Beneath the Surviving Princess's Joyful Facade - Chapter 128

Miesa only managed to catch her breath and gather her wits when the evening sunlight streamed through the window.

Since the Margrave was away at the Cladnier estate on business, the palace officials, intimidated by the queen’s stern demeanor, neither informed her of mealtime nor dared to speak to her, only glancing around nervously. Gella, too, had hurried to the Cladnier estate to fetch the Margrave, leaving only Tilberg and Cullen standing idly in the study.

She wandered around the study for a while. She couldn’t decide whom to ask, as too many people who knew the circumstances of the time were already dead. Suddenly, she stopped and asked Tilberg.

“Any news from Count Halitea or Viscount Miretta?”

“It seems they’re keeping a low profile.”

The anger she had suppressed boiled over, and she could not stand it. Miesa glared at innocent Tilberg and snapped at him. “Summon them. Drag them here tied in ropes if you must.”

“Your Majesty?”

“Say I’ll kill them all if they don’t come immediately.”

When she started to fly into a rage, Duke Salachez, who had returned to the study at some point, tried to calm her down.

“Your Majesty, I hear the former Margrave of Cladnier is recovering, so please summon that doctor.”

“Why?”

“I’ve asked the royal doctor and palace officials about rumors of poison that activates after a certain time, but none have ever heard of Finime, or any such poison.”

Duke Salachez met Miesa’s eyes. It seemed the queen didn’t care one bit about her supposedly limited remaining lifespan. He quickly changed his approach.

“We should ask him about it, and I’ve heard he’s quite skilled. They say he can keep someone alive no matter what’s cut off, as long as they’re still breathing.”

Understanding the meaning behind Duke Salachez’s words, Miesa burst into laughter.

“My goodness, Doid.” She spoke in an amused voice, “It’s been so long since I’ve heard such heartwarming words.”

Salachez felt the tension release from his body, which had been subconsciously tensed. However, the atmosphere around the queen was still unsettling.

“You two are to say nothing of today’s events to the Margrave.”

“Pardon?”

“Surely you know what ‘say nothing’ means.”

Miesa tightened the reins on the two with an irritable tone and glanced around the study. Besides the captain of the guard and Duke Salachez, there was one more person there. It was Cullen, who stood on guard.

Miesa took a step toward Cullen.

“Cullen. The same goes for you.”

“Pardon?”

“If you tell the Margrave what I just said, then what you harbored for me…”

Miesa began to threaten Cullen. She was about to mention the “dirty desire” she had heard about earlier today, but when she saw the inexplicable tears welling up in Cullen’s usually stoic eyes, she quickly came to her senses.

“Your Majesty. I will never, never open my mouth,” Cullen murmured in a hushed voice. Watching him blankly, Miesa turned and collapsed onto the sofa.

The words she was about to utter were horrifying. Perhaps she was more deranged now than when she pretended to be mad before.

Due to the heavy snowfall in recent days, it took a day and a half for the messenger to reach the southern Halieti region and another day and a half to return. During those three days, Miesa behaved as if nothing had happened, interacting with Eirik and receiving reports from the officials.

Eirik, who returned hastily from the Cladnier estate that day, only confirmed that Miesa had gone to bed early. He seemed to have something he wanted to say, but as before, Miesa avoided it with a gentle smile, sensing it might not be pleasant to hear.

“Your Majesty, people have arrived from Halieti.”

When Duke Salachez delivered the awaited news, Miesa rose from the chair.

“Let’s go to the reception room.”

“Your Majesty, I will accompany you.”

Eirik, who was in the study with her, also stood up. But Miesa smiled softly and shook her head.

“No, it’s fine.”

“But…”

“These two will suffice.”

Miesa quickly left the study after pointing alternately at Duke Salachez and the captain of the guard.

Left in the study with Viscountess Manere and Gella, Eirik turned to look out the window in frustration.

From the room, the scarecrow and straw animals hanging below the window sill would likely be covered in white snow. Eirik reminded Viscountess Manere once again to ensure no snow piled up on them as he headed to his office.

Miesa headed to the reception room, where two elderly men in shabby clothing were standing awkwardly. Before the attendant could announce who was who, Miesa recognized her maternal grandfather.

“Count Halitea and Viscount Miretta.”

“……”

The two old men stared blankly at Miesa, forgetting to offer the customary greeting to the queen. Miesa sat on the sofa and gestured for them to take a seat.

“Th-Thank you. Ah! May the goddess’s glory and blessing be upon the highest…” Count Halitea managed to gather his wits and offer a greeting. However, Viscount Miretta, Miesa’s maternal grandfather, still stared at her with his mouth agape.

“Why did you not respond to the summons?” Miesa asked them with an expressionless face. It took a long time before she received a response.

“Everyone we sent died, and now there is no one left to send. Both of us have grown old and weary… We thought this might be our last chance and came up.”

The faces of the two old men were as deeply lined as the hardships they had endured. Although she had a vague idea of what had happened, Miesa needed to hear the story directly from them.

“Tell me everything that happened at the time.”

“My mother worked as a nanny for over ten years for a branch of the Salachez family,” Count Halitea began.

“Over twenty years ago, someone from the Salachez family came looking for the king’s third queen,” he continued. “By chance, it happened to be Viscount Miretta’s daughter, Your Majesty’s mother, who had bright blonde hair and a gentle disposition… At the time, we thought it was a great opportunity.”

The Salachez family, unable to find a suitable candidate from a modest household, chose the daughter of their vassal rather than a provincial noble family. Thus, a naive seventeen-year-old girl was put forward as the queen.

Viscount Miretta, Miesa’s maternal grandfather, chimed in with a vacant expression. “Amie was truly beautiful on the day of the royal wedding. Not just because she was my daughter… She truly looked like a queen.”

Even the unadorned dress must have seemed extravagant to the eyes of a rural noble. A sharp pain pierced Miesa’s heart.

“Amie always said she was doing well, even after the king passed away, but a few weeks before that incident, she sent a letter through someone asking us to save a child. She asked if there was a way to dye the child’s hair white.”

There was no need to ask when “that incident” occurred. Miesa listened silently to their story.

“We immediately realized there was a problem, but being ignorant of the ways of the capital, we simply went to Celia Palace.”

“Of course, with several guards standing there, they wouldn’t answer us, but we cluelessly asked if something had happened to Amie.”

Of course, they did. Miesa buried her head in her hands. Meanwhile, the two old men continued their tale, laden with regret.

“We stayed in an inn in the capital and tried to contact the Salachez family. We thought they wouldn’t ignore us, but we didn’t know then that there was no one left in the Salachez family to respond.”

“One day, a maid came and said the situation was dire,” Halitea recalled. “She begged us to save the young you by any means possible. She pleaded with us to smuggle you out, do whatever it took to rescue you.”

“We had no acquaintances in the capital,” Miretta said, his voice growing increasingly emotional. “So we went from house to house, asking for help from anyone whose name we knew, but after what happened to the Salachez family, no one dared to reach out a hand.”

They managed to hear through difficulty that the third queen’s daughter, Miesa, might still be alive. This information came from stories that several palace maids, who took pity on Miesa, attempted to smuggle her out and were executed.

After several months, as the lord became somewhat familiar with the situation in the capital, he sent his eldest son, who was a knight, to be adopted by a viscount’s family. Feeling responsible for having recommended the vassal’s daughter who could have lived safely, he tried to make amends in any way he could.

Having thus sent his eldest son through another family to the palace as a servant, Count Halitea wiped his tearful eyes as he lamented, “We still don’t know if he’s alive.”