Beneath the Surviving Princess's Joyful Facade - Chapter 154

After what felt like an eternity, they reached the deep forest. Night had fully fallen by then, and the darkness was thick, making it difficult to see anything ahead. But it seemed that their pursuers were facing the same challenges—the distant torches were moving in the wrong direction.

Eirik slowed the horse and looked up at the sky. The heavy clouds suggested it might rain tomorrow. On one hand, the rain would cover their tracks; on the other, traveling through the mountains in the rain would be dangerous.

“Where exactly are you going?”

Count Semenov’s voice trembled with fear, but Eirik remained silent, guiding the horse eastward by the faint starlight. The horse, sensing the tension, made uneasy sounds.

“What if we’re heading towards a cliff? I have flint with me.”

“We can’t light a fire. It would give away our location.”

Eirik scanned their surroundings carefully. Going deeper into the forest might lead them straight into wild animals. He decided to find a spot to stop, dismounted, and helped Count Semenov down from the horse.

“We’re near the edge of the Avatal Mountains.”

“And where are you planning to go?”

“If we can reach Ferba, we should be able to secure a ship to Nieas Harbor.”

The river at Ferba flows into the sea. If they crossed the mountains within ten days, they could reach Esquillir within a month. With this plan in mind, Eirik tied the horse to a nearby tree. He helped Count Semenov dismount and lean against the tree, then waited for dawn.

But when the first light of day broke, Eirik was faced with an even more dire situation.

The horse had been acting strangely, not out of fear, but because its back legs were riddled with arrows. As Eirik examined the injuries, Count Semenov groggily rose from sleep.

“Shouldn’t you pull the arrows out?”

“If I pull them out now, the horse will kick us.”

As they walked slowly through the forest, Eirik chewed on some herbs and applied them to the horse’s wounds. The horse reacted sharply, proving that proper treatment wasn’t an option without a sedative.

Eirik sighed, but Count Semenov, observing his face, pointed out another issue. “You’ve got a long cut on your cheek.”

Eirik touched his right cheek. The arrow from last night had left a deeper wound than he’d realized. He applied the remaining herbs to his own face with little care and continued leading the way.

After three days of wandering through the forest, Count Semenov’s legs were growing weaker, and the horse was starting to run a fever. Though Eirik had managed to remove some of the arrowheads, the horse’s condition was worsening without proper treatment.

Eirik carried the exhausted count on his back while leading the horse by its reins. His own strength was far from what it had once been, as he hadn’t eaten properly during his captivity, but he pressed on.

After what felt like hours of walking, they were fortunate enough to find a small cave before the rainy season began. Eirik hunted a small animal, while Count Semenov started a fire, providing them with enough warmth and food to stave off hunger.

With no proper canteen available, Eirik fashioned a water container from the animal’s cleaned intestines. At this pace, crossing the mountains wouldn’t take ten days—it could take even longer. Eirik sighed, frustrated by their slow progress.

“…Why are you taking me with you?” Count Semenov asked, his voice tinged with suspicion as he glanced at Eirik. The roasted rabbit had given him some strength, but his legs were still weak.

“……”

“If you left me here, I’d die on my own. You could reach Ferba much faster without carrying me.”

Eirik didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he simply replied, “That’s a long story. But my final objective includes getting you safely back to Sidate.”

“The story is long? Well, we’ve nothing else to do now but talk. Why not tell me the whole story?”

But Eirik remained silent. Instead of answering, he reached inside his coat, feeling for something near his chest. The letter from Miesa was still there, safely tucked away.

He had to survive, no matter what. Not just for himself, but for her. Eirik’s mind focused on his mission, ignoring Count Semenov’s curiosity. He lay down on the dry leaves and branches they had gathered to soften the ground.

Count Semenov was no fool. He wasn’t about to try stabbing Eirik in the back while they were stuck in the wilderness together. Eirik knew this, so he left his sword at his feet and quickly fell into a deep sleep.

The rainy season had ended. As they resumed their journey, they discovered an abandoned house and a small stream.

They managed to salvage a usable sword, some items, and even a few Sidate-style clothes, but unfortunately, there was no medicine for livestock.

During this time, the horse’s wounds had worsened to the point where it could no longer bear any riders. Eirik stood in front of the horse, holding his sword, and pondered for a long time.

In the past, he would have granted it a swift and merciful death without hesitation. But instead, he applied the last of the herbs he had and set the horse free.

Shedding their tattered clothes, they changed into new ones from the abandoned house and, after resting for a few days, continued their journey. Though conversations between the two were rare, it became natural for Eirik to carry Count Semenov on his back whenever he grew weary.

By the time they finally reached Ferba, it had started to rain again. With nowhere decent to shelter from the rain, Count Semenov fell ill.

Eirik carried the count down to the village, but not a single person was in sight.

Had a plague broken out? But if that were the case, there would be bodies strewn about.

In the end, Eirik laid the count down in a suitable spot and began searching for medicine. As he opened the cupboard in the third house he entered, he heard movement behind him.

“Miance seli do bie?”

It was the southern tongue. Though Eirik didn’t understand the words, the tone was unmistakable.

Even in such a moment, Eirik couldn’t muster a smile out of disbelief. Slowly turning around, he saw Trean slave traders moving a young woman.

***

Winter had arrived. It had already been over six months since there had been any news from the Margrave of Cladnier. Everyone was anxious, but the queen seemed unbothered.

“Not hearing any news means he’s still alive.”

She no longer wavered, even in the face of the seemingly endless war. While a few close confidants worried over the queen’s limited lifespan, barely a year remaining, she calmly prepared for what lay ahead.

By her side, Grand Duke Hagail stood, supposedly assisting her in the name of support.

“Your Majesty. Let them handle it amongst themselves. What is the queen, a nanny for the local lords?”

“No. We need to summon Count Karamba to assess whether he has any intention of solving the problem.”

But these exchanges, whether assistance or support, were mostly seen through the eyes of others. Most of the time, it simply boiled down to cousins arguing with each other—an annoyance from Miesa’s point of view.

Since the visit from Madam Cladnier, Miesa, having regained her strength, often raised her voice with Grand Duke Hagail. Today, the two clashed over the ongoing conflict between Marquis Hetab and Count Karamba. Every year, as Count Karamba increased taxes, more of his people fled under cover of darkness to the neighboring lands of Marquis Hetab.

“They’ll figure it out. You don’t need to get involved, Your Majesty.”

“If they had solved it, it wouldn’t have come to this.”

The disagreement remained unresolved. Rubbing his temples irritably, Grand Duke Hagail turned to ask Duke Salachez for his opinion.

“Well, Duke, how do you see the issue?”

“…You want my opinion?”

Duke Salachez, who had attempted to walk a tightrope several times but had recently found himself at a loss, found this situation extremely uncomfortable.

When the queen had hinted at abdicating, Salachez had swiftly aligned himself with Grand Duke Hagail, thinking it was the right moment. But these days, the queen actively led the kingdom’s affairs again.

Trying not to show his nervousness, Salachez cleared his throat lightly and replied cautiously, “Of course, I greatly admire Your Majesty’s compassion for the people of the kingdom. However, in this case, it would be best for Your Majesty not to get involved—”

“This sly bastard. I haven’t even abdicated yet, and you’re already like this.”

“I’m afraid you misunderstood, Your Majesty. I have a reason. Would you care to listen? And, of course, I’m honored that you asked for my opinion in the first place.”

“My goodness. Salachez always wastes time with unnecessary words.”

The queen and the grand duke only agreed in moments like these. But Salachez wasn’t bothered by this mild chastisement. His red hair swayed as he passionately continued.

“Of course, if Your Majesty intervenes, the issue will be resolved swiftly. However, this would set a precedent, forcing Your Majesty to shoulder an increasing burden in future disputes between local lords. Therefore, I believe it would be better not to intervene, considering the precedent.”

“That makes some sense.”

Grand Duke Hagail smiled in satisfaction, but Salachez hadn’t finished. Not only had the queen not abdicated yet, but she could easily reverse her decision to abdicate at any moment.

“Of course, I may be mistaken, and I will, of course, follow whatever decision Your Majesty makes.”

“Fine. As the queen, I will decide. Summon Count Karamba.”

“You listened to everything the duke said, only to reach that conclusion?” Grand Duke Hagail frowned as he stood up.

He then gestured toward Miesa. “Let’s eat first. Once we’re full, everything will seem trivial, and we can discuss it again.”

“Well, we do need to eat.”

Miesa, too, frowned as she rose from her seat.