The Founding Festival

Because the “Founding Festival” was being held, the port was crowded with people and goods coming and going. And with such an increase in volume, cargo management naturally grew lax, and inspections were often missed. At least, that was how it had been in his previous life.

“Still, what is Lady Morgan thinking? Ordering us to tighten security at such a busy time…”

“And instead of the soldiers, she asks us merchants…”

The merchants grumbled at the orders from Avalon. It was no wonder—business was already at its peak, and now they had been given even more work.

“But apparently it was Lord Arthur’s directive. In that case, we’ve no choice but to do it properly.”

“Yeah, if it’s him, then it’s for our sake. Didn’t he even attend Kansas’s party wearing the same clothes as us commoners?”

“Yeah, even though he’s royalty, he matched us. And I heard he’s even teaching the children at the orphanage. I went to see, and they were better at studying than my own kids. I was shocked.”

The way the merchants spoke of Arthur was like that of familiar acquaintances. Because he had been labeled pro-commoner, teaching the orphanage children, inspecting the city, and even attending merchants’ parties, their evaluation of Arthur was high.

And that was what saved them from one crisis.

“Hey, trouble! There’s a bug like a locust in the cargo!! It was hiding—someone help!!”

“Ugh, no way. They’ll eat the crops, won’t they?”

Even in this era, it was known that insects from abroad could spread disease. More than that, there had recently been an incident where a locust-type monster had devoured crops in another country.

Thus, locust-type monsters were among the most feared. Most of them were exterminated, and the worst was avoided. But not all were caught—and among those that slipped away was one that would plunge Britannia into crisis.

That creature had already left the city, drawn toward the wheat with the strongest magic.

Within the castle of Britannia, the party hall and its surroundings were more bustling than ever. Not only was it the Founding Festival, but this time nobles from Britannia and people from neighboring countries were paying special attention.

And the reason was…

“Prince Rod, the First Prince, has arrived.”

“Ah, I hear he’s been advocating for noble supremacy since Prince Arthur began showing favor to commoners… I hope there’s no trouble with them both here…”

One of the centers of attention was the First Prince, Rod, who had just entered. At his side was the daughter of one of the Five Great Nobles with whom he was said to be close. Dressed in a gown lavishly adorned with Britannia’s traditional silks, ribbons, and artistic lace, she drew the eye even from afar.

Rod saw the attention on him, smirked, then spotted two figures in white dresses with elven ears, and felt his chest tighten.

Yes, they were the Saintess Elaine and her attendant, Helene. With their otherworldly beauty, they became the focus of the hall.

Elaine’s true aim was Arthur, and she was only glancing at Rod out of curiosity, but…

‘Ha ha ha, as expected, even the Saintess cares about me.’

Pleased, Rod gracefully made his way to the stage prepared for him.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for gathering here for Britannia’s Founding Festival. I believe, as ever, that it is nobles who must guide the people. Merchants may chatter, but pay them no mind. After all, even nobles alone can create things like this.”

With a snap of his fingers, the curtain hiding one corner of the room was drawn back to reveal his presentation.

There stood “Golden Wheat,” gleaming with golden radiance, and the bread and sweets made from it.

“Ohh, so this is the rumor…”

“They say it’s delicious though yields are small. To think we could taste it today…”

Gourmet nobles and foreigners, who had already heard such rumors, cheered. Because Golden Wheat was difficult to cultivate, even if it reached the market, only a few nobles could ever eat it. It was essentially a delicacy for the chosen.

By presenting it as his achievement, Rod emphasized his noble supremacist stance.

“Later, you may also tour the fields where Golden Wheat is grown. Bread made from freshly harvested wheat is exquisite.”

Rod introduced the Golden Wheat with a satisfied smile as his supporting nobles cheered.

Though the crowd of nobles blocked his view, he was sure even the Saintess was interested. And then…

From the nobles not in his faction—though still of sufficient rank to be invited—came cheers, followed by murmurs even among Rod’s own faction.

“Look, it’s Lord Arthur.”

“And Lady Morgan too. As beautiful as ever…”

“Yes, frightening in temperament, but truly beautiful.”

“And that dress…”

It was no wonder there was a stir when they saw Arthur escorting Morgan. It wasn’t strange for him to bring his fiancée—but the problem was her dress.

It wasn’t Britannia’s traditional style but a cutting-edge foreign design. At an ordinary party it might pass, but at the all-important Founding Festival, it was tantamount to picking a fight with Rod’s faction.

And what Arthur was thinking amid this tense atmosphere was…

‘Oh, everyone’s looking at me! Must be my popularity. Ha ha ha, it’s all thanks to my Good Deed Points.’

He had, of course, completely failed to grasp the situation. Then, feeling a piercing gaze, he looked up to see Elaine glaring at him.

No, not glaring—she was jealous of Arthur with such a beautiful woman on his arm. But of course he couldn’t understand such feelings.

‘So you actually came, even though in my previous life you didn’t. Must have been really frustrating to be put in your place!!’

So he thought, bracing himself not to show any weakness. At that moment, Morgan whispered in his ear.

“Prince Arthur… you seem uncharacteristically tense. Are you all right?”

“Y-Yeah… I’m fine. No problem at all.”

If he showed weakness here, she’d scold him fiercely… remembering his past life, Arthur hurried to move on.

Elaine’s stare only grew sharper, but he ignored it.

“This time, my presentation is an exotic dish called rice, a food I’ve recently come to love. Please enjoy.”

“What—”

Nobles who had expected his healing ability, and Rod most of all, cried out in shock. No wonder—he had deliberately overlapped categories with him. Including the dress, it could only look like a provocation.

“What on earth are you thinking…”

“Ah, thanks to you, Rod-niisan, I got the idea. Since it’s something new, I thought it best to show it off here.”

Rod glared with murderous intent, but having been chased in his past life by revolutionaries with genuine killing intent, Arthur didn’t even notice.

Then, raising his voice for all to hear:

“Some of you may have come expecting healing. Of course, I’ll also treat people—just ask Morgan. And… Lady Elaine, would it be possible to borrow your strength as well?”

“…Of course. I am always grateful to Lord Arthur. If my power will suffice, I’ll gladly help.”

“Good. In return, please eat as much rice as you like.”

Though momentarily startled, Elaine nodded with a saintly smile. Naturally, Arthur’s only aim was to put her in her place again.

‘This is my home ground. I’ll show you I’m more beloved here than you!!’

Grinning at the thought, Arthur heard Morgan murmur.

“As expected of you, Prince Arthur. You completely turned the flow of the room.”

Yes, to the others, his words seemed to mean: if you want healing, try the rice—and by casually requesting the Saintess’s help without the proper protocols, he showed he was on familiar terms with her.

“I’ll be performing a sword dance. Please come watch.”

Mordred said, but almost all attention remained on Arthur. The most shaken was Rod, who admired the Saintess and saw Arthur as his rival.

“My sons are all present now. Let us begin the party.”

At the king’s words from the throne, the musicians began to play.

And Arthur, what was he thinking? Only one thing: let’s go eat some Golden Wheat cake. Maybe Rod-niisan would give him some to take home? Kei looked busy working the hall, so he should bring her some… He started toward the Golden Wheat when—

Expressionless as ever, Morgan tugged his arm.

“Shall we dance, Arthur?”

“Eh?”

Arthur, thrilled at the thought of good food, froze at her words. For the record, he had received the same basic education as anyone, so he could dance.

But Morgan was extraordinarily skilled. And in his previous life, when they had danced as childhood friends at parties, she had sniped at him every five seconds—leaving him with a hatred of dancing.

“Oh, Lord Arthur and Lady Morgan are dancing! This will be a sight to see.”

Hearing the crowd’s excitement, Arthur panicked—until Morgan, usually expressionless, spoke in a slightly trembling voice.

“Well… since we’re engaged, even if only formally, I thought we should dance together. Unless… you dislike the idea?”

“No… not at all. Let’s dance.”

Unusually—no, in his past life he had never seen it—Morgan showed a hint of weakness. Bewildered, Arthur agreed to dance with her.