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At the very moment Maria and her party were facing the king.

“How is his condition?”

“Still the same. Lying in bed, groaning, and just growling weakly into the air.”

In a lavish meeting room located elsewhere in the palace, a group of men sat around a rectangular table with rounded corners. The faces present were all individuals who could not be ignored in the land of Catalonia.

Leading them was Enrique, the Count of Barcelona, who had been acting as regent since the king fell ill. Alongside him were figures who held various positions in the Catalan court and the administration of Barcelona.

One odd thing, however, was the face of the person sitting at the head of the table. Normally, this seat should have been occupied by Enrique, the regent. After all, this land was Catalonia, and no one could stand above the king except for the supreme ruler of Hiberia. Therefore, no authority or power surpassing the regent should have been present in this room.

Yet, the person sitting at the head of the table was entirely unexpected.

“……”

Seated at the head was a petite ‘young girl’ with a small frame. Her skin was as white and translucent as porcelain, her hair as black as a raven’s feathers, and her eyes like black pearls. Her slender and delicate frame was unmistakably that of a fragile young girl.

However, despite her delicate appearance, no one in the room could sense any ‘weakness’ from her. No one could explain why, but if one had to pinpoint a reason, it might have been the peculiar aura she exuded.

The ‘young girl’ sitting on the chair at the head of the table looked so natural and dignified that it seemed no one else could possibly belong there. Her somewhat indifferent attitude as she listened to Enrique’s report exuded an eerie and strange dignity.

As Enrique continued his report, the ‘young girl’ suddenly raised a question.

“I heard the city administrator brought in outsiders?”

Though not explicitly stated, Enrique understood she was asking if there was any additional information on this matter.

‘What should I do?’

Enrique, of course, knew that the cunning city administrator had attempted to bring outsiders into the palace. He was also aware that the group consisted of two adult men—a knight and a spellcaster—and a pair of young boys and girls, who were likely meeting the king at that very moment.

But just as he was about to speak, a sudden thought made him swallow his words.

‘It seems she didn’t expect me to know anything substantial. After all, no one here would be unaware of what I know. It’s better to keep my mouth shut and play the punching bag.’

As Enrique remained silent, the nobles in the room began to murmur.

“Can’t even keep track of his enemies’ movements, how pathetic.”

“Tsk, this is why those of ambiguous origins are…”

Their dissatisfied clicks and sneers didn’t bother Enrique. He could see the subtle ‘satisfaction’ hidden in their mocking expressions. Knowing that their satisfaction stemmed from feeling superior to his perceived incompetence, Enrique forced a humble smile and suppressed a bitter laugh.

Just as the murmurs of criticism were spreading, the ‘young girl’ who had posed the question raised her hand, silencing the room.

“Enough. The Count is a loyal guardian of our blue-blooded banner. I will not allow anyone to treat him disrespectfully.”

‘She sets the stage and then pretends to be innocent. As if I don’t know this is all part of taming me.’

Whether it was the ‘young girl’ who set the stage, the nobles who played along, or Enrique himself who went along with it, all were equally base. But Enrique didn’t regret his actions. After all, as someone constantly plagued by rumors of illegitimacy, enduring this level of humiliation was a small price to pay to remain at the center of power.

Moreover, if the ‘young girl’ were to ascend to power as planned, he could become her right-hand man, regardless of his bloodline.

‘When that time comes, I’ll have to part ways with the noble faction anyway.’

While their interests aligned for now, the king and the local nobles would inevitably clash over power. When that happened, those who relied on the king’s favor, like Enrique, would be indispensable.

As Enrique pondered these calculations, the ‘young girl’ finally stood up and spoke.

“The grand event is upon us. From now on, no discord will be tolerated. Please ensure that the remaining plans proceed without flaw.”

“““We gladly obey, Your Highness! Please trust and entrust us with your faith!”””

As the ‘young girl’ issued her command, the nobles in the room rose in unison, a truly magnificent sight. The assembled dignitaries marveled at the scene, intoxicated by their own grandeur.

Suddenly, in the corner of someone’s vision, the shadow of the ‘young girl’ cast over the table seemed to flicker.

…Was it the decoration on her head? Or the way her hair fluttered as she stood? For a moment, the shadow appeared to sprout numerous horns of various sizes.

+++++

The so-called ‘noble faction’ was a group that was difficult to define with a single keyword. This was because the political force known as the ‘noble faction’ had no common ground other than their opposition to the king’s centralized power.

Whether they opposed the ‘king’s power,’ ‘centralized authority,’ or the ‘current king and his bloodline’ varied from person to person. As a result, this group was usually fragmented, with each member fending for themselves except when united against the central authority.

Among them were local nobles, central nobles, influential city figures, and even feudal lords. There were legal nobles involved in administration and judiciary, and even some members of the royal family who had a foot in the faction.

The reason these disparate groups could join hands despite their conflicting interests was clear.

The ongoing attempts to strengthen the central authority since the previous king’s reign had created a sense of crisis among these otherwise fragmented groups. In the current era, opposing centralized royal power had become a zeitgeist.

The possibility of seizing power, even if just a little, was enough to bind these disparate forces under the banner of the ‘anti-royal faction.’

The return of the missing princess was the golden key that could solve—or at least temporarily postpone—all their problems.

Nobles and influential figures were obsessed not just with wealth and political power but also with intangible honors, prestige, and authority. Those in power were more sensitive to others’ perceptions than anyone else.

The nature of power, after all, stemmed from the delegation of authority and responsibility. Whether positively or negatively, it was essential to imprint on others that one held and could wield such authority.

In the current political landscape of the Catalan kingdom, where feudal contracts were the standard, the highest authority and justification, apart from the king, was singular.

“Thus, it was inevitable that they would rally under the banner of the woman believed to be the king’s lost princess.”

“The lost princess, you say?”

“Yes, indeed. The real princess is here with us now.”

As Juan Argones Samaranch continued his explanation, his gaze fell on Maria, who was standing calmly beside him. His eyes, filled with longing and pride, met hers.

“And the king’s health, which they had hoped for… well, hmph.”

With a short chuckle, the city administrator concluded his words.

As expected, the next day, during the royal council, the noble faction, who had been eagerly discussing the appearance and reinstatement of the lost princess, were stunned to see King Ramon Berenguer IV, who had miraculously recovered, accompanied by Maria.

The noble faction, completely unprepared for this turn of events, was utterly shattered, as if their entire existence had been a lie…

+++++

The series of events that unfolded in Barcelona, the capital of one of Hiberia’s many small kingdoms, Catalonia, was enough to stir up not just the city but also the surrounding regions.

And for good reason…

“What? The lost princess appeared at the court?”

“What? The princess was actually a fake?”

“What? The person who exposed the fake princess was the real princess?”

“Really? The dying king recovered his health after meeting the real princess? And that illegitimate regent was ousted?”

“Wow…! The fake princess was actually a demon?!”

This was the gist of it.

In a time when entertainment was scarce, this sensational news was enough to set everyone abuzz. As for the fake princess, upon realizing everything had gone wrong, she revealed her true identity and attempted to overthrow the entire Catalan court.

The demon, now exposed, was thoroughly beaten by the superhumans present—Maria, Conra, Karl, and Brantley’s party, along with the clergy who had mastered the Immovable King Wisdom Technique—and fled in disgrace.

The noble faction, having lost both their center and their cause, disintegrated. Enrique, the regent, was stripped of his position and title for colluding with the demon and was imprisoned in the tower of Barcelona’s Great Church.

The only reason he escaped with his life was due to his past contributions as regent—whether he had actually been of any help to the kingdom was another matter.

With the king’s health restored and the rightful heir, the princess, reinstated, the Catalan court began to stretch and regain its vigor.

The long-dormant audit office dusted off its desks and oiled its rusty hinges, beginning to function actively once more. Auditors, who could read between the lines of financial transactions, signaled that the king’s eyes and ears were now wide open, scrutinizing the kingdom’s affairs.

However, these political developments would take time to fully unfold. The first matter addressed after the princess’s reinstatement and the normalization of state affairs was something else entirely.

“Now, as proclaimed by the court of the Supreme King of Hiberia, the agreed date for the Vardenas Reales—the election of the Duke of Asturias—is upon us. We shall now announce the list of delegates to attend the ceremony.”

In the council chamber where Catalan state affairs were discussed, the king sat on the throne at the highest dais. Below the dais, a long round table was surrounded by influential officials of the Catalan court.

The king’s attendant handed a scroll to the herald below the dais, who unfurled it and began to read aloud.

The contents were none other than the list of delegates selected to attend the Vardenas Reales, the ceremony to elect the next Supreme King of Hiberia, the Duke of Asturias.

Given that this was an event to witness the election of the next Supreme King, the attendees would include the future power players of Hiberia’s various kingdoms. The political assets, including connections and networks formed there, made this an unparalleled opportunity for the future leaders of the Catalan court.

Normally, selecting such a list would have involved extensive debate and effort. Surprisingly, this time, the announcement proceeded without a hitch, flowing as smoothly as water.

Well, of course. In a court where various factions with differing interests would usually be vying to make their voices heard, now, none dared to speak up. With the loudest voices gone, there was no reason for delay.

Naturally, this turn of events was not unrelated to the recent fake princess incident.

Regardless of the details, the factions that would have otherwise been fragmented had united under a single voice. But when their plans were utterly crushed, and their very existence was nearly relegated to dark history, the minor factions involved could not escape unscathed.

Of course, there was no large-scale purge. The Catalan kingdom’s situation was not stable enough to withstand such a purge.

But in politics, where perception is nine-tenths of the battle, having been associated with a fake princess—who turned out to be a demon—was a stain that would strip them of their right to speak for at least a generation.

“…The aforementioned individuals shall now serve as the chief delegates under the leadership of Princess Maria. This is to demonstrate Catalonia’s prosperity and spirit before the kingdoms of Hiberia and to lay the foundation for the court’s future. This is the command of the rightful ruler of Catalonia.”

Among the names read by the herald were Maria, Conra, Karl, and Brantley. The inclusion of foreigners was highly unusual, but no one in the room objected. They all knew these individuals were entirely loyal to Princess Maria.

When the fake princess revealed her true nature as a demon, these four not only stood against her but also defeated her. Their presence was firmly etched in the minds of Catalonia’s influential figures.

After all, the most fundamental form of power was martial strength. In traditional Hiberian noble society, those who sought to wield power had to first carry a sword to protect the people and uphold the royal authority. Those who could wield personal power correctly were naturally respected.

After the delegate list was announced, the Catalan court continued to discuss and decide on various other matters, including the route, schedule, supplies, and budget for the delegation’s journey to Asturias.

Finally, after several days, the departure date for the delegation arrived.

‘We’re almost there.’

In the middle of the delegation’s procession leaving Barcelona’s city gates, Maria looked out the carriage window and reaffirmed the resolution she had held in her heart from the beginning. Conra watched her with a concerned gaze.

 

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