Back at the mansion, taking the bath that the maid who was leaving was preparing and just getting to know herself, Berta took a seat for dinner with Harold with an unfamiliar face.
For a while, there was talk of the hunt Harold was going on in today's socialisation and proper bickering, but in the flow he said with a smile.
"By the way, I saw a woman in the city today who looked very much like you."
Berta tried to shut up for a moment to see how things were going, but to look him in the eye, he's probably gaining certainty, not sickle.
"It's me, right? Your Majesty and I have met."
Put aside a beat, Berta turned herself in promptly.
During the day, the moment he tried to pass directly beside him, despite the considerable distance, his gaze was just like some kind of joke.
He was somehow more upset by Berta's response. After showing her like she wanted to hold her head, she still wasn't disrupting her courtesy because she was eating.
"Is it still true?... No, I just wanted you to laugh off that there's no way."
"The fruit His Majesty had served earlier was what I bought today."
"Really? No, that's not what we're talking about right now."
Berta was observing without distracting herself from Harold, as she responded briskly on the surface.
To be honest, a subordinate like Sergio wasn't sure what Harold at heart would react to, even if he pushed out of momentum.
Berta may have to refrain from future action if he is to take an attitude that he will never forgive. Is it true that Harold scolds Berta like a tutor, or will he be able to aim for eye spills in the future?
"Sergio. You wouldn't have pulled out the guard."
First he asked his own squire, who had refrained at the edge of the hall.
"Whatever. Her Royal Highness, who is accustomed to it, has laid down an iron wall."
Sergio seemed to cover Berta and made a statement about throwing down the spark even more of its fruit.
"... did you do that a lot when you were in the South?
Berta nods, not even willing to hide it originally.
"As Kasha's daughter, she used to go out in areas where her face wasn't cracked."
"............... dressed like that downwards?
"That's not going down at all. From the average of the people's lives, it's an upper middle class outfit."
"That's not what we're talking about right now"
Berta hangs on to Harold, who blunts his reaction thinking about what to start with.
"It's not that dangerous. I don't look evil and discreet in the crowd, nor do I lose sight of the escort because I'm tall."
"That's why I can't have seen it go on like that. It's only a matter of knowing that the queen is walking away with ease."
His reaction for Berta was not a stronger scolding than he thought.
"Of course, I'm not going to do this again and again. Sometimes I do it, so it works. If you're known to be in and out too often, a bender who knows how long to behave may find the opportunity."
"It's like a real experience."
"No, not at all."
The story that Berta has been a diverse one in the past is, of course, not since she became queen.
but Berta silenced to stay on track and not say too much about the extra.
In the end, she couldn't figure out how to react during dinner time, Harold said, "We'll talk about it later" and cut the spot up.
It's just that Harold didn't come to Berta's bedroom instead of saying we'd talk about it later.
"Your Majesty must be busy."
Berta muttered so by herself as she let the samurai prepare herself for bed.
He's always busy. As a monarch, please, I think I'm moving too far myself. However, that would be too luxurious a complaint compared to having a foolish king who would not put himself into government at all.
It's a good thing you do your job.
"The princess also has a lot of official business to do after tomorrow. You must be tired of traveling today, and rest your body early."
"Yeah, I'm going to bed now"
Though I told the samurai that and let her back down, she still has the remnants of the exaltation of the day. Berta could hardly grasp the drowsiness.
Somehow I didn't feel like I was in the bedroom and relied on the moonlight to plug in through the window, sinking deeply into the chair by the window. The night is quiet and serene, lit by a large round moon, peeking through the window.
Even though it's a fall night, I don't feel so cold tonight because the climate here is a little better than the King's Capital.
(Compared to Wang Du, or)
Berta laughed a little by herself when she realized what she was thinking.
Very normally, I think like a man in the King's Capital.
Until not long ago, she must have thought of every single thing compared to Meseta, Kasha's hometown.
Berta's unconsciousness has already changed his place, even though the feeling of thinking Meseta is his hometown remains unchanged. What I remember at these mundane times is the face of Louis, who has left it in the king's capital. The place I'm going to return to is that palace I'm getting used to living in.
This is a fun city, but when I'm alone at night, I still think about a place I'm familiar with.
I want to go home. In that carriage. Will I be with him on my way home?
"Your Majesty"
I remember Harold's face from afar during the day. Notable townspeople.
Men and women want to see it at a glance. We were all obsessed with him.
Berta was drunk in the air of the field at that time, and there is something about the mood of the common people floating in His Majesty's queue that is rarely seen otherwise.
That's because, in fact, even now, I sometimes wonder if Berta and his sense of distance might be that appropriate. I'm next door to him as his wife for whatever reason, but I see him as a public man, and sometimes he shows up in front of Berta as just a man, far away.
"... Harold"
It may have been the first time I pronounced that name by making it sound.
The moment his voice got into his ear, he tasted so embarrassed and embarrassed, Berta looked around unexpectedly at the only room he was in.
Calling that name even makes me feel like I recognize him as an individual and claim to be my own.
(This is tough...)
Thinking of him as his own man rather than just being passive about what he does is so much bigger for Berta. It's a backward, courageous thing.
I wonder how I would change once I started thinking that.
If it's not about him and the king and the queen, call each other intimately when you're alone. Will there come a day when I will get used to such things?
I honestly still don't think the Royal Palace is my home.
But I'm sure it will always be. It's impossible for a single woman to put a royal palace or a house called the royal family inside recognition. We just have to accept the fact that we have become royal one by one, understand where we stand, and explore the right sense of distance.
- The state does not allow the woman who has now become queen to be just a person forever.
Something about the new capital was also about that perception for her.
I'm not talking about where I want to live, or this one because it's easy to go to my parents' house, or the kind that I would call out if I thought. It's not like moving a family.
Your father didn't seem to say anything after all.
Information about the transitional capital has naturally reached the south as well. The samurai, who had previously sent Kasha back, also kept a message from her father about it.
"The South, to be honest, meant that it didn't matter either way."
With regard to this agenda with too many uncertain elements, Berta's father threw the hassle of choosing something to root for.
In an unstable political situation, there is not so much Kasha gets even when he pushes and pinches his mouth.
It was still fortunate that the perception coincided between Berta and my father.
If the king's capital were to be near, the distribution between the two sides might be more flourishing and the south could flourish. Physically narrowing the distance, on the other hand, also means easier access to the eyes.
However, either way, the flow of reconciliation can no longer change.
Nearby, within a few years, the development of streets connecting the North and the South will be envisaged. Cut through the mountains, or bridge the Great River.
The national territory craves an aorta that enriches the lives of the people.
I didn't say this was ten years from now, and if it were five years from now, Kasha might have left again in a different way, but the current situation is that the south hasn't made it far enough to export to the royal relocation.
"But if the princess were to be the queen, and if she were to be strongly oriented toward some city, she wouldn't mind presuming it as Kasha's general idea."
That's called a round throw, but at least my father still trusts me and holds me back, like when Berta was at Kasha's house.
And Berta, to be honest, doesn't seem to have a choice.
I'm not saying this because I enjoyed it today.
(This city undoubtedly flourishes more in the near future)
There are, of course, various shortcomings in the Mesaro proposal. The hassle of relocation due to physical distance. A huge investment just to create a base for a new state from scratch.
But it seemed like there was something extra here to make up for all of them.
In the near future, it was a land of local power that made it one of the largest cities in the land.
To conclude, her intuition this evening was right.
In keeping with the current of the times, the city exalts its prosperity.
Instead of replacing her husband, Mesaro - will make a great development in that son Louis' behalf.
Every passage of wealth, from the colonies of the South China Sea to the countries of the North of the continent, holding down the national aorta. The streets show spread everywhere as far as you can see.
But there's no reason for Berta to know that now.
Louis, who will remain the ancestor of Zhongxing in future generations, was also now only a little handy toddler, still growing in her arms.