiths on Earth had been able to determine the best temperature to strike the metal by monitoring the color of the flame. There were probably blacksmiths with that same type of insight here in Capua right now.

In comparison, moderating the temperature of distilling alcohol by sight or feel probably wouldn’t be too difficult, although it would of course require the development of certain tools and the training of dedicated experts. The main question was whether the results would be worth investing in. The kingdom might have been a large one, but it was still recovering from the war, so the treasury was in no state to accommodate frivolities. Manpower, funds, time—they all had spending limits. Just because something could potentially be of national interest down the line didn’t mean that it would be easy to get there.

“It is something that I would quite like to test further in the future.” Aura had decided to set distillation aside as her husband’s hobby for the time being and shifted to a topic of greater importance. “To change the subject, however, I am told that the development of glass manufacturing should begin in the next few days,” she announced, puffing out her chest. “The budget is tight, so we only have around a dozen people involved. However, all of them are either former blacksmiths or apprentices with a modicum of training, so they are well-used to handling the fires involved.”

Zenjirou was fairly sure of her answer but asked just in case. “So it wasn’t possible to get any current smiths rather than just former smiths and apprentices?”

Much as he had expected, Aura’s answer was a negative, offered with a bitter smile. “I’m afraid not. Blacksmiths are this country’s treasure. Those who have retired are one thing, but finding apprentices was considerably more difficult.”

She gave him a slight shrug. Current blacksmiths were irreplaceable specialists and were to a certain extent even more valuable than skilled knights and officials. Aura couldn’t put such valuable people onto a project that might never bear fruit. Or rather, strictly speaking, she could use her influence to do that, but the country’s productivity would drop if she did, and it would be Aura, as monarch, who would have to face the consequences of that.

The reassignment of one or two smiths likely wouldn’t have had a significant effect, but it could at the very least have worsened the smiths’ opinions of the royal family. Craftsmen normally had a lot of pride in what they turned their hands to, and they also tended to have connections with each other. Aura wanted to avoid inviting their ire as much as possible.

“Regardless, the current numbers are all we can dedicate to glasswork for the moment. Of course, as far as material transport and tool manufacturing is concerned, should they be required for anything other than development and production, we can simply increase our capacity at will.”

She paused for a moment and then continued. “Oh, it would likely be for the best for them to have a dedicated water wheel. The dee-vee-dee showed them grinding firebricks into powder and even finer consistencies, which appeared to require a lot of milling. We are understaffed as it is, so using a water wheel from the beginning would be more efficient.”

“Oh, yeah, I forgot you had those,” Zenjirou mused, remembering that from his lessons with Octavia. His own world had had water wheels since before the common era, so it wasn’t strange for them to be in regular use here in Capua.

His comment made Aura frown for a moment before she nodded. “We have many rivers within the country, and they are a great boon to rural regions for milling flour. However, they were originally created by using engineering advancements from the Northern Continent, and our own versions seem to have a much shorter lifespan than theirs. Additionally, they soon become quite noisy and break easily.”

“Doesn’t that just mean the numbers of teeth aren’t co-prime?” Zenjirou asked, vague memories of middle school and his math teacher explaining the subject during a digression from the lesson.

“Hm? Co-prime? What does that mean?” Aura asked, only to be interrupted by a knock at the door and the familiar voice of a maid excusing herself.

“Sure, come on in,” Zenjirou called loudly, their conversation on pause.

With permission having been granted, the door opened to admit three familiar young faces to the room where the two royals were relaxing. The blonde in the middle seemed to be their representative, and she spoke calmly to the couple with a bow of her head.

“Our apologies for disturbing you at such a late hour. It seems the temperature will remain high tonight, so we came to request some ice for Prince Carlos. May we take some?”

“Oh, right, it’s still a bit risky at the moment. Sure, go for it,” Zenjirou replied easily.

The fridge had five compartments, but there was a limit to how much it could freeze at once. If they took the ice for the baby, he and Aura would be forced to sweat through the night using only the bucket of water in front of the fan, but they could bear it for the sake of their adorable child. Capuans dealt well with the heat by nature, but a baby a mere month old would struggle with it. There was a relatively high incidence of even noble or rich families’ children dying due to heatstroke.

There was no wire to the room that Carlos and his wet nurse shared, so they couldn’t take the electric fan in there, but they had partitioned the room and allowed the cold air to fill the smaller space. A single maid each night was to watch over and feed the prince using the bottled milk as well as change his diaper in order to ease the burden on the wet nurse, but that duty was rather coveted, likely due to how cool the room was kept.

The maids gave a bow and some words of thanks before moving to the fridge.

“If only we could have Carlos sleep in our room,” Aura muttered, watching them, unable to give up on the idea.

Of course, she wasn’t mourning the room with ice but the ability to sleep in the same room as her beloved son. As a father, Zenjirou was in complete agreement, but he placated her with a reluctant smile.

“We can’t do that, and you know it. How often do babies that age wake up crying at night? Either they need to be changed or they want to be fed. If you woke up for all of those incidents, you’d never be able to get your work done during the day.”

Even if they left the actual changing and feeding to the maids, sleeping in the same room would mean constantly being woken up. Such a lack of sleep would have an obvious impact on her duties during the day. As queen, Aura understood that intellectually and had no intention of succumbing to her selfishness.

“I know that is true. I cannot care for my own child in that way. Even a queen cannot reign over all.”

Being unable to hold in her grumbling was proof of her deep love for the little prince. Zenjirou empathized with a slightly bitter expression.

“You’ve still got it good. Pretty soon, I won’t even be able to speak to him.” His feelings swelled as he said that, and he let out a despondent sigh.

“There is no other choice,” Aura replied comfortingly. “You speak a language from your world, not the language spoken in the west of the Southern Continent. It would clearly be a poor influence on Carlos, blank slate that he is.” At some point, they had traded the roles of consoling and complaining.

“I mean, I get it, but still...” he said, sighing again.

Until a child learned its mother tongue, it was better not to speak to them in other languages due to the Soul of Words that existed in this world. The one occasion where the Soul of Words was absolutely no help was when a child learned a word for the first time. At that point, if people speaking two different languages both talked to them, the child could learn a mish-mash of tongues. After all, a baby could not consciously cut off the flow of their mana to stop the Soul of Words from reaching it.

For example, if Zenjirou were to use the word “papa” with the meaning of “father,” and Carlos were to learn and make that association in his mind, then if Aura tried to teach him the word for “father” in her own language, Carlo would still hear the word “papa.” And if the child continued to learn in that way, he would end up as someone who used a bizarre mix of the local language and Japanese. In essence, someone who would come out with strange turns of phrase like, “Let’s dance conmigo together!”

They would have to prevent people who spoke different languages from interacting with him until he had learned one in particular. Zenjirou knew that, but having his contact cut short with his adorable son was painful.

“Plus, Zenkichi’s a boy, so he won’t be able to come in here once he turns five,” he added forlornly.

It was a Capuan custom to treat children under five years of age as “sexless,” so although he was currently being raised within the inner palace, even the male heir to the throne was no exception and would eventually be subject to the law that banned most males from entering the inner palace. At that point, he would be moved to the royal palace and taught alongside his foster siblings, gradually being educated to be a royal. As long as Zenjirou was shut away within the inner palace, he would inevitably be estranged from his son.

“Maybe I’ll get a room in the royal palace too,” he said thoughtfully.

As Zenjirou muttered to himself, the maids loaded the tub of ice onto a hand trolley with practiced movements and pushed it along the carpet towards the door. The trolley itself was something that Zenjirou had brought from Japan. He’d gone to a hardware store and picked it up for the purposes of moving the generator, but since the summoning, it had been used more by the maids to lighten their load rather than by Zenjirou himself.

“Excuse us,” the maids said with a bow.

Aura and Zenjirou both replied in turn from their seats.

“Good work.”

“Thanks, guys.”

The slight clunk of the door shutting signaled that the room had returned to being a private place for the royal couple. There was a period of silence as they faced each other, illuminated by the six lamps around the room. It was commonplace for them to spend their time together this way, without forcing conversation.

Eventually, Aura rose from her seat and broke the comfortable silence. “Well then, I should retire. I will have to send off Margrave Gaziel’s messenger tomorrow, so I shall need my sleep or the energy expenditure required by the spell will interfere with my duties afterwards.”

Her gaze was on the clock next to the TV as she spoke. The digital clock of course used Arabic numerals to display the time, but over the past year, Aura had internalized their meanings and could now tell the time using the twenty-four hours, sixty minutes, and sixty seconds it displayed throughout the day.

She had recently instructed the officials in the palace to learn the numerals as well, but none of them were as accomplished as their queen yet. If anything, the three maids who snuck around the head maid to borrow Zenjirou’s console and fight over the high scores in the block-dropping and cart-racing games might actually know how to tell time better.

Regardless, the queen stated her intentions and stood there languidly before questioning her husband. “What of you?”

Zenjirou considered for a moment before giving a slight shake of his head. “Nah, I’ll stay up for a bit. I’ve got my magic to practice, after all. You go ahead.”

Previously, when Aura headed to bed, Zenjirou would instantly move to follow, but the circumstances had changed slightly. They’d recently returned to sharing the same bed as husband and wife but at present weren’t having sex before they slept. Aura was a woman of valor who had lived through the war, but another pregnancy and delivery so soon after her first would have been tough on her and would doubtlessly have interfered with the affairs of government. Therefore, they were abstaining from procreation for the time being.

When the issue had first been broached and the decision made, Zenjirou had bitterly regretted not bringing any condoms to this world. His half-serious questioning of Aura regarding whether it was possible to summon things from Earth when the stars weren’t right was evidence of how much of a problem it was for him.

“Very well, I shall see you later.”

“Mhmm, I’ll be there soon,” he answered, standing up after her.

Aura moved smoothly, winding her hands behind his neck and bringing their lips together.

“Mm...”

“Nhmm.”

Their embrace and kiss were somewhat more distant than their previous ones, possibly a sign of Aura losing confidence in her body as she dieted.

“Good night, then.”

“Yeah, night.”

The embrace ended, and Aura vanished into their room.

“Right,” Zenjirou decided after a pause, shaking his head as if to shrug off the sensation of their bodies together. He quickly moved to his computer to put his words into action. “I should get this magic practice done and head off to bed myself.”