Beneath the Surviving Princess's Joyful Facade - Chapter 26

As they left the kitchen and headed back to the room, Eirik was waiting for them.

“Where have you been taking her?” he asked.

“Oh, um, just to the kitchen for a bit…” Gella stammered, expecting to be scolded for taking Miesa to a potentially dangerous place. However, Eirik simply glanced at Miesa’s face and nodded.

“Alright. As long as you had fun. Now you may go.”

Gella bowed to them both and left the room. Shortly after, a servant arrived to announce that the meal was ready and began setting the table.

Miesa, not feeling particularly hungry after the walnuts, picked at her food. Eirik noticed and cut a large piece of seabass, offering it to her.

“You need to eat at least this much before you can leave the table,” he said.

“Yes,” Miesa replied, eating just that amount before putting down her fork and knife. Eirik shook his head but didn’t press her further and started his own meal.

“You don’t have to come early anymore,” Miesa said, just as Eirik was about to debone his fish.

He raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“‘Is it alright for me to take up your time like this when you’re so busy?’” she repeated, mimicking Gella’s words and voice.

“Wait, wait, did you say ‘take up’?” Eirik burst into laughter, asking her to repeat it. Confused, Miesa did so, and he laughed even harder, clutching his stomach.

“I heard Gella is from Kazen, but did you catch her accent?” Eirik said, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. “The eastern and western accents of the territory are slightly different. I can’t believe you’re speaking with a Kazen accent. It’s so unfitting and adorable.”

Miesa paused at his last comment, but Eirik seemed completely absorbed in his amusement.

“You should learn it sometime. During the harvest festival in that region… Oh, but I can’t ask Gella to teach you.”

He explained regretfully, “During the autumn festival, the ladies sing and dance, waving their hands like this, wearing wreaths made of wheat on their heads.”

He explained regretfully, “During the harvest festival, the ladies sing and dance, waving their hands like this, wearing wreaths made of wheat on their heads.”

Seeing her staring at his mouth, Eirik assumed she was curious about the festival and reassured her, “It would be quicker if I learn from Gella and teach you myself. We can dance together later.”

“Okay,” Miesa agreed, then quickly emphasized, “But really, you don’t have to come early anymore.”

Eirik smiled playfully, “Why not? If you don’t give a good reason, I might feel hurt.”

Miesa closed her mouth, unsure if her reason would upset him.

Sensing her confusion, Eirik spoke gently, “It’s alright. Just tell me. I won’t be upset.”

“People don’t talk when I’m with you, Eirik. But when I’m with Gella, they say all sorts of interesting things in front of us,” Miesa explained.

“That makes sense,” Eirik nodded. It was true that the servants were intimidated by him.

He wondered if this was how it felt when a child who needed constant care grew up and started playing with friends. It was a bit disappointing, but he understood.

“If you’re going to be walking around with Gella, perhaps you should wear proper clothes,” he suggested.

No one working for the Cladnier family would dare to disrespect her for being poorly dressed. But he had never liked those clothes, and he took this chance to speak up.

“No, I like these clothes,” Miesa insisted.

Eirik pressed on. “Still, it would be better to wear nicer clothes. Why do they dress you in such poor-quality clothing? Even if you need to change often, this is too much.”

There is a reason. Miesa blinked, thinking it over.

If people knew she had been treated poorly before, the Cladnier staff wouldn’t be so wary and would soon show their true colors. That was the Pointy’s calculation. And calling her a princess was a way to maintain their resentment.

But it seemed unnecessary for Eirik to deal with the Pointy and the Big. After some thought, Miesa chose a suitable answer.

“I have to keep acting strange anyway. I need to dig under the madrone tree tomorrow, and I don’t want to ruin good clothes.”

“Fair enough,” Eirik agreed, nodding. “Then at least take a spoon. Don’t dig with your hands.”

Surprisingly, he was understanding. He respected her actions, recognizing their importance to her.

The next day, as Miesa was digging with a spoon, she paused.

“Are you thirsty, young madam?” Gella asked, pulling out a canteen and helping Miesa drink. She then wiped Miesa’s sweaty face with a damp cloth. It was a hot day, and she didn’t have to stay and keep her company, but she did.

“Young madam, try digging in the wet soil here. You might find more worms,” Gella suggested, clearly excited when the earthworms came out, which Miesa now pretended not to see.

Sweat dripped from her forehead into her eyes. As she wiped it with her dirty hand, Gella took out the damp cloth again.

“Oh dear, look at our baby madam’s face,” Gella said, using the term affectionately when they were alone. Miesa laughed at the cute voice she made.

“At least the young master doesn’t interfere anymore. That’s a relief.”

Feeling uncomfortable, Miesa kept digging. Gella, watching her, sighed softly.

“Tully—my brother—he used to be like that,” Gella said in a lamenting tone.

Even as she heard the sorrow in Gella’s voice, Miesa continued her work in silence.

“Actually, I had seven more siblings above and below me. Someone like you,  Young Madam Miesa, might not understand, but people like us tend to have many children. There are many in the village who have eleven or twelve,” Gella explained, adding details to make sure Miesa could follow along.

“There were eight of us, but then a plague swept through the village. Two died, and one barely survived, but with a high fever, ended up a bit like… well, like this,” she said, gesturing vaguely.

Leaning against the tree, Gella continued speaking to herself, while Miesa listened, digging into the soil with her spoon.

“But how could a blacksmith’s apprentice care for a sick child? Even if they grew up, they wouldn’t be able to work or help around the house. One day, my father took Tully out and came back alone.”

As a worm peeked out from the hole Miesa was digging, she quickly pushed it back in and covered it with soil, not wanting Gella to stop her story. She instead tore at a random root to keep her hands busy.

“Later, when my father took over the blacksmith shop and our household improved, I asked him where he had left Tully. I thought if he’d left him at a monastery, we could bring him back. But he said he didn’t know and adamantly refused to say anything more.”

Gella’s voice was calm. “That night, I overheard my father crying to my mother. That’s when I realized Tully had been sent somewhere we could never bring him back from.”

“……”

“I’m still very sad, but I can’t talk about it with anyone. People just say everyone has gone through such things and dismiss it.”

I see. Everyone goes through such things. Miesa learned something new again. It seemed that families killing their own was a common occurrence.

“The only ones I’ve talked to about this are the horses in the stables and the dogs around the training grounds,” Gella said, smiling sadly.

Animals wouldn’t spill secrets. But Miesa suppressed a laugh at the thought. Being equated to horses and dogs wasn’t exactly pleasing.

“When I first saw you, young madam, I thought—” Gella began, but stopped.

What was she going to say? Miesa poked at the ground with a small branch, waiting for her to continue, but Gella’s words were interrupted.

“Dear, you’re here.”

“Oh, young master.”

Eirik was standing behind them, having arrived unnoticed. Miesa had told him he didn’t need to come early, but here he was.

“You’ve been working hard,” he said, exchanging a few words with Gella before sending her off as if they were changing shifts.

Miesa, curious about what Gella had been about to say, felt a pang of disappointment but couldn’t ask her to stay. She poked at the ground with a branch, feeling frustrated.

“Are you having fun?” Eirik asked, oblivious to what he had interrupted. He sat down where Gella had been.

“Wait a minute, you’ve dug this much?” he asked, looking concerned rather than impressed.

“This is a bit dangerous. If the roots are exposed like this…” he said, rolling up his sleeves. “Why don’t you move to the bigger tree over there instead?”

“…Okay,” Miesa replied.

Waiting for her response, Eirik started filling in the hole Miesa had dug, not caring about the dirt on his clean trousers.

“Since the rainy season is coming soon, try digging just up to there and then consider doing something else,” he said, brushing the dirt off his hands.

He gathered Miesa’s tools—spoon and branches—and moved to the other tree, waiting for her to catch up.

“Aren’t you hot?” he asked.

“No,” Miesa mumbled. She felt it wasn’t safe to speak loudly, unsure of who might be listening.

Eirik, feeling hot himself, unbuttoned a few buttons and leaned against the tree, smiling at her.