harleyscars Chapter 167
Chapter 167
Chapter 167. The Invitation (3)
The following morning. A splendid carriage was waiting in front of the Townhouse that had been provided to Y&P Trading Company as lodgings.
It had been sent by the Royal Household.
"……"
Penelope checked the mirror several times, her face making no effort to conceal her nerves. Her dress was immaculate, but the very tips of her fingers were trembling faintly.
She was a woman who had not so much as blinked before the rough-mannered nobles of the North — and yet the weight of the Royal Household was something else entirely.
"How do I look? My hair hasn't come undone, has it?"
"O-of course not! Today's Penelope is at the very peak of her beauty. Yaaaawn……"
Penelope, eyes red from having spent nearly two hours getting herself dressed up. Serena, roused from bed before dawn to help with the dressing, and by now utterly exhausted.
"Could you not just ask Jurgen, ma'am?"
"What are you saying! How could I possibly let Jurgen see me changing my clothes!"
"……"
Serena had a great deal to say. She held it in.
"Penelope, may I come in?"
"Hm? Yes. Come in."
"Forgive the intrusion. Oh, Miss Serena is here as well."
"Good morning."
Jurgen crossed the room naturally and reached out to tidy the shawl resting on Penelope's shoulders with a gentle hand. At that touch, the trembling in Penelope eased, just a little.
"Can't you come with me? I feel so much more at ease when you're beside me."
"Only those who have been invited may enter the Royal Household. And do not worry. Have you not grown thoroughly accustomed to dealing with the demanding nobles of the North? The Royal Household is not very different."
"Even so……"
The two of them, filling the morning with the warmth of a spring breeze.
"……"
Serena had a truly great deal to say. She kept it all firmly inside.
At any rate, steadied by Jurgen's unhurried encouragement, Penelope drew a long, deep breath.
That's right. Penelope was no longer a useless flower. She was Penelope Rosemore, Representative of Y&P — the one who held the North's commercial district in the palm of her hand.
"I'll be off, then."
She climbed into the carriage with a look of firm resolve.
The Coachman cracked his whip, and the carriage wheels began to turn.
The carriage rumbled and clattered through the bustling streets of the capital. Then it passed through the gates of Whitehall Grand Palace — the very heart of the Kingdom.
Through the window, the grand stone buildings swept past. The figures of solemn sentries. Ordinarily, audiences with outsiders and business meetings with trading companies were conducted in the Reception Room of the Royal Palace's South Wing.
And yet.
"Hm?"
Penelope's brow furrowed as she peered out the window.
The carriage was passing straight through the fork that led to the South Wing, ignoring it entirely. Past the grand and imposing buildings, deeper in, toward a place dense with thick forest and garden.
"Excuse me…… I think we may have taken a wrong turn?"
Penelope ventured the question carefully, addressing the Head Attendant seated opposite her.
"The Reception Room is in the South Wing — isn't this the road to the North Wing?"
The North Wing. The private residential quarters of the Royal Family, and a Forbidden Zone where the entry of outsiders was strictly controlled. Should anyone set foot there uninvited, they would have no grounds for complaint even if their head were taken from them on the spot.
"We are on the correct road, Lady Rosemore."
But the Head Attendant simply smiled and drew the curtains within the carriage.
"Please do not touch the curtains."
"I beg your pardon? Of course."
The correct road?
Penelope had been bewildered — but then her heart plummeted straight to her feet.
What is this? Was this not supposed to be a meeting with the Minister of the Royal Household to discuss the schedule for the Birthday Banquet dinner?
She had known it was no ordinary business meeting, but to go directly to the private quarters of the Royal Family —
Surely not? No. It couldn't be. That sort of thing simply wouldn't happen.
However high Y&P Trading Company's standing may have risen, this was too far-fetched to believe.
While Penelope was drowning in confusion, the carriage came to a stop.
"Please alight."
The place they had arrived was not in front of a grand audience chamber.
It was an enormous glass dome, dazzling as it caught the sunlight. Inside the Glass Garden, gleaming transparently, rare plants of various kinds could be seen growing lush and green even at a glance.
"Please step inside."
The Head Attendant opened the door with a courteous gesture. Penelope forced her trembling legs to move and stepped through.
A warm, moisture-laden air washed over her all at once. The interior was warm and humid.
Penelope swallowed drily and looked around.
Born a noble lady of some standing, she had grown up seeing many remarkable things. But a splendour of this magnitude was something she had never encountered before.
Rare plants gathered from every corner of the continent had formed a lush and verdant forest, and butterflies of every colour danced among them.
"You need only walk straight ahead in this direction."
"I…… alone?"
"Someone is waiting for you."
The Head Attendant withdrew with an unreadable smile. Through a stillness in which nothing stirred but the sound of flowing water and birdsong, Penelope crossed carefully onward.
Surely not. Turning the thought over and over — surely it couldn't be — even as she walked.
And then.
Snip, snip.
From somewhere beyond the undergrowth, a regular sound of scissors came to her ears. Penelope turned her steps toward it.
There stood a middle-aged woman, her back turned.
Wearing a straw hat pulled down low, a rough working garment flecked with soil, and heavy boots. The very picture of a Gardener, nothing more.
She seemed entirely unaware that Penelope had approached, absorbed wholly in trimming the bonsai before her.
'A Gardener?'
Penelope was puzzled. The Head Attendant had guided her here — and yet the person waiting was nowhere to be found, only a Gardener.
Had she come at the wrong time, perhaps? Or was she meant to wait a moment?
"Excuse me, I beg your pardon……"
Just as Penelope moved to speak —
The sound of scissors ceased.
"Pruning is a truly strange thing."
The woman spoke quietly, without turning round.
"Let your attention slip for even a moment and the branches grow wild; but cut too much away and the tree dies. To hold to the right measure and keep the balance. That is the hardest thing of all."
It might simply have been an ordinary murmur to oneself. The small idle thoughts of a Gardener trimming a tree.
And yet — the weight of that voice was different. It was as though it altered the very density of the air — an immense, overpowering pressure that radiated out through those humble work clothes.
Her body reacted before her mind could. Her legs trembled, and her heart pounded wildly, madly.
Penelope's gaze moved to the woman's hands. An old ring, engraved with the Royal Crest.
There was only one person in all of Britannia who could wear that ring.
"The Second Daughter of Rosemore."
The woman turned slowly.
The face revealed beneath the straw hat was that of a plain, unpainted, middle-aged woman. Beads of sweat stood on her brow, and the lines of years were carved deep at the corners of her eyes.
There was no crown, no grand dress. And yet Penelope knew.
This woman was Mathilda Alcaion — the Iron-blooded Queen.
"I — I humbly present myself before Her Majesty the Queen!"
Penelope threw herself down on the earthen floor in an instant.
Why was the Queen — a private audience? A thousand thoughts spun through her mind at once, arriving nowhere. She could find no answer anywhere.
"Rise. This is not my office; there is no need to kneel in the dirt."
The Queen spoke in a tone touched with warmth as she removed her soil-stained gloves.
"My daughter, Luiza, is quite taken with your trading company. Thanks to that, the smell of frying oil has not left the Royal Palace for a single day lately. And since we have already given you the Royal Warrant, I have no grounds to forbid it."
"I am most humbled, Your Majesty."
"But this time, it seems she has been making demands for something new as well."
The Queen gave a faint, amused smile. She looked entirely like an ordinary mother — and yet an oppressive weight poured forth that made it hard to breathe.
"Braised Ribs, was it? Word of that restaurant — Royal Kitchen, was it — has reached even my ears, so it's no wonder Luiza is impatient for it."
The Queen rested her chin in her hand and looked at Penelope.
"I had our cooks attempt an imitation, but it seems she was quite unsatisfied. It would appear the taste of the original cannot be replicated. And so I have summoned you briefly, on the pretext of this Birthday Banquet."
"I — I am most deeply humbled."
Summoned all this way simply because a princess wanted Braised Ribs? The surface reason was plausible enough, of course. But rationally speaking, it didn't make sense, did it? Could that truly be the full purpose?
As if seeing straight through Penelope's doubts — the Queen continued in a gentle voice.
"But then, would it not be a shame to feed only my daughter?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"I have heard that in the North, noble and commoner alike have been captivated by your cooking. I have received reports that laughter and vitality have taken root in a barren land. A commendable thing."
The Queen paused briefly, and gestured toward the outside of the glass dome. She pointed in the direction of the great Central Square.
"For this Birthday Banquet, I would like to share that joy with my people as well."
"……!"
The Queen smiled gently toward Penelope.
"The main event of this Birthday Banquet will not be inside the Royal Palace — it will be in that square. Have Y&P Trading Company treat the fifty thousand citizens who will gather in that square to the flavours of the North. I will see to the provision of supplies."
Penelope could not believe her own ears.
A Royal Charity Event. There was nothing particularly unusual about that in itself. But to entrust that momentous task to Y&P Trading Company was a matter that could be interpreted as carrying even political significance.
"Can you do it?"
Penelope swallowed dryly. There was something she could guess at, to a degree. The Royal Household was currently in Succession Negotiations regarding the Rosemore family. To extend a hand to Penelope in this manner — there must surely be some other intention behind it.
"If you should accomplish it brilliantly…… let me see……"
The Queen paused as though considering briefly, then spoke.
"I will elevate Y&P Trading Company to a Royal Trading Company."
Penelope's eyes went wide.
A Royal Trading Company. It was similar to the Royal Warrant. Except that its scope of application would be extended to encompass all of Y&P Trading Company.
In Britannia — where trust in the Royal Household ran extraordinarily high — this was a colossal card that would allow one to claim honour, political security, and profit all at once.
Whether the Queen's intention was to check Clarisse, a simple expression of goodwill, or the benevolence of a ruler — if this succeeded, it would be an unprecedented opportunity to inscribe the name of Y&P Trading Company into the history of the Kingdom.
Penelope clenched her trembling hands tight and raised her head.
"I…… accept the command. I will meet Your Majesty's expectations."
"Good. I look forward to it."
The Queen gave a benevolent smile, then took up her scissors once more and resumed trimming the tree. It was an Order of Expulsion.
Penelope forced her unsteady legs to move and made her way out of the Glass Garden.
Guided by the waiting Head Attendant and settled into the carriage — the strength drained from her body the moment she sat down.
Her back was soaked through with cold sweat. Her heart pounded as though it might burst.
"Good heavens."
The Head Attendant tactfully busied themselves with other things, pretending not to see the state Penelope was in. But she had no capacity to register even that small consideration.
The number of companies designated as Royal Trading Companies across the entire Kingdom did not exceed twenty.
If this succeeded — there would be no more need to live in constant dread of having the business seized by the family.
It would mean the absolute authority of the Royal Household was personally guaranteeing the safety of this enterprise.
Why they were going to such lengths, she could not understand. Why the Queen was making an offer this extraordinary remained as opaque as ever.
Yet one thing was certain.
This mission had to succeed — for the sake of Y&P Trading Company.