Who Could Have Loved the Monster Princess? - Chapter 43
It seemed no one had noticed what the child was holding in their arms, too busy watching the adults quarreling on the podium. I hadn’t noticed either.
Dahliana had already stepped down with the flags. No one paid attention, no one gave the child a chance to speak, and so the child had been left there, like a lost spectator who had taken the wrong path. But in her tiny hands was power.
And now, the child was looking to me, silently asking whether they could use it.
‘Five years old?’
It reminded me of when I first met Sean. So young, yet not childlike at all — someone who had already seen and learned too much.
I nodded.
The House of Staedt supported more than a few struggling territories. Adding Bittern to that list wouldn’t even be noticeable.
The moment the child saw my response, Dahliana shot her hand into the air. The Emperor ignored the child’s action, but the tournament official nearby pulled his mouth away from the enchanted amplifier and scolded Dahliana:
“His Majesty is still deliberating, so stay quiet!”
“Mister. I have a flag too.”
The clear, ringing voice of the child echoed through the tournament hall. Perhaps because the child was so cute, a fair number of people burst into laughter.
Only then did the Emperor turn his attention to Dahliana. The tournament official spoke in a stern voice.
“You brought only one flag. You don’t have the right to involve yourself in this matter.”
“Why not?”
“Can’t you count?”
“I can.”
“Then you should know that one is less than four.”
“Quality is more important than quantity. Don’t you even know that, Mister?”
“Wha—!”
Flustered from losing a verbal match with a child, the official’s face turned red as he moved to summon a knight. But before he could, Dahliana lifted the flag she had been holding so preciously in her arms high above her head.
“The sacred beast that holds the light of Staedt!”
With her shout, the rolled-up banner unfurled crisply. The crest of Staedt — a lion with dragon wings cradling light in its chest — was revealed in full.
The flag held high by the small child looked larger and heavier than the others.
The child spoke.
“Now, who’s the winner?”
The Emperor burst into laughter, genuinely amused.
“I concede. Even all the others combined cannot compare to House Staedt.”
He turned to the two remaining candidates.
“Do you both acknowledge that all nine banners in this hall now belong to Dahliana Bittern, Lady of Bittern?”
Both Gewyn and Ramelo answered respectfully.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Lifting his head, Ramelo cautiously opened his mouth to speak.
“With all due respect, imperial law requires a minor to have a guardian. If Your Majesty would entrust her to me, I would serve the young lady with the utmost sincerity.”
His eyes flicked toward the Staetd banner in Dahliana’s hands — so did Gwyne’s. It seemed what truly tempted them wasn’t the title of Lord of Bittern, but the wish-granting authority Staedt carried.
I lazily raised my hand. That alone shifted the hall’s attention to me. It wasn’t because I looked particularly striking — it was simply that most of the nobles still couldn’t quite believe what they were seeing. They kept glancing between Dahliana’s banner and me.
“Lord Dahliana Bittern already has a guardian.”
She was already under the protection of High Priest Sean. Dahliana promptly echoed my words with a bright voice.
“That’s right!”
“My lady,” Ramelo said, eyes on her though the words felt aimed at me, “you must be too young to understand, but not just anyone can be a guardian.”
Dahliana didn’t miss a beat.
“My guardian isn’t just anyone.”
“Lady Dahliana Bittern, who is your guardian?”
The Emperor asked.
“My guardian is…”
Sean Onra! I instinctively turned to look for him—
“Lady Belienne Staedt!”
—until I heard my name.
‘Me? I’m the guardian? Since when? Who decided that?’
Only then did I truly understand what the banner Dahliana had raised meant. And so, I had no choice but to grant her request.
“Yes. I am… her guardian.”
The room stirred, clearly no one had expected it.
Not even me.
Not in the slightest.
