Who Could Have Loved the Monster Princess? - Chapter 42
Whispered remarks, ones meant to escape the ears of the Bittern family, still reached my ears.
“Bittern’s former glory is a tale of the past. After today’s incident, who’s to say the same won’t happen again?”
They weren’t wrong. Bittern had been hollowed out since the days of the Demon King, and it wouldn’t be surprising in the least if today’s disaster repeated itself somewhere down the line.
“Indeed. If we get involved carelessly and they start demanding investments for reconstruction, that would be… troublesome.”
Not troublesome at all. The new lord would have Sean Onra at their back. His Grace the High Priest would handle it, as always.
“And the flag recovered in Bittern — do we know which house it belonged to?”
Yes. Staedt.
I let out a soft chuckle and looked up at the five-year-old making her way to the platform. She glanced back at Sean, seemingly drawing strength from him, and wore a bold expression as she ascended.
But no one was paying attention to the child. Dahliana hadn’t even reached the top of the platform before Gwyne was already holding out the flags he’d claimed.
“The first is the Flag of the Flameblade, belonging to House Burns!”
The head of House Burns stroked his unruly beard, clearly displeased, though he tried to hide it.
‘The Burnses… a knightly house.’
A powerful sigil — exactly the kind of military force needed to rebuild a war-torn domain like Bittern. The expressions of the other nobles eased, visibly relieved.
“The second is the Goldleaf Tree flag of House Patterson!”
Ah, House Patterson — the merchant lords who earned their title through commerce. If Gwyne had secured their backing, the pace of reconstruction would surely accelerate.
“The third is the Dogwood flag of House Barrett!”
Barrett — now that was a name I hadn’t heard in a while. A family that wove spellwork into their sorcery, known more for method than might.
‘Wasn’t Gwyne Bittern’s mentor from House Barrett?’
They held no land of their own, nor great prestige, but they were precisely the sort of house Bittern needed.
‘Not bad at all.’
To sift through the competition and acquire what was most vital was impressive, even if he’d done it with Barrett’s aid. That kind of discernment was no small thing.
Then came Ramelo Bittern, presenting his two flags. No surprise there — he’d lived half his life in the salons of high society, and held a bureaucratic post at the palace. The flags he’d acquired came, unsurprisingly, from those networks.
Once both men had finished displaying their trophies, the tournament official stepped forward to confirm.
“Then to be clear: Sir Gwyne Bittern holds three flags, and Sir Ramelo Bittern holds two, yes?”
Ramelo glared at his nephew in frustration, but Gwyne merely smiled and nodded as if he had already won.
“Please wait a moment, Sir Ramelo. I would like to present the flags I have gathered.”
“I too support Sir Ramelo!” came the sudden shout of two noblemen who raised their hands in his favor.
One of them, I remembered, had earlier mentioned the discomfort of offering his support if it meant future investments would be demanded.
I soon understood why they were acting the way they were.
‘They are lords of territories neighboring Bittern. They are closer to Ramelo than to Gwyne, and thus favor him.’
Without missing a beat, the tournament official corrected himself, unruffled by the change in direction.
“Then, to clarify, Sir Ramelo Bittern holds four flags…”
But his words were cut off as another nobleman quickly raised his hand in a flurry.
“M-my flag for Sir Gwyne!”
It was the familiar figure of a wizard in a robe. It seemed this person had ties with Gwyne’s side. The tournament hall erupted in murmurs. Already, eight flags had now been claimed in Bittern’s name.
The Emperor himself appeared flustered by the sudden developments.
I couldn’t help but feel slightly indifferent. Even if you combined all eight flags from these families, they still didn’t match the power of the Staedt flag. Standing behind the Emperor, Carnelian was not watching the candidates for Bittern’s lordship, but the seat of the Bittern family itself.
‘The Crown Prince has noticed as well.’
Sean remained silent, his expression unreadable.
‘Why? Didn’t I give that kid our house flag?’
The tournament official hesitated for a moment before once again attempting to restore order.
“Then, to clarify, Sir Gwyne Bittern holds four flags. And Sir Ramelo Bittern also holds four, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Correct.”
“However,” Gwyne interjected, a glint of conviction in his voice, “the flags I have gathered come from families that could bring mutual benefit through cooperation with our Bittern family. On the other hand, my uncle’s flags were acquired based solely on personal connections. I ask that you take this into consideration when evaluating them.”
“Gwyne! Are you insulting the families who have supported me?”
“Silence! We are in the presence of His Majesty!”
“Uncle, have you considered how these families can truly aid Bittern?”
“You intend to turn the noble Bittern family into a lesser house, surviving by clinging to other territories!”
Despite the tournament official’s attempts to calm them, the two men’s voices grew louder. At that moment, the Emperor raised his hand.
The official, perhaps unafraid of Gwyne and Ramelo, clearly felt the weight of the Emperor’s presence, and with just a single gesture, the arguing men fell silent and bowed their heads.
“I will consider this.”
The Emperor rested his chin on his hand, glancing between Gwyne and Ramelo.
“Is it a matter of merit or connections?”
The Emperor’s gaze lingered more on Gwyne.
‘Once the Emperor has made up his mind here, he’s unlikely to change his mind, so if I wait any longer…’
I couldn’t understand why Sean was silent, so I looked back at him. Our eyes met, and it struck me that he wasn’t looking at the child, but directly at me.
‘Why is he looking at me?’
It was as if he were silently seeking my approval.
‘Really?’
I had told Sean countless times that if needed, I would lend him Staedt’s power. I meant it as if it were my own life at stake. After all, Sean had saved me and my parents more times than I could count.
I nodded.
‘Do as you wish.’
At that, Sean pointed toward the child standing at the podium with the flag holder. I turned my gaze in confusion, and it only took a moment to understand.
“Oh…”
The child was looking at me, waiting for my permission, holding the flag box in their arms.
