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 64

Risty and I returned to the Gustique estate in Remilba after our inspection of the city of Marilba.

“We’re back, Blesta. Thank you, Mariel.”

“Welcome home, Lady Risty, Lord Folca. Master Blesta is doing well without any issues. He’s currently asleep.”

Risty gently stroked the head of our son, who was sleeping in his crib.

“Blesta, Mommy’s back.”

“Boo-chan, Daddy’s back too.”

During our two-day, one-night inspection of Marilba, Mariel and the others had taken care of Blesta.

“And little Raiga… Oh, this one’s asleep too.”

Risty looked at another crib holding a newborn and spoke. This was Raiga, Mariel’s baby boy. As planned, Mariel had taken on the role of Blesta’s wet nurse.

Though quiet now, having two babies around often resulted in chorus-like crying fits, making things quite lively. With Rita’s baby due soon, the northern wing of the Gustique estate was bound to become even more bustling.

For now, we sat down and relaxed with some herbal tea.

Since starting parenthood, I’d realized two things: “Doing this alone would be tough,” and “Having enough helping hands makes it manageable.”

We had six retainers and servants with childcare experience, even if they had other responsibilities, and Selena and Lasha were also helping out. The staff was more than sufficient.

That said, Risty was determined to breastfeed as much as possible herself and was even staying up at night to do so, leaving her looking a little tired. If we had formula and bottles, I could help out too.

“Lady Risty, how was Marilba?”

“It was amazing. They used the waterwheel to spin threads, and the weaving machines went clack-clack!”

The primary purpose of our visit to Marilba was to show Risty the waterwheel-powered spinning machines and the flying shuttle weaving machines she had long wanted to see.

Risty shared her impressions of Marilba with Mariel, and the three of us enjoyed a relaxed chat.

As we finished our herbal tea, there was a knock at the door.

When I called out, “Come in,” Muzuri, the steward, entered.

“My apologies for disturbing you right after your return. The master has summoned both you and Lady Risty to the study.”

A summons from Father. Muzuri’s expression seemed slightly stiff—it might be a heavy topic.

“Understood. Let’s go, Risty.”

“Alright. Mariel, please take care of Blesta.”

Risty and I left the room and walked down the corridor to Father’s study.

Inside, Selena and Lasha were already present.

“Folca, Lady Risty, sorry to call you over like this.”

“It’s fine. What’s the matter?”

“Well, it’s not pleasant news. Duke Manjula has sent a messenger. The message was, ‘There are unsettling signs in the Kingdom of Griffis. Be prepared, just in case.’”

“…Do we have any specifics about these signs?”

“It seems there’s a high likelihood that weapons stored in the Griffis royal capital are undergoing maintenance and inspection. There are other developments as well, but they’re still analyzing the information and plan to send another messenger once it’s clearer.”

“I see… While it’s unlikely Duke Manjula would outright lie, doing so would harm his credibility. However, there’s a good chance he’s exaggerating minor details. After all, it’s been nine years since the last war. They might simply be checking the condition of their weapons due to the passage of time.”

“That’s possible. But shortly after, we also received a letter from the Rolique royal family.”

“What did they say?”

“They reported an unnatural increase in the price of wheat within the Kingdom of Griffis.”

Wheat, not barley. For both Rolique and Griffis, wheat is primarily used for bread. It’s also a key ingredient in twice-baked bread and hardtack biscuits used as rations during military campaigns.

“Father-in-law, the Rolique royal family has infiltrated Griffis’s civilian trading companies with spies. This information likely came from them.”

Risty added context.

“I see. Have they managed to infiltrate the Griffis royal court?”

“They shouldn’t have. The Rolique royal family can only access surrounding information. The Manjula faction might have deeper penetration, though.”

In other words, the Rolique royal family couldn’t directly obtain information about decisions within the Griffis royal court.

“At this point, it’s hard to say for certain, but we should prepare for war.”

“Yes, I’ve come to the same conclusion. Lady Selena, Lady Lasha, I’m sorry, but…”

“Yes, we’ll suspend efforts to conceive. Fortunately or unfortunately, neither Lasha nor I are showing any signs of pregnancy.”

A grandmaster mage becoming pregnant is akin to a warship being docked for ten months. With the possibility of war looming, now was not the time for childbearing.

“My apologies.”

“No, it’s only natural. My father would say the same.”

“Father, what else should we do?”

“I don’t want to make any conspicuous moves. Duke Manjula likely has his own motives for sharing this information. He may have a reason for wanting us to take action.”

“In that case… perhaps you could focus on making ammunition?”

“Yes, that sounds about right. Would it be alright if I passed some work onto you?”

“Of course. Selena and Lasha are helping me, so we’ll manage.”

It seemed things would get a bit busier, but I was determined to handle it.

◇◇ ◆ ◇◇

Duke Manjula, Timon Stola Manjula, was in his private quarters, tending to correspondence and other small tasks. After replying to several letters, he took a brief break. A knock came at the door.

“Enter.”

The door opened, and the steward stepped in.

“Excuse me, my lord. A letter has arrived from the Rolique royal family. It’s still sealed.”

The duke took the letter from the steward, used a knife to break the seal, and read its contents.

“It says there’s been an unnatural increase in the price of wheat within the Kingdom of Griffis.”

Hearing this, the steward looked visibly relieved.

“My lord, it seems things are proceeding smoothly.”

“Yes, indeed. Good. Fetch me some whiskey.”

“At once.”

The steward quickly retrieved a bottle of distilled whiskey and a glass from the shelf. Using water magic and its derivative, ‘cold,’ he created ice, placed it in the glass, and poured the whiskey.

“Here you are.”

The steward set the glass on the table with a soft clink as the ice settled.

The duke tilted the glass, letting the whiskey flow into his throat. The alcohol burned warmly.

Leaning back into his chair, he exhaled deeply, the scent of wood filling his nostrils.

“Delicious. They’ve done well. The road ahead is still long… but a door has opened. Proceed as planned.”

“Understood. Without fail.”

The steward of the Manjula family bowed deeply, his eyes burning with a dark intensity.