A Flat-Chest Believer Reincarnated in a World Where Women with Small Breasts Aren't Treated as Women ~ I Ended Up with a Flat-Chested Harem. - Chapter 14

After the wedding ceremony at the grand cathedral, we went on a brief tour around the royal capital in a carriage. It was a small parade, flanked by ceremonial soldiers as we circled the city.

Honestly, we were just there as decorative figures, but Risty seemed genuinely happy. The citizens of the capital were also elated, waving enthusiastically as we passed by. It was nice to see such a positive atmosphere.

Once the parade ended, we took a short break before heading to the evening banquet—essentially, the wedding reception by Japanese standards.

The banquet itself was small, mainly attended by high-ranking nobles.

Given that the wedding announcement had been made only a month ago, organizing a large-scale event wasn’t feasible. In reality, they had just re-labeled the originally planned “Former King’s Birthday Celebration” as our wedding banquet.

Still, even a “small” banquet had more than 200 attendees.

We arrived at the entrance to the ballroom in the royal palace and waited. Once the King had finished his opening remarks, it was time for us to enter.

After a short while, we received the signal.

“Shall we go, Risty?” I asked.

“Yes, Folca,” she replied.

Risty placed her hand on my arm, and we began walking. The doors opened, and all eyes in the room turned toward us.

We walked slowly, smiling, toward the center of the ballroom, where an open space awaited us.

In the Rolique Kingdom’s wedding receptions, it’s customary for the bride and groom to open the event by dancing in front of everyone.

As the music began, I placed my hand on Risty’s waist.

By the way, I’m not particularly good at dancing. I can dance, of course, but I’m only average. If I had time to practice dancing, I’d rather train in magic. Risty was in a similar situation.

But it was fine.

As we started to dance, everyone’s attention shifted to Risty’s necklace.

In the dim lighting of the cathedral, it had been hard to see clearly, but here, it was unmistakable. The high-ranking nobles, with their keen eyes, would surely recognize that it was a masterpiece crafted by the Marquis of Gustique.

They would be dazzled by its brilliance and start to think. “If the Marquis Gustique went to such lengths to create something like this, then perhaps this marriage is something he truly wanted?” Various thoughts would surely cross their minds.

Our dance was short, just one song, to spare us from exhaustion. By the time they’d finished analyzing the Marquis’s feelings, the dance would be over. No one would care about how well or poorly we danced.

After finishing the dance, we bowed. Good, we made it through.

Risty and I exchanged a smile, relieved.

But there was no time to rest. Next came the mingling. First, we had to greet the visiting royalty from the neighboring Kingdom of Thier—the only foreign guests at today’s banquet.

Though they were neighboring royalty, there wasn’t much need for formality. Queen Charlotte of Rolique was the third princess of Thier, making the King and Queen of Thier Risty’s grandparents.

As soon as the “confirmation” was settled, a horse had been dispatched to Thier to notify them. They had gone to great lengths to clear their schedules and attend.

“Grandfather, Grandmother, it’s been a while. Thank you so much for coming today. This is my husband, Folca,” Risty said.

“Your Majesties, I am Folca Gles Gustique,” I introduced myself, standing tall and bowing deeply.

“Hmm. I’ve heard from Charlotte that you are a fine man. Take good care of my granddaughter,” said King Thier, his face wrinkling as he smiled warmly. He seemed like a kind, gentle grandfather.

“Congratulations, dear. That necklace is truly stunning. It’s the work of the Marquis Gustique, isn’t it?” Queen Thier asked.

“Yes, Father-in-law made it for me,” Risty replied happily.

“As I thought. The Marquis is known for his earth affinity of 8 and his exceptional precision in magical craftsmanship. Even Thier’s finest magical goldsmiths couldn’t produce something of this caliber. It must have taken quite some time,” the Queen remarked.

“Yes, he threw aside all his other work and locked himself in his workshop. The household staff had a hard time,” Risty said with a smile.

“Hmm. It’s a hard life serving such a talented mage, but there’s no substitute for magic,” King Thier commented wisely.

That was true. In the Gustique family, my father was the only one who could produce such advanced bearings, and I was the only one who could create ‘Holy Water.’ You could delegate administrative tasks, but magic was irreplaceable.

“In that sense, the Gustique family will continue to give its servants a hard time in the next generation as well,” I added lightly.

“Indeed. Folca and Risty, your magic is one-of-a-kind. Be sure to take good care of your servants,” the King advised.

“Of course, Grandfather. Thank you for your kind words,” Risty replied.

Though I would have liked to chat more, we didn’t have much time to linger.

We politely excused ourselves and headed to the table reserved for the bride and groom in the center back of the room. From here, people would come to offer their congratulations in turn. Unfortunately, there were no chairs, so we’d be standing the whole time. However, unlike Japan, there was no custom of forcing the groom to drink.

It was customary for people to congratulate us according to their rank. This meant the first guest would be the most important.

Approaching with graceful yet powerful steps was none other than Duke Manjula, Timon Stola Manjula. He was a man in his late forties, with white hair and blue eyes, tall and somewhat lean. Though his hair had once been a dazzling blonde, the hardships he had endured since the Griffis Kingdom’s invasion eight years ago had aged him beyond his years.

As the head of the highest-ranking noble family, Duke Manjula often butted heads with the Rolique royal family over how to deal with the Griffis Kingdom. The Manjula family advocated for a counterattack, while the royal family preferred to focus on strengthening the kingdom’s defenses.

In short, Duke Manjula was the leader of a rival faction.

“Lord Folca, Lady Risty, congratulations on your marriage,” Duke Manjula said as he approached.

“Duke Manjula, I apologize for the sudden nature of the ceremony. Thank you for attending,” I replied.

“No need to apologize. Health matters are beyond our control,” he said.

“Health matters,” huh? It was a rather odd way of referring to the former king’s illness, but I suppose it was his way of being polite.

Duke Manjula was an incredibly sharp man. He had likely figured everything out already. But that was fine. Even if he knew, it wouldn’t cause any issues without concrete evidence to back it up.

“I appreciate your understanding,” I said courteously.

“A marriage between two powerful mages is a great boon to the future of the kingdom. I wish you the best of blessings,” he said.

In other words, he hoped we would produce strong magical heirs.

With that, Duke Manjula excused himself, saying, “I’ll let the others have their turn,” and left.

Next in line was Duke Famagusta and his son, Moses—the family of Risty’s former fiancé. This was going to be awkward for both sides.

“Lord Folca, Lady Risty, congratulations on your marriage,” Duke Famagusta greeted us.

“Duke Famagusta, thank you for attending today’s ceremony,” I replied.

We exchanged the formalities. I couldn’t help wishing that this would be the end of it, but I knew it would look bad if people thought there was still tension between the Gustique and Famagusta families.

“Congratulations on your marriage,” Moses said quietly, his face filled with guilt. He looked as if he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

He was probably in a difficult position as well. Being unable to fulfill his role as the heir to a dukedom due to the complications of Risty’s physique must have been a heavy burden on him.

“Thank you,” I replied, stepping closer to Moses so only he could hear me.

“Don’t worry. I promise I’ll make her happy,” I whispered.

Moses met my gaze, and for the first time, his expression softened slightly.

“Thank you,” he murmured in return.

With the tension now eased, we chatted for a bit. We even made plans to visit the port city in the Famagusta dukedom to enjoy some fresh seafood. From an outsider’s perspective, it likely seemed like a friendly conversation.

That went better than expected. Good.

Now, the hardest part was over.

“Lord Folca! Lady Risty! Congratulations on your marriage!” boomed the next guest, Duke Domeia, ranked third in the kingdom. He was a bald man in his fifties with a hearty laugh.

The recent war with the Pomeis Kingdom had been over a mine in his territory, so both Risty and I had made a good impression on him after our efforts in the rear support during the conflict.

After a brief conversation about the war, Duke Domeia offered his congratulations and moved on.

Fourth in rank was Marquis Periste, who came with Alvy (whom I affectionately called “Brother Al”). After exchanging some pleasantries, we made plans to go hunting with my sister Lyla sometime soon.

The sixth-ranked guest was Count Poletta, a powerful mage with a ‘10’ in Earth Magic. However, his territory was far away, and our relationship was relatively distant, so our conversation was brief and formal.

After that, the rankings became a bit more ambiguous. Guests trickled in one by one, offering their congratulations before moving on. While most interactions were polite, the conversations were often overly formal, and I occasionally caught sympathetic glances directed at me. It seemed many nobles found something unsettling about this marriage.

Come on, I’m just into small chests. Can’t they stop overthinking this? I wondered if it would help if I gave a passionate speech declaring, “Ladies and gentlemen, I love small chests.” No, that wouldn’t go over well, would it?

Eventually, the round of congratulations from the nobles came to an end. At that moment, two young men approached us. One was a strikingly handsome youth with blonde hair and blue eyes, and the other had light green hair and blue eyes—a beautiful boy. They were Prince Kefin, the first prince, and Prince Stain, the second prince. Since they were family, they didn’t follow the order of rank.

“Lord Folca, Risty, congratulations on your marriage,” said Prince Kefin.

“Lord Folca, Sister Risty, congratulations on your marriage,” added Prince Stain.

“Thank you, Prince Kefin, Prince Stain. We appreciate your presence here today,” I replied.

“Brother, Stain, thank you for all your help, both during the preparations and today,” Risty said, gratefully.

We exchanged pleasantries. Prince Stain, though the son of the second queen, was on good terms with his siblings, it seemed.

“Prince Stain, your performance today was truly wonderful. I want to thank you again,” I said.

Prince Stain had a deep appreciation for music. While he could play instruments, he was especially skilled in using wind magic to create magical performances. Today, he had been in charge of a portion of the music.

“Oh, it was nothing, really. I’m still just a student of the craft,” he said, smiling bashfully.

Honestly, he was adorable. Prince Stain had a rather feminine face, and with his youthful features, it wasn’t hard to mistake him for a woman at first glance. His bone structure was clearly masculine, but even I had briefly mistaken him for Princess Risty’s sister the first time I met him.

…Wait, speaking of sisters, where was Princess Felicie? Come to think of it, I hadn’t seen her in quite some time.

“By the way, where is Princess Felicie…?”

Before I could finish my question, Risty interjected.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Huh? What do you mean?” I asked, confused.

“It’s fine. Really, just don’t worry about it,” Prince Kefin chimed in, echoing Risty’s reassurance.

I didn’t quite understand, but if both of them were saying it was fine, then it was probably fine.

And so, with just a few minor hiccups, the wedding banquet concluded without any major incidents.