Beneath the Surviving Princess's Joyful Facade - Chapter 95

Miesa rose, carefully brushed her hair, and stepped outside the tent, where Madam Cladnier was waiting.

“Come along,” she said, taking Miesa’s hand and leading her. Miesa, caught off guard, followed with her head bowed and steps faltering, struggling to hide her expression. Behind them trailed the Margrave and the former Margrave.

They emerged from the line of family tents into an open clearing where other nobles had already gathered.

As the Cladnier family appeared, the crowd parted to make way for them. The four of them stood in the center, accompanied by two knights.

After a brief wait, the king appeared with his guards. Being part of the harvest festival, a high priest in white robes and several priests followed.

The king ascended the platform, and below him…

A royal guard stood on the platform with a hunting hawk perched on his shoulder. Seeing this, Eirik quickly reached out to cover Miesa’s eyes.

“What’s the matter?” Madam Cladnier, still holding Miesa’s hand, looked at her son in surprise.

Eirik urgently lifted Miesa into his arms and addressed his parents. “Miesa seems unwell. I’ll take her back.”

“You, what are you doing? It’s about to start,” the former Margrave, already flushed from drinking, spoke louder than intended, causing some in the front to turn and glance.

“Let the vassals start without us,” Eirik said, carrying Miesa away. The sudden move drew the attention of the crowd, but he was too focused on his wife to care.

Eirik brought Miesa back into the tent and checked on her.

“I didn’t anticipate this variable. I thought the king disliked hunting hawks because of the mess they make on the platform,” he explained as he removed her earplugs.

Miesa shook her head at his words.

[No problem], [Completely], [Can’t], [See].

“This won’t do. Rest here for now. Once we all head to the hunting grounds, you can leave immediately,” Eirik said, giving instructions to Gella and Cullen, who stood guard outside the tent.

“What is the meaning of this?” the king frowned as he watched Eirik hastily leave with Miesa. The court chamberlain quickly ran to assess the situation and returned, panting.

“The Margravine is unwell and is being sent back down,” he reported.

Vermel’s expression twisted even further. How dare they leave before the king had even announced the opening, and on top of that, make a scene about sending someone back. It seemed the long period of peace had made these fools forget the king’s authority.

The Margrave of Cladnier. He had shown such obedience at the last banquet that the king had let him be, but now it seemed he had grown too bold.

The king clicked his tongue and extended his hand behind him. Tilberg, the captain of the guard, handed him the bow. Shooting the first arrow would end this tedious formality and finally allow him to hunt the beasts. It had been too long since he last saw blood. The king’s mood improved at the thought.

Tilberg handed over an arrow. As the king took it, he paused for a moment, contemplating. Should he send this first arrow straight into the Margrave’s eye instead? It had been ages since he had a good laugh. Watching him writhe in agony might ease his displeasure a bit.

Noticing the king’s deep thought, Tilberg offered an explanation. “It’s likely because the Margravine is afraid of birds. We brought a hunting hawk.”

“Ah, that’s right,” the king remembered. That monkey did indeed panic and cause a scene at the sight of birds.

With a smile, the king aimed into the air and released the arrow, the sound of it slicing through the wind marking the start of the hunting tournament. Nobles scattered to find their horses and return to their tents.

Handing the bow back to Tilberg, the king remarked, “It seems I am not feeling well myself.”

***

Having prepared to send Miesa back to the mansion, Eirik headed to the rear of the tent to find his horse. As he passed the tents set up in the middle of the tournament grounds, he noticed his father, deep in conversation and sharing drinks with Kelvanig, the former commander of the knights.

“……”

“That disapproving look is exactly like his mother’s,” his father commented.

“Haha. Aren’t you and the former Margravine getting along well now?” Kelvanig replied.

“No, just the other day, when I suggested we have dinner together…”

Since his father was publicly known to be ill and Kelvanig’s leg wasn’t in good shape, neither was actively participating in the hunting tournament. Eirik sighed softly and approached his father, whispering in his ear.

“Please drink sparingly today. We never know what might happen.”

“My boy, have you forgotten how I once captured the Sidate captain even when I was completely drunk—”

“Sir Kelvanig, please promise to stop at that bottle,” Eirik interjected.

The former commander chuckled awkwardly and nodded. “Alright, Margrave. By the way, I taught you magic when you were young.”

“And I taught him archery,” his father added.

“Which led to him bending his fingers in that peculiar way, so I had to reteach him from scratch,” Kelvanig retorted.

Listening to their bickering, Eirik furrowed his brow and then offered a brief nod before moving on. Five knights awaited him by the tethered horses.

The total number of knights allowed entry was ten. The remaining five were assigned to guard the Cladnier family tents. One knight was assigned to his mother, two to Miesa, and the other two patrolled the perimeter. Despite this, Eirik repeatedly looked back, feeling uneasy.

Madam Cladnier, conversing with the wives of vassals under the family banner, noticed him and greeted him.

“Are you leaving now?” she asked.

“Do you have two guards each?” he inquired.

“Yes.”

Seven noble houses under their vassalage were also participating in the hunting tournament. Due to the limited number of knights allowed entry, some were taken along while the rest guarded the tents.

“…Fourteen in total. Even combined with ours, it’s less than twenty,” Eirik remarked.

“Twenty should be enough. Don’t you think so?”

“What do we need to prove here?” Eirik squinted against the sunlight and smiled. Madam Cladnier laughed as well, understanding his point that the Cladnier family didn’t need to prove themselves through a mere hunting tournament.

“Alright. I’ll ensure Miesa’s safe departure. Don’t worry and go on,” she reassured him.

Eirik nodded and left for the hunting grounds with a brief farewell.

As Eirik rode his horse up the narrow path, he saw the Duke of Salachez waiting at a crossroads with five knights.

“My apologies for keeping Your Grace waiting,” Eirik said.

“It’s alright, Margrave. I haven’t been waiting long,” the Duke replied.

“Preventing you from hunting without me, that’s the problem.”

“…When you joke,” the Duke sighed deeply, then suddenly pointed to his own face with a comical expression. “You should do it with a face like this. If you use that face, people will get confused.”

“I’d rather keep my mouth shut forever. By the way, are those knights from your household?” Eirik asked, nodding towards the knights behind the Duke.

“These are my new friends. The most expensive friends I’ve bought yet,” the Duke said proudly.

Eirik had received reports of the Duke making contact with a mercenary guild. He exchanged brief glances with the knights, acknowledging them silently.

“Has everyone gone up?”

“Yes, I’ve seen many, but I don’t know who is who.”

“I must admit, I’m disappointed.”

“Oh, come on. What have you learned from me? Anyway, everyone except Crispin has gone up. Seven of your vassals are here too, right?”

The Duke rambled on about the Count of Carlisle eagerly going up first and the Marquis of Hetab’s new weapons. Though unsolicited, Eirik found the Duke’s observational skills impressive. As Eirik raised an eyebrow, the Duke’s grin widened.

“They all took the left path. The right path is still too swampy from the rainy season.”

Eirik confirmed that there were no traces on the right path.

“Then let’s take the left path. We’ll split up at the next fork near the cliff.”

As they ascended, they saw a red marker hanging from a tree branch. Eirik reached out to examine it.

“It seems the Count of Conaird’s side has caught something. Judging by the intact end, it’s probably a small animal.”

“Is that so?”

“The bigger the beast, the shorter the marker.”

“Really? I didn’t know about markers.”

Eirik pulled out a few white markers from his pocket.

“I’ll be heading back down soon, so catch a few in my place.”

“Your vassals have the same color markers, don’t they?”

“The width is different.”

As Eirik explained the rules of the hunting tournament, the Duke clicked his tongue. “It’s no different from houses that buy titles with money.”