Ivan had been hospitalized for about two weeks, during which time Elizabeta never once visited his hospital room.
She simply remained shut away in her office. As if trying to emulate her father who never emerged from the palace.
Instead, she sent Dmitri.
"My, look at the thickness of this peel, Miss Isabelle. You'll never find a husband this way. My goodness, you've diced the flesh into cubes."
"How could I possibly peel it any thinner!"
"Hmm? Shall I show you?"
Dmitri snatched the knife and apple and began to rub it gently. Literally, not peeling but rather rubbing it in a smooth motion.
Before long, an apple appeared on the plate, peeled so thinly that the other side was visible through it (and remarkably, peeled in one continuous strip).
"Ta-da!"
"Unbelievable..."
Isabelle blankly lifted the apple peel. She picked it up with her index finger, and it was peeled so thinly it seemed ready to crumble.
"Does the Counter-Intelligence Directorate receive bridal training or something? How did you do that?"
"Hehe, there's a terrifying secret behind it."
"It's one of our torture techniques."
Ivan interjected with a bored expression.
"It's a basic skinning technique. You shouldn't have much use for it these days, but your touch hasn't dulled at all, Dmitri."
"Well, this is all about being prepared. I'm sure it'll come in handy soon."
"...Soon?"
"Yes. This is top secret, but..."
Dmitri glanced at Isabelle and nodded slightly.
"Miss Isabelle, may I borrow our captain today? This is somewhat official business."
"Oh, are you going to torture the mister?!"
"What? Even if I came at that 'mister' fully armed, I'd be the one getting tortured..."
"Isabelle, go home."
Ivan spoke sternly to Isabelle, who was pouting with her lips pursed.
"Don't you have things to prepare?"
"Uncle, you're really serious."
"I'm always serious."
"That's the problem with that strange pickled vegetable. Fine, fine, the civilian will leave!"
Isabelle grumbled as she left the hospital room. Dmitri closed his eyes momentarily to gauge her footsteps, then set aside the apple with a hardened expression.
Pavel began eating the discarded apple with relish.
"Have you noticed the atmosphere in Pritzenkaya is a bit strange right now?"
"Atmosphere?"
"Well... The Counter-Intelligence Directorate is currently outside the city. For training."
Dmitri gave Pavel a reproachful look. Pavel simply shrugged and continued eating the apple.
"How many direct attacks on the city have there been this year? Two train terrorist attacks, one terrorist attack targeting students near the city, one demon attack inside the city, and then that gentleman..."
"Hey, you should call me senior, junior. What batch are you from? Oh, Ivan. That guy isn't from the Royal Guard, is he?"
"...And one remarkable attack by my senior. And now, one direct invasion by the King of Droan Kingdom. Wow. Even throughout the war years, Pritzenkaya has never been hit this many times."
Dmitri carefully pulled an envelope from his breast pocket. It was an order with the royal seal—specifically, Elizabeta's official seal pressed into the wax seal.
As Ivan tore open the envelope and began reading the order, Dmitri elaborated beside him.
"The incident at St. Yansk University, which Her Highness personally manages, was particularly decisive. The court nobles have begun to think that the relationship between the Counter-Intelligence Directorate and Her Highness has become somewhat... uncomfortable. In fact, Her Highness has now expelled the entire Counter-Intelligence Directorate from the city under the pretext of training. To make it look like a reprimand of sorts."
"To make it look like?"
"Yes, to make it appear that way. Even recently, when senior was beat—"
As Ivan's eyes began to stare directly at the space between Dmitri's eyebrows, Dmitri hastily continued.
"...had an intense battle with Einarsdottir and ended up hospitalized. We sort of... spread a rumor that it was 'a berserker king physically expressing his anger over the Counter-Intelligence Directorate's excessive foreign intelligence operations.'"
The Counter-Intelligence Directorate is basically specialized in domestic rather than foreign intelligence. The Ministry of Foreign Affairs was Alexandr's domain, and Krasilov was on the brink of civil war.
Therefore, the Counter-Intelligence Directorate excels at gathering intelligence on domestic nobles. And information, even when it doesn't appear so, flows in "both directions."
The ability to collect information also means the ability to spread false information. Most of what the Counter-Intelligence Directorate does involves such activities.
Thus, spreading rumors and manipulating public opinion is the true role of the Counter-Intelligence Directorate. Torture, kidnapping, terrorism, and sabotage are actually just extras.
"So our sovereign is essentially a kite with a broken string. That kind of thinking is starting to spread? The Foreign Ministry hasn't been fully secured yet, the military except for the Capital Command still declares 'neutrality,' the Counter-Intelligence Directorate has been 'neglected,' and on top of that, St. Yansk University keeps exploding at random."
"What about Enrique?"
"Ah, she's currently busy with other matters. Adding all that up, our sovereign's leadership is somewhat... being questioned."
"Are they trying to prune the branches?"
"Yes, we need a gardener."
There's no need to read the order. Ivan was an experienced agent who had been through such situations many times.
There's only one reason a person in power deliberately reveals weakness. It's a kind of loyalty test.
The nobles of Pritzenkaya weren't stupid. When the princess, who had fully grasped power after Alexandr's mysterious "disappearance," suddenly declared a constitutional monarchy, the nobles all bowed low.
It was a kind of declaration. Even while relinquishing explicit authority, she was proclaiming her confidence in her ability to encompass the entire nation.
But not anymore. The princess's power has taken critical hits over these past few months, and the state system is now a constitutional monarchy.
From the nobles' perspective, it's a situation where they might think they could implement a "constitutional monarchy" in the true sense.
"Her Highness must be receiving many marriage proposals."
"You have no idea. All sorts of riffraff are desperate to continue the royal bloodline."
"Thankfully."
Ivan nodded.
With royal power crumbling, the most attractive option for nobles would be to form a marriage alliance with the untethered princess.
To connect bloodlines through marriage, usurp the royal authority with their elevated noble status, and then manipulate the kingdom—such thinking is nothing new.
And that means...
"They're writing their own death warrants."
"Yes, thankfully."
Dmitri nodded with a sly smile. The nobles currently sending marriage proposals to the princess are essentially ambitious individuals who want to usurp royal authority.
This list of "potential royal consorts" is equivalent to a list of execution targets standing before Elizabeta's gun barrel.
Ivan slowly organized his things and stood up. His condition was already perfect.
"Hand over the list. If Her Highness wants pruning, so be it."
"No, Her Highness wants to resolve the situation in a more traditional manner."
"...Traditional method?"
"She said she would handle it according to the old court regulations. You haven't finished reading the order yet, have you? Read the rest!"
Ivan looked down at the unfinished order. Complex political rhetoric filled half of the document with greetings.
Skimming through, he noticed strange content starting from the bottom lines.
-Therefore, Vanka, I have prepared a position for you. Looking for things I could do for you, I happened to notice a clause stating that due to your insufficient background, you cannot receive your full pension.
Krasilov's military pension was, surprisingly, distributed according to social status.
Despite his approximately 20 years of military service, Ivan found it difficult to receive his full military pension. This was because he came from a tenant farmer background.
-So I intend to give you a suitable position. Among the northern colonial territories, Baron Yermov has unfortunately lost his three sons. You are now the third son of Yermov. Congratulations. I have given your father considerable compensation.
Hmm. So I've become a noble.
Why suddenly?
-Now you are one of my suitors. Your family may not be prestigious enough to be a consort of Krasilov, but I am, surprisingly, a true monarch who does not care about status and family. Under the strict national law of the kingdom, even royalty should be subject to the same standards. Your proposal has been accepted according to legal procedures.
It seems I've proposed to the princess as well.
Ivan nodded.
-No matter how old the law may be, it contains the sacred national law with the words of our ancestors. I intend to declare based on court regulations. According to the regulations promulgated by our great-great-grandfather, Andrei Fedorovich Krasilov, I will determine the royal consort through dueling.
Ivan now fully understood the princess's intentions.
One cannot simply execute nobles just because one holds a death list. That was impossible even when royal authority was at its peak.
It's also difficult to deal with them quietly one by one. The nobles aren't stupid. If the princess's suitors start to "disappear" one after another, the nobles are likely to figure out the princess's scheme and devise another plan.
The "other plan" that cornered high nobles might resort to is ultimately a coup.
In this situation where loyalty from the military outside the Capital Command and provincial nobles remains uncertain, Krasilov, which was on the brink of civil war, could turn into a powder keg at any moment.
The poison of "democratic revolution" that Alexandr had spread would still be rampant beyond the king's domain.
So, dueling according to regulations.
And duels in this primitive pre-modern society were usually life-or-death battles.
"The date?"
"Starting five days from now."
"That's rushed."
"It would be troublesome if the news spread beyond Pritzenkaya. If provincial nobles start getting involved too, it would become unmanageable. We need to clean up inside Pritzenkaya first, then deal with the rest one by one."
"So that's why the Counter-Intelligence Directorate was moved outside the city."
A trained agent never sets just one goal for a single action.
Elizabeta, the command center of such trained agents, has already established additional macro-level goals.
First, she thoroughly trains the Counter-Intelligence Directorate to make up for recent intelligence failures.
Then, she makes the training itself appear as a kind of reprimand, creating the impression that she has lost the directorate's loyalty.
Additionally, by naturally deploying directorate agents outside the city, she strengthens the intelligence network against provincial nobles.
It's an impressively sophisticated and clean operation. Ivan nodded with satisfaction.
"You're becoming an excellent monarch."
Traditionally, an excellent monarch is not one who receives loyalty from subjects. A truly excellent monarch is one who creates situations where subjects have no choice but to be loyal.
From that perspective, Elizabeta was perfect. Machiavelli would shed tears if he saw her. Ivan felt secretly proud.
"Did Vanka make any additional comments to my proposal?"
"No, Your Highness."
"Heh... hehehe..."
Elizabeta laughed faintly in the darkness.
A well-trained agent never performs just one objective at a time.
All the goals Ivan anticipated are, of course, true.
However, if there's one thing Ivan didn't anticipate... and if that's the most important thing of all!
"Vanka. With this, you will have no choice but to become my consort. Let me congratulate you in advance... heh... hehehe... hehehehe!"
From the beginning, this operation was formulated assuming victory in the "courtship duel."
In other words, if he wins that duel... he'll have no choice but to marry the princess!
Dmitri bowed his head, not daring to look at Elizabeta who was laughing ominously.
With someone so skilled in schemes and plots as our ruler, ah, how bright the future of our country is, he thought.
The most proficient race in foreign intelligence in this world is the elves. As recalled before, elves were masters of mind sorcery.
Through active use of befriending (brainwashing) and playing pranks (memory manipulation) to form friendly rapport, elves had established a meticulous information network throughout almost the entire United Kingdom.
Therefore, when elves encountered the massive issue of "The princess is looking for a husband!" and the surprising exotic culture of "My goodness, humans find husbands through dueling...", they immediately began pondering how to use this for the "benefit of intellectuals."
For reference, "intellectuals" refers to elves. Because "intellect" is clearly too difficult a word for humans. (This is how elves are kind to lower races.)
And when a noble young lady from a prominent family heard this information again at the Pritzenkaya Elf Social Club, she trembled with shock.
"Lord Petrovich was actually a nobleman...?"
What's the big deal about human nobility? It's just the difference between a purebred and a mixed breed. And Elfihera was a very open-minded and bold young elf, so she didn't care about the bloodlines of lower races.
However, this issue posed a problem.
"Lord Petrovich is participating in the courtship duel!!"
To beat that man, we'd need to bring someone like my father...?
And if you win there... doesn't that mean marriage!?
Elfihera crumpled the "Krasilov Royal Courtship Duel Participant List" and shouted.