The Reincarnated Princess Has an Interview

I arrived in my father’s bedroom late at night.

He took one look at me and muttered, “About time.” His expression and the irritation lacing his voice almost caused me to grimace.

What’s that supposed to mean? These words were on the tip of my tongue, but I forced them back. He gestured with his eyes toward the sofa opposite himself and I took a seat. I told myself that I’d be inviting ridicule if I were to bite back, but this self-restraint would prove to be pointless.

“For someone who declared to me that she’d take action for herself, you do appear to be moving at quite the leisurely pace.”

My brows furrowed when I heard his up-front insult. His words struck a nerve in me because I’d had similar thoughts myself. I know better than anyone! I’m already far behind the schedule I had in mind!!!

“A lot has happened...” I said.

“It would appear so.” The room was silent except for the sound of my father turning the pages of his documents. He continued speaking without raising his head from his work. “There have been some interesting developments while you were sauntering around the port city.”

To move the conversation along, I put on a strained smile and said, “Is that so?” I’d expected that he’d know what I’d been up to, but it appeared that he was more clued in than I’d thought.

“The whole ruckus about ghosts and whatnot that originated in Grundt... I’d predicted that it would take root in other countries and envelop the whole continent. And yet, I’m told that a countermeasure has been found.”

I was unable to come up with a reply that feigned ignorance. In fact, I couldn’t even move. As I stood there, my father’s fingers flicked over another rustling page.

He explained in minute detail about the ghosts actually being a disease, the cause of that disease being nutritional deficiency, and the proposal of a solution—a food preparation method to extend the viability of vegetables on long sea voyages.

“Very intriguing, isn’t it? This culinary technique enables vegetables to be stored for long periods of time.”

I said nothing.

My father continued, paying no attention to my pursed-lipped silence. “The question of what foods to take on a long voyage is an important one. Marketing this preparation as a magical remedy would’ve invited skepticism, but calling it a ‘long-lasting’ food wouldn’t. In other words, sales wouldn’t be harmed even if there were no truth to the slogan claiming that this food fights diseases. This is especially true because the product’s price is so low. I’d love to know whose idea it was.”

My smile was bright. “I couldn’t possibly imagine.” I’d had to strain the words out, and my voice had sounded stiffer than I’d hoped.

“Julius zu Eigel is the one marketing it,” my father said. “He’s the uncle of your former potential fiancé. I believe that the two of you are acquainted.”

“Yes. He’s a wonderful person.”

“In what way?”

“He’s honest, compassionate, and accomplished.”

“Compassionate indeed,” my father responded with no emotion in his voice. “They say that he attaches the recipe to each and every one of the products. Truly selfless.”

I found myself at a loss for words. The thought that I was to blame for this mockery against Lord Julius inspired within me more guilt than anger. I clenched my fists tightly and my fingernails dug into my skin.

“Apparently, it’s selling well,” I said.

“It tastes good, and that matters most. I hear that the attached recipe is for a basic version, and the actual product tastes different.”

What my father had just commented on was the first of Lord Julius’s requests—or, conditions, really. The paper slip attached to the product detailed only a basic recipe, and the product itself was a variation on that. The idea was to demonstrate how the right herbs and seasonings could enhance the product. Apparently, this had also generated a boom in the market for herbs, along with some unconventional seasonings.

As for the second request...

“What’s more, it carries a goddess’s blessing,” my father said. “Seafarers are a pious breed, so they’ll purchase it to secure that blessing for themselves.”

“A goddess, you say?”

“Julius zu Eigel’s inspiration for the food was divine, it seems. His story suggests that the idea was bestowed upon him by the goddess who saved his sister-in-law from her deathbed. He named the product ‘Dew of the Sea,’ which happens to be another name for a certain herb—the symbol of chastity and undying love, otherwise known as...rosemary. All of this is true, is it not?”

He flung his documents away and they sprawled across the table with a rustling noise. I bit my lips as I witnessed that, unable to think of anything to say.

But my father demanded the truth. “Why did you not take the credit?”

“You appear to be well-informed, so there was no need to tell you.”

“You’re arguing in hindsight.”

I had no response for that.

“Do not convince yourself that humility is a virtue,” my father warned. “It’s no such thing. Do you honestly believe that you can afford to be humble in your present circumstances?” His voice radiated a sneer.

I still had no argument. I’d be carted off as a bride to a neighboring country if I couldn’t leave behind an accomplishment within the specified time period; I had an arranged marriage to nullify, and that demanded a sense of urgency. I knew all of this very well.

So why hadn’t I taken credit for the sauerkraut? I wasn’t being humble and protesting that the credit should be shared, nor was I so conceited that I’d expect my father to figure out everything on his own.

No, my reasoning had been more simple than that: I was scared.

The knowledge I’d utilized had come from my past life. If awareness of scurvy in this world had been higher, then a panic wouldn’t have ensued in the first place. Therefore, it was unlikely that a treatment would be well-known by anyone here. I’d told Julius that I’d learned about the illness from a book, but I was certain that no such book existed. People could search the palace libraries, or anywhere else in the world, and still come out empty-handed. My father was not the sort of person to miss the fallacy I’d concocted.

My head sank.

“Act with more confidence,” my father called out suddenly, stunning me.

“Huh?” He might as well have read my mind, and I couldn’t conceal my surprise.

“If you plan to smile your way through, then persist until the very end,” he instructed. “Averting your eyes is tantamount to confessing that you’re hiding something.”

I felt like I’d taken a verbal beating. My father was right; I was keeping a guilty secret. I was afraid of being discovered cheating, and I felt as if I were writing down answers without even knowing the formulas. I froze, my eyes wide open.

After a single glance at me, he exhaled a brief sigh and said, “You’re showing it on your face again. The art of negotiation truly isn’t one of your strengths.” He slovenly crossed his long legs and rested his chin on his hand.

If, at that point, he’d told me, “Even your little brother has more potential than you do,” I would’ve been too exhausted to even attempt a rebuttal.

“Negotiations aren’t about relinquishing to the other person every shred of information they want,” he explained. “When you wish to withhold a fact, smile and remain silent. Allow them to interpret the meaning of your silence for themselves.”

You’re asking for the moon... My poker face isn’t anywhere near that good.

Strangely though, I didn’t feel resentful. It was an undisputed fact that I sucked at negotiating, and employing my father’s tactic would indeed benefit me.

Hold on... The way this conversation is going, is it okay to assume that I won’t have to reveal my source of information?

My apprehension drained away and my body relaxed.

“So?” my father said, as though he’d been waiting for this exact moment.

“So...?”

“Where did you come into the possession of knowledge that the doctors, chefs, and even scholars of the palace were unaware of?”

His deadpan expression seemed slightly amused to me. Watching my father’s face, I said nothing and put on my best smile.

He watched my smile for a few seconds before declaring, “So be it.” His tone then became irritated. “You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t want something from me. Hurry up and say it.”

My smile almost proved short-lived. It would’ve been nice to put him in his place and say, “This is your own fault,” but I decided against that option. It looked like I’d be able to refrain from discussing my knowledge of scurvy, so I wanted to keep the stick and the hornet’s nest separated by a good distance.

Let’s just wrap this conversation up and close the door behind me.

“My final preparations are complete,” I said, “so I’d like to leave the kingdom. Will you grant me permission?”

My father seemed unsurprised by the blunt and succinct declaration of my wish. “Where do you plan to go?” he asked matter-of-factly, without raising an eyebrow. This was probably nothing more than verification; my destination would be very old news to him.

In that case, my only option was to be up-front. “To Flanmer.”

“You intend to follow the Eigels’ heir?”

“Yes.”

Several letters from George had arrived in the little under a month since he’d left. Their expedition had taken the land route, and they’d been inside Flanmer for some time now. At this very moment, they were probably hunting for clues about the medicine, and instead of leaving everything to them, I needed to play a part of my own.

I glared at my father, my resolve renewed, but he put up no objection, as though to mock my efforts. “Go ahead.”

I froze. He’d sure taken the wind out of my sails.

“Don’t be so surprised,” he said. “You are, after all, the one who requested the right to unrestricted travel.”

“That’s...true, but...”

He was correct. I had done that. However, I’d expected his approval to be more challenging to obtain. Unconvinced, I eyed him suspiciously. Am I being too mistrustful in suspecting that he has something up his sleeve?

“You’ve already procured a ship by yourself. I have no reason to stop you.” My father paused, as though to toy with me as I watched on with bated breath. “However...”

Yep, here it comes! Let’s see what Herculean task he has for me.

My father observed me bracing myself, and then he spoke. “You will leave Leonhart behind.”

My eyes opened wide. “What?” My voice was barely audible, too feeble for me to recognize as my own. There had been one surprise after another so far, but this outdid them all.

What did my father just tell me?

“I’m willing to overlook excursions into our own territory, but I cannot permit you to remove him from Nevel. He commands the royal guard. He is not your babysitter.”

I gasped.

“If you want protection,” my father continued, “then take your own personal guard.”

He had a point. In fact, he was so justified that no counterargument sprang to mind. If I’d thought about it for a second, I’d have realized: taking Sir Leonhart away from his post as the royal guard captain, all the way to a foreign country on my personal business, would never be permitted. But the thought hadn’t even occurred to me. How could I have been so stupid?

Seeing me immobilized and with my mouth hanging open, my father sighed again. I wasn’t sure how many times I’d heard that today.

“You hadn’t considered this?”

“No,” I confessed after a pause.

“I assumed as much when his presence didn’t appear as part of your request. You’re too accustomed to receiving special treatment.”

“Yes,” I said after another long pause. Crumples appeared in my dress as I clutched at the fabric.

My father hadn’t specified which person I’d received too much special treatment from, but I knew anyway—I’d been expecting too much from Sir Leonhart.

I’d grown used to the comfort of keeping him by my side and asking his advice. I should’ve never let it slip my mind that he had a position of responsibility that came with a huge workload. However, in my cowardice, I’d turned a blind eye when the facts didn’t suit me. I’m pathetic and awful, I thought. And even now, after this had become clear to me, I was still hesitating to accept my father’s order. I was beyond helping.

“You know that he is both profoundly talented and famous as well?” my father asked me.

I raised my head and stuttered out my agreement. “I, uh... Yes.”

Even ignoring his position as captain of the royal guard, Sir Leonhart’s name was still well-known. Tales of the Black Lion had even spread abroad, inspiring many young knights.

“Consider the impression that you would leave on people if you traveled with him.”

“My impression?” I repeated.

“Yes. If you were to accomplish something, do you think that they’d lavish you with praise?”

Obeying my father, I pressed my fingers against my lips and thought in silence. Let’s imagine that I ask Sir Leonhart to accompany me and everything goes according to plan. I secure the medicine and successfully prevent a pandemic in Vint. Would the people around me cheer my accomplishments?

“I don’t think they would,” I concluded.

The answer had to be no; everybody would assume that Sir Leonhart was responsible. I was sure that some people would even suspect that I was a conniving princess, one who’d used him and had then stolen the credit in order to bolster my reputation.

Under normal circumstances, that wouldn’t bother me. I wasn’t interested in attaining fame. Having my name dragged through the mud as a credit stealer was preferable to stumbling out beneath the spotlight. My only desire was to live a peaceful life. Well, that, and to become Sir Leonhart’s bride. With those two things in hand, I’d have no complaints.

However, circumstances had changed. I wanted to accomplish something, and I had to do so in such a way that my success was clear to everyone. I needed something big under my belt to avoid a marriage in a foreign country.

“To begin with, you must make your name ring out,” my father said. “Forge yourself such a pristine reputation that you can stand on even footing with Sir Leonhart.”

Stand on even footing with the kingdom’s best swordsman, an excellent commander who’s famed internationally for his prowess as a soldier? What was my difficulty setting again?

Not doable. That’s insane. I could restart my life ten times over and it’d still be practically impossible. I don’t know what this man is expecting from a little girl who’s not even a teenager yet.

In spite of my thoughts though, a smile began to form on my lips. I’d go down any road, no matter how treacherous, if it meant that I could find a place by Sir Leonhart’s side. Sure, I was playing into my father’s hands, but backing down wasn’t an option.

So, I grinned and said, “I’ll do my utmost.”

My father silently nodded.