Beneath the Surviving Princess's Joyful Facade - Chapter 52

“Why? Can’t you do this?”

Miesa’s innocent question made Gella chuckle nervously.

“That you can do such large calculations so easily? And, hold on, this reminds me so much of how the young master behaves.”

“What do you mean?”

“During battles, he was always like that. He’d point out which areas were blocked, consider the possibility of ambushes, and suggest that we should take a detour,” Gella continued, recalling past events.

Miesa, not understanding much of the jargon, remained silent but attentive.

“Then, out of nowhere, he’d propose crossing the river for a surprise night attack. People would be left speechless by his unexpected strategies. If no one responded, he’d genuinely ask if his explanation was too difficult to understand.”

“……”

“It’s really sincere, not a criticism. But it makes everyone feel guilty for not keeping up with his deep thoughts, making them apologize for not understanding.”

Miesa nodded, finally grasping the gist of what Gella was saying.

“I hear and see the commander more often than the other knights since I’m a doctor. During urgent times, I’d be in meetings, bandaging and administering medicine,” Gella explained.

Miesa, feeling weary of war talk lately, changed the subject. “Do you think I sound a lot like Eirik?”

“No, actually, your tone is a bit childlike. Sometimes you speak like the Margravine, but not always,” Gella replied.

“How do I sound childlike?”

“Well, it’s a bit tricky to explain, but you sometimes address the young master and me in ways that are unusual. It feels awkward when you group us together, saying things like, ‘Gella and Eirik,’ as if we’re on the same level,” Gella explained earnestly.

“I remember Eirik asking me to use more formal speech,” Miesa recalled.

“I can’t imagine how you spoke before that. Even now, some of your expressions are a bit off. It’s hard to explain, but typically, you wouldn’t speak to your husband that way,” Gella said, trying to offer advice despite her own lack of expertise in formal etiquette.

“Isn’t there a book on this topic?” Miesa asked.

Just then, a servant knocked on the door. Gella opened it and relayed the message that the young master would be late and asked if Miesa wanted to dine first.

“Alright. Just a moment,” Gella replied, closing the door and returning to Miesa, who was reading a book on etiquette.

“Did you hear that? Do you want to eat now?” Gella asked in a hushed tone.

“Yes. And next time, it’s better not to ask me,” Miesa said, adopting a more aristocratic manner. When Gella looked puzzled, Miesa quickly reverted to her usual tone. “It’s obvious. Would you ask a mad person if they want to eat?”

“Right, I see,” Gella admitted.

“Wait a bit before going. Tell them it took a while because I was changing,” Miesa instructed.

“You’re quite the strategist,” Gella said, shaking her head in amusement.

Miesa timed her movements, making it seem like she was getting dressed. Once enough time had passed, she signaled Gella. “Okay, let’s go.”

Gella dashed to the door, opening it and saying, “Young madam is ready now. You may enter.”

The servant entered, setting the table and arranging the trays. After setting up the entire meal, the servant turned to Gella. “Ring the bell when you’re finished.”

“Understood,” Gella replied.

“We don’t usually serve during the meal. You’re aware of that?” the servant added, assuming the young master didn’t want the staff to witness any of Miesa’s potential outbursts.

“Yes, I’ll take care of everything,” Gella reassured, ready to handle the situation.

“Then, we’ll be going now,” the servant said as they left.

Miesa, who had been lying on the bed, got up and walked to the dining table. She frowned upon seeing the setup. “Why is there only one serving?”

“I usually eat in the kitchen,” Gella replied.

“So, I have to eat alone…,” Miesa muttered.

She remembered that even in Celia Palace, she had never dined at the same table with the maids. Nodding, she sat down.

Gella, although a bit clumsy, lifted the dish covers and cut the meat, assisting with the meal.

“Oh, young madam. You use the cutlery well,” Gella remarked.

“‘It’s not my praise to take, so please withhold it,’” Miesa quoted.

“Wow… What’s that? Is it from a song?” Gella asked.

“I don’t know, I just read it in the etiquette book,” Miesa replied, frowning as she cut the rabbit roast.

“Really, don’t keep saying nice things. It’s uncomfortable,” she added.

“Yes, understood,” Gella responded politely.

“And when we’re with others, no matter what I’m doing, just bow your head. Don’t try to…,” Miesa hesitated.

“To, act clumsily?” Gella completed her sentence.

“Exactly. Don’t do anything clumsily,” Miesa added with a touch of primness, lifting her chin.

“We’re in the same boat now. Of course, I know you’re a trustworthy person.”

Gella found it curious that the young madam knew difficult words but sometimes missed simpler ones. Still, she held back a smile at the sight of Miesa trying to assert herself like a neighborhood leader.

“And the other day, this thing you did, what was that?” Miesa put down her knife and fork, mimicking a gesture she had seen a few days ago.

“[Tomorrow], [another place], [talk], oh, that’s sign language. Wow, I did that with the young master a few days ago. You saw it?” Gella said, surprised.

“What is sign language?” Miesa inquired, intrigued.

After Gella explained, Miesa’s eyes sparkled. “Teach me that too. Sign language.”

“I’m a doctor, so I only know about a dozen signs. There are supposed to be around 200,” Gella replied.

“Go learn them all and teach me,” Miesa demanded.

“…Yes,” Gella responded, though she hesitated, knowing it would be quite the task to learn all the signs from the busy knights.

“Wouldn’t it be better to learn from the young master? He knows them better,” Gella suggested.

“No, I want to surprise him,” Miesa said, giggling. “He’s stopped being surprised by anything I do. It’s no fun anymore.”

Eirik entered the bedroom later than usual, having taken extra time today for a thorough shave, bath, and haircut. Recently, his wife had become unusually quiet and avoided eye contact with him, but he had something important to convey.

“Tomorrow, a new maid will be arriving from the royal palace. It’s Mrs. Manere. She’s from our side, so there shouldn’t be any discomfort for you.”

“Is that so? Thank you for letting me know,” Miesa replied with a smooth smile.

Eirik narrowed his eyes. Her sudden habit of thanking him was one thing, but this unexpected reaction was something else. It wasn’t like anyone he knew, and the noblewoman-like demeanor was unusual for her.

“Has anyone visited while I was away? It doesn’t seem like my mother.”

“I saw the Margravine Cladnier earlier,” Miesa replied.

“No, that’s not what I meant. Anyway, it would be good for you to meet with Mrs. Manere tomorrow. She needs to report to the royal family, so she’ll want to see you.”

“Yes, I understand.”

Miesa nodded with a poised smile, making Eirik even more suspicious. Perhaps she was mimicking a court lady.

“By the way, do you know Mrs. Manere?”

“I’ve heard her name mentioned in conversations among the ladies-in-waiting, but I haven’t seen anyone specifically call her by name or respond to her, so I don’t know who she is.”

“I see. Well then…”

Eirik started to say something but recalled the advice he received earlier in the day. He stood up.

“I’ll be over there if you need anything, just call.”

“Alright, I’ll be reading this book then,” Miesa said, picking up The Art of Conversation.

Eirik noticed the title and felt a bit of his curiosity resolved. He decided not to mention it, thinking it might embarrass her. Instead, he quietly sat at his desk to review some documents.

After a while, he glanced over at Miesa. Surprisingly, she was already nearing the end of the book, flipping through the final pages.

“Gella is so strong, I might end up with a bruise on my arm,” she muttered, practicing phrases and then quickly skimming the pages again.

“Gella is more energetic than she looks. But I am not used to such a touch,” she practiced.

Eirik watched her from a distance, holding back his laughter. He felt proud and wanted to pat her head, but he decided to pretend he hadn’t noticed anything.