Beneath the Surviving Princess's Joyful Facade - Chapter 84

“We’ll be heading down to the estate in a month, so I hope to hear Miesa’s voice before then,” Madam Cladnier said.

“…I’ll ask her,” Eirik replied.

Madam Cladnier sighed quietly. It saddened her that her son kept her informed as his mother but kept Miesa in the dark as her husband.

“It can’t be helped. Even my own child doesn’t do as I wish…”

“Me?”

“Yes, you and Miesa are the same.”

Frowning, Madam Cladnier got to the point. “Anyway, 23 years ago, a maid was expelled from the Central Palace.”

“The timing is perfect,” Eirik noted.

“It was rumored she was carrying the child of Count Vainer, who was the palace steward at the time. No one heard from her after that.”

The maid reportedly died in childbirth. The child, not knowing who the father was, grew up as an unwanted burden in the maid’s family.

“Send someone to investigate. But remember, you mustn’t give that person any certainty,” Madam Cladnier instructed her son. “If he’s certain he’s of the late king’s bloodline, he’ll see us as obstacles later on.”

This was to keep the possible illegitimate child tightly controlled. Once on the throne, he might resist the Cladnier family’s influence.

“Conversely, if he knows we’re backing him without being the king’s blood, he’ll begin to think we’re faking it. Eventually, he’ll be exposed.”

Eirik understood his mother’s strategy. Her years as the matriarch of House Cladnier had made her adept at handling people.

“Understood. I’ll present it as a possibility, not a certainty.”

“Exactly.” Madam Cladnier smiled with satisfaction.

Eirik asked another question, “What do we know about his appearance?”

“They say he has the same dark brown hair as his mother, the maid.”

“That’s appropriate.”

At least it wasn’t an entirely different color, which was a relief.

Finishing his conversation with his mother, Eirik headed to the knights’ quarters and discreetly summoned Vallek to give him instructions.

Since Vallek had been sent on a mission abroad, a new knight named Poliak was assigned to guard duty. Cullen explained the assignment briefly.

“Are there any other specific instructions?” Poliak asked.

“None, really. Just ignore things when the captain is present, and pay attention to what’s happening in the room when he isn’t,” Cullen replied with a sigh. “The Margravine hasn’t been leaving her bedroom much lately. Not much noise escapes from inside, either.”

“What should I do in uncertain situations? When I’m not sure if there’s danger in the room?”

“You should knock on the door to announce yourself before entering.”

“Does the Margravine understand what a knock means?”

“She’ll probably be startled if you just burst in. The knock is to make your presence known.”

“Right, makes sense,” Poliak agreed.

After the brief conversation, Cullen turned away.

There were many things Cullen wanted to say to Sir Poliak. Should he ask him to notify him if he ever saw the veiled lady? If he ever spotted a young woman with a similar build to the Margravine?

But she’s his comrade’s wife. He reminded himself again. Just because she was in an unhappy marriage didn’t mean he could harbor feelings for her. So, he decided not to say anything more and started to leave.

Wait a moment, Cullen thought, turning back to Poliak.

“Sir Poliak, I heard you were married?”

“Yes, it was an arranged marriage set by my late father. You might know the name…” Poliak mentioned the name of a knight who had died in battle a few years ago. Poliak’s wife was the knight’s third daughter.

“Do you remember when I had to leave briefly two years ago? Her family fell on hard times, so I brought her back with me. She was only seventeen at the time—”

“Se-seventeen, you say?” Cullen stammered.

“Yes, there’s quite an age difference between us. I’m twenty-six. So, we had a simple ceremony, and she’s been staying at my family’s home. I plan to bring her to the capital or go to her next year.”

Cullen’s eyes widened as he made the connection. Perhaps her familiarity with hand signals came from this background.

“How tall is she?” Cullen asked, trying to mask his growing unease.

“Are you asking about my wife’s height? She’s still growing, I suppose. She was fifteen back then.” Poliak gestured to about shoulder height.

“In truth, I don’t really remember her face. I’ve only seen her three times: once when I brought her, once during the ceremony, and once when I left.”

Given her age, they wouldn’t have consummated the marriage, and naturally, Poliak wouldn’t know about any scars on her body. Cullen felt a wave of guilt. How could he, without realizing it, have developed feelings for Poliak’s wife, who had once helped him?

“I see,” Cullen said.

“So, do you have any marriage prospects?” Poliak asked, shrugging. “A wife too young can be inconvenient in many ways. They say a difference of two or three years is ideal, so I suggest you start looking quickly.”

Cullen was dumbfounded. It wasn’t that the girl was too young; it was that twenty-six-year-old Poliak was far too old. Instead of feeling guilty, he had the audacity to complain about the inconvenience.

Miesa, who had been bedridden, was finally able to sit up after a week.

“Madam!”

Gella hurriedly reached out to support Miesa as she swayed unsteadily. It seemed Gella’s voice had carried into the hallway, as there was a sound outside.

“May I come in?”

With a knock at the door, an unfamiliar knight suddenly opened it. Miesa, startled, quickly bowed her head.

“Madam, are you all right? I thought I heard something,” the knight said.

“Oh, it’s fine, Sir Poliak. Nothing’s wrong,” Gella replied, recognizing the knight and greeting him.

Sir Poliak gave a curt nod and asked, “Is there anything I can help with?”

“No, no. She’s just a bit dizzy,” Gella said.

“Very well.”

“Thank you,” Gella added.

However, Sir Poliak didn’t seem to want to leave. He stood there watching as Gella helped Miesa lie back down, and then he started talking again.

“I’m leaving today. I thought I might not get a chance to see the Margravine, but here I am.”

“Oh…”

Sir Poliak was known within the knight order for being blunt and oblivious. While this trait could be advantageous for guarding the Margravine, it also made him quite a nuisance. Unaware of Gella’s frowning back, Poliak continued to prattle on.

“By the way, is Sir Cullen always so… stern?”

“Excuse me, Sir Poliak. I don’t know much about Sir Cullen’s personality, but having you here makes it quite difficult for me to attend to the madam,” Gella said curtly.

Poliak, catching her tone, cleared his throat and stepped back. “Oh, I see. My apologies. Goodbye, Margravine. I’ll see you again.”

As the door closed, Gella scoffed. “He should have left sooner. Honestly, why was he complaining about Sir Cullen to us?”

“He wasn’t really talking to us. He didn’t expect a response from me,” Miesa said weakly from the bed, a faint smile playing on her lips.

“Well, that’s true. Anyway, madam, you lost a lot of blood, so you need to chew this herb completely.”

Gella watched with satisfaction as Miesa chewed the bitter herb thoroughly. Absentmindedly, she spoke again, “Madam, you’re so good at listening… I mean, you pay attention and follow advice well.”

“Me?” Miesa asked.

Feeling she might have been too bold, Gella quickly amended, “Yes. You always follow the master’s instructions well. You do what he suggests without any fuss.”

“Really? But one should listen to those who know better.”

“Well, yes, but people aren’t always like that,” Gella said.

“I see.”

Miesa, staring blankly at the ceiling while chewing the herb roots, added, “I don’t really know much, so it’s best not to be stubborn.”

“You must be Fabrian.”

Eirik met the former royal maid’s illegitimate son in the mansion’s second-floor office. The man, with his dark brown hair and unassuming appearance, was visibly tense and bowed his head deeply to the Margrave.

“I will explain the situation to you once more,” Eirik began.

Fabrian looked terrified, his face pale.

“Are you aware of the current chaos in the kingdom?”

“I’ve heard some things, but…”

To Fabrian, the king’s tyranny seemed like a distant issue.

It was understandable. Fabrian, having lived a relatively peaceful life, with his greatest hardship being the occasional scorn from others, was now being thrust into the role of a rebel. It was undoubtedly overwhelming.

Eirik knew he had to make things clear.

“What we know is something the king will likely discover sooner or later. Do you understand what this means for you, even the slightest possibility?”

Eirik had resolved to play the villain if necessary. Someone had to take on this role, and he couldn’t avoid it under the pretense of seeking the ideals or righteousness of the nobles.

The risks that this upheaval would bring to Fabrian’s once-quiet life were obvious. If things went wrong, he would hear the desperate curses of a man pushed beyond his limits. Eirik was ready to bear that guilt.