Chapter 172
The Duchess.
Her existence was even present in the game.
However, after Lady Esmeralda's death, her figure was nowhere to be seen in the Edelgard Ducal House.
She was merely a character from a memory episode recounted by Lady Iris, who narrated past events.
Currently, I’d heard she is alive and well, with no health issues to speak of. Yet here I was, summoned by such a person. To quickly clean up, I jumped into the bath, had Ingrid tidy up my appearance, and made sure I was presentable enough to stand before nobility before following the maid who came to fetch me. I was led to a place I rarely ever approached.
"Madam, I have brought Libertà-sama."
It could be called a balcony overlooking the ducal estate’s garden.
To call it simply a "balcony" would be an understatement—it was so vast that while tennis might be impossible, it could probably host an Olympic table tennis match.
At a table set in this space sat a single woman.
Surrounded by a butler, maids, and knights, she elegantly sipped her tea.
The first wife of Duke Edelgard—Duchess Catheria.
At the maid’s announcement, she set down her cup.
"My apologies for summoning you so suddenly."
"Not at all."
I bowed slightly in response to her apology.
"Would you serve him some tea as well? And could he take a seat there?"
"Then, pardon my intrusion."
The fact that she wanted to speak while seated rather than standing suggested the conversation might be lengthy.
I sat in the chair pulled out by the butler, now facing the Duchess directly.
Now then, what topic would come up?
Given her good relationship with His Grace the Duke, I didn’t expect anything outrageous—but that was only by my standards.
From a noble’s perspective, even something like a dragon hunt might be casually requested as if asking for a shopping favor.
I hoped I wouldn’t be tempted to retort with "Easier said than done."
As I worried, tea was served. I reached for it, took a sip, and widened my eyes at the unexpectedly fruity, sweet flavor—far stronger than the usual black tea I imagined.
"Did it not suit your taste?"
"No, it’s sweet and delicious."
"Yes, it’s my favorite blend."
To serve me her preferred tea—did that mean I didn’t need to be too wary of what was coming?
The Duchess smiled warmly, her mood seeming pleasant, but I had no clue what might be going through her mind.
"Are you curious about why I summoned you?"
"...To be honest, yes."
"I thought so. Being summoned by a noble—let alone the wife of a Duke—would naturally make anyone curious."
Did my expression give it away?
No, for a battle-hardened Duchess well-versed in noble mind games, my face was probably an open book.
She wore a troubled smile, resting a hand on her cheek as if understanding, but my noble conversation skills were likely failing spectacularly.
For a moment, I considered deflecting, but quickly realized it was pointless and admitted the truth. That seemed to be the right move, as she began speaking after a brief preface.
"You’ve heard about Esmeralda, haven’t you?"
"Yes, that things have taken a rather serious turn."
"Indeed. This matter is no longer just an issue between houses. A public annulment hinted at in front of the entire academy, followed by actions that hurt Esmeralda. To let this slide would tarnish the Edelgard Ducal House’s name."
Where had the earlier calm atmosphere gone?
And past me, who had been optimistic just seconds ago—this was nobility.
The conversation had taken a sharp turn into aristocratic gravity.
Well, it made sense as a reason for summoning me.
"However, my husband is handling that matter."
"Yes, I’ve heard as much."
This issue shouldn’t involve me. If I stepped in, things would only get tangled and worse.
So why was the Duchess bringing it up?
The flow of the conversation felt like she was confirming mutual understanding.
As if ensuring there were no discrepancies in our perceptions.
What did she want?
If she expected me to read her mind, I had to assert that I lacked such skills.
If I had psychic mind-reading abilities, I’d be unstoppable in PvP.
While lost in irrelevant thoughts, I tried piecing together her intentions.
"This will protect the Edelgard Ducal House’s honor. Yes, at least our house’s honor. But Esmeralda’s wound—being publicly rejected—will remain."
Ah, that’s it.
Now that she mentioned it, she was absolutely right.
The other party was clearly at fault—evidence had made that much obvious.
With the Duke’s intervention, the incident would be resolved, but Lady Esmeralda’s reputation would still suffer.
Sympathy would follow, but in noble society, such pity was far from favorable.
"Cheated on, the other party was wrong, how pitiful."
In simple terms, those three phrases summed it up—but for nobles, it wasn’t a fatal wound, just an unsavory mark.
"I want to make that wound as shallow as possible—no, ideally, heal it entirely."
A mother’s love for her daughter drove her actions.
"Does the Duke know about this?"
"He does. Though I haven’t told my daughter."
"Then, well..."
If this were reckless, it’d be a problem—but with the Duke’s approval, there was no harm in brainstorming.
What the Duchess wanted from me was reputation restoration.
Marriage would normally suffice, but she seemed to be seeking something else.
"The quickest method would be for you to rise as a hero and take Esmeralda as your bride—"
"Let’s pretend I didn’t hear that."
"Oh? Do you have complaints about my daughter?"
"It’s more about the ‘becoming a hero’ part."
She wasn’t serious, right?
Though framed as a joke, I swear her eyes gleamed for a second.
"How disappointing."
"Is that really fine as a mother?"
"It’s because I’m her mother that I want her to have a good match. Though at your age, perhaps Iris would be more suitable?"
"Let’s stop there. A commoner like me has no place in such talks."
"Unless you become a hero—"
"Ah, it seems time is up. My apologies, but—"
"Oh my. Then let’s hurry to the main topic."
Like her husband, the Duchess seemed oddly fond of me.
The condition for marriage was becoming a hero, so I held back—but the idea of marrying my in-game "waifu" filled me with both joy and guilt.
So, sensing danger, I subtly tried to exit the conversation, and the Duchess gracefully relented.
"To counter disgrace, we could bestow honor instead. The simplest way? If she was stolen by a Saintess, then why not become a Saintess herself?"
"What do you mean?"
"Make it so she can boldly declare, ‘Your fiancé is blind!’ Have His Majesty himself bear witness. That way, the other side’s excuse—‘I had to protect the Saintess’—crumbles, reducing them to just a cheating scoundrel."
So I casually proposed the idea that came to mind.
I’d heard the details of Lady Esmeralda’s broken engagement.
The timeline of excuses was a mess, but the other party’s argument boiled down to: "I had to protect the Saintess, and I was the most suitable for the role."
A laughably flimsy justification for infidelity, though their use of "justice" showed they cared about appearances.
So why not make their excuses even flimsier and crush them outright?
If Lady Esmeralda became a Saintess and proved it, it’d expose the other party as nothing more than a scumbag who abandoned one Saintess for another.
"I see."
"Plus, having a Saintess in the Ducal House would be a significant advantage. Many nobles would want to marry her, no?"
"Not a bad proposal."
By adding benefits for the Ducal House, her expression shifted from motherly concern to aristocratic calculation.
"But is becoming a Saintess that simple?"
"It is."
"......"
"What?"
The only issue was whether she could become a Saintess—and on that, I could confidently say yes.
But my immediate answer made the Duchess widen her eyes before she chuckled wryly.
"Just as my husband said. ‘Be prepared—you never know what he’ll say.’"
"A fact is a fact. No need to lie."
"Even if it’s true, hearing ‘becoming a Saintess is easy’ isn’t something one can just accept."
The Saintess job’s acquisition conditions weren’t particularly difficult.
But it required some know-how.
The job itself wasn’t hard to obtain, but adding titles to any job made things exponentially tougher—a staple in games.
"We’ll consider the Saintess matter. When the time comes, we may ask for your help."
I avoided delving deeper, simply stating that acquiring the job alone was easy.
Relieved, the Duchess then requested my cooperation.
"I’ll help, but no strange requests, alright?"
I didn’t mind assisting, but I drew the line at additional unreasonable demands.
"I’ll handle it appropriately."
Her non-committal response was so noble of her.
The Saintess job had three requirements:
1. Max out a non-offensive light-attribute magic skill (Purification works, but Heal is ideal).
2. Equip the Saintess’ Hair Ornament (Sounds rare, but it’s craftable with mithril and light spirit stone—even a Level 3 artisan can make it).
3. Visit a branch temple of the Light Goddess Laithea with the above conditions to unlock the quest.
Clear the quest, and voilà—Saintess.
Simple if you know the steps, but tricky otherwise.
"This is all it takes to become a Saintess?"
"Yes, that’s all. Should I write down the quest details for you later?"
"...Give them to my husband instead."
Her reaction was as if she’d been led on a wild goose chase.
Most job conditions in this world weren’t clearly defined, which explained why Saintesses were so revered.
The quest itself was tedious but doable with the right steps.
"Understood."
Though before that, Lady Esmeralda’s job would need adjusting—but if she wasn’t asking, she likely already knew how.
The final decision rested with her parents and her.
"Still, it lacks a decisive edge. The other side is slippery—they’ll resist bitterly and likely hold a grudge."
"Then why not make them regret switching by making Lady Esmeralda even more radiant?"
I thought this direction was safe—but I’d let my guard down.
"Like me, my daughter is already beautiful. She uses your rice lotion daily. How much more radiant can she—"
"There’s Spirit’s Blessing—a superior version of the rice lotion. It works on hair, skin, everything. A truly all-purpose cosmetic."
I knew women were relentless about beauty, but this was the one time I realized I’d slipped up.
As I sipped my lukewarm tea, I recalled an item I’d once made—a potion variant with cosmetic effects.
Originally a money-making scheme, it was absurdly effective.
Having seen the "before and after" from in-game events, I knew its power—and carelessly mentioned it.
"Details."
"Huh?"
"Explain. Now."
"No, this was just a—"
"Name your price. I’ll pay. So speak. You’re not leaving until you do."
And just like that, I’d stepped on a dragon’s tail.
Faced with the Duchess’ overwhelming aura—not as a noble, but as a woman—I could only nod with a smile.