Let me ask you a question. If you were a man that had a spouse, you’d never asked for forced on you and said spouse had burst into your study after being told not to and asked to have a child with you, what would you think of that person? They’re kind of a creep, right?

Yeah, I think so too.

Though the creep in question is nonother than me.

A notice was issued to all the servants of Bartshuk after that, saying that the guest from the Royal family was showing signs of mental fatigue. (As in, be cautious lest you stimulate her.) The servants ended up distancing themselves from me more than before.

Even the butler changed his tune from “The master doesn’t have time” to “I’ll ask the master, so please be patient for a while.”

Well, I’m completely being treated like a rare breed…or perhaps like a ticking time bomb?

I took a bite of the pastry. I was getting restless because there was nothing to do. They’re simpler than the ones in my previous life but sweets are sweets and they’re delicious. Leodids is a place blessed with nature but few assets. Even baked goods are considered luxuries.

Here I am eating them, though. Well, my dowry doesn’t amount to much but it can afford these. If they’d given me access to the kitchen then I could have made something myself, but my husband had strict orders against that.

I hadn’t met him since that time.

You might be wondering why I’m attacking sweets instead of my husband, but I’d had a revelation recently: I’m too frail. I, who had gone through lots of hardship at the palace, never got enough to eat. I was a perpetually malnutritioned Princess with uneven skin and dehydrated hair. I’m at the level if a man were to grab by waist too strongly then I fear I might snap in two.

Although I was able to eat my fill after moving to Leodids, the amount that I ate was still quite light. I felt sorry for my husband. I can’t imagine what he must have thought—a man with such a healthy physique—being approached by a woman that looks like a starving ghost.

I’ve reflected and decided that if I want to bed him then I need to improve my strength. I’m already seventeen so it’ll be hard to morph into some full-bodied woman with big breasts, but I can at least aim for features that don’t look so frail.

I’ll have meals and sweet snacks to achieve a nutritional balance while adding in a moderate amount of exercise. So, I’ll be postponing the baby making operation until I gain some strength…as I am right now, I probably couldn’t withstand childbirth.

—

In this way, two months passed.

It seemed that my husband’s workload eased during this time, and I’ve also evolved from a bag of bones to a thin girl. Even my skin and hair look more maintained. It should be fine now, let’s go ahead and lift the ban on child-making.

“Lord husband, I have something I’d like to speak about.” It’s finally time to attack.

Just like last time, the man that stood behind the desk resembled my lovely future son. He was still as stone faced as ever (despite the fact he was facing his wife), but somehow, he exuded a ‘fed up’ aura. “What is it?”

I didn’t ask for permission to enter, nor did I apologize for interrupting his work, but he didn’t say anything about it and chose to listen to what I had to say first. Hm, he might be an unexpectedly good boss. “I was wondering if we could have dinner together.”

“…I’m busy.”

“I’m aware, then how about breakfast?”

“…Dinner will be fine.”

“Understood, I’ll be looking forward to it. Then, excuse me.” Time to flee now that the goal has been achieved.

I’d reached the conclusion that so long as I didn’t speak nonsense and got straight to the point, he would respond rather positively. It was a win-win for both sides. Just as I was closing the door, I caught a glimpse of my husband who looked as if he had seen something strange.

—

“Lord husband, what do you make of the duties of aristocrats?” I asked at the dining room table.

A noble’s duty is to manage their territory and safeguard its populace—they must protect the land and people from invaders. Finally, they must produce an heir for the continuation of their lineage.

Where’s ‘loyalty to the Royal family’ you ask? Will that feed me?

Of course, I’m not trying to hear about the first couple points. For a wife, like me, who doesn’t know much about politics, it is the final responsibility that affects me. I have no intention of asking for anything other than that, but my husband seems to be going a different direction.

“Are you asking about a ceremony?”

Huh? What’s with this topic?

I’ve never brought up anything of the sort…but I suppose it’s standard procedure if a noble wishes to get married. Well, that applies to anyone except me. “No, I’m fine without one. Besides, my appearance makes me a laughingstock.”

An inauspicious bride…that’s who I am in other’s eyes. What’s more—and though no one said this openly—I’m someone that has been abandoned by the Royal family. The fact that someone like me is the wife of a heroic lord is already a blessing.

“…Is there a more important event for women?”

“Hm, well it’s important but it doesn’t apply to me.” The audacity to bring that up when you were just going to sweep it under the rug anyway. Oh well, that suits me just fine.

He didn’t inquire any further.

If he’d followed up with a “There’s no way that a woman wouldn’t want that” and proceeded to plan the ceremony, then unnecessary expenses and work would just pile up. If he followed up with a “I see, let’s not do it then” however it would have worsened his standing.

“I think an heir is something important for any aristocratic family. The more options the better, I think.” This time I used the roundabout ‘noblesse obliges’ trying to convey a ‘you can’t avoid this’.

My husband’s face looked as if he’d eaten something bitter even though we’re having such a delicious meal. I mean, his stone-faced expression hasn’t changed, but I swear I see some movement in his eyebrows. “…There shouldn’t be any reason for a lady as young as yourself to be so adamant about having children so soon.”

Huh?

“You mean you want to have a successor with someone else?” I reflexively answered with a question. Once again, the room felt chilly.

Of course, tonight’s dinner isn’t just the two of us. While we’re the only ones sitting and eating there are still servants around us. I’m sorry everyone, I suppose I’ve shown you the first argument between a husband and wife.

“I didn’t say anything of the sort.”

“I apologize for my rudeness. I was just curious if you have any intention of giving me your seed.” I know, I know. I should stop there. I can see the faces of the servants twitching uncomfortably but I can’t stop. His remarks are just too irritating.

In the novel, Alfred has a half-brother. If you go by age, then it was presumed that he was born just after Justina passed but there were always rumors that Alfred might have more siblings that hadn’t come to light. Alfred was the only legitimate child, so he was the heir. That and this kind of arrangement was common amongst the nobility, but it pisses me off when it’s about my own life.

“Lord husband,” I glanced at the twitching face of my husband as I grinned, “I don’t intend to dig up your past, but please impregnate me before spreading your seed elsewhere.”

Hm? Did I say something wrong?

—

After having our first dinner as a couple after which the servants were left on edge, my husband used the good ol’ “I’m busy” excuse and left. He said that we might not be able to eat dinner together from now on due to this. I giggled alone in my room remembering his lame excuse.

I thought of attempting to rekindle the conversations over breakfast or dinner, but I knew that’d only make him more distant.

Well, it was fortunate that I hadn’t given him the chance to retreat. What I mean is that—in front of the servants—I’d put my husband on the spot so that he’d be unable to have a child with someone else (before getting me pregnant first). (This is important, knock me up first.)

That said, it was impossible to progress with my husband avoiding me.

I swear I’ll riot if I don’t get to hug Alfred soon!

…Oops, well, let’s return to the main topic. If we keep waiting like this, then there’s a chance of an age gap developing between Alfred and Esther. I want them to fall in love just like the novel and watch them from up close like a fan.

But the attitude of my husband might cause Alfred to be born too long after Esther. If that happens, she might turn into the older sister character, which, to be honest wouldn’t be that bad—no it would be bad.

There are other matters of concern too, like how long I’ll be able to live. I’m in the middle of becoming healthier but the novel hadn’t really touched on my cause of death. But worry not, I, your mother, will work hard for your happiness, Alfred!

First, I have to close the physical and emotional gap with my husband. It really is a dilemma.

I mean, if I was pushier then he might runaway. Oh no, that’s a bad look for the so-called God of War. A man would rather pursue than be pursued, you say? Don’t make me laugh.

Hm, do I tackle the emotional or physical issue first?

Let’s start with getting to know each other. He might be put off if I snoop around and ask the servants so let’s ask him directly. The more I think about it the better it sounds. Let’s begin with this plan immediately.

Knock, knock. Creak.

“Good evening, lord husband. It was raining today so I spent my time reading. The books in the mansion are filled with concepts that I’d never heard of before. It was amazing. I completely lost track of time. I was actually thinking of writing a letter to the lady of the neighboring territory. They’re famous for wheat production and I might be able to get some tips and recipes. It might be trivial conversation between women, but if you’re curious then I can show you the letter before sending it. Then, I’ll take my leave. Have a good night.”

Slam.

Knock, knock. Creak.

“Good evening, lord husband, it’s been getting colder recently, don’t you think? The servants who leave the estate for errands seem quite cold. What do you think about getting new winter clothes before the season arrives. If the budget is limited, then we can use my dowry. Could have someone introduce me to a shop that makes clothes for servants? Well, excuse me, have a good night.”

Slam.

Knock, knock. Creak.

“Good evening, lord husband, I heard you trained your troops today. Thank you for your hard work. I tried my hand at embroidery. I couldn’t contain my shock when I found out that the troops patch up their own clothes. While I’m not good at embroidery, I’ll continue to work hard and improve my sewing enough to help someday. I’m thinking of going to town to purchase threads. That is, only if you don’t have any issues with it. Then, have a good day.”

“Hold on. What in the world are you trying to do?”

What do you mean by that? Aren’t I simply conveying information to you? These are the fundamentals of a working adult. Rather, there’s something I want to ask you. Why do you have such a perplexed face all the time?

---

<Chapter 2
Chapter 4>