Victory Celebration
A Sage can’t win against Madame. It’s me, Alicetia, a little bit wiser now.
To beat Madame Smith, I’d probably have to become strong enough to destroy the entire continent by myself—or ascend to the rank of ArchSage or something.
Things went terribly after that. Madame made me play dress-up over and over again. I did resist, you know. I tried to land about thirty flying knee kicks, but she dodged every one of them and gave me a real rough time for it. Truly humiliating.
Damn it. I went through all that trouble to “reassign” her to the countryside under the pretense of educating some problem child out there, but she finished the job in no time and came straight back. If she’d just stayed in the countryside, I’d have been free!
The royal capital is full of noise and cheer today—an unprecedented festival.
Why? Because the celebration of victory over the Empire and the birthdays of my brother and me all happen to fall on the same day.
The Arland army suffered tremendous losses in the imperial war, losing countless strong soldiers and many nobles. The chaos that followed delayed both the victory celebration and the birthday banquet again and again.
And that’s how three different festivities got merged into one.
“Takuto, long time no see.”
“Quite a lively party, huh.”
Takuto looked tired when I saw him again.
I know why. Krakens have been landing on his territory lately.
Well, what can you do. Krakens in this world have no natural predators, so they’re spreading like jellyfish off the coast of Echizen back in Japan. There are too many of them, so they’ve started coming ashore. Probably just bored.
“Well, the after-war cleanup delayed everything. Any longer and the citizens were about to start the celebration on their own.”
The people of Arland—from the royal family down to the commoners—love festivals. But holding them all year round would cause problems, so the number of festivals is legally restricted.
However, with the victory festival combined with our birthday celebration, the entire kingdom has gone into full festival mode. Everyone says it’s the largest in history.
After all, this victory freed Arland from the Empire’s long-standing pressure since its founding. The citizens’ joy was indescribable.
I wanted to go around the stalls and… uh, “inspect” things myself. Honestly, high-society parties just don’t suit me.
Well, at least these stiff formal parties always end quickly.
“This stiff party’ll be over soon enough.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Arland isn’t the kind of country you imagine, Takuto. Now that all the troublesome people are gone, it won’t take long before things get out of hand.”
The “troublesome people” meant the Noble Council. They were useless—no, worse than useless, like industrial waste dragging everyone down. But they were the only thing keeping the noble society somewhat restrained.
Arlandians don’t like stiff formality. The country’s basically by muscle-heads, for muscle-heads, of muscle-heads. It’s nothing like the feudal states people imagine. Orderly nations don’t suit muscle-heads.
Parties are a good example. Normally, lower-ranked nobles shouldn’t talk to higher-ranked ones and must follow strict etiquette.
But not in Arland. Oh, there *are* stiff formal parties, but those are just for appearances or when someone feels like doing a “cultured” cosplay event. No matter how much they try to act refined, you can’t hide muscle-brained nature. Even in formalwear, those bulging muscles are impossible to conceal! Wear bigger clothes, guys.
The Noble Council hated this free-spirited culture and constantly whined about noble dignity, forcing stuffy parties on others.
That was their one accomplishment. Not that it changed the fact that they were garbage. Go enjoy your “pleasant party” in the dungeon with the torturers.
Most nobles had only gone along with the Council’s ideals because pretending to be intellectual felt nice, but deep down, they preferred having fun freely.
For now, everyone was calm. But it wouldn’t last.
Soon enough, I was surrounded by various nobles.
The conversations were mostly greetings and small talk. Since I rarely attended social gatherings, this was a chance for people to introduce themselves. Everyone seemed desperate to make me remember their faces and names.
The small talk was mostly about their territories or the capital.
Apparently, the capital was bustling—full of people and prosperity everywhere. A good thing. Someone lightly complained that all the confectionery shops were closed, but it sounded more like a joke than an insult.
The provinces were a mixed bag. Some regions were developing well, others not so much. My brother would handle it somehow. Politics? No thank you.
They seemed to understand that too, so those talks ended quickly.
Still, it was quite informative. I wouldn’t mind socializing if all parties were like this.
Then, a loud cheer went up.
“There she is—the princess!”
“Oh, forget these sweaty men and come chat with *us* instead!”
“Mmffgh!”
And just like that, my face was smothered in someone’s soft flesh as my feet left the floor.
Damn it. I knew it—abducted again. Last time I’d managed to fend them off by hiding behind my invention presentation, but not today.
“Puhah!”
When I was finally released and could look around again, I froze.
I was surrounded by noble ladies—the so-called “Elder Sisters.” They forced me to call them that. Some of them were clearly too old for the title, but one must not *think* about such things. Every one of them was an “Elder Sister.” And they were my natural enemies.
I have a lot of natural enemies. First, Mother. When she’s angry, she’s so terrifying I might wet myself.
Next, Madame Smith. I could drop her with one punch—she’s just annoyingly resilient. I’ll deal with her later when I’m feeling better.
Next is pickled plums. I hate them. I hate them so much that in my previous life I once played mahjong against that damned old man Honda, betting the entire future of pickled plums on the line. Honda was Japan’s Prime Minister, by the way—a friend of Takuto’s grandfather, so we knew each other. A bad friend, really. If *I* had won, the pickled plum industry would’ve been destroyed. But I lost. Damn that plum-loving old man.
Thankfully, pickled plums don’t exist in this world. And if they did, I’d use my authority to eradicate them.
And last, the Elder Sisters of the social scene.
I’m a princess and head of the Viceroy House, you know. Important stuff. And yet, they treat me like a toy. Sure, at formal events I behave properly and follow etiquette…
But today’s party is practically a free-for-all. Father’s already drunk, singing arm-in-arm with knights and ministers. It’s chaos.
No one will save me. When I send pleading looks at nearby nobles, they avert their eyes and quickly walk away from this group.
“Damn… I’ll have to use Alicia as a decoy to escape.”
“Oh my, how cruel of you.”
“But Alicia won’t come near us anyway.”
“We’ve already made sure she can’t.”
That last line made me snap my head toward where Alicia was—and froze again.
“How beautiful. She’s like the incarnation of beauty itself.”
“The very goddess of beauty.”
“Such magnificent fur. I curse these tears for blurring my vision.”
“Uh… umm…”
At Alicia’s feet knelt a crowd of beastmen, gazing up at her with rapturous faces, tears streaming down their cheeks.
What the hell. They’re *worshiping* my maid! That fluff is mine!
I’ve been polishing that fur every day, refining the magic comb day after day! With the latest improvements, it’s reached divine levels—so much that beastmen now revere her.
Idiots. Sure, the fluff is amazing, but this isn’t perfection. I’ve only reached Mt. Fuji’s peak; Everest still awaits.
Poor Alicia couldn’t move at all, surrounded by kneeling beastmen nobles. And one of their wives was casually stepping on her husband’s tail—but no one seemed to care. Isn’t that like punching a dragon’s reverse scale, planting explosives, setting them off, and then rubbing salt in the wound?! But the guys didn’t even notice, so maybe that “reverse scale” thing’s a myth.
“...…”
I sighed in despair, glancing around.
Ah, now I understand why my brother keeps his distance from these people. To them, we’re prey.
My brother’s hunted for marriage; I’m hunted for… other reasons.
“She’s just so adorable.”
“Her hair’s short! I’ve brought the Elixir of Life to fix that.”
“Ah—wait—!”
Just like that, the hair I’d cut to shoulder length during the war grew back to its old waist length.
I’d hidden every bottle of that elixir in the castle and even stopped Madame from using it, yet there she was behind the noble girls, grinning wickedly. So it was you!
Long hair’s a pain. Hard to move with it. What? A princess shouldn’t move so much? I’m a free spirit, thank you very much. I’ll deal with Madame later.
“The princess is even more beautiful with long hair.”
“I want to take her home.”
“My, that would make you a rebel.”
“I wish I had such an adorable little sister.”
“You already have one, don’t you?”
“Yes, but she’s been obsessed with ogre hunting lately and won’t spend time with me…”
“Oh, ogres have been dull lately. Try Tyrant Orcs instead.”
“My, perfect for dinner as well, ho ho ho!”
What *do* these people do all day? Not that I can talk.
After that, they treated me like a doll—sat me on their laps, fed me sweets (which were delicious, so I didn’t really mind).
Arland’s confections just keep getting better. I love it.
Why am I so into sweets? Easy: it’s one of the few pleasures I have.
Books? Useless. Arland’s literary world is full of muscle-heads—training guides, martial arts, that sort of thing. I’ve read all the decent novels there are.
Magic books? No longer inspiring. I’ve learned everything worth learning. Most of them are just attack spells anyway.
Exercise? Not my thing. Whenever I go running, Father and Brother stalk me from behind, smiling proudly. You try focusing when a dozen people are following you. And without magic, I collapse after a hundred meters.
So yes—I love sweets. They soothe my soul. Without them, I’d despair.
When I finally managed to slip away from the Elder Sisters, the men’s side of the hall had descended into utter chaos.
Singing arm-in-arm, lifting tables… It was more a pirate tavern than a noble party.
Some nobles were challenging knights to muscle showdowns—stripping off their jackets, flexing, only for the knights to silently strip and reveal even more impressive physiques. You can’t win that, guys. Those knights *train for fun* after work!
I crept along the edges, trying not to get dragged in. Alicia? Still being worshiped.
Time to sneak back to my room. Takuto was busy socializing anyway.
Then I noticed some glasses on a nearby table.
Several glasses of liquor, probably left there by a servant who couldn’t keep up with how much everyone was drinking. Not unusual in Arland—especially since Father was drinking straight from a barrel nearby.
“I’m a bad girl, so I can handle a little alcohol, right?”
I’d always been curious. I’d died in my previous life without ever tasting alcohol, and for some reason, Mother forbade it here too. She said it was off-limits for me as well.
But I’m an adult now. It’s fine.
I picked up a glass—red wine. No clue what vintage or region; I’ve never had any before. Took a sip.
“Not bad at all.”
It actually tasted pretty good. Though I’d prefer it sweeter.
I have no idea why it was banned. Arland doesn’t have drinking restrictions—anyone can drink at any age. Too many races to regulate, really. Dwarves even mix alcohol into baby formula. I researched it once—it’s harmless for them. They’re immune to most toxins, even in polluted mines.
So I gulped it all down.
“Phaaah… another glass—huh?”
I reached for the next glass, but the world went dark—and the next thing I knew, it was morning.
“How strange,” I muttered, stretching on my bed. I was already in my nightclothes somehow.
“It’s not ‘how strange,’ Princess!”
“Oh, it’s Alicia, the one who didn’t save me from being worshiped.”
I waved lazily. She sighed.
“It was your fault for drawing their attention! And I told you—no alcohol. You passed out standing upright!”
Like Benkei, huh.
“There’s no law against it.”
“Even so, you were completely drunk. His Majesty has issued a royal decree: forbidden for you.”
Father, you selfish drinker. Unforgivable.
I glared, but Alicia didn’t budge. Fine. If I can’t enjoy booze, I’ll just stock up on juice instead.
After changing, I went out for a walk.
The city outside was still full of cheerful noise—the festival would last a week.
First, I should carry that man who’s fallen asleep face-first in the garden shrubs back to bed. It’s getting chilly, even with the city’s warming barrier active. Judging by his clothes, he’s at least a viscount. Passing out drunk in the royal gardens looks bad.
And Father… is hanging upside-down from the balcony by one foot. Someone please collect the king.
The whole castle’s filled with passed-out guests. Maids and attendants were carrying them to rooms—must’ve been wild earlier.
I looked up at the sky.
“It’s going to be a cold year… I think I’ll hibernate.”
From the look of the clouds and the air, this winter’s going to be harsh. Guess I’ll sleep through it. Sorry, Brother—good luck with work.
What do you think about this chapter?
