The Medieval Modern Man With A Gamer Mindset

The Medieval-Modern Man With A Gamer Mindset 2

2. The Prospective Groom

Marriage.

A magical word that fills some with happiness and makes others think their life is ruined. One thing is certain: marriage is never an easy decision. That was true even for me, who had lived a life unacquainted with marriage.

So naturally, when I heard the word ‘marriage,’ all my curiosity was drawn there. I looked at the man with the gentle eyes and asked what he meant.

“Don’t think to employ such shallow tricks.”

He turned his head away with a dismissive attitude. I thought about probing further but then let it be. People were gathering in this cramped chapel. I could see servants blinking slowly and maids with their faces covered by veils.

In front of them all, raising my voice could risk exposing my identity. Surely, you don’t know such basic things…? Such thoughts shouldn’t be provoked. Suspicion often starts from such trivial triggers.

My silence was a decision based on this judgment. I continued to observe the people who entered the chapel for similar reasons. I stealthily rolled my eyes, stealing glances at how others prayed.

How they sat on the chairs, how they clasped their hands, everything.

Fortunately, following the pastor’s son to church had been helpful. The point is to maintain the details without being too obsessive.

In a situation where you don’t know properly, trying to force a hand-clasping posture can easily twist the hands into an unsightly shape. Even if it looks loose, it’s better to appear natural. No need to exert too much effort.

When people murmured their prayers, I just opened and closed my mouth, lip-syncing. After all, everyone was muttering to themselves, so it wasn’t obvious whether they were really speaking or just lip-syncing. If someone complains about just moving your lips, they’re not concentrating themselves.

—

Thanks to that, I was able to get through the morning prayers in the chapel without incident.

However… The sight of adults gathered together, murmuring in the still dimly lit chapel of the castle, was far from lively, even as an understatement. People say they feel devout when communing with God, but all I felt was drowsiness.

It seems the gods of this world have no intention of communing with me. Knocking on the door of someone who has bolted it shut is nothing but a nuisance. Instead of continuing such futile attempts, I chose to spend my time more meaningfully.

For example, yes.

It would be good to think about how to acquire information about my surroundings.

***

I have come to realize a steadfast truth through the stale prejudices of the modern age and my first dream, or rather, possession.

The rationality and standards of the medieval era seem ‘primitive’ to me.

To put it more culturally relativistic… I can respect them, but they did not suit me well. Even if the Middle Ages were to fly or crawl, they were mostly subpar to someone who has lived in modern civilization. There’s a big difference in common sense, to begin with.

Even in modern times, there are people who do not believe in science. What about a world similar to the Middle Ages? Superstition precedes scientific thinking.

If I were to change suddenly, they would believe that I was possessed by a demon. It was ultimately a problem of storytelling. A certain impetus was needed to transform a person who has changed.

Just as I was guided back to my room by a maid, memories of this body began to surface.

Yes. If it were a real possession, there should be something like this…

“Young master?”

“No, it’s nothing. I just felt a little dizzy for a moment.”

I must have looked odd, standing there blankly in the room. I dismissed Edwina’s, the braided-haired maid’s, question in a breath and sighed inwardly. It was a mistake to take the memories of the body’s owner lightly as a solution to the problem.

The name of this body is Narba. As I guessed, I am twelve years old.

The man with the gentle eyes I met in the chapel was my father, Aeselton, the Duke who rules over the surrounding lands. I am the third son of the Duke, a noble of high standing, but that’s all. With two older brothers and even nephews, the likelihood of inheriting the Duke’s position is close to zero.

Even with partible inheritance, once the shares for the eldest and second sons are taken out, it’s doubtful how much will be left. There was never a competition for succession. All three of us are full brothers, and the family is in a stable situation with no bad blood.

Therefore, this body has never received an heir’s education. I knew very little, having spent my time freely running around, surrounded by the love and attention shown by my parents and siblings.

…So who exactly am I supposed to marry?

To find out this fact, I had to persuade people first. That a twelve-year-old child who only wanted to play had changed. The process might involve some coercion, but twelve is an age when it’s natural to be coercive.

I let out a deep sigh and sat up on the bed, then lifted my head. That’s when I met those bead-like eyes. Edwina began to complain, letting her shoulders droop a little.

From Noble mtl dot com

“Young master. Even if you don’t like it, you should be mindful of your behavior. Just now, the head of the household glared with bulging eyes.”

“Who at?”

“Well… Naturally, it was a maid of lower status than you, young master.”

Scolding is a time-honored tradition. Now the manager overseeing the castle’s affairs will be scolded. Next, the senior will be reprimanded for not properly managing the junior, and finally, the maid before me will be thoroughly chastised.

A maid expressing her troubles. She was the perfect choice for a twelve-year-old boy forced into an unwanted marriage to commiserate with.

“You’re grown up.”

“Pardon?”

“Even though I dislike it, I persevere. I couldn’t do that. I thought acting maturely would earn me adult treatment. This morning was my last attempt.”

“Ah…”

Edwina’s eyes widened in surprise. Everyone has their worries. Even the noble boy, naive to the ways of the world, had concerns he couldn’t easily express.

-If that’s what you think, I’m relieved.

“I’ve been deliberately ignoring it, but no more. Bring me the story of my marriage partner. I need to know who I will be with.”

Edwina was a truly emotional friend. After listening to my story, her eyes welled up before she replied with a clear voice.

“Your Highness… Yes, I will find out immediately!”

“Wait.”

Edwina dashed out of the room. I reached out too late. I could only retract my hand, grasping at thin air.

I had hoped she would find out quietly, but seeing her fuss, it’s better not to expect it. Instead, I decided to use the time I had to reflect. Naturally, my thoughts lingered on the marriage.

An unwanted marriage.

It’s not unusual. For medieval nobility, marriage was a powerful political tool to forge alliances. It’s not much different in modern times among powerful families.

But even strategic marriages vary greatly depending on status and position. A prince ruling over the surrounding lands should be courted, not the other way around. The situation was indeed strange.

To send off a mere third son, only twelve years old, to marriage, not just an engagement?

I would never do such a thing.

Breaking an engagement is easy, but canceling a marriage is arduous. I could see the other party’s intention. They must want to form a solid alliance with us…

If they were weak, we would have dismissed them unpleasantly; if strong, there would be no need to rush into marriage. They could engage and then break it off when it’s no longer beneficial.

There must be a reason the prince was so easily swayed.

Fortunately, I had a very passionate informant by my side. Edwina, the maid with braided hair, brought results that matched her zeal. Just as my contemplation was coming to an end.

Edwina approached confidently, tucking her bangs with her fingertips. It wasn’t arrogance. It was the satisfaction of fulfilling her lord’s request.

The confident smile that a worker flashes after a hard day’s work while sipping a cup of coffee.

That was proof enough.

“I’ve found out, Your Highness. The rumors are already rife among the castle’s servants.”

“Rumors?”

“Miriam Orin Ubass. Known for her beauty, with snow-white hair and warm, auburn eyes that exude inclusiveness. However, there is one fatal flaw.”

“I’m relieved she’s beautiful…”

“The rumor is that she’s already with child.”

I was taken aback.

***

Miriam. The woman who might become my wife.

—

And the woman rumored to have conceived before marriage.

Naturally, the body’s owner has never met Miriam. In fact, the body’s owner was of an age barely on the cusp of puberty. It was impossible for a boy who had not even reached maturity to impregnate a woman he had never met.

I don’t particularly hold a prejudice against single mothers, but I couldn’t remain indifferent in this situation. No matter how much of a political marriage it was, why was such a proposal made to a twelve-year-old? Why single out this body’s owner?

To find out the truth, I skipped breakfast and wandered around the castle. I had no leisure to care about the gazes around me. Alongside Edwina, I walked the dim corridors, repeatedly questioning everyone I met.

Thanks to that, I could roughly outline how this marriage proposal came about.

A guard clad in chainmail armor.

He spoke of the might that Yubas possessed.

“Of course, Yubas is the most powerful force in the vicinity. With them, this place will become safer.”

According to the guard, the Yubas family had amassed a force strong enough to claim a kingdom in this region. He added that there was no army among the neighboring duchies that could contend with Yubas.

“In a situation where peace cannot be guaranteed, Yubas’s army will be a sufficient assurance.”

A priest carrying holy scriptures.

He succinctly summarized Yubas’s weakness.

“Yubas may have a powerful army, but they do not have steadfast citizens.”

The priest said this: the origins of Yubas are obscure.

They could claim descent from someone, but they do not. Even in the genealogies of the old nobility, the name Yubas cannot be found. People living well under Yubas may accept this, but those with grievances feel differently.

“If they continue to succeed, there will be no problem, but if failures become prominent, it will be like a castle built on sand, easily overturned. Yubas is aware of this fact.”

“Father, may I ask you about married life?”

“Ha ha. It seems even the young master is concerned. Well, it is a time when bad rumors are circulating…”

Out of curiosity, I asked, and the faith here was similar to that of Earth’s Middle Ages. Monogamy was the norm, and children born out of wedlock were considered sinful. Those with power could suppress it, but not the disdainful looks.

Moreover, the fact that a twelve-year-old getting married is a precedent of pedophilic behavior.

Combining these testimonies with my own conjectures, three reasons emerged.

First. The body’s father, Aselton, is wary of Yubas’s powerful army.

Second. Yubas is diplomatically isolated due to their lack of legitimate authority, and they want to marry me to Miriam to break through this.

Third. Miriam is truly pregnant and on the verge of having an illegitimate child. Marrying before that happens could at least reduce the gossip.

The fact that they want to marry off to a child who hasn’t even matured is evidence of this. If it were a rumor spread by other forces, it would resolve itself over time.

Just delaying the marriage to see if the belly grows is simple and easy. They’re not past the age of marriage, and at twelve, an engagement would suffice. It’s directly related to the honor of the family, so the father’s thoughts must be close to this.

Yet, the rush to marry is suspicious.

Unless she is truly pregnant.

After inquiring around, I had a sense of the situation. Now it was time to attend to the last matter. I looked at Edwina, who hovered like a shadow at my side. It was time for medieval navigation to come into play.

“Edwina. Lead me to father’s office.”

—

“…I must have heard wrong.”

“Let’s head to father’s office. I need to hear the full story.”

On the internet, married men are mockingly called ‘Bubble Men’. But they are men who have met their partners face-to-face, felt love, and devoted themselves.

I am a cheerful twelve years old.

Even for a noble, it’s crossing the line to bear pleasureless responsibilities for a faceless counterpart.