Granada arrived at my door with the merchant in tow.
"I've brought the merchant as promised, my lady."
She had inspected my wardrobe that morning and declared—with that particular tone of stern practicality I was beginning to recognize—that nothing I owned was suitable for Ronheim's climate.
"You found someone so quickly. That's wonderful."
I had expected it to take longer. Ronheim was so remote, after all, with few established shops. Most commerce seemed to be conducted with wandering traders who arrived on unpredictable schedules.
But I had underestimated how small Ronheim truly was.
In a place this isolated, word traveled with remarkable speed. The moment a stranger arrived, everyone knew where they were lodging, what they were selling, and when they planned to depart.
Rumors from the outside world may take weeks to reach these mountains—but gossip within Ronheim spreads faster than wildfire.
It had taken Granada less than an hour to locate the merchant and summon him to the castle.
"Shall I call him in, my lady?"
"Yes, please."
I pulled my thin shawl closer around my shoulders. Despite the fire crackling in the hearth, I couldn't seem to stop shivering.
The merchant entered with a cautious, almost apologetic air, clutching an enormous bundle to his chest. He made a visible effort to straighten his clothes and smooth his appearance—though the results were... questionable.
The maids—all except Lamia—visibly recoiled.
The man's garments were threadbare and stained, patched in multiple places with mismatched fabric. His boots were caked with dried mud. Even his attempts to tidy himself only drew more attention to how shabby he looked.
But the merchant himself seemed utterly oblivious to their scandalized expressions. He smiled warmly and spread his bundle—which was just as worn and dirty as his clothes—across the carpet with the air of someone unveiling treasures.
Granada's face remained carefully neutral. She had clearly seen this particular merchant before.
Vanessa, however, looked ready to faint.
"Oh my gods—"
She pressed a hand to her forehead dramatically.
"How can you appear before Her Highness the Princess looking like that?!"
The merchant finally noticed the hostile stares. He flinched.
I cut Vanessa off before she could continue.
"How dare you speak so rudely to my guest?"
My voice was quiet, but firm.
"And from now on, you will address me as madam, not 'Your Highness.' I am no longer in Arental."
Vanessa's mouth fell open. For a moment she looked genuinely shocked—then she pouted and turned away with a huff.
Granada observed the exchange with something that might have been approval flickering in her eyes.
She told me yesterday how to handle the maids. I won't waste her advice by ignoring it.
I turned my attention back to the merchant, who was watching the scene with keen interest.
"I'm looking for warmer clothing—something appropriate for Ronheim's climate. Do you have anything suitable?"
The merchant's face brightened immediately. He had clearly recognized who held the power in this room.
"Oh! Of course, of course, my lady! You're in luck—Madam Belloze just finished a new collection this very morning!"
"Madam Belloze?"
I tilted my head, unfamiliar with the name.
The merchant launched into an enthusiastic explanation, speaking with the practiced ease of someone accustomed to dealing with foreigners.
"Yes, yes! Here in Ronheim, the hunters' wives are skilled with needle and thread—and they have access to the finest leathers. Many of them craft beautiful garments."
"I see."
"But Madam Belloze—ah, she's the best of them all! Her designs are renowned even beyond our borders. Beautiful and functional. Comfortable, durable, warm... Her work is highly sought after, my lady. It's rare to find her pieces available!"
There was no lie in his words. Madam Belloze truly was exceptional at her craft.
But what the merchant didn't mention—what Vanessa was too sheltered to understand—was that Madam Belloze's work was also exceptionally expensive.
I caught the subtle tightening of Granada's expression as the merchant began laying out the garments.
That look... Something's wrong.
Granada knew exactly what the merchant was doing.
By presenting Madam Belloze's work first—by praising its quality and rarity—he was ensuring that everything else would pale in comparison.
And he was right.
The moment I saw the garments spread before me, I was captivated.
The leather was unlike anything I had seen before—soft as silk, light as linen, and shimmering with an almost pearlescent white sheen. The embroidery was exquisite: delicate patterns of frost and flowers worked in silver thread along the hems and cuffs.
"This is beautiful! The craftsmanship is incredible..."
I reached out to touch the fabric. It felt like touching moonlight.
Granada's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
Kuna leather. Of course it's Kuna leather.
Kuna was rarer and finer than even the prized nyak pelts Ronheim was known for. The creatures were nearly impossible to hunt—elusive, dangerous, and found only in the deepest parts of the northern ranges.
Their hides were soft, lightweight, and naturally insulating. The color—that pristine, luminous white—was unmistakable.
Belloze's husband must have had an extraordinarily successful hunt recently.
Which meant this garment was worth a small fortune.
And now the merchant has laid it directly in front of the Princess—knowing full well she'll choose the most expensive item in his inventory.
Granada wanted to intervene. To gently suggest something more... economical.
But Ronheim's treasury was already strained to the breaking point. The castle could barely afford to pay the knights' wages, let alone raise an army.
If this continues, Prince Callius will bankrupt himself trying to clothe his new wife.
One of the castle maids—standing quietly near the door—caught Granada's eye. Her expression clearly said: Should we stop this before it's too late?
But Granada closed her eyes and said nothing.
How can I tell her to choose something cheaper when she's already shown such obvious delight? The bargaining is already over.
Unaware of the silent distress unfolding around me, I continued to admire the garments.
The merchant—sensing victory—pressed his advantage.
"Perhaps my lady would like to try it on? Just to see how it fits?"
"Oh... yes, I'd like that."
The maids came forward and guided me behind the dressing screen. They helped me into the garment—a beautifully tailored ensemble of a caped coat and layered skirt—pinning it temporarily to adjust for my frame.
When I stepped out from behind the screen, Granada's carefully maintained composure finally cracked.
She had intended to suggest alternatives. To gently steer me toward something more affordable.
But the words died in her throat.
It looks like it was made for her.
"Perfect! Simply perfect, my lady! You look absolutely radiant!"
The merchant was practically vibrating with excitement.
It wasn't mere salesmanship. The garment truly did suit me beautifully—the soft white leather complemented my complexion, and the cut accentuated my figure while providing the warmth and coverage I desperately needed.
Even Vanessa—who had been sulking moments earlier—looked begrudgingly impressed.
But Granada's expression had shifted from worry to something closer to resignation.
She looks like someone watching a disaster unfold in slow motion.
I glanced down at the garment again, suddenly uncertain.
Did I choose something inappropriate? Is this ceremonial dress? Something I'm not supposed to wear?
But Granada said nothing. And the merchant was already carefully folding the garment and preparing it for purchase.
It wasn't until later—after the merchant had departed with his payment and the garments had been carefully stored away—that I finally understood.
Vanessa came storming back into the room, her face flushed with indignation.
"Those rude, horrible people! Calling you extravagant over a few pennies! How dare they—"
She had clearly overheard the other castle maids gossiping in the hallway.
I motioned her closer.
"What do you mean? What did they say?"
"The servants outside were whispering that Your Highness—" She caught herself. "—that my lady was being extravagant and wasteful."
"Extravagant...?"
The word felt foreign in my mouth.
I had never once in my life considered the price of clothing.
In my first life, I had been given beautiful gowns studded with jewels and embroidered with gold thread. I wore them without question, without thought.
I understood vaguely that such things were expensive—that other nobles envied them—but I had never personally selected clothing, never paid for it, never considered what it cost.
Andrea certainly never spoke to me about money. Why would he? He had an entire household staff to manage such trivial concerns.
He probably doesn't know the price of his own wardrobe either.
The palace stewards, the household treasurers, the merchants—they all operated invisibly, far beyond the awareness of royalty.
Even now, in my second life, I remained woefully ignorant.
I had spent my entire existence trapped in a gilded cage, knowing nothing of the world beyond court politics and noble intrigue.
I didn't even know what things cost.
And now I had just purchased what was apparently an extravagantly expensive garment—without even realizing it.
I asked Vanessa to explain exactly what she had overheard.
She recounted the servants' whispered complaints with relish, clearly expecting me to be outraged on my own behalf.
But all I felt was a creeping sense of shame.
Granada's expression. The castle maid's worried glance. The way the merchant's smile grew wider with every piece I admired...
They had all known.
Everyone except me had understood exactly what was happening.
I had waltzed into that transaction with the oblivious confidence of someone who had never once had to worry about money—and inadvertently dealt a blow to Ronheim's already precarious finances.
"A few pennies, she said. A few pennies."
"That Kuna leather cape alone could feed a family for half a year."
"And she didn't even hesitate. Just pointed and said, 'I'll take it.'"
"Poor Prince Callius. He's already struggling to pay the knights, and now he's saddled with a wife who doesn't understand the value of coin."
"Well, what did you expect? She's a princess. They never do."
I sat very still for a long time after Vanessa finished her report.
They're right.
I had been careless. Ignorant. Thoughtlessly extravagant in a place that could not afford extravagance.
And worse—I hadn't even noticed.
"Vanessa."
"Yes, my lady?"
"From now on, I want you to tell me—clearly and honestly—when something is expensive. Don't assume I know. Because I don't."
She blinked, clearly confused.
"I've spent my entire life in a palace where I never had to think about cost. But I'm not in that palace anymore. And if I'm going to survive here—if I'm going to be of any use to this place—I need to learn."
Vanessa's expression softened slightly.
"You're... not angry about the gossip, my lady?"
"No. They're right to criticize me. I was wasteful."
I looked down at my hands—hands that had never worked, never struggled, never known hardship.
"Ignorance is a luxury, Vanessa. And it's one I can no longer afford."
That evening, I asked Granada to join me.
She entered with her usual composed efficiency, but I could see the wariness in her eyes.
"I owe you an apology."
Granada's eyebrows rose slightly.
"I didn't understand what I was doing this morning. I should have asked you about the cost before making a decision. I was... thoughtless."
For a moment, Granada said nothing.
Then, slowly, she nodded.
"You come from a different world, my lady. One where such concerns were handled by others."
"That's no excuse. I'm not in that world anymore."
I met her gaze directly.
"Ronheim is struggling, isn't it? Financially, I mean."
Granada hesitated—then nodded again, more firmly this time.
"We are... stretched thin, yes. The war preparations, the lack of trade routes, the difficulty of maintaining supplies in winter... Prince Callius does what he can, but resources are limited."
"And I just made it worse."
"You didn't know—"
"But I should have known. Or at least, I should have asked."
I took a breath.
"Granada, I need you to teach me. Not just about managing servants or court protocol—I need to understand how things actually work here. What things cost. How money moves. What Ronheim can and cannot afford."
Granada studied me for a long moment.
Then, for the first time since I'd met her, she smiled.
It was a small smile—barely more than a softening of her stern expression—but it was genuine.
"I think, my lady, that you may adapt to Ronheim better than anyone expected."
That night, wrapped in my absurdly expensive new cloak, I stood by the window and looked out over the snow-covered mountains.
In Arental, I had been a pawn. A decorative piece moved around the board by people who controlled everything—including knowledge itself.
Andrea had wanted me ignorant. He had cultivated my helplessness, my dependence, my complete lack of understanding about how the world actually functioned.
Because ignorant people are easy to control.
But here in Ronheim, ignorance carried a different price.
Here, my lack of knowledge didn't just hurt me—it hurt everyone.
And that was something I could not allow.
If I was going to survive. If I was going to fight back. If I was going to become someone worth standing beside Callius—
Then I needed to learn everything I had never been allowed to know.
Starting with the cost of my own survival.
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