Beneath the Surviving Princess's Joyful Facade - Chapter 153

After returning to the palace, Madam Cladnier briefly greeted Grand Duke Hagail before making her request, “Her Majesty is physically and mentally exhausted. I’d like her to rest thoroughly today.”

“Very well. There’s nothing here that needs your attention.”

Once back in the queen’s quarters, Madam Cladnier urged Miesa to take a bath. After soaking in warm water, Miesa was led to the dining table.

“It’s the first time we’re dining alone together, Your Majesty.”

As Madam Cladnier spoke with a smile, Miesa dismissed the attendants and made a request, “Please call me by my name, Mother.”

“Alright then, let’s eat, Miesa. Good heavens, what has happened to your face?”

Madam Cladnier furrowed her brow as she urged Miesa to try the various dishes.

“You need strength to handle great responsibilities. We can’t afford to waver.”

“…Mother, I don’t think I can do anything anymore.”

Madam Cladnier raised an eyebrow, but Miesa continued, “I can’t handle this position any longer. I’ve already told Grand Duke Hagail that I plan to abdicate.”

Madam Cladnier silently watched her for a moment before asking, “After everything you’ve accomplished, don’t you think it’s a shame?”

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t have much time left, anyway.”

Though Madam Cladnier had already heard about Miesa’s condition from Eirik, seeing her speak so nonchalantly about it left her speechless.

“…I understand. But nothing is over until it’s over.”

Madam Cladnier, ever composed, casually sliced a leg from the roasted rabbit in front of her.

“Even if something happens to Eirik, you must obtain the antidote to that strange poison.”

But Miesa, tears streaming down her face, shook her head. “No. I don’t want to live alone. Without Eirik, I—”

“That won’t do.” Madam Cladnier let out a long sigh before speaking firmly, “Let’s say time passes without any news of Eirik’s fate. You refuse to search for the antidote and eventually succumb to the poison. But what if, after all that, Eirik returns, only to find you gone?”

“……”

“I won’t allow my son to stand at your grave, weeping. Now, dry your tears and eat, Your Majesty.”

Though she gently wiped Miesa’s tear-stained cheeks, Madam Cladnier’s tone remained strict.

“Guarding the family from within and protecting the country are both forms of battle. When the men are doing their part, we must do ours.”

“……”

“If you find it too difficult, you can always step down. But try to hold on for as long as you can.”

Despite Madam Cladnier’s words, Miesa remained silent, her expression blank as tears continued to fall. Madam Cladnier sighed, setting down her fork and knife, and showed her open hand to Miesa.

“Your Majesty, look here.”

Miesa blinked, her tear-blurred vision slowly focusing on the deep scar on Madam Cladnier’s palm.

“This scar was from the hunting tournament, remember?”

It was the mark left when Madam Cladnier had snatched the sword from the guardsman’s hands.

“Even if I never see you again, this scar will always remain.”

“……”

“When two people meet, they always leave something behind. You cherish the marks left by good people and let go of the scars left by those who aren’t.”

Miesa touched the deep scar, running her fingers over it. Half a year had passed, but the wound was still prominent. Even after several years, it would never fully heal.

“Eirik has surely left his mark on you, hasn’t he?”

Miesa blinked, lost in thought. Madam Cladnier, her voice gentle, spoke once more, “If you give up now, everything Eirik left behind will lose its meaning. Don’t you think you could hold on a little longer, for that reason alone?”

“……”

“If it truly becomes unbearable, you can always come to Cladis.”

“…Yes.”

Even as she wept, Miesa nodded. Madam Cladnier smiled softly and stroked her hair.

***

The man was Count Semenov.

“I want to know exactly how my daughter lived.”

He looked even more haggard than the last time Eirik had seen him from a distance years ago. The overwhelming sorrow he felt was undeniable, yet Count Semenov’s demeanor remained impeccably polite, a testament to the saint-like reputation he had earned.

“All I want is the truth.”

Eirik sat in silence for a moment. It had been ten days since he’d been able to speak coherently, and his voice cracked as he finally spoke.

“…May I have some water first?”

After a brief hesitation, Count Semenov left the room and returned with a cup of water. Since Eirik’s hands were tied to the pillar, the count brought the cup to his lips.

The water spilled awkwardly from the cup, but Eirik drank it eagerly. The clear taste of water, after so long, sharpened his mind. He immediately thought of Miesa.

Miesa. By now, she must know about this situation.

Is she okay? Is she skipping meals out of worry?

As the thought crossed his mind, he clenched his teeth.

If she’s not okay, I’ll have to find a way to fix things and make sure she’s fine. Eirik’s mind began racing with ideas of how to escape as he carefully examined his surroundings.

While his eyes lingered on the candleholder in Count Semenov’s hands, the count’s voice, filled with desperation, broke through.

“Please, say something. I know nothing of what my daughter went through.”

Though the count’s voice trembled with sincerity and desperation, Eirik focused intently on the rope binding his wrists, searching for the weak point he’d worn down.

It would surely tear his skin, but it seemed he could break free. With that realization, Eirik finally spoke, albeit weakly.

“…Did you ask about your daughter?”

Though Eirik’s words were short, his voice trailed off, and Count Semenov leaned forward to catch every word. The elderly man’s wrinkled face flickered in the candlelight.

After a brief pause, Eirik asked, “Where am I?”

“They told me not to reveal that.”

It was a predictable response. Eirik pressed further. “What will happen to me?”

“……”

No response came. Yet, the silence was as good as an answer.

“So, I’m going to die here.”

A flicker of guilt passed across Count Semenov’s face. Eirik smiled bitterly before muttering in a low voice, “But Count, I can’t die here.”

With that, Eirik summoned his strength, snapping the rope binding his wrists. His skin tore, blood dripping from the wounds, but he was already on his feet, free.

Count Semenov stood frozen in shock as the man who had seemed near death just moments ago suddenly sprang into action. Eirik moved quickly, gripping the count’s jaw with one hand while using the other to snatch the candleholder.

“Count, you’ll have to act as my hostage for a while.”

Eirik’s voice was steady and calm as he pulled the candle from its holder and let it fall to the ground. He then pressed the sharp tip of the exposed holder against Count Semenov’s throat.

“Just nod or shake your head.”

“……”

Keeping his grip on the count’s mouth, Eirik asked cautiously, “Are there guards outside?”

The count nodded.

“I need to escape. Where is the exit?”

Count Semenov pointed in one direction, but his hand wavered, indicating that the underground passage was more complicated than Eirik had hoped.

“Well, there’s no other choice.”

Eirik kicked the pillar, sending dirt from the ceiling raining down.

With Count Semenov as his shield, Eirik opened the door. In the dim light, several Sidate knights stood up, startled.

“Damn it, Eirik Cladnier!”

The knights cursed as Eirik, using the count as cover, moved towards the exit.

As he went, he kicked at the pillars, causing more dirt to cascade down. Eventually, one of the pillars collapsed, and the ceiling began to cave in.

“You son of a bitch. Are you trying to bury us all alive?”

The Sidate knights aimed their bows at him but hesitated to fire for fear of hitting Count Semenov.

Just then, three more soldiers appeared ahead of Eirik, swords drawn.

“Cowardly Cladnier!”

The narrowing passage forced the soldiers to approach one by one rather than all at once. Without hesitation, Eirik hurled the candlestick he was holding, and the sharp tip lodged directly in the neck of the first soldier.

Just before the soldier collapsed with a death rattle, his sword slipped from his hand. Eirik kicked the falling soldier’s body aside, creating space, and swiftly picked up the sword from the ground.

Though it was a crude weapon carried by a mere soldier, in Eirik’s hands, it was enough to take down two more soldiers in quick succession.

The ceiling above them was collapsing at an increasingly rapid pace. Eirik hoisted the count onto his back and dashed through the narrow passage. The Sidate soldiers they encountered along the way hurled curses but rushed toward the exit in a frenzy, allowing Eirik to follow them out of the labyrinthine tunnels without losing his way.

Contrary to his earlier fears of encountering a large force, only five or six soldiers were waiting near the entrance when they emerged above ground. When Eirik, with Count Semenov slung over his shoulder, raised his bloodstained sword, the soldiers flinched and retreated, cowed by its sharp gleam.

Just then, a thunderous crash erupted behind them as the underground passage completely caved in. With a brief moment of safety secured, Eirik took a quick look around.

The surroundings were dim, either late in the evening or just before dawn. Contrary to his assumption that they had been inside the castle, they now stood in an open field.

Eirik’s eyes widened in shock when he spotted Batina Castle in the distance. How had the Sidate forces managed to take him so far from the castle? Could it be that the underground passage stretched all the way from the castle to here?

But there was no time to dwell on it now. Eirik untied a nearby horse and placed Count Semenov onto the saddle first.

As he mounted the horse, he noticed torches flickering in the distance. It seemed there were multiple exits, like an anthill, though he wasn’t sure where they had come from.

Eirik glanced around once more, then steered the horse toward the forest. Heading straight for Batina Castle would almost certainly lead to capture by the Sidate soldiers, so he decided it was wiser to aim for the eastern forest, which was likely connected to the Avatal Mountains.

As they galloped at full speed, arrows suddenly began to whizz toward them from behind. Eirik tightened his grip on Count Semenov in front of him and urged the horse on even faster.

Shouts echoed from behind. Eirik turned his head to assess the situation, but just as he did, something whizzed past his cheek, and warm blood began trickling down his jaw—the arrow had grazed his cheek.

Using his tongue, he felt around inside his mouth for any damage, but thankfully, there were no holes. With no time to slow down, he urged the horse to keep running.