89. My small and beautiful kingdom
Isabelle Dneister stopped in the middle of the second-floor railing overlooking the hall.
The melody of a waltz played by a chamber orchestra enhanced the mood of the spring evening. The guests, who had been laughing and chatting happily, began to form pairs and gather toward the center of the hall. Another dance was about to begin.
“You had a successful first party.”
Isabel Dneister's voice, offering words of praise, was as gentle as the light that filled the hall. Erna, who had been tense, finally looked relieved.
“Thank you, Your Majesty. It was thanks to Mrs. Fitz for her help.”
"Mrs. Fitz said it was all your fault. I also heard you visited the Arsene household every week to persuade my mother. It was a birthday present for Bjorn."
“Ah... yes.”
Erna looked down, embarrassed. Her face showed no clue as to how much she had accomplished.
“Thank you so much, Erna.”
Isabelle Dniester turned around to face Erna.
Actually, she didn't have high expectations.
She considered it a blessing that she had changed the mind of her son, who she thought would never marry again. She simply wanted her to live happily with Bjorn, and that was all she wanted. Who knew that such a child would become such a great gift?
“I owe you a lot.”
"No. I really enjoyed visiting the Arsene family every week. It was like visiting my grandmother in Burford. She was also very kind to me."
Erna shook her head firmly and smiled. Her attitude didn't seem contrived.
"Come to think of it, why didn't you invite Baroness Baden? It would have been nice if she had come."
“I wanted to do that too, but my grandmother refused.”
When the topic of her maternal grandmother came up, Erna became noticeably sullen. She often surprised her with her maturity beyond her years, but at times like this, she was a true young lady.
“Then, Erna, how about going to Baden with Bjorn?”
Isabelle Dneister suggested impulsively.
She vaguely understood why Baroness Baden, who must have missed her granddaughter so dearly, didn't visit this place. Perhaps she was wary of causing even the slightest quibble. She was even more so, knowing full well the Grand Duchess's reputation.
A sudden weight of sadness fell upon her as she recalled the thoughtful old woman, who, from afar, simply wished for her granddaughter's happiness. Six months had passed since their marriage, and yet she hadn't visited the Badens even once. She couldn't decide which was more surprising: Bjorn's indifference or Erna's patience.
“Really... is that okay?”
Erna asked back in disbelief.
“I wish that were possible, but the National Foundation Day will be held soon, and the summer season will begin soon as well...”
"Let's put those worries aside. The absence of the Grand Duke and Grand Duchess won't disrupt the Foundation Day celebrations or the summer social season."
Isabelle Dneister's smile became much gentler.
She felt sorry for the child, who, despite clearly being drawn to Baden Barony, was still wary of others. It wouldn't be easy to endure the glares of those who were desperate to find fault with her. A deep sigh escaped her lips as she imagined the pain of being constantly compared to Gladys and bearing the brunt of the criticism directed at Bjorn.
"Forget about everything here for a moment and come see Grandma. It's a way to repay the gift you gave us, so don't feel bad about it."
“Thank you, Your Majesty. I truly appreciate it.”
Erna finally revealed her true joy. For some reason, her flawless smile was so heartbreaking that she couldn't look away for a long time.
What a cruel punishment you put on a child who knows nothing.
Complex thoughts weighed heavily on her heart, but she was still grateful to have this child by her son's side. She hoped she would endure this and continue to love her husband as she did now.
It was selfish maternal love.
The terrace connected to the hall where the party was in full swing was crowded with gentlemen sitting in groups and smoking cigars.
Bjorn sat at the table closest to the fountain, gazing out at the night garden. As the smoke rose and dispersed, the mood of the spring night deepened.
“Bjorn. Over there, Viscount Hardy is looking at you with a fervent gaze.”
Peter, who had been joking around, nodded to a table diagonally across from him. It was where Walter Hardy, who was enjoying himself as the Prince's father-in-law, sat.
"I know."
Cigar smoke rose from between Bjorn's red lips as he gave a silent reply.
From the moment he entered the Grand Duke's residence, Walter Hardy had been desperately trying to make eye contact with Bjorn. It was a daunting effort, but it didn't matter. Just a smile, a welcome, and a seat at the same table had already worn down his already fragile patience.
The only reason that man was brought into this palace was because of Erna.
She was a woman who couldn't even bear to walk down the aisle with her father. Bjorn knew full well that Erna had invited the Hardy family herself, out of a desire to save face for the royal family. So he endured it. To respect his wife's foolish efforts in organizing this party.
When Bjorn lost interest, everyone quickly grew bored and began to talk about other topics. Horse racing. Balls celebrating the founding of the nation. The ladies of the current high society. Bjorn listened with considerable generosity, even to these predictable and boring conversations.
"Honestly, I didn't know Your Highness would live this well. It was shocking to even think about marrying a woman he won at a gambling table."
Leonard glanced over at him, talking about that pathetic bet from last summer.
"You should be grateful to me. It was thanks to me that that bet happened. If you think about it, I'm the biggest contributor to this marriage. Aren't you?"
“Shut up, Leonard.”
When Bjorn chuckled, everyone at the table burst into laughter. Leonard did the same.
"I won't ask for much, so just give me some investment information. We were the ones who married off the poisonous mushroom prince, so you should show that much mercy. Yes?"
"Yeah. Honestly, you know it wasn't a bet you won because you were good, but because we were ugly, right?"
At Peter's words, everyone's faces crumpled.
“What are you talking about, you crazy bastard? Hey, get me out of that cage.”
As each mischievous joke was added, the atmosphere at the table grew more heated. Erna. Walter Hardy's voice, calling her name loudly, rang out just as Bjorn set down his glass. Turning his frowning eyes, he saw Erna out on the terrace. Walter Hardy had already approached his daughter, acting as a loving father.
Bjorn stood up without hesitation. Erna, who had been looking around anxiously, finally looked relieved when she met his eyes.
“Erna.”
As he approached and called her name, Erna hurried to his side. Bjorn firmly grasped his wife's hand. Even then, his gaze remained fixed on Walter Hardy.
“Ah, Your Highness. You have arrived.”
The face with the cowardly smile gleamed in the light.
“I was chatting with my daughter, whom I hadn’t seen in a long time.”
I should have lived in a suitably barbaric age. An age where you could just snap the necks of those annoying bastards—even if they were masters—and be done with it.
Isabelle Dneister stopped in the middle of the second-floor railing overlooking the hall.
The melody of a waltz played by a chamber orchestra enhanced the mood of the spring evening. The guests, who had been laughing and chatting happily, began to form pairs and gather toward the center of the hall. Another dance was about to begin.
“You had a successful first party.”
Isabel Dneister's voice, offering words of praise, was as gentle as the light that filled the hall. Erna, who had been tense, finally looked relieved.
“Thank you, Your Majesty. It was thanks to Mrs. Fitz for her help.”
"Mrs. Fitz said it was all your fault. I also heard you visited the Arsene household every week to persuade my mother. It was a birthday present for Bjorn."
“Ah... yes.”
Erna looked down, embarrassed. Her face showed no clue as to how much she had accomplished.
“Thank you so much, Erna.”
Isabelle Dniester turned around to face Erna.
Actually, she didn't have high expectations.
She considered it a blessing that she had changed the mind of her son, who she thought would never marry again. She simply wanted her to live happily with Bjorn, and that was all she wanted. Who knew that such a child would become such a great gift?
“I owe you a lot.”
"No. I really enjoyed visiting the Arsene family every week. It was like visiting my grandmother in Burford. She was also very kind to me."
Erna shook her head firmly and smiled. Her attitude didn't seem contrived.
"Come to think of it, why didn't you invite Baroness Baden? It would have been nice if she had come."
“I wanted to do that too, but my grandmother refused.”
When the topic of her maternal grandmother came up, Erna became noticeably sullen. She often surprised her with her maturity beyond her years, but at times like this, she was a true young lady.
“Then, Erna, how about going to Baden with Bjorn?”
Isabelle Dneister suggested impulsively.
She vaguely understood why Baroness Baden, who must have missed her granddaughter so dearly, didn't visit this place. Perhaps she was wary of causing even the slightest quibble. She was even more so, knowing full well the Grand Duchess's reputation.
A sudden weight of sadness fell upon her as she recalled the thoughtful old woman, who, from afar, simply wished for her granddaughter's happiness. Six months had passed since their marriage, and yet she hadn't visited the Badens even once. She couldn't decide which was more surprising: Bjorn's indifference or Erna's patience.
“Really... is that okay?”
Erna asked back in disbelief.
“I wish that were possible, but the National Foundation Day will be held soon, and the summer season will begin soon as well...”
"Let's put those worries aside. The absence of the Grand Duke and Grand Duchess won't disrupt the Foundation Day celebrations or the summer social season."
Isabelle Dneister's smile became much gentler.
She felt sorry for the child, who, despite clearly being drawn to Baden Barony, was still wary of others. It wouldn't be easy to endure the glares of those who were desperate to find fault with her. A deep sigh escaped her lips as she imagined the pain of being constantly compared to Gladys and bearing the brunt of the criticism directed at Bjorn.
"Forget about everything here for a moment and come see Grandma. It's a way to repay the gift you gave us, so don't feel bad about it."
“Thank you, Your Majesty. I truly appreciate it.”
Erna finally revealed her true joy. For some reason, her flawless smile was so heartbreaking that she couldn't look away for a long time.
What a cruel punishment you put on a child who knows nothing.
Complex thoughts weighed heavily on her heart, but she was still grateful to have this child by her son's side. She hoped she would endure this and continue to love her husband as she did now.
It was selfish maternal love.
***
The terrace connected to the hall where the party was in full swing was crowded with gentlemen sitting in groups and smoking cigars.
Bjorn sat at the table closest to the fountain, gazing out at the night garden. As the smoke rose and dispersed, the mood of the spring night deepened.
“Bjorn. Over there, Viscount Hardy is looking at you with a fervent gaze.”
Peter, who had been joking around, nodded to a table diagonally across from him. It was where Walter Hardy, who was enjoying himself as the Prince's father-in-law, sat.
"I know."
Cigar smoke rose from between Bjorn's red lips as he gave a silent reply.
From the moment he entered the Grand Duke's residence, Walter Hardy had been desperately trying to make eye contact with Bjorn. It was a daunting effort, but it didn't matter. Just a smile, a welcome, and a seat at the same table had already worn down his already fragile patience.
The only reason that man was brought into this palace was because of Erna.
She was a woman who couldn't even bear to walk down the aisle with her father. Bjorn knew full well that Erna had invited the Hardy family herself, out of a desire to save face for the royal family. So he endured it. To respect his wife's foolish efforts in organizing this party.
When Bjorn lost interest, everyone quickly grew bored and began to talk about other topics. Horse racing. Balls celebrating the founding of the nation. The ladies of the current high society. Bjorn listened with considerable generosity, even to these predictable and boring conversations.
"Honestly, I didn't know Your Highness would live this well. It was shocking to even think about marrying a woman he won at a gambling table."
Leonard glanced over at him, talking about that pathetic bet from last summer.
"You should be grateful to me. It was thanks to me that that bet happened. If you think about it, I'm the biggest contributor to this marriage. Aren't you?"
“Shut up, Leonard.”
When Bjorn chuckled, everyone at the table burst into laughter. Leonard did the same.
"I won't ask for much, so just give me some investment information. We were the ones who married off the poisonous mushroom prince, so you should show that much mercy. Yes?"
"Yeah. Honestly, you know it wasn't a bet you won because you were good, but because we were ugly, right?"
At Peter's words, everyone's faces crumpled.
“What are you talking about, you crazy bastard? Hey, get me out of that cage.”
As each mischievous joke was added, the atmosphere at the table grew more heated. Erna. Walter Hardy's voice, calling her name loudly, rang out just as Bjorn set down his glass. Turning his frowning eyes, he saw Erna out on the terrace. Walter Hardy had already approached his daughter, acting as a loving father.
Bjorn stood up without hesitation. Erna, who had been looking around anxiously, finally looked relieved when she met his eyes.
“Erna.”
As he approached and called her name, Erna hurried to his side. Bjorn firmly grasped his wife's hand. Even then, his gaze remained fixed on Walter Hardy.
“Ah, Your Highness. You have arrived.”
The face with the cowardly smile gleamed in the light.
“I was chatting with my daughter, whom I hadn’t seen in a long time.”
I should have lived in a suitably barbaric age. An age where you could just snap the necks of those annoying bastards—even if they were masters—and be done with it.
Bjorn smiled faintly, lamenting his newfound regret.
“I see.”
“If it’s okay, the three of us can talk together...”
Just as he was about to utter a nonsensical refrain, Erna began to cough. Bjorn's eyes narrowed as he watched the cigar burning between Walter Hardy's fingers, the one civilization that was keeping alive.
His father-in-law, other than being good at walking, is quite useless. No, he's blinded by greed and prone to deception, but he does have a knack for it. And let's not forget his talent for creating unexpectedly beautiful daughters.
"Unfortunately, I think we'll have to postpone our conversation. As you can see, my wife isn't feeling well."
Bjorn signaled the end of the conversation with a nod of his chin.
Wasn't this man the one who fell victim to such a pathetic scam, resolved to sell his daughter as a solution, and ultimately brought Erna into Bjorn's arms? If that were the case, perhaps the greatest credit for this marriage should go to Walter Hardy, not Leonard. He was the masterful driver who had led the fawn from its nest deep in the forest to the hunting grounds. There was no reason not to show a little more patience for such a man.
Bjorn left the terrace, leaving Walter Hardy with a blank expression. Only after descending the final steps leading to the garden did Erna finally stop coughing. Despite her reddened eyes and nose, she smiled, as if something was so good about her.
“Her Majesty the Queen has said it is okay for me to come and see my grandmother. With you.”
Erna, who had been looking around, cautiously spoke. Her eyes, looking at him, were filled with an anticipation that even the darkness could not conceal.
“Is that okay?”
“Do you want to do that?”
He asked, even though he knew the answer was obvious. He liked those eyes. Those eyes that sparkled beautifully, eyes that only looked at him.
“Yes, as long as you don’t mind.”
As Erna took a step closer, the sweet scent of her body grew stronger.
Bjorn, habitually trying to untie his tie, let out a laugh mixed with frustration. The bow tie felt like it was mocking him at his fingertips.
“I won’t take up too much of your time, yes?”
Erna's eyes became more earnest, as if she had taken the prolonged silence as rejection.
My Erna, who cries and laughs because of me.
Bjorn readily admitted that he was enjoying the fleeting sense of dominance he felt as he watched the woman. He had no desire for a crown, yet he was content with this woman. It was absurd. And yet, the fact that he wasn't entirely offended only deepened Bjorn's laughter.
In the breeze, wafting with the fragrance of fragrant flowers, Bjorn smiled and nodded, like this spring night. Then Erna smiled too. In her eyes, a throne stood, a crown shone.
My little beautiful kingdom.
Bjorn reached out, his hand still stroking his tie, and cupped Erna's cheek. Slowly, yet without a hint of hesitation, he kissed her. His lips traced her forehead and nose, and when they finally touched, Erna sighed softly and flinched. But Bjorn knew she couldn't refuse, and in the end, everything went as planned.
He was the king of that world.
Bjorn liked that.
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