After Retirement, Living a Stud Life in Another World - 25
Chapter 25: Engagement with the Princess
“Wait a moment, Princess, isn’t it too… your own marriage, you know!”
The middle-aged me couldn’t help but forget my status and advise this reckless princess. I mean, we just met a little while ago, right? Even if we were to consider each other for a night, marriage out of the blue is a bit much, isn’t it?
“Is it that surprising? It’s not uncommon for royal marriages to be arranged without meeting until the ceremony.”
As the princess tilted her head, her thick golden hair, just like the queen’s, swayed gently. Her cool, shining green eyes seemed to have no doubts about the queen’s orders.
Come to think of it, that might be the case. In royal families, marriages are mostly political. Especially for the leading candidate for the queen, like her, the potential matches would likely be princes from neighboring countries. Not meeting until the wedding ceremony might indeed be a common practice.
“But… is it okay for someone like me? I’m the fourth son of an earl.”
“If Her Majesty approves, then it should be fine.”
A surprisingly innocent answer came back, leaving me dumbfounded.
“Yes, your status doesn’t matter. It’s not like Beatrice will be marrying you.”
“Wait, does that mean Lutz will be… a fiancé to the princess and become part of the royal family?”
In response to the queen’s words, my mother, who seemed to realize the gravity of the situation too late, began to panic and fumble. She’s a bit slow on the uptake.
“Yes, indeed. Well then, let’s decide my successor. Beatrice, I nominate you as the next princess. Take care of it.”
“I have no choice… but please delay abdicating as much as possible.”
With a casual tone as if saying, “I’m just going shopping, so take care of things while I’m away,” the queen, despite delivering such a weighty decision, is quite a big shot. But her daughter, who accepts it easily without changing her expression, is also quite a force to be reckoned with.
“Hey, Eliza, Eliza… so, what about Lutz…”
“Yes, he’ll be the future royal consort. Well, do your best.”
Wait, is this a joke?
—
To avoid giving us time to hesitate, Queen called in a secretary immediately and had a marriage contract drawn up. Cardinal was waiting as a witness, well-prepared as if everything was planned from the beginning. With that audience, we both signed the documents—Beatrice, nonchalant and natural, while I nervously dotted the i’s.
The contract drafted by the royal palace is detailed to an unusual extent. While it naturally mentions that we will marry once I reach the age of fifteen, there are also clauses like meeting alone at least once a week during the engagement. However, premarital relations are prohibited to prevent any accidental pregnancies.
Surprisingly, it even specifies penalties in case of a broken engagement. If the princess were to abandon me, she would have to pay me a large settlement and grant me a territory. However, there are no provisions for me breaking off the engagement. It seems to imply that I would never break it off, or at least that’s how I interpret it.
Surprisingly, there’s a clause allowing her to have multiple spouses. If we fail to have children within three years of marriage, she can either take on a second spouse or choose a stallion for mating. When it comes to me siring children with anyone other than the princess, I need her permission. It seems like quite a high hurdle. However, for some reason, I’m granted the right to have up to three wives, aside from the princess.
“We want to surround ourselves with the best stallions in the world. Therefore, we have to show some favoritism as the royal family.”
“These are all formidable gentlemen. I don’t think I can satisfy her by myself.”
As I tilt my head, the queen and the princess say such things. The princess’s comment seems subtly off. Is it just my imagination, or does she see me as nothing more than a monkey? Well, I do have a self-awareness of being a bit like a monkey during the “Baptism” week.
With all these formalities, the day had completely passed. Even my mother, who is usually composed, looks tired and mutters something.
“Ah… today, there were too many things going on… Let’s go home quickly and get some rest.”
“Oh? Hilda, why don’t you stay overnight tonight? I’ve already prepared dinner with your favorites, and there’s also that aged wine you like.”
“…I’ll graciously accept the offer.”
My mother is easily enticed by such invitations. I, too, would like to go to bed early…