Chapter 200: Towards the Finale 2

Confronted by his sovereign King Gustavus in the wake of humiliating defeat – the last visitation Chris IV desired – dark clouds gathered within his heart.

“Your…Majesty. What brings you here at such an inopportune juncture?”

“Why, to offer consolation to one who has endured profound disgrace upon the field of battle. Does it not grieve me to witness my loyal Northern marquis suffering such ignominy?”

“…Mmm…”

Though Gustavus feigned solicitous kindness, Chris IV was no fool – discerning the barbed undercurrent suffusing those words.

Yet he found himself unable to counter that implicit mockery, for the king’s observations rang true.

Tantalizingly close to victory…yet defeat remained irreversible failure without exculpating caveat.

Though inwardly railing against Mansfeld’s disastrous blunders, the setback’s onus ultimately fell upon Chris IV’s shoulders alone.

Swallowing that bitter drought, he lowered his head deferentially before his sovereign:

“Alas…I have been bested, Your Majesty. Though intent upon showcasing our Northern warriors’ prowess against the Imperial curs…it appears they harbored assets transcending our expectations.”

“Transcending your expectations, you claim? Elaborate upon the nature of this adversary.”

“I did not directly witness their capabilities, sire. But they effortlessly crushed the ‘Mercenary King’ Mansfeld’s vaunted band with trivial ease.”

In defeat, burnishing one’s vanquisher constituted the simplest avenue to salvaging dignity:

Elevating the foe’s might mitigated any perceived shortcomings in the loser.

‘My opponents proved so formidable that my defeat became inevitable.’

A premature tournament elimination seems forgivable if the victor later triumphs overall.

Thus Chris IV portrayed his conqueror Wallenstein in the most imposing light possible – eliciting Gustavus’s thoughtful nod as recollections resurfaced:

‘Wallenstein, is it…? Now I recall, he issued similar warnings about the capabilities of this upstart and his men. It would seem his discernment remains uncommonly acute – as Santana and Andreas remarked…’

“Lord Santana!”

Estel Berthina Fernandez rushed forward resplendently attired, her exuberant greeting prompting an instinctive smile.

“A pleasure to see you again after this long separation. I trust you have been well?”

“No…truthfully, I have not fared particularly well as of late.”

“…Oh?”

Startled by Estel’s uncharacteristic gloom, I began fearing some unspoken turmoil plaguing her spirits.

Her subsequent confession confirmed as much:

“The loneliness has become…overbearing. You cannot fathom a lady’s anguish remaining sequestered from her destined husband’s company so interminably.”

“Ah…I…see. My sincerest condolences for that ordeal…”

As Estel playfully alluded to our impending nuptials, I instinctively felt scrutinized from somewhere behind me.

While pre-emptively addressing such matters should have preempted controversy, the imperative to handle matrimonial affairs with greater delicacy remained inescapable.

Keenly sensing that probing stare alongside me, Estel released my hand to politely greet its source with an elegant curtsy.

“Greetings. I am Estel Berthina Fernandez – the lady destined to become Lord Santana’s concubine.”

“I am Cajeros Sophia Andreas, Lord Santana’s wife and princess of the Dragonian Empire. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Fernandez.”

“Ah, so you are the esteemed Lady Cajeros – Lord Santana’s principal spouse and a Dragonian imperial princess. Then you must be akin to an elder sister for me. I look forward to your guidance going forward.”

“Likewise. Regardless of respective standings, we both wedded through diplomatic overtures. Let us strive to optimally support Lord Santana from our designated roles.”

“Of course. Whether intellectual pursuits or…more intimate arenas, I shall dedicate my utmost capabilities befitting my self-professed talents.”

Estel punctuated that bold claim with a demure yet subtly provocative flourish accentuating her voluptuous assets – prompting me to avert my gaze as a vein seemed to throb upon Cajeros’s forehead.

Despite this cordial pretext, the palpable undercurrents rendered the atmosphere distinctly frosty – portending the challenges this polygamous arrangement would likely entail.

‘I had hoped they might get along amicably from the outset…but that appears overly optimistic for the foreseeable future.’

Estel clearly savored becoming my bride, however officially ‘secondary’ her standing.

Yet from its premature onset before even formalizing matters, this wifely rivalry presaged considerably turbulent matrimonial waters ahead for me.

The inevitable power struggle between principal and subordinate spouses…

Though Cajeros’ imperial lineage theoretically afforded dominance, the formidable Estel would undoubtedly establish her own foothold through whatever means availed themselves.

And inevitably, I would find myself forever mediating between them both – a prospect I could hardly relish despite its superficial ‘appeal’.

‘The ‘dual flowers’ so envied by others…yet not an unalloyed blessing from my perspective, it would seem…’

While numerous avenues existed for a wife to consolidate her standing, the core determinant remained singularly straightforward:

Whose charms could enrapture her husband’s heart most indelibly?

The means spanned both worldly assets like wealth and power…to intensely personal attractions of physical beauty or intellectual charisma.

And by such criteria, Estel recognized Lady Cajeros as a daunting ‘competitor’ – yet simultaneously identified one critical vulnerability to exploit.

Her ‘rival’ Cajeros was undeniably formidable – bolstered by the vast Dragonian Empire’s might and aristocratic prestige.

Yet upon their first encounter, Estel had swiftly concluded she retained decisive advantages regardless.

‘Indeed, her reputed beauty does not disappoint – though decidedly lacking in one particular area…’

Even Estel, no stranger to female vanity, could not deny admiring Cajeros’s exquisite visage:

That refined, elegant, aristocratic radiance exuding regal poise – like a stately white lily blossoming in haughty splendor.

While their facial features proved comparably alluring, Estel possessed another potent weapon bequeathed by her forebears:

‘I may cede her the face…but even a blind man could judge my body the decided superior. Especially that woman…so glaringly deficient as a feminine specimen…’

The impressive ‘artillery’ straining against her bodice granted Estel smug reassurance despite her overall underdog status.

Of course, reveling in such assets necessitated averting her gaze from that ‘crimson’ attendant lurking behind Cajeros lest certain…unsavory comparisons manifested.

“Allow me to show you inside, Miss Fernandez.”

“Oh…yes, after you…”

Estel responded awkwardly upon acknowledging the ever-amicable smile of that vermilion-garbed maidservant.