A glamorous tea party was being held under the brilliant sunlight streaming in from outside. Several musicians, led by
Today, the starring role was mine.
As the Lord's adopted daughter, this was my first tea party, and it was an important social event for gathering donations.
"How do you do? I'm so pleased to meet you."
I forced a pleasant smile onto my face, repeating the greetings I'd drilled into myself. One after another, young ladies and ladies dressed in dazzling outfits greeted me with equally warm smiles, but I'm sorry—I couldn't remember who was who for the life of me.
The tea party had been organized with the lure of making social connections with the Lord's adopted daughter. In addition to the quatre-quarts that had been all the rage at recent tea parties, roll cakes made by
The roll cakes, wrapped with seasonal fruit and cream, were the highlight of today.
My mother and my foster mother beamed with pride as the ladies gasped at the sight of the roll cakes for the first time. "Rosemine had them made by a chef," they said.
It was true, word for word, but the ladies gathered here assumed they were just putting on a show to establish the position of the Lord's adopted daughter—a thing mothers would naturally do when their daughter was entering the world of noble society, so there was no need to correct them.
"Thank you so much for taking the time to attend."
Standing beside me as I went through my greetings almost mechanically, my mother and foster mother spoke up, making the appeal for donations.
"Rosemine will be taking charge of a new business venture. We would be most grateful for your support."
"We are backing her as well."
When addressed, the ladies would look at me, widen their eyes with an "oh my," then smile fondly and say, "Lady Rosemine is working so hard as the Lord's adopted daughter." Judging from those lukewarm smiles, they probably thought I hadn't done anything of substance and was merely relying on the prestige of being the Lord's adopted daughter.
"Since Florentia and
"I, too, have been in their debt on various occasions."
And with that, they cheerfully made their donations. Yet not a single person asked what kind of venture I was planning. Nobody brought up how the money would be spent. They were donating simply because my mother and the others, people they were already indebted to, had asked.
Since I'd been told that today's gathering consisted entirely of people from the same faction, it was all the more certain that if the Lord's wife Florentia and my mother asked, no one would refuse.
As noblewomen setting a fine example of donation collection, my mother and foster mother gathered money briskly and without fuss. I did practically nothing—just wore a social smile throughout—until the target amount had been reached.
If the goal were to build a single orphanage and be done with it, this would have been enough. But if I wanted to expand workshops throughout the territory, a single round of donations wouldn't suffice.
My honest takeaway was that collecting money through tea parties simply wasn't suited to me.
"Rosemine, Lord
After the tea party, I had already been bedridden for about two days and was in no condition to receive visitors. Moreover, the northern wing was essentially off-limits—one needed permission from the Lord and from the Head Attendant, Richarda, to enter.
The fact that he had come all the way to my door meant both had granted permission.
"Brigitte, where's Richarda?"
"That's just it—I can't find her anywhere."
Normally, receiving guests was an Attendant's job, not a Knight's. But Richarda was nowhere to be found, and the visitor was the Lord's half-brother, the Chief Priest, so Brigitte had come to report to me personally.
"Oh my, Brigitte. What do you mean, leaving your post?"
"Richarda, I..."
It seemed Brigitte was startled by the sudden appearance of Richarda, whom she'd thought wasn't there, and couldn't find the words right away.
Richarda had been pushing a cart with tea preparations, but she let go of it, placed her hands on her hips, and entered full lecturing mode. Seeing this, I hurriedly stopped her.
"Richarda wasn't here, so Brigitte came to report to me. She said Lord Ferdinand had arrived. Was all this tea preparation for him?"
"Yes. I went and asked Lord
As it turned out, Richarda had been fretting over me lying in bed for two days and had gone straight to the Lord to demand that he bring the Chief Priest over with medicine. I'd told her to wait three days, and if I still hadn't recovered, then we'd ask the Chief Priest—but she'd jumped the gun.
My condition had improved considerably after two days of rest. I thought one more day in bed would do it, but the medicine was less bitter now, so I gratefully accepted and wanted to make a full recovery.
Richarda stripped me of my nightwear and threw a loose house dress onto me—one of those roomy garments you could lie down in wearing.
"That should do. Brigitte, please show Lord Ferdinand in."
Once I'd arranged myself into a presentable state and given permission for entry, it turned out that my mother and foster mother had come along as well.
"Oh my, Elvira! And Florentia too! What are you doing here?"
"On my way back from Florentia's place, I was going to check on Rosemine when it just so happened that Lord Ferdinand was being summoned by Richarda."
It wasn't untrue that they'd come to visit me after I'd collapsed following the tea party, but their real target was clearly the Chief Priest. "Rosemine really is fragile, isn't she? I never imagined she'd come down with a fever at a tea party," Florentia said with a worried tone, yet her mood was practically buoyant—her eyes were locked on the Chief Priest, and she looked like she was having a wonderful time.
I offered the visiting ladies chairs and had Richarda pull one up for me as well. When the Attendants realized the Chief Priest was here, young attendants who had been fixing their makeup and adjusting their outfits reappeared from wherever they'd vanished and began preparing tea.
It was touching in its own way, but I really wished they wouldn't all vanish at once like that. If Otilie had been on duty today, she'd have been furious.
"You collapsed after the tea party, I hear," the Chief Priest said, observing my condition. I took a sip of tea, gestured for everyone to join me, and nodded.
The tea party itself had been short, but when you factored in advance preparations, greeting guests, and seeing them off, it required several days of planning. This time, my mother and foster mother had hosted the party to show me how it was done, so I'd basically been an observer—but I'd been required to witness every aspect of how it was run.
"I think I did remarkably well, actually. I made it through to the end without collapsing. Don't you think I've gotten much stronger?"
"No, I wouldn't call that strong."
I seemed to be the only one who thought I'd grown stronger, as no one agreed with me. The Chief Priest shrugged in exasperation.
"If a tea party alone can throw you into this state, socializing may simply be beyond your capabilities."
"Oh my, Ferdinand. It's not a problem we can dismiss as 'beyond my capabilities.' As a noblewoman, socializing is essential."
The Chief Priest had only intended to drop off medicine, but my mother caught him and wouldn't let him leave. There was no escape for him.
"Ferdinand, what do you think must be done for Rosemine to appear at social events? If she is to assist the Lord in his business, she'll need to continue gathering donations going forward."
This round of fundraising had been a success, but that was entirely thanks to our mothers. "Next time, try making the requests yourself," my mother had said in a breezy tone, and I'd drooped my brows helplessly.
"It's difficult to rely on the goodwill of others. The reason our mothers can raise donations is because of long-standing relationships and trust. I have none of that."
"That is precisely what you will build from now on."
The system of noblewomen's donations seemed to operate on a principle of mutual support. Everyone had said things like "they helped us before" or "they donated to us previously." If that was how things worked here, I supposed I had no choice but to find my place within it.
"Yes, of course I want to build trust with everyone over time. But considering the speed at which we're expanding the printing industry, I'll end up doing nothing but asking. I have nothing to offer in return."
"Then what do you intend to do? You need money—that's why you're raising it, isn't it?" My foster mother tilted her head with a puzzled look. It seemed no other methods of fundraising existed here.
At first, I'd considered carrying a collection box through the castle and asking for donations, but that idea was shot down immediately. As the Lord's adopted daughter, my requests would be tantamount to orders. Donations were supposed to be given willingly—I shouldn't be cutting off people's options to refuse.
"I need some other method—something profitable that people would gladly contribute money toward. Ideally, something connected to the printing industry. I don't want them contributing money based on trust in me personally. I want them investing in the printing industry as a business venture."
The word "joint-stock company" flashed through my mind for an instant. But I didn't know nearly enough about it to build one from scratch. This wasn't about investment—was there some good method of fundraising?
Hmm, I thought, and what came to mind was a bazaar I'd held at kindergarten.
"What about a 'bazaar'? Everyone brings in unwanted items and sells them cheaply."
"Would people really have that many unnecessary things? Besides, items you no longer need are handed down to the servants, aren't they?"
My foster mother tilted her head as if to say, "What on earth are you talking about?" The wall of common sense here was high. Unlike my time in the Era of Reincarnation—a consumption-based culture—this was a culture of using things until the very end. First of all, you simply didn't buy unnecessary items.
Even among nobles, children grew quickly, so hand-me-down clothing was standard practice. Minor wear and tear was mended and the garment kept in use. Once it could no longer be used, it was passed down to those below. There was virtually nothing that counted as "unwanted items."
"Um, then how about a 'charity concert'?"
"What kind of event is that? I've never heard of it."
My foster mother pressed her fingers lightly to her cheek and tilted her head slightly.
"A concert where all proceeds are donated. ...Ferdinand, won't you play a few pieces on the feuchspiel?"
Considering the frenzy I'd witnessed among the women at the
"Why should I be the one to play?"
"Because you're the most skilled person I know."
I swallowed down the honest truth—"because it seems like it'd make a lot of money"—but I had a feeling he'd seen through me anyway. Furrows creased the Chief Priest's brow, and he made a face of absolute revulsion.
"Rejected. There's no benefit in it for me, and no reason I should have to cooperate with you."
"...You're right."
There was no way the Chief Priest would cooperate out of goodwill. His goodwill was more than half-entangled with some scheme of his own.
I was about to reply lightly and give up when my mother's eyes began to gleam. Her gaze alone was issuing a fierce command: "You will make this concert happen!"
I'd made a mistake. A fleeting idea had awakened a terrifying person.
My mother gazed at me with a radiant smile that was really more of a threatening glare, and I racked my brains desperately.
Was there something the Chief Priest would find beneficial? Something he wanted? The Chief Priest was essentially a jack-of-all-trades who had everything, so it was hard to think of anything he actually needed. Of the things I possessed, there were only two the Chief Priest had ever wanted.
"Ferdinand, I'll provide you with a new musical composition. So please play the feuchspiel."
"..."
The Chief Priest's eyebrow twitched. He was interested, but not enough to be dragged onto a concert stage. After the music, I decided to dangle a culinary lure as well.
"Oh, and I'll include recipes that even Ella doesn't know."
"..."
He gently averted his eyes. He had to deliberately look away—that suggested he was genuinely tempted. One more push, one more thing, and I might have gotten his agreement. But the problem was, I couldn't think of anything else.
Even so, I could feel my mother's tremendous pressure from beside me—like a voice saying, "You're almost there, keep going!" No matter how hard I tried, nothing else came to mind that might move the Chief Priest. I could be rolled around in the Chief Priest's palm all day, but getting him to do something he didn't want to was an utterly impossible task.
I shook my head slowly.
"...I can't think of anything else."
"Then this discussion is over."
The Chief Priest, with a hint of relief in his voice, cut the conversation off sharply. I could feel my mother trembling with shock. I wanted to cry—sorry, I failed—as I hung my head in defeat, when someone suddenly stepped out beside me.
"Now, now, My Lord! 'This discussion is over' is quite unacceptable!"
"Richarda?"
Standing there in a towering pose with her hands on her hips, Richarda was in full-on lecture mode.
"My goodness, Lord Ferdinand! How could you be so cruel to a young lady who's just recovering from illness?"
"But..."
"The young lady went out of her way to accommodate you as much as she could, didn't she!? Not with things of no use, but with things you yourself desire. I saw right through it, you know!"
Before the Chief Priest could get a word in, Richarda's lecture exploded forth. He stood there with a pained expression, glanced around at the others present, and closed his eyes tightly as if to say he'd given up on life.
My mother's eyes shone with anticipation, my foster mother watched the Chief Priest being lectured with a delighted curiosity, and I stared blankly with my mouth hanging open—none of us could stop Richarda.
"Stop being stingy and just play a few pieces on the feuchspiel!"
"Richarda, I..."
"This is a venture led by Lord Sylvester and involving Lady Rosemine! If the Chief Priest doesn't stand behind the young lady as her pillar of support, then who will!? Lord Sylvester is the type who would easily throw away the project if the person involved were as young a lady as this."
A wet nurse of Sylvester's indeed. She understood him perfectly.
Unable to deny it, the Chief Priest held his head in his hands and let out a deep sigh.
"My Lord, your answer!?"
"...If I play, will that suffice?"
"That will do."
By Richarda's overwhelming victory, the Ferdinand Charity Concert Plan was set in motion.
Muttering that he'd play but do nothing else, the Chief Priest departed in a sulk. My mother, who had been making a valiant effort to keep her emotions in check befitting a proper noblewoman, finally let them burst free.
"Rosemine, when shall we hold the concert?"
Her eyes sparkling, she leaned toward me eagerly.
"You really do love Lord Ferdinand, don't you, Elvira?"
"Florentia, surely you do as well?"
"I'd say my sense of solidarity comes mainly from the fact that we're both victims of the Chief Priest's cruelty. Though I must admit, he is quite easy on the eyes."
As the two of them giggled and began planning, I thought about the
"At the end of summer and the beginning of autumn, there are the Coming-of-Age Ceremony and the Baptism Ceremony. In mid-autumn, we'll have to attend the Harvest Festival. And at the end of autumn, there's a possibility of a request coming from the Knights' Order. So while it would be a rush, I think we should hold it during the summer."
In truth, my biggest concern was wanting the money ready before Winter Preparations began. More than anything, once the busy season arrived, the Chief Priest would probably find all sorts of excuses to escape.
"Then we must send out invitations immediately!"
"Not invitations—'tickets,' please. Make them properly, with a fee," I said to my mother.
Since it was going to be a concert, it was only natural to generate profit through ticket sales. But the concept of tickets apparently didn't exist here, and my mother tilted her head.
"Rosemine, what is a 'ticket'?"
"It's similar to the invitations needed to enter a concert, but it specifies the seat location and has a charge."
I took paper and ink from the desk and sketched out a simple diagram of the venue.
"There were twenty-two attendees at the last tea party, so let's assume we invite thirty people. We'd need about five round tables, then. Ferdinand will perform here. Mother, which seat would you prefer?"
"That one, of course."
Without hesitation, my mother pointed to the front row, dead center. She was making it perfectly clear that she would not yield this seat to anyone.
"Right. So, tickets for seats in this area with a good view would be priced higher, while these seats with a less favorable view would be priced somewhat lower."
"Oh my? Wouldn't that mean the seating order wouldn't correspond to rank and status?"
My foster mother blinked her indigo eyes several times and tilted her head.
"This isn't a tea party—it's an event to appreciate Ferdinand. I don't think we need to be so strict about it. Everyone wants to enjoy the atmosphere together, and most would like to hear the feuchspiel. But those who aren't particularly interested in Ferdinand up close might prefer the cheaper seats over there."
"That would be me, then."
My foster mother giggled and said to my mother, "In that case, I'll buy the cheaper ticket and sit there, giving my seat to someone who'd like to see Lord Ferdinand up close." As the Lord's wife, my foster mother would normally take the best seat.
"That way, others might find it easier to buy the cheaper tickets too, wouldn't you say?"
If my foster mother demonstrated through action that there was no need to force yourself to buy expensive tickets, others would surely follow.
"Also, what about having people approached in order of rank when selling tickets, and letting them specify their preferred seat? That should considerably reduce complaints about seating order."
"Letting them decide for themselves? Rosemine, you've already been corrupted by Lord Sylvester's way of thinking, haven't you?"
My foster mother peered at me with a deeply worried expression. Sorry, foster mother. It's in my nature.
Next came setting the ticket prices. The most expensive seat: one small gold coin. The rest ranged from five to eight large silver coins. The most expensive seat was already spoken for.
"Let's prepare tea and refreshments that Ferdinand prefers," my mother proposed in a cheerful voice. Since there was such a gap between my concept of a concert and the concept here, I was happy to leave most of the enthusiastic planning to her.
I was just planning to gradually weave commerce into their version of a concert. For a proper concert, merchandise would be the biggest seller, but it couldn't be prepared in time.
However, if it was cookies the Chief Priest liked, Hugo and Ella could hammer the recipe into the castle's chefs and mass-produce them.
"If we're preparing refreshments, why not make extra and sell them at the end as a memento of the concert? Those who are moved by Ferdinand's feuchspiel will surely want to buy them."
"Oh yes, I certainly would!"
We already had a prospective buyer. This was going to sell.
Once my foster mother decided which room the concert would be held in, my mother planned the table layout, drew up a seating chart, and assigned the seats.
"When selling tickets, please be sure to have each buyer write their name on this seating chart and indicate which seat they'll be taking. That should help reduce confusion on the day."
I explained all the possible trouble that could arise—lost tickets, stolen tickets, and so on—and my mother nodded with a "I see," then carefully wrote her own name on the chart.
"Oh, by the way, Rosemine—how do you plan to tie the printing industry into the concert?"
While we were in the middle of discussing what was needed to produce tickets, my foster mother—who unlike my mother, who was swept up in the excitement of the concert, remained calm—suddenly remembered to ask.
"Please leave that to me. I want to give it my all so that everyone can see at a glance just how wonderful the printing industry is."
If I made a program with the illustration of the Chief Priest that
The Chief Priest was defeated before the ultimate weapon that was Richarda.
Lady Elvira is busy with preparations in high spirits.
Next time: The Chief Priest's Magic Training.