Chapter 43
Chapter 43
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 43
Chapter Title: Road to the Main House
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It took ten days for the carriage we rode in, escorted by northern knights, to finally enter the territory directly governed by the main Kalenberg estate.
The Brant Empire was a vast nation broadly divided into five territories.
The central region ruled directly by the imperial family, and the east, west, south, and north territories governed by four dukes.
My grandfather was the Duke of Kalenberg, who commanded the most expansive of those—the north.
In other words, even traveling almost in a straight line from our home tucked away at the northern fringe, it still took a full fortnight to reach the main house.
'I survived the clutches of that monster, but at this rate, I'll die in this damn carriage.'
For someone like me, who'd spent her whole life accustomed only to the reasonably comfortable ride of the subway, this carriage was practically an instrument of torture.
I'd been playing up the fact that I was just a four-year-old child, taking turns being cradled in the laps of the nurse and the maids, but hell was still staring me right in the face.
"Are you having a hard time, miss?"
"Yeah... My butt's about to explode..."
We were taking the shortest route, bypassing cities with inns, so tonight was another night of camping.
Stumbling out of the carriage, I hurried into the spacious army tent the knights had already set up and flopped onto my spot. Closing my eyes and lying still, the carriage sickness slowly began to fade.
I could hear Dietrich and then Florian entering the tent one after another, but I kept my eyes squeezed shut, refusing to open them.
If I opened them now, I might just throw up on the spot.
"Baby, you asleep?"
"Yeah... Mariella's sleeping."
"Who answers while they're sleeping?"
I felt Dietrich—whose motion sickness was just as bad as mine—groaning as he lay down nearby.
The three children sharing a tent was purely for safety reasons.
Even though we'd rooted out the spies hiding in our house and were now much closer to the duke's estate, Dad remained cautious to the end.
Following his argument that splitting up the guards would be risky, we'd combined our tents, and the protection detail was reorganized around us kids.
Living this hardcore four-year-old life, I wholeheartedly agreed with Dad.
'No more risky business for me.'
Exhausted from the grueling journey, I quickly drifted off to sleep.
The biggest problem with camping was that the bedding was uncomfortable, making it hard to sleep well.
After dozing off briefly, I woke up fidgeting, my back aching.
I was debating whether to roll over onto my side—even if it meant hunching my shoulders—when I sensed someone quietly rising from the bed across from me.
Peeking through slitted eyes, I saw Florian's silver hair as he slipped out of the tent, a wooden practice sword—the kind given to the close aides guarding us—in his hand.
'A wooden sword?'
It was too big for Florian's young body.
Since I was already awake, perfect timing. Instead of tossing and turning with my eyes closed, I got up and followed him quietly.
Florian was heading toward Dad's tent, pitched near ours.
"What are you doing here?"
"Shh! Shh!"
To avoid being spotted by Florian as he entered the tent, I'd positioned myself where I could clearly hear the conversation inside. That's when Walter, out on patrol, approached me.
I pressed a finger to my lips, signaling silence, and he broke into a pleased smile.
...Why's he grinning like that?
"Did you come to see Father? Then why not go inside? Shall I escort you?"
That's not it—be quiet!
I flailed my hands and tugged at his arm, and Walter obediently crouched down beside me.
Together, we listened intently to the voices from within the tent.
"Sir Leopoldt, teach me the sword."
This was Florian's voice.
For some reason, I felt a swell of pride at his growth and rubbed under my nose.
He'd been butting heads before about whether he could accept Dad as his teacher, but it seemed he'd had some realization after hearing Dad out.
'Actually, it's not just Florian—I need to reflect too.'
We've been relying solely on Dad's and Florian's divine graces, only to get thoroughly thrashed by that monster.
In the end, the only thing you can trust in this world is muscle. In a pinch, you have no choice but to rely on the strength in your own body.
I nodded, eyeing Walter crouched beside me, his quads bulging like they might burst.
Yeah, you need muscles like these...
"No."
I snapped out of my admiration at Dad's firm refusal.
Eh?
"Why not?"
"Because training in Your Highness's current condition would amount to abuse."
"That's ridiculous. I eat my meals just fine now..."
"One question: I hear you eat with my children. Do you truly digest it all?"
Florian fell silent at Dad's question.
I'd thought he had an amazing digestive system, keeping up with the same portions as my peer Dietrich despite being so skinny.
Was that not the case?
"All the retainers serving Your Highness are loyal to me. They report that after every meal, you always vomit alone."
"...It's just been so long since a proper meal that it feels unfamiliar."
"That's why you need to recover your health first."
Florian had been throwing up alone after every meal? He'd never let it show...
Thinking about it, it made sense.
'If it's been ages since he last ate properly, as he said, his stomach must be completely out of practice.'
And he'd been drinking poison in doses that built up tolerance, so even if he was recovering, he couldn't be fully fine.
He still couldn't fully trust me or Dietrich, right?
So he'd been pretending to eat normally all this time.
I'd just thought it was impressive how he matched Dietrich's huge portions despite being so much skinnier. My thinking had been too shallow.
In a world full of fantasy nonsense, I'd shrugged off a skinny kid eating well as normal—that was my mistake.
'And the army rations are so damn hard, too...'
On days we couldn't stop at inns, we made do with military provisions, which were tough, tasteless bricks—not even comparable to raw jerky or hardtack. Chewing those dense loaves was about all you could manage.
Eating nothing but that would've made digestion even harder.
This world didn't have canned goods yet; all preserved food was like rocks.
"But I need to grow strong quickly. I can't be this helpless again."
His voice clenched like a fist.
"Rushing won't..."
"You know it too, don't you? His Majesty's health is poor."
This time, Dad's silence stretched longer.
His Majesty—the Emperor?
"Even so, not in your current state."
"Sir Leopoldt."
"If you're aggrieved, restore your health first. No compromises."
Florian said a few more words, but he couldn't sway Dad.
Our dad, but man, his principles are rock-solid.
I mentally banked a bit more affection points for Dad as I carefully trailed after Florian, who emerged empty-handed.
Florian, grinding his teeth, keenly noticed my presence and turned sharply toward me.
Walter, standing beside me, gave an awkward wave, and Florian spun away without a word.
"He's mad, huh."
"Looks like it."
"Walter, you know he's always grumpy."
"Should I be grateful you said that, or ask where you learned such words...?"
It wasn't malice toward Walter specifically; Florian just wasn't friendly to anyone by default.
Even to me and Dietrich, whom he'd grown somewhat close to through living together, he'd hidden the fact that he wasn't eating properly.
I patted the back of Walter's hand a couple times, then hurried to catch up close to Florian.
He glared down at me, not hiding his annoyance.
"Ferry wanna learn sword?"
No answer, the jerk.
The Emperor's health was failing, and the Empress was out for Florian's life.
With the two highest figures in the realm in that state, no wonder he was anxious.
"Anyway, why does the Empress hate Ferry?"
The root question.
Dad seemed to know the answer, but prying into Florian's family affairs wasn't something outsiders could do.
This, I had to hear straight from the source.