Beneath the Surviving Princess's Joyful Facade - Chapter 100

7

She assessed the situation with intense focus.

“200 for the Royal Guards, and 1,500 for the Central Defense Force.”

Her blue eyes darted back and forth before she asked him, “What about our side?”

“I brought ten knights, and seven vassals brought thirty-five more. We have 300 elite knights strategically placed. Additionally, the Duke of Salachez brought 100 men, but we can’t rely on them too much.”

Miesa paused for a moment, then asked, “Even with my limited knowledge of combat, it’s clear that 445 men can’t possibly hold off 1,700.”

“The defense troops are positioned at the base of the mountain. With limited paths for the troops to ascend, our 300 can hold them off for a couple of hours,” he explained, spreading out a map.

“With you stepping in, if we manage to kill Vermel, the knights from other houses will remain quiet. That alone will make a significant difference.”

But Miesa shook her head. “Bring Rakane Crispin here. I need to confirm something.”

Cullen, following the commander’s sudden instructions, headed to the Crispin family’s tent. He didn’t know why the plan had suddenly changed from escorting the madam to the mountainous regions of the border to this new task.

“The Margrave wishes to extend his gratitude. The Margravine has returned safely.”

Upon hearing Cullen’s message, Lady Crispin rose promptly. “I will go right away.”

Lady Crispin intended to bring along three more knights in addition to her usual deputy commander. Cullen politely intervened.

“I apologize, but the Margravine is uncomfortable with too many people.”

“I understand,” she sighed softly, gesturing for the knights to stand down.

Cullen then escorted Lady Crispin and the deputy commander, Toven, to the Cladnier family’s tent. The Margrave, waiting at the entrance, welcomed them and instructed Cullen.

“Escort them both inside. You too, but ensure four guards remain outside.”

After positioning the guards, Cullen entered the tent a moment later. What he saw nearly made him collapse in shock.

Sitting at a makeshift desk, sternly observing Lady Crispin, was the Margravine, who usually wandered with her hair in disarray. Cullen had missed only a brief moment while positioning the guards, yet somehow, Lady Crispin was now bowing her head as if in the presence of royalty.

“How should I address you?” Lady Crispin asked, her head still lowered.

“For now, continue with Margravine. Rise,” Miesa responded, her smooth tone and authoritative manner exuding dignity.

Lady Crispin stood up, and the Margravine spoke again. “Let’s get straight to the point. Do you know why the defense forces are stationed?”

“It is Vermel’s order. I regret that I know nothing more,” Lady Crispin replied, referring to the king by name.

Cullen felt a shiver down his spine. Could it be that…?

“What are you willing to do, and what do you desire?” Miesa asked.

Lady Crispin glanced back at her deputy. After a quick exchange of looks, she bowed deeply again. “Our deputy commander plans to attack Marquis Crispin tonight. This will happen independently of the Margravine’s directives.”

“Will the attack on the Marquis suffice?” Miesa inquired.

“The Central Defense Force only takes orders from the King and Marquis Crispin. They won’t listen to anyone else, which should allow for a temporary disruption,” Lady Crispin explained.

Eirik Cladnier, the Margrave, who had been standing quietly, joined the conversation. “Do not harm him. I do not wish for the legitimacy of the new queen to be questioned.”

“A simple detention for conversation should suffice,” Rakane Crispin quickly adjusted her response.

Miesa gazed steadily at her. “Now, tell me what you want. Surely, it’s not just to reduce the compensation.”

Rakane took a deep breath, lifted her head, and spoke with determination. “I want the position of head of the Crispin family.”

The Margravine looked to her husband, but the commander merely smiled at her, as if to say the decision had already been made.

“Very well. If successful, you will immediately become the head of the Crispin family.”

The four of them then spent a long time examining the map and discussing their plans. Lady Crispin, who had maintained a porcelain-like composure, staggered slightly as she left the tent.

“She seemed to already know our plan.”

“Of course. The 300 knights I brought were stationed here via the Nieas Harbor.”

“Could she have already informed the Marquis?”

“Unlikely. She’s adept at weighing options and playing both sides.” Eirik recounted a few anecdotes about her, adding, “You heard her earlier. She said her deputy would attack her father, regardless of your orders. Did you notice the subtle difference in her tone?”

“What do you mean?”

“If we fail, she’s not implicated in treason. She didn’t directly harm her father. She could easily claim that an overambitious deputy, harboring personal grudges, acted on his own.”

“…Incredible. Both her, and you for noticing,” Miesa remarked.

“I’ve learned to read people,” Eirik said nonchalantly, retrieving a suitable dagger from a weapons chest. “Would you like to learn how to use a dagger first, or should we meet with the Duke of Salachez?”

“How are your parents?” Miesa asked, seeking a more detailed explanation than the brief assurance she had received earlier.

“Mother’s shoulder is injured from an arrow, and her hand is deeply cut, but her life isn’t in danger. Father is unconscious but alive,” Eirik explained.

“With so many arrows, really?” she asked, frowning in concern.

“The most severe wound was actually a graze on the side abdomen. The armor he wore protected his internal organs, so despite heavy bleeding, his internal injuries weren’t severe,” Eirik explained, a bitter smile crossing his face.

“We owe thanks to Crispin. The doctor they brought is the best in the kingdom and was practically dragged here for the hunting festival. This doctor was Gella’s mentor,” he added.

Miesa wondered if he was just trying to reassure her with lies, but Eirik shook his head firmly, placing the dagger on the table.

“Learning to use a dagger won’t help much immediately, but Cullen can teach you not to cut yourself. You must learn something from my mother’s sacrifice.”

Miesa touched the dagger cautiously. Eirik gestured to Cullen and then spoke to Miesa, “I’ll secure the king’s movements, so don’t worry. Then, I’ll finalize the deployment with the Duke of Salachez.”

Eirik patted Cullen on the shoulder and left the tent. Seeing Cullen standing just outside the door, seemingly daunted by the task, filled him with no unease.

“So, uh… Margravine,” Cullen began, hesitating as he approached, shaking his head to clear his thoughts.

Miesa watched him skeptically but relaxed as soon as she saw him grip the dagger and transform into his competent self.

“I don’t know anything, so teach me,” she requested.

“This is a double-edged dagger, suitable for thrusting. If it had a single edge, you’d slash like this…” Cullen demonstrated, holding the dagger with the blade facing his arm and making a few cutting motions before flipping it back expertly.

“This dagger is narrow, making cutting difficult. So, hold it straight and thrust,” he instructed, explaining the best targets and the slight adjustments needed based on the opponent’s height.

“This is a double-edged dagger, suitable for thrusting. If it had a single edge, you’d slash like this…” Cullen demonstrated, holding the dagger with the blade facing his arm and making a few cutting motions before flipping it back expertly.

“This dagger is narrow, making cutting difficult. So, hold it straight and thrust,” he continued, explaining the best targets and the slight adjustments needed based on the opponent’s height.

“However, stabbing someone requires more strength than you might think. If I may… Margravine, please try to pull my arm.”

Cullen offered his arm, and Miesa grasped it with both hands, pulling with all her might. Cullen didn’t budge an inch.

Muttering under his breath, he withdrew his arm, “You have less strength than a child learning to walk.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Cullen clarified, “Less strength than my brother, Vallek. We can’t change that now, so we’ll need to change the method.”

Miesa, recalling Gella’s similar remark in the carriage, recognized it as a common phrase of his and relaxed, letting go of the tension in her shoulders.

Cullen, now engrossed in examining the dagger, noticed the smooth handle, which concerned him. With such weak grip strength, her hand could easily slip after a stab, potentially causing injury.

He took out a pink lace ribbon from his pocket and meticulously wrapped it around the dagger’s handle with his rough fingers. He then stepped outside to apply adhesive used for securing bowstrings, ensuring it was firmly in place.

When Cullen returned and handed over the well-prepared dagger, Miesa nodded, a satisfied smile on her face. Seeing this, Cullen felt assured that the ribbon had found its rightful owner.

As the red hues of sunset slowly crept into the tent, they cast a warm glow on the Margravine’s usually pale face, adding a delicate flush to her cheeks.