As Rishe sidled up to various stalls, she bought fruit that actually tasted good, sampled smoked meat, and nibbled on bread.
Arnold glanced at her as if wondering how hungry she could possibly be, but he accompanied her shopping without a hint of annoyance.
After they'd seen most of the stands, Arnold took out his pocket watch again.
"Are we running out of time?" Rishe asked.
He put the watch away and said, "No, but we should probably get going. If we stay in one place for too long, Oliver's underlings might find us."
"Ah yes, Oliver's—Wait, what?!" Rishe's eyes bulged, and she almost dropped the pastry she was eating.
"Are we hiding from Oliver as well?!"
"Yes."
Rishe was astounded by his complete lack of guilt. "You say that like it's a given!"
"I'm finished with my work for the day," Arnold replied, nonchalant. "My being gone for a while won't result in a complete breakdown—things aren't poorly run. Even if something comes up, Oliver can at least buy me time."
Was that true? Arnold was usually very forthcoming with Oliver. Rishe found herself slightly worried.
Did he whisper to me yesterday because he didn't want Oliver to overhear? But if we're here for official duties, why wouldn't he let his attendant know?
A possibility bloomed in Rishe's mind.
What if this secret outing isn't official at all?
In that case, what were they doing out here?
The root of all evil smiled at Rishe's confusion with amusement. "Come on, let's go."
"R-right…"
Rishe had no idea what was going on. There was nothing she could say. She'd lost their duel, and now she was obligated to do as he asked.
Once they'd reached their apparent destination a little ways away from the market, her puzzlement only compounded.
On the outskirts of the capital, at the bottom of a staircase leading to a basement of sorts, Rishe faced a door. Its singular sign asked visitors to perform the appropriate number of knocks.
"And this is…?"
"The shop's proprietress won't come to the palace even if we summon her," Arnold said. "I have to come down here myself."
"Oh, it's a store? What do they sell?"
Instead of answering, Arnold slowly knocked five times. Rishe couldn't hear it, but there must have been a response from inside. He opened the door, urging her forward with a glance.
Alert for danger, Rishe stepped inside to find a large wooden counter. The store had wooden flooring as well, with no gaudy decorations or shelves displaying products. Instead, there was a single low table and a few leather couches.
At first glance, it looks modest, but that counter is a single board of rosewood.
"I've been waiting for you, Your Highness."
A cane tapped against the floor as a small old woman with white hair emerged from the back of the store. She wore a soft smile and light makeup, and a man in his mid-twenties supported her as she hobbled along.
The old woman stood before the counter and bowed deeply. "I pray that you are well, Your Highness."
"There's no need for such formality. Please rise."
With Arnold's permission, she looked back up. Then she turned to Rishe and smiled wider. "What a beautiful young lady. It's nice to meet you. I am the proprietress of this establishment."
"Nice to meet you. My name is Rishe Irmgard Weitzner."
"This is my grandson. Come now, introduce yourself to Lady Rishe."
The man, who was still bent forward in a bow, raised his head just a bit. His face was deathly pale, his voice and shoulders shaking with apparent fear. He did everything he could to avoid looking at Arnold.
He's scared of Prince Arnold… Clearly the prince's bad reputation precedes him.
The citizens of his domain heard the most frightening rumors. This man was afraid of the ruler who had committed atrocities on the battlefield and left behind mountains of corpses. Arnold was a hero who had led his country to victory, but his imposing presence naturally elicited fear.
He doesn't seem bothered by it at all, as usual.
Rishe saw no emotion on Arnold's handsome face.
While Rishe was musing, the old woman smiled wryly. "I'm sorry about him. I was just scolding him for failing to authenticate an item sold at our store."
It was an obvious attempt to cover for her frightened grandson.
"In fact, it's quite difficult. Would you like to give it a try, Lady Rishe?"
"G-Grandmother! You cannot be so rude to His Highness's companion!"
"Bring me the box."
The man hesitated, but he followed his grandmother's instruction and headed into the back of the store. Eventually, he emerged carrying a box covered in red velvet.
"This contains one of your wares?" Rishe asked.
"Yes. Please have a look."
Rishe watched as the man opened the box on the counter in front of her. Her eyes went wide.
"We are but humble jewelers."
Inside the box were three beautiful gemstones.
"Which of these gems do you think is a counterfeit item?" The old woman said. "Please think of this as a game. Don't worry about your answer."
"Tell her what you think, Rishe."
At Arnold's urging, Rishe peered down at the stones. The one on the right was a pale violet color, the one in the middle the light gold of honey water, and the one on the left was a deep red.
They're all so clear. Delicately cut and beautiful too.
"Well, what do you think?"
Gemstones had been a favorite of Rishe's when she was a merchant. She'd come across countless gems and learned a lot about them. Thanks to that, she could be candid. "I don't know."
The old woman nodded slowly, still smiling. "What a clear answer. Responding honestly without feigning one's knowledge is a wonderful—"
"Therefore, Ms. Proprietress…" Rishe looked the woman in the eye. "May I borrow a loupe?"
The woman reacted to Rishe's question with momentary surprise.
"A pincette and a cloth for a good measurement as well, please. And if you don't mind, could I inspect them near the window where it's brighter?"
"My, my…" The old woman murmured.
Her grandson offered Rishe the tools with trembling hands. She took them and walked to the window, holding up the pincette.
Knowing it was important to control how much strength she exerted, she picked up a gem and—careful to not drop it—held it up to the light.
Looking at them like this, they are just as beautiful. But…
The more she inspected them, the more she was sure that her initial impressions were correct.
"These stones are all counterfeit."
"My word!"
Seeing the shock written all over the pair's faces, Rishe knew she was right.
Arnold alone was smiling, like he'd seen it coming from a mile away.
"I underestimated you, Lade Rishe. You are the first woman I've ever known to request appraisal tools rather than simply guessing based on how the gems look."
"I apologize for borrowing such valuable implements, but it was the bare minimum I required to accurately judge them."
Returning the instruments to the man, Rishe recalled, I learned this lesson in my life as a merchant. Surface beauty does not indicate authenticity.
Rishe looked off into the distance, thinking of an incident when she'd been caught selling fake gems toward the beginning of her career.
"Still, counterfeit or not, these gems truly are beautiful, Ms. Proprietress. They're very clear and shine just like the real thing."
Rishe returned to the counter and looked down at the jewelry box once more. "I believe that a gem's authenticity is not everything. They may be fakes, but there are plenty of people who would treasure them all the same."
All they had was surface beauty, but Rishe was still fond of them. She couldn't help smiling.
"You…" The old woman said to herself.
A moment later, she bowed deeply to Rishe. "I am in awe once more, Lady Rishe. I truly apologize for testing the future crown princess."
"Huh? Oh, there's no need for that! Please rise," Rishe said, flustered.
So it had been a test.