Beneath the Surviving Princess's Joyful Facade - Chapter 156

Why had slave traders from the southern Trea come all the way to the northern borders of Ferba? Several weeks had passed without an answer.

Though Trea and Esquillir didn’t speak the same language, Eirik had once learned some basic words for educational purposes. With his wrists bound in chains, Eirik had deduced more from their actions and conversations than expected.

For starters, these traders were dissatisfied with their recent dealings with Sidate. They probably hadn’t been paid properly, which was why they were raiding the outskirts of Ferba on their way back.

In fact, on that day, they had even gone so far as to scatter signs of the Cladnier army around deliberately.

As expected. Eirik had uncovered yet another reason for the deep-rooted animosity between Sidate and Cladnier. But this was only the beginning of his frustration.

On the first day, the slavers had shaved off the thick beard covering Eirik’s face before showing him to what seemed to be their leader. The burly head of the merchants examined Eirik closely, dissatisfied, even going so far as to inspect his teeth and body to assess his physique. It seemed the scar on his cheek had reduced his value as merchandise. Though Eirik found it absurd, he nonetheless spoke to the leader.

“There is someone in Esquillir who will pay my ransom.”

Eirik repeated this statement, but the slave traders, who could speak Sidatean, didn’t take him seriously. This was likely because Eirik had been wearing ill-fitting Sidatean clothes he had found in a civilian’s house.

“Take care of your father.”

They seemed to believe that Eirik’s devoted care of Count Semenov meant the two were father and son. When one of the traders kicked Count Semenov, Eirik had smashed a table in response. Since then, chains had also been placed around his ankles, though the two of them were treated slightly better. They were even given medicine to reduce Semenov’s fever, allowing Eirik to treat his illness somewhat.

However, once the slavers had completed their raid and boarded a ship, Count Semenov’s condition worsened again. Eirik asked for medicine to ease the count’s seasickness, but the traders only stared at the scar on Eirik’s face and refused to provide the precious remedy.

“Damn it.”

“It seems they want to sell you to some noblewoman, but with that scar, it might be difficult.”

The scar from the arrow that ran from his ear to his mouth made Eirik’s already gaunt face look even more grim.

Count Semenov chuckled weakly, while Eirik, suppressing his frustration, placed his hand on the count’s forehead.

“As soon as we get off this ship, there will be a way.”

“They say Cladnier is some demon of the battlefield, but even you couldn’t outsmart these slavers.”

Though Eirik had the option of escaping alone, he couldn’t do so without abandoning Count Semenov, whose safety he couldn’t guarantee. Knowing this full well, the count teased him whenever he could.

“In the end, it comes to this. Being a slave at my age, how ridiculous.”

Separated from the other slaves, the two of them were left in a storage-like room. However, because they were considered merchandise, they were fed decently. As a result, Eirik had regained much of his strength, more than he had while wandering the mountains.

After a moment of thought, Eirik sighed and spoke slowly, “I can only apologize to you, Count.”

“Yes, I suppose you would feel sorry for me if you’re any kind of human.”

Though Count Semenov spoke those words, his gaze toward Eirik was no longer hostile.

Eirik Cladnier was indeed an infamous enemy general, but after spending months with him, the count had come to realize that Eirik was not the man the rumors had portrayed him to be. He had already guessed that there were deeper reasons behind everything.

Eirik had also noticed the change in the count’s attitude. After some hesitation, he finally began to speak, “If I am to talk about Anika Semenov, I must first explain Vermel of Esquillir.”

Thus, he began the story he had long avoided. He spoke of the massacres carried out by Vermel and the trials endured by the queen.

“Her Majesty survived by feigning mental weakness. But the process was by no means easy.”

Even though Eirik left out the most disgraceful details, Count Semenov’s face turned pale. “How could a person, after going through such things, wear a human face?”

Even though Eirik had refrained from detailing the full extent of the violence, the count could infer much. A man who would strike his mistress would have done far worse to his half-sibling.

“Of course, Sellas, the former couselor, was behind it all.”

Even though Eirik’s account was brief, Count Semenov found himself at a loss for words.

“That… that is your…”

“The one I serve, my queen, and my wife, Miesa of Esquillir, endured all of this. And there are many things I haven’t told you yet.”

“I see… I see…”

Count Semenov, both enraged and heartbroken, wiped away his tears.

“There must have been things you couldn’t even bring yourself to say. To think a child had to witness such horrors.”

“I don’t know much about Anika Semenov.”

Eirik then relayed the little information he had about Anika before slowly continuing, “…Anika and my queen met after all of this.”

As Eirik recounted the last conversation between Anika and Miesa, Count Semenov listened with a blank expression.

“Now I understand. Now I get it.”

After a long silence, the count finally let out a heavy sigh, his words tinged with sobs.

“Now it all makes sense. My God, Anika…”

Count Semenov finally broke down in tears. Eirik remained silent, offering no words of comfort.

After sobbing for a long time, the count, with his tears drying up, spoke in a subdued voice, “To think that Anika pitied your queen… She must have gone through something even more terrible. I don’t even know what to say.”

Eirik rested his head against the wall. He, too, had no answer.

“So, are you taking me with you to clear up these misunderstandings?”

It wasn’t a misunderstanding that could be resolved with a few words, nor was it a war that would end so easily. Yet Eirik didn’t correct the count. He couldn’t yet reveal the matter of Finime.

Some time later, after calming down, Count Semenov spoke again, “So, I’ve heard that you deeply care for your wife, the queen of Esquillir.”

Count Semenov’s heart went out to the queen of Esquillir, whose situation mirrored that of his own daughter. If Anika had pitied her, then just what kind of life had she led?

“The queen must be crying every day by now, with no one to lean on but you.”

In response to the count’s words of comfort, Eirik shook his head. “She’s the strongest person I’ve ever known.”

“…That can’t be true.”

Eirik instinctively touched the letter hidden in his chest. Thankfully, the slave traders hadn’t noticed it, so he had been able to keep it.

Though he was now too afraid to unfold it, the rustling of the letter brought him more comfort than anything else.

***

The New Year’s Festival had passed. The war had entered a lull. It wasn’t truly wartime, nor was it a truce. Both countries were hesitating, unsure of what cards the other held.

Esquillir didn’t know whether the Margrave of Cladnier was alive or dead. Sidate didn’t know either, and as they couldn’t be certain of what Esquillir was planning after kidnapping Count Semenov, the situation remained at a standstill.

Meanwhile, Miesa found herself sleeping more often.

It wasn’t that anything was wrong with her health. It was simply because, when she slept, she could dream. And if she dreamed, she might see Eirik.

Whenever she encountered him in her dreams, her heart swelled with happiness, as if it might burst. Sometimes, she cried uncontrollably, hitting him, and other times, she hugged him tightly, kissing him fervently.

But when she woke in the morning, the emptiness was brief. She would finish her work quickly and return to her chambers early, hoping to continue the dream she had of Eirik that morning.

“Your Majesty, I noticed you’ve been getting up later these days.”

Gella, putting off preparations for her wedding, spent all her time looking after Miesa. So worried was she that Miesa eventually confided in her.

“Sometimes Eirik appears in my dreams. That’s why.”

“Your Majesty…?” Gella, wide-eyed, blinked before bursting into tears.

Startled, Miesa tried to calm her down. “Why are you crying? Eirik is safe somewhere, I’m sure of it.”

“Yes, but…”

“Don’t cry. If you do, the grand duke will start nagging me again.”

Of course, even if Grand Duke Hagail tried to pick a fight, Miesa would pay him no heed. It was simply a nuisance.

“So stop crying, alright?”

The wedding of Gella and the grand duke was fast approaching.

Somehow, the grand duke had managed to convince her. Gella fully understood that she would eventually become queen. When asked if she was alright with this, her blushing face only deepened Miesa’s doubts. But Gella, being no great actress, couldn’t possibly fake her feelings.

“Your Majesty, I feel guilty for being the only one happy.”

Gella’s words were sincere. And Miesa sincerely apologized, “No, Gella. I’m the one who should apologize for sending you off to that old grouch.”

As she spoke, Miesa realized how odd the conversation had become. Wasn’t this like the social tactics she had once read about in rhetoric books? When Miesa paused, Gella laughed through her tears.

“He’s not that old! Where can you find such a handsome old man?”

“…Right.”

Miesa resolved not to criticize the grand duke in front of Gella anymore. However, there was something she had to make clear.

“If things go wrong, just run. Even if I’m not here, Cladnier will protect you.”

“Don’t say that.”

For Gella, who had begun crying again, Miesa had prepared a considerable dowry in secret. Of course, Madam Manere and Duke Salachez had been a great help.