Lancel already had a strong suspicion of who this person was. There was only one individual in the entire Imperial Palace who could impersonate the Emperor without consequence.
Someone from the past.
Someone with whom he had almost forged a deep connection.
Of course, he had no intention of revealing this aloud.
No matter how reckless he might be, completely disarming the imposter Emperor would be tantamount to self-destruction.
“Is he bold, or just foolish?"
The Emperor quietly settled into his chair behind the veil.
"Even the royal families of the vassal states would offer anything to meet me, including their own hearts. Yet you demand more."
"You know they're all talk, Your Majesty. They wouldn't part with anything remotely close to their hearts."
"......"
Instead of answering, the Emperor clicked his tongue in disapproval.
"Indeed. You're clearly not suited to be a court knight. I'll change your gift."
"Your Majesty...!"
The knights wore crestfallen expressions. They clearly resented the idea of someone who had dared to contradict their sovereign receiving what he wanted.
"Silence."
The Emperor's mind was already made up.
"If you refuse this gift as well, I won't stand for it, Lancel Dante."
"Of course, Your Majesty."
Lancel smirked subtly.
This was a gift offered after he had refused the position of court knight. It was undoubtedly something far greater.
"Count Iceford."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
The Count of the Palace snapped to attention when his name was called.
"If I recall correctly, your family has a daughter who will soon come of age, correct?"
"Yes, Your Majesty. She is a blessing in my life."
"It wouldn't be strange for marriage proposals to start coming her way soon."
"...That's true, Your Majesty, but..."
A look of uneasiness gradually crept over the Count of the Palace’s face.
"I've heard she's one of the Empire's three greatest beauties. It's fortunate she didn't inherit her father's looks."
"I hear that often, Your Majesty. But why bring it up so suddenly?"
"It must be difficult finding a suitable man for her at her age."
"N-no, Your Majesty. My daughter doesn't seem interested in marriage yet..."
"Don't say such disheartening things. I'm only saying this out of concern."
Cold sweat. Lancel watched beads of cold sweat glisten on Count Iceford’s face.
"The Count of the Palace Iceford is my long-standing friend and is like family. I wish to personally find a suitable match for her."
"What kind of..."
"What kind of man is he?"
The Emperor's head snapped toward the man standing beside the Court Count.
"He's bold enough to kick away even a gift from the Emperor if it doesn't please him."
Lancel felt the Emperor's piercing gaze stabbing into him.
"Y-Your Majesty, perhaps I should first ask my daughter her feelings before deciding..."
"No. Let's not drag this out. The engagement ceremony will be held in four days. As a gift, I'll send an imperial sculpture from the palace."
‘Hmm.
What's going on?’
"Don't worry. Whatever kind of man he is, I am certain that he is someone special."
Three minutes? No, two? In that fleeting moment, the marriage proposal had been settled.
“Master. What are we talking about right now?” Marigold whispered.
"They're saying I have to marry that old man's daughter?"
"Huh?"
Marigold's expression froze.
"S-shouldn't we refuse?"
"How can you refuse the Emperor twice?"
"B-but... but what about Master?"
"Just do as you're told. If I complain again, my head will really end up on the floor this time."
Truthfully, this wasn't unusual. Using marriage to secure loyalty was common in this world.
Wasn't this a medieval world, after all?
Moreover, the Count of the Palace was a staunchly pro-Imperial noble, serving as Chamberlain.
From the moment Lancel became related to him by marriage, he would be considered part of the pro-Imperial or Imperial faction.
More precisely, the Dante family itself would be.
‘Hmm, perhaps this is a good thing.’
A connection to the Imperial family would benefit both him and the Dante family.
The son who had fled to the capital had actually managed to win over the Chamberlain's daughter. For a noble family from the remote provinces, this was nothing short of a meteoric rise in status.
‘Now there's no chance of Marigold and me getting married.’
From that perspective, it was a good thing.
A good thing.
‘Hmm.
Yes.
That must be it.’
"Marriage should be with someone you love..."
"Does that please you now, Lancel Dante?"
Marigold's delicate voice was quickly drowned out by the Emperor's booming voice.
"Thanks to you, my parents will be jumping for joy, Your Majesty."
"They should be. You've snatched Lady Iceford, one of the Empire's three most sought-after beauties, who lived under the constant attention of suitors, in a single day. Of course they'll be delighted."
The Emperor concluded his speech firmly, as if he would not accept any objections.
"Congratulations on becoming the Count of the Palace's son-in-law, Lancel Dante. The wedding ceremony will be held in the Imperial Palace, and I myself will preside over it."
15.
After the audience, Lancel led Marigold through the secret garden for quite some time, but they never encountered the Crown Prince.
He wasn't disappointed. In fact, it was probably for the best. Marigold was acting strangely.
Throughout their walk, she remained dazed, her consciousness far away, trailing behind Lancel like a lost child.
Even the Chamberlain—soon to be Lancel's father-in-law, Count of the Palace Iceford—was in a similar state.
"The Master is getting married..."
"My daughter... to this man..."
If they had met the Crown Prince in this state, something truly bizarre would have undoubtedly occurred.
"We should probably head back now. Uh, hmm... father-in-law? Should I call you that?"
"......"
After wandering through the secret garden until sunset, Lancel emerged from the Imperial Palace. In the distance, he could see the bustling marketplace of the Imperial Capital.
"Shall we take a look around before we leave?"
The carriage stopped at the entrance.
Lancel walked silently into the heart of the market, Marigold quietly following a step behind.
The noisy hawking of vendors, the drunken shouts of revelers, and children darting through the crowd filled the air.
After walking for some time, Lancel suddenly stopped at one particular stall.
"Mysterious jewels from the Eastern Continent! Just one silver coin! These jewels are said to bring prosperity and happiness just by holding them!"
Despite the vendor's claims, the stall was simply displaying oddly colored stones.
Lancel picked up a necklace strung with blue stones.
"You have an eye for quality! That's said to bring luck and happiness."
Before the merchant could get any louder, Lancel tossed him a silver coin to shut him up.
"Mary."
He approached Marigold, who had been following him.
“Come here.”
Lancel fastened the necklace around her neck himself. He noticed her eyes, shimmering and wavering. They were still the same radiant emerald green as the day he first saw them.
"Master."
"What is it?"
His voice was low and husky.
"Are there... many people who marry even if they don't love each other?"
"Why are you worrying about that?"
Noticing Marigold's trembling lips, Lancel spoke again.
"Fate doesn't necessarily mean inevitability. Some connections are forged in an instant. I didn't exactly plan this either."
Marigold was the same.
Her life was devoid of any true inevitability. She was a character whose story could branch into countless endings, all triggered by the smallest of choices.
This time was no different. She became a mercenary simply because she learned to wield a sword. Could that truly be called fate?
If she had learned to write, she might have become a scholar. If she had learned to sing, she might have become a bard. If she had learned to cook, she might have opened a restaurant.
Was any of this truly inevitable?
Becoming the imperial consort was the game's objective, but even that might not be the right answer.
If he was lucky, this accursed regression would finally end. If he was unlucky, he would continue wandering through the endless eons of ten years, slowly descending into madness without end.
That was all there was to it.
"Then at least let me stay by your side, Master."
Lancel felt Marigold's arms wrap around his waist.
Her already grown-up body pressed tightly against him, leaving Lancel frozen in place, unable to move.
"Please, just let me stay by your side. That's not too much to ask, is it?"
"I suppose I am a human who drops quite a few crumbs for you to scavenge."
"I'm not joking."
Marigold's voice trembled with tears, but the more she cried, the more brazenly Lancel smiled.
"Then just hire me as a maid, Master. I'll just follow you around."
"It seems a waste to use someone as skilled as Marigold as a maid. It's a waste of talent."
"I don't think so."
Lancel stroked Marigold's head, which was pressed firmly against him, feeling a surge of relief.
‘If I'd left her like this, she might have tried to marry me again.’
This wasn't just vanity or narcissism. Sometimes he wondered if he was being too self-absorbed, but now he was certain.
‘We've been together for so long as mercenaries already.’
Lancel couldn't shake Marigold off him until the entire evening had passed.
Before they knew it, the wedding day had arrived.
* * *
"Waaah! To think I'd end up with such a nobody... a pathetic noble who runs nothing but a mercenary guild... Waaaaah!"
"......"
Lancel watched the young noblewoman sob, his eyebrows twitching.
"My life is ruined! Completely ruined! Waaah! I've barely come of age! And now I'm engaged to that poor noble family I don't even love... hic... oh gods, why have you forsaken me like this?!"
The wedding was less than two hours away.
Airi Wiz Iceford. One of the Empire's three great beauties.
So, the woman engaged to Lancel was now filled with despair about the entire world.
"...How dare she treat Master like this..."
"Enough, Marigold. That's not it."
Lancel calmed Marigold, who was growling beside him. She was even reaching for the decorative sword hilt.
"Master, I despise nothing more than those who don't realize how fortunate they are."
"Calm down. What are you saying?"
This was the first time Lancel had ever seen Marigold with such a cold expression.
"Oh Gods above!!!"
"...Shall I kill her, Master?"
"Hold on."
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