For the Lady's Wise Regression - Chapter 75

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 75
Click. Ian’s expression hardened.
The door creaked back into place, and then he fell silent, as if wrestling with something, his lips pressed into a thin line.
“……Your Highness, Kirious.”
Ian’s mouth opened.
“We can tour the pavilion later. Let’s do some sparring, the three of us, for old times’ sake.”
It was rather like hanging a weight on one side of a scale to balance the other.
***
On a bright afternoon, an unexpected sparring match unfolded.
At the Training Grounds connected to the Ruscliffe Duchy Residence.
The Princess had come out to watch as well, it seemed.
Vanessa sat on a bench, handed the Princess a light picnic dessert, and then observed the three men.
A sparring match, so suddenly and without warning.
Such is the way of men.
Even as she thought this, she stole a glance at the Princess.
Her eyes sparkled—she appeared to enjoy watching such things.
Or perhaps she simply found it novel.
Ian, having shed his jacket and taken up a sword in shirtsleeves and vest, cut an unfamiliar figure.
She’d heard that neither Tesse nor Kirious fell short in swordcraft.
Yet a man who merely ran an herbal business had a physique like that—what did it all mean?
Vanessa’s gaze followed Ian.
His movements were clean, without a trace of excess.
Imperial Swordsmanship, Northern Swordsmanship—neither could overcome Eastern Swordsmanship.
In fact, she’d thought it absurd that the martial-renowned North couldn’t best the fashion-famous East, but there it was.
Exactly thirty minutes later, Kirious lay sprawled on his back. Tesse, too, had cast aside all imperial pride and sat collapsed in the dirt.
Only Ian stood as he had at the beginning, tidying his wooden sword.
“Your stamina has declined, Your Highness.”
It was a brief assessment.
Ian’s gaze looked down at Kirious, who lay stretched out like the character for “big.”
“You haven’t changed.”
The tone suggested: If you changed, you wouldn’t be Kirious anymore.
Kirious lay on his back, breathing heavily, staring up at the sky.
“Nice view. This is a view you’ll never see, Ian.”
He spoke without regard for the fact that the Marquise and the Princess were watching them.
With a small sigh, Kirious sat up, matching the Crown Prince’s position.
“Madam, might I have a bit of that as well?”
Kirious asked Vanessa.
Vanessa nodded and rose from her seat, placing the Picnic Basket she had prepared for the three men on the table before the bench.
Kirious walked over without hesitation, dirt still clinging to his clothes, and took a seat.
Not a trace of formality or dignity could be found about him, yet this was his way.
A rogue of the North, a wastrel, a philanderer—he bore all manner of titles, but he was of the North nonetheless.
The habit of biting at the nape of the neck with fangs when one let one’s guard down must have been carved into his very bones.
“It’s delicious. Did you brew the tea yourself, Madam?”
Vanessa nodded at Kirious’s words.
“Some fine Tea Leaves came in.”
The fact that he paid no attention to the Princess was very much in Kirious’s character.
Without the slightest interest in politics or factions, he even lifted the cup and took a sip.
“Your Highness, Ian. Come and have some.”
At his call, Tesse rose from his seat as well, dusted off his clothes, and sat across from the Princess.
Only one spot remained—beside Vanessa.
Once Ian finished his tidying, he walked over wearing his Gloves and sat beside Vanessa.
There was enough space for two fists between them, not even a sheet of paper.
At that distance, Kirious’s eyes narrowed.
“Are you being domesticated? Or are you just embarrassed?”
“……Starting tomorrow, I’ll have the Northern Region send a revised training regimen with the workload doubled.”
“…….”
Kirious’s mouth fell silent.
“Both, then. Despite appearances, you’re quite shy.”
Tesse chuckled and spoke.
“I’ve prepared and sent a separate schedule to the Imperial Palace ensuring that Your Highness has time for training in intervals.”
Tesse fell silent as well.
Kirious was scheduled to deliver his later, and Ian had already completed his—Tesse looked at Ian with an expression of wounded injustice.
“Why must I alone bear such scrutiny?”
“You are destined to lead The Empire. I judged that you ought to set an example.”
Only Ian remained composed.
“Ian, come to think of it—wasn’t the budget proposal that Lord Pilgrim asked you to send due by this afternoon? You haven’t forgotten, have you?”
Ian’s mouth went rigid.
Then he rose from his seat.
“I’ll take my leave.”
It was the first time his departing figure had looked so hurried.
Tesse and Kirious watched Ian’s retreating back, then turned to Vanessa and sighed.
“A quiet victory, indeed.”
“I’d prefer you gave me fair warning, madam. That way I might at least steel myself beforehand.”
Through all the commotion, only the Princess sipped her tea in silence.
Vanessa’s gaze fell upon her.
“By the way, Your Highness—have you ever had the chance to see the streets of La Fond Duneve, the Eastern Region’s capital?”
At Vanessa’s words, the Princess set down her teacup and shook her head.
“No, not yet.”
“Then, if it wouldn’t be too forward, would you care to go sightseeing together?”
Noticing that Vanessa was making a move to indulge his request, Tesse rose from his seat.
“Kirious, we should go help Ian.”
“Your Highness, is it your habit to court suffering?”
At Kirious’s words, Tesse looked at him with utter dismay.
“Very well.”
With that, Kirious let out a resigned groan and stood.
As the two men entered the residence, the Princess’s gaze shifted toward Vanessa.
“Sightseeing, you say.”
Even for a minor kingdom, a princess was a princess.
Dignity was something one carried from birth.
Yet Vanessa didn’t so much as blink at such considerations.
The more this Princess kept her distance, the more she seemed to regard others as being difficult—such was her nature.
It was well-known that even after becoming Empress, the person she kept closest was a handmaiden.
So Vanessa deliberately chose to spare her unnecessary burden.
“I was planning to buy some Dessert, as it happens. If you’d have no objection.”
When there was no excuse left to offer, Ian would do just as well.
After all, he’d enjoyed the Dessert she’d bought him last time.
Where such an impulse originated, even she couldn’t say.
***
A few days later, an Imperial banquet was held.
The entrance of the Duke and Duchess of House Ruscliffe alone commanded every eye in the hall.
A deep navy suit with a subtle sheen, paired with a composed blue dress tinted with a whisper of gray.
They complemented each other perfectly, and cut a striking figure.
Though the distance between them was barely a fist’s width, no one remarked upon it.
This banquet was ostensibly a celebration for the Envoy, yet its true purpose was to announce the Crown Prince’s Fiancée alongside the formal declaration that House Ruscliffe’s medicine had received the Imperial Seal.
Vanessa greeted each approaching noble with a gentle smile.
Tap, tap. Just then, the sound of heels echoed behind her.
“The Marquise Leonard, Belladonna of House Leonard, and Lord Calail Leonard present themselves.”
The air seemed to drop several layers.
No noble in attendance had forgotten what had transpired at the wedding of Lady Ernasilla.
The collision of ex-lover and current husband was mere gossip to third parties.
Vanessa’s eyes gleamed cold.
For the sight of Calail and the Marquise Leonard kindled her desire for Revenge of its own accord.
“The Duchess of House Ruscliffe.”
Calail spotted Vanessa and approached her slowly. His canary-yellow hair remained unchanged.
Though his form of address had shifted, his courtesy had not. He had called out to Vanessa while ignoring Ian entirely.
Unintentionally on Vanessa’s part, she had nonetheless dealt House Leonard’s reputation a blow.
The assembled nobles who observed this confirmed it amongst themselves.
The cause of the separation lay with Calail.
A complete misunderstanding—yet one wholly advantageous to Vanessa.
“You look especially radiant tonight. I never realized that shade would suit you so well; it shines even brighter than mere paleness ever could.”
It was a subtle jab.
But it was a handshake nonetheless. Hearing the small rustle of gossip ripple through the hall, the Marquise Leonard tapped her son lightly with her fan.
“It’s an honor to see you, Duke Ruscliffe. You seem to have grown busier since your marriage.”
Vanessa, catching the elegant way she’d just remarked on his pallid complexion, smiled and answered in Ian’s stead.
“Day and night, there’s scarcely a moment to close our eyes.”
The implication—’that’s how newlyweds are’—hung in the air.
At Vanessa’s words, Calail laughed through gritted teeth.
“For that, you don’t seem to be in good spirits. Perhaps…”
His gaze slipped from Ian back toward Vanessa.
“By the way, our house has recently received some fine Tea Leaves. As it happens, they’re the kind the Duchess was fond of—would it be permissible for me to send some your way?”
At those words, everyone’s breath caught.
It was a declaration of war. He’d spoken of the past directly in front of Ian Ruscliffe.
The Marquise Leonard’s smile froze on her face.
“Calail Leonard.”
A voice sharp as frost issued from the Marquise’s lips.
“Ah, forgive me. It seems I haven’t quite put my emotions in order yet.”
Where the Marquise Leonard’s speech wound round and round like a carousel, Calail Leonard’s was an arrow once loosed—it flew straight and true.
‘Mad bastard.’

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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