Beneath the Surviving Princess's Joyful Facade - Side Story 11

“Stubborn.”

The next day, as they got ready to go out and enjoy the eve of the harvest festival, they continued their banter.

Eirik replied seriously to Miesa’s grumbling, “Convince me with reasonable arguments.”

“I haven’t been talking for long enough to be good at convincing anyone.”

“……”

Eirik paused for a moment while changing clothes, then smirked. “Such a cowardly thing to say. I’ve seen you corner people with words countless times.”

“Eirik, who could ever win an argument with you? No one can.”

“It’s not about winning or losing; it’s about considering things one by one.”

The debate continued even as Siata came in to help Miesa dress.

“Oh, he’s so rigid, without any flexibility.”

Siata silently brushed Miesa’s hair and helped her dress, acting as though she heard nothing. The margrave’s rebuttal also continued.

“How did the topic change so suddenly? I think I’m quite open-minded.”

“Stick-in-the-mud.”

“Stick-in-the-mud? Between a husband and wife, the harshest thing you should say is ‘stubborn.'”

“Stubborn man. Stubborn person. Stubborn human.”

“That’s slightly better. Though, I’ll admit, those aren’t terms people normally use.”

Miesa’s frustration boiled. Her inner fire didn’t diminish even after they left the lodging, nor did the cool late-autumn breeze brushing her cheek extinguish it.

“Stay away. It’s a girls-only outing.”

Holding Siata’s hand firmly, Miesa snapped, turning her head sharply. In response, Eirik silently stared at a young knight. The knight, startled, shook his hands.

“My lord, I mean, sir, that was five years ago. Now I’m too old to dress like a woman.”

“Just considering it.”

Hearing Eirik’s thoughts, even Cullen waved his hands, trying to dissuade him. “Sir, none of us are suited for women’s clothing. It would only draw more attention.”

While they bickered, Miesa, stomping her feet, and Siata, whose arm was awkwardly stiffened as she held Miesa’s hand, had already walked far ahead.

“Don’t worry. We’ll split into three groups and keep our distance.”

The five knights divided into pairs, with one remaining alone. Eirik let out a small sigh as he watched Miesa’s direction.

Regardless, Miesa began fully enjoying the festival, free from Eirik’s nagging.

“What are they selling over there? Let’s take a look!”

“Wooden dolls.”

“They’re so pretty!”

While Miesa admired the dolls displayed on the stall, Siata closely examined detachable animal figures.

“Oh? Are you buying something too, Siata?”

Miesa, who had already picked up cute horse, pig, and dog figures, widened her eyes at Siata’s actions, who was also choosing various items. Even when they went to markets together, Siata rarely bought anything.

“The wings detach, so you could hide things inside.”

Siata admired a pigeon-shaped figure, clearly considering ways to conceal a secret message or weapon.

“You’re really… Stop thinking about work and have some fun.”

“Yes, I am enjoying myself. Oh, I’ll take this rabbit one too.”

Both had selected plenty of wooden figures, and after paying, they found it hard to carry everything. The shopkeeper packed them in a small wooden box, but lugging it around while enjoying the festival was cumbersome.

“Madam, I’ll give this to one of the knights to hold.”

“Take me with you. Don’t leave me alone; it’s dangerous here with all these people.”

Miesa followed Siata closely. Siata called one of the knights who had been watching from a distance, handed over the box, then dusted off her hands.

“Madam, if you’re worried about the crowd, would you prefer a quieter area?”

“No. Why are Cladnier people so literal? Quiet places aren’t fun.”

Miesa frowned, took Siata’s hand again, and headed for the bustling square with the fountain. Siata, with her expressionless face, let herself be dragged, speaking flatly.

“I’m sorry. But we Cladnier people aren’t good at roundabout speech.”

“True. Actually, that’s why I like Cladnier people. So no need to apologize.”

Miesa stood still, watching the water fall from the fountain. She thought about how Eirik’s stubbornness had protected her during dangerous times and how accepting the frustration it brought was fair.

“I love my husband too much, that’s the problem.”

Even though it was just a mutter, getting no response felt embarrassing. Miesa tapped Siata on the shoulder and explained kindly.

“Siata, at times like this, you’re supposed to say, ‘No, my lord loves you just as much.'”

“I’ll remember to do that next time.”

“Good. You must.”

Miesa, now somewhat satisfied, was drawn to the sight of passing ladies.

“Oh?”

“Do you recognize someone?”

“No, those people! They’re wearing wheat stalks on their heads! How did I miss them yesterday?”

When Miesa shouted in excitement, an elderly group nearby laughed and joined in.

“Yesterday was the eve of the festival. Today is the real thing.”

“Do you know the dance of abundance, young lady?”

“Yes!”

Of course she did—Gella had taught her every night. Miesa nodded eagerly, her face lighting up, and the elderly people pointed somewhere.

“Go to that hill over there. It’s in full swing right now.”

“It’ll be a lot of fun. There’s plenty of food too.”

“Thank you!”

Excited, Miesa grabbed Siata’s hand and almost ran towards the hill the elderly pointed to.

Pushing through people, they finally arrived at an open hill, surrounded by colorful tents. In the middle, women were gathered in a circle, dancing.

Seeing the scene, Miesa covered her mouth with both hands, overcome with emotion. The festival of Kazen that she had only heard about was right in front of her.

“Ah, everyone is wearing something on their heads.”

Siata nodded. Sure enough, among those gathered on the hill, all the women wore wreaths made of wheat stalks or crowns of wildflowers.

Looking around, Siata subtly informed Miesa, “Do you want to wear something like dried grass or flowers on your head too, madam? It looks like they’re making them over there.”

“Really? Let’s go.”

Miesa and Siata headed toward where the women were gathered. About a dozen women sat together, chatting, eating, and weaving crowns and wreaths.

Miesa greeted them politely and asked a question, “Hello. Can I buy one of these?”

“Oh my, such lovely young ladies. Where are you from?”

“Are you hungry? Would you like to share some walnut pie with us?”

The women offered generously—both the food and the wreaths.

“Pick whatever you like, dear. It would look so pretty on you.”

“How much is it?”

“How much? Oh, it’s nothing. We just made these for fun from what was lying around. Take it.”

Miesa took a wreath made of sky-blue wildflowers that one of the women handed her and placed it on her head. It was more elaborate and elegant than the one Eirik had made for her.

Even though she had set aside the thought of him for now, everything reminded her of him, making her even more upset. While she pouted unconsciously, Siata was also handed a yellow flower crown and put it on.

“Oh, look at that! You two look beautiful.”

“The blue one—I made that. Oh, it looks so lovely.”

Miesa’s mood brightened as she received endless compliments, and she smiled shyly. Just then, one of the women came over from the side and recognized her.

“Oh my! Isn’t this the lady from the merchant group yesterday? How did you learn to play cards so well?”

“Oh? Hello!”

Seeing her face, Miesa recognized her as one of the women from the gambling incident the previous day. When Miesa greeted her warmly, the woman waved her hands urgently.

“Oh no, young girls or married women should wear wheat stalks. Flower crowns are for unmarried girls.”

“Really…?”

Come to think of it, she had only heard about wheat stalks. Miesa pursed her lips and set down the beautiful flower crown, much to the regret of the watching women.

“It looked so good on you… You look so young. Are you already married?”

“Where’s your husband? Why are you out here with just the ladies?”

Miesa pouted as she answered, “I left him behind because he upset me. Oh, Siata, you keep wearing yours. You’re not married.”

“Madam, if I had a choice, I’d rather wear nothing at all.”

Siata’s muttered comment was drowned out by the indignant shouts of the women.

“Why do men always have to cause trouble, even on a day out!”

The women, already criticizing their own husbands while keeping their hands busy, now vented their anger on Miesa’s behalf. In their eyes, all men were foolish, stubborn, and prone to doing pointless things.

“What did your husband do? Poor thing, such a lovely lady.”

“He should treat you like a queen, not make you upset.”

“Oh dear, don’t cry. Where is your husband? We’ll give him a piece of our mind!”

She wasn’t crying, but with everyone raising their voices in sympathy, Miesa felt her eyes sting—not out of sadness, but because it was oddly touching to have strangers take her side.

“No, no… I’m fine, really…”

As her nose turned red, the women became even more animated.

“Here, wear our flower crown too, and we’ll put some oil on your hair. No, wait, this isn’t enough. Hold on.”

One woman had Miesa sit down, while others dispersed briefly before returning with various items in hand—something thick and mysterious, a comb, small jars, and colorful ribbons.

“I have a comb.”

“And I brought rouge.”

“No, no, she doesn’t need makeup. She’s already wearing some.”

“That’s not enough. We need to make her husband regret what he’s done.”