With Leonhard gone, there were fewer people I could confide in.
Though the Household Office had a retinue at my command, every matter, big or small, was recorded in the daily log and reported to the queen, leaving me constrained.
There were still too few usable allies…
I changed into a dark gray velvet doublet and went with Heinrich to the Malt Tavern near the town hall for tea. No sooner had we settled than a commotion erupted outside.
"The Steins finally sponsored a scholar, and now that brat is renouncing the marriage contract he signed under duress! Says it doesn't count!"
"What an ungrateful wretch!"
Picking through the gossip, it seemed the daughter of Rheinland shipping magnate Stein had fallen for a poor student. Her family, unable to dissuade her, funded his studies at Heidelberg University, awaiting his graduation to marry honorably—for all their wealth, merchant daughters were looked down upon by nobles, and a scholar husband would shed their "vulgar" label.
But upon graduating, the student posted a notice at the town hall to dissolve the engagement.
"A merchant's daughter thinks she can be a scholar's wife?" A young theology student in a brown monastic robe sneered. "Let her look in the mirror. Even with all the Steins' money, they still don't qualify for a knighting ceremony!"
This drew jeers from the crowd, with some spitting at his feet and others slamming tables to curse "ungrateful."
Then a clear, amused laugh rang out. "Well said! Of course a merchant's daughter isn't fit to be a scholar's wife—I hear Lady Montfort was once a merchant's daughter too. lucky she didn't marry you, sir; she'd have to curtsy to your wife someday!"
Laughter erupted. The theology student flushed. "Y-you're Marcus Stein! Of course you'd defend your sister!"
I turned to look. The speaker was a young man waving a pearl-inlaid fan, wearing a moon-white satin robe embroidered with Rheinland waves and a gold vine crown in his hair—the Stein family's second son, Marcus.
Ignoring the theology student, he addressed the crowd. "Herr Hans has lived in our home for fifteen years, from age fifteen to twenty-eight. If he wants to break the engagement, he can—but we'll settle the accounts first."
"Fifteen years of tuition, books, winter coats, and summer robes—3,600 silver coins in total. Since this gentleman is speaking for him, why not pay the debt on his behalf?"
The theology student turned purple—his threadbare robe clearly marked him as no man of means. "Y-you're lying! Where would I get that money—"
I laughed. "No money, yet picking fights for others? You should hate him most."
"Herr Hans studied comfortably for fifteen years and now walks away. If this gets out, who will sponsor poor students in the future? Herr Hans doesn't need it, but what about you?"
Marcus's eyes lit up. He bowed to me. "Well spoken, sir!"
I nodded slightly.
The theology student stamped his foot in frustration. "I'll earn my degree on my own! I'll marry a proper lady. The Steins' vulgar wealth can't compare to me!"
I turned to Marcus. "Marcus Stein?"
"The Crown Prince's palace is holding a special recruitment exam—open to all, regardless of birth. If interested, you should apply."
His almond eyes narrowed as he studied me. "How do you know? Does the Crown Prince truly disregard lineage?"
Smiling, I rose and gestured for Heinrich to leave. Passing Marcus, I patted his shoulder lightly. "Herr Stein, can you ensure this news reaches the right ears within three days?"
Three days later, the edict for the "Crown Prince's Special Selection Program" sparked a firestorm.
Bakeries, blacksmith shops, university lecture halls, and even monastery cloisters buzzed with discussion—though called a "special selection," chosen candidates would not receive immediate knighthood, only roles as assistants in the Crown Prince's administrative office. But with the Crown Prince only sixteen and the king still in his prime, these assistants could expect at least a decade of service.
Few were willing to stake their youth on a young master, yet the applicants were mostly bright-eyed young men.
As the palace set the exam, I chose the topics: *Knight, Farmer, Merchant, Artisan*.
Heinrich raised an eyebrow at the board. "Is this one question?"
"No, four." I shook my head. "Choose one to write about. No restrictions on birth, age, or gender."
Marcus Stein topped the final list of selected candidates.
Smiling at the newcomers below, I said, "Entering the Crown Prince's palace makes you one of us."
I was pleased with these young men—second sons of farmers, brewery apprentices, junior clerks, none from ancient noble families. Their eyes burned like candles fanned by wind: obedient yet wild, perfect for my purposes.
Marcus was the most perceptive, already understanding my goals.
To celebrate their induction, I hosted a banquet in the Mirror Hall. Seated at the head table with Heinrich at my left and Marcus gazing up from below, I drank a little too much Bordeaux in my excitement. As I stood, my steps faltered, and Heinrich steadied me. "Your Highness, careful."
I tilted my head to smile at him, my chin brushing his epaulette. "Help me change my clothes."
His ears turned crimson, his voice muffled. "Y-yes, Your Highness."
But I retained some clarity, locking him outside the dressing chamber.
After washing up, I spilled water from the silver basin while rinsing my face, the cold liquid soaking through my collar and clinging uncomfortably to my shirt. A clean linen undershirt lay on the vanity. I peeled off my wet doublet and unbuttoned my shirt.
"Your Highness?" Heinrich's voice held urgency. "May I assist you?"
As I pulled free the last button, my shirt slid to my waist, leaving only the thin linen undershirt clinging to my body.
"Your Highness, I—forgive my intrusion—"
The moment he opened the door, I turned to reach for a fresh doublet on the rack.
The damp undershirt clung translucent to my skin; as I raised my arm, the fabric slipped from my shoulder, revealing a faint red mark around my collarbone where the chest binding had dug in.
Heinrich froze in the doorway, his Adam's apple bobbing as his gaze locked onto my chest.
"You came in? Wait a moment, I'll change into clean clothes."
The wine had gone to my head, so I casually grabbed a new linen undershirt from the rack and put it on. The chest-binding linen remained dry.
"I didn't hear you call earlier." I fastened the buttons of the undershirt and looked up at him. "Heinrich, what's wrong?"
Heinrich's expression was extremely strange—as if he'd been punched in the chest, his face flushed red, even his fingertips trembling.
"Your... Highness..." His voice was hoarse, as though someone had clutched his throat, and his fingers trembled as he pointed to the wet clothes on the floor.
I paused, then laughed. "You're too uptight. We're both men. What's there to avoid when changing clothes?"
I casually hooked my arm through his. "They're waiting outside."
Heinrich's arm was as stiff as a wooden rod, and his steps were unsteady as he nearly tripped over the carpet.
"...So, Your Highness chose Stein?"
I tilted my head. "Hmm?"
The flush hadn't faded from his face, but his tone suddenly turned sharp. "Your Highness, is it because he's good-looking and articulate that you made him the top candidate in the special selection?"
I frowned. "Heinrich, that doesn't sound like something you'd say."
He turned his head away, revealing his thin, pale neck.
I sighed and released his arm.
He clenched and unclenched his fists, staring fixedly at his palms.
"Heinrich, I value you not just because you're the eldest grandson of the Eibstädt family." I paused—though that was indeed part of it, I couldn't say so explicitly. "I admire your breadth of vision."
He pressed his lips together and said nothing.
I softened my tone. "No matter how many new people come to the Crown Prince's palace, no one will surpass your position."
He turned to look at me abruptly. "I... I didn't mean that!"
The wine surged again, and I smiled gently. "A true knight should be magnanimous, Heinrich. That's what I value most in you. You're my most trusted close minister—set an example for the palace."
With that, I leaned on the pillar and staggered into the Mirror Hall, leaving him alone outside the dressing chamber.