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Cestlavie sighed, carving into the food before him as he replied, “Calling that hairstyle and a hooded cloak a disguise is a bit of a stretch, you know.”

“Is it?”

I’d gone to considerable effort this morning to style my hair into a Gibson roll—a look that even gathered my knee-length hair into three braids on each side. Considering that shorter, more practical haircuts were the standard for most women unless they were nobles, priestesses, or troubadours, I thought it’d be enough to avoid suspicion.

“…Well, never mind. So, about the political climate of this era. According to historical anecdotes, during this secret meeting, Cilento attempted to seize control, which provoked fierce opposition from the Eunice Theocracy and the Kingdom of Aulanthia. This almost escalated into a full-blown, drawn-out war—”

Cestlavie continued explaining the political dynamics of the northern countries of this era, occasionally furrowing his brows as he silently worked through a dish with the unwieldy name Groß Nacktschneck, a supposedly famous meat pie filled with some mysterious type of meat.

“Munch munch… Lady Clara, what do you think this meat is? Even my sensory modules can’t identify it.”
“It’s not beef, pork, lamb, or chicken. Honestly, I’m not even sure if it’s meat at all. It doesn’t smell, but the texture’s like firm gelatin. Are we even supposed to be eating this? And, Coppelia, do you even need to eat?”
“I don’t, but I can eat if it serves the purpose of poison testing or fostering smoother interpersonal relationships through shared meals. But seriously, this is a mystery. You know what? Let’s call the innkeeper!”

“…Are you two even listening?” Sharing the same dish and exchanging thoughts with cheerful enthusiasm, we were clearly having a good time, much to Cestlavie’s irritation as he glared at us while trying to lecture about history.

Hmm. Both Coppelia and I may only be pseudo girls, but it’s only natural to get animated when discussing food. Apparently, though, Cestlavie didn’t share that sentiment.

“So impatient. Hasty men are disliked by women, you know. Right, Lady Clara?”
“…Well, I do think patient men are more attractive.”

Suddenly, I thought of Luke’s face.

Though he wouldn’t even exist in this era, his easygoing demeanor stood in stark contrast to Cestlavie’s. He might seem unreliable at times, but in a positive light, his relaxed attitude showed he was always at ease and natural. …Or perhaps that’s just my bias speaking?

Cestlavie looked into my eyes, seemingly realizing something, and let out a small, irritated click of his tongue.

“At any rate, it’s clear that this isn’t just some ceremonial meeting. It’s bound to become a pivotal event shaping the future of the northern nations. And the key figures here are Prince Corrad of Aulanthia, Princess Simonetta of the Duchy of Enyuria, who would later become his queen, and the Shrine Maiden Princess, Clara.”

At the mention of “Shrine Princess Clara,” Cestlavie pointed his fork in my direction.

*It’s easy to get swept up in the conversation, but let me just remind everyone—I’m not the same person as that Clara… *

“While the details are unclear, what we do know is that Prince Corrad later took the initiative to avoid direct confrontation with Cilento and decided to pledge submission. This decision ultimately prevented intervention from other nations and played a significant role in the birth of the Livitium Imperial Kingdom.

“Wow.”

Not bad, Father.

“Though, the prevailing theory is that it was mostly thanks to the capable people around him or some advice from Clara…”

Never mind, Father.

“So, although the history books hardly mention it, the role of the guide in this situation seems to have been quite an important and potentially groundbreaking one.”

With a subtle gleam in his eyes, Cestlavie looked up at me as he munched on his meat pie.

“Prince Corrad and Lady Simonetta, huh? Honestly, I’d prefer to avoid meeting them altogether if possible.”

I’d really like to stay as far away as possible from anything involving my family.

“If I claim I’m feeling unwell, I doubt it’ll be a convincing excuse, so maybe I should just vanish for a while… Hey, Cestlavie, would you take me and run away together?”

“Gah!”

At my sudden request, Cestlavie choked on the pie he was eating and started coughing violently.

I hurriedly grabbed the cup at hand and brought it to Cestlavie’s lips. The water inside—precious due to its rarity as directly drinkable water—was boiled well water cooled and infused with citrus fruits for better taste and aroma, making it relatively expensive. As he drank, I gently patted his back.

“Are you alright? You need to chew properly before swallowing, or it’s dangerous.”
“Commoners just gobble up food, don’t they? Are you even listening to Lady Clara’s words properly?”
“I was listening. That’s why this happened.”

Cestlavie grumbled bitterly as he downed the rest of the water in one gulp.

“But why not? I don’t know my way around this country, so if I’m going to run away, you’re the one I’d have to rely on, Cestlavie.”
“…That’s what you meant. Well, I kinda expected as much.”

After a brief moment of self-reflection, Cestlavie seemed to resolve something internally and let out a deep sigh. He then waved down the boy from earlier, who happened to be passing by, and ordered a refill of the water.

“Seriously though, if we run and get caught, wouldn’t I end up branded as the heinous criminal who kidnapped the Shrine Maiden Princess?”
“It’ll be fine. If we explain things sincerely, they’ll understand.”
“It’s fine. You’ll just have to sacrifice yourself in her place.”

Faced with the heartwarming trust that Coppelia and I expressed, Cestlavie shot us a deadpan glare.

“In any case, there’s absolutely no way I’m meeting Prince Corrad. Even if it means altering history!”

At that very moment, the boy returned with a tray, followed by a young man walking a few steps behind him. The young man, who appeared to be just past his twenties, wore immaculate white attire—a spotless shirt paired with trousers and a frock coat, clearly marking him as someone of higher status, perhaps an upper citizen or nobility. He approached our table with deliberate steps.

“Um, excuse me. The shop is getting quite crowded, so would it be possible to share your table?”

The boy, looking troubled and hesitant, bowed his head slightly. Behind him, the young man, who exuded the air of a wealthy heir, flashed me a playful wink.

“Apologies for interrupting your conversation. This is my first time in this town, and I couldn’t resist trying the renowned specialty, the great slug—Groß Nacktschneck. I hope you wouldn’t mind if I joined you for a bit?”
“ “G-Great slug…?!” ”

At the young man’s offhand comment, Cestlavie and I instinctively glanced down at the half-eaten meat pie on our plates, our expressions shifting to something indescribable.

Because of this distraction, neither of us noticed the sharp change in Coppelia’s demeanor as she locked her gaze on the young man, her eyes appraising his seemingly good-natured face.

Nor did we catch her muttered words:

“—Sir Simon.”

Author’s note

There were many comments pointing out that it was too simplistic, so I changed the name of the slug to the German Groß Nacktschneck (Groß = large, Nacktschneck= slug) instead of the English “slug.”

Regarding the Gibson roll, I received feedback asking for more detail, so I provided a more detailed description.

It’s styled as a braided arrangement starting from the sides and then gathered together.