Chapter 47
Chapter 47
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 47
Chapter Title: Why Are You Staring?
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Me? Why?
Why are you looking at me?
I desperately wanted to bash my own head against something until I passed out, but there was no guarantee it'd work on the first try. So instead, I forced my lips apart.
"Hello, Grandpa."
There was no reply from the old man.
Was my greeting too curt?
"I'm Mari... uh, just Mariella."
I nearly slipped up there.
I almost casually tacked on the Kalenberg name when introducing myself, even though I had no idea how Grandpa felt about me or Dietrich.
From the atmosphere, it didn't seem like he particularly acknowledged Dad or us anyway.
Grandpa's gaze didn't linger on me for long.
As it lifted without a word, a grinding sound hissed through Dad's clenched teeth.
"You don't need to escort us to my room. You probably don't want to see my face morning and night anyway."
Dad spat out his words and turned his back, shadows draping over his face.
We stood like shadows behind him, and before we could even react, we were leaving the banquet hall.
Silence hung between us the entire way to the annex.
It couldn't compare to the main residence where the duke's direct descendants stayed, but the annex still looked plenty grand to my eyes.
It was even more luxurious than the mansion our little family had lived in before. And ours had even come with its own riding track—pretty huge by any measure.
"Sleep well, Ella?"
There was only one person bold enough to ruffle my hair as I headed into the dining room for breakfast and then drape an arm over my shoulders.
I responded by jabbing my elbow precisely into his side.
If everything had gone according to plan, Dietrich should've been clutching his ribs and groaning.
But contrary to expectations, it was me rolling on the floor, yelping from the pain in my elbow.
'Why is his side so damn hard?'
Dietrich noticed my stare, flashed a cheeky grin, and pulled his hand away as he stepped back.
"Ow, what's that?"
"Brigandine."
Dietrich was wearing something like a vest crudely stitched together from leather straps over his shirt.
Leather armor? But was leather supposed to be that tough?
I circled him curiously, admiring the weird design, and he burst out laughing.
"Check it out. It's got metal plates sewn inside. Wore it for sword training this morning."
No wonder the impact on my elbow felt no joke.
"Even a tiny thing like that hurts?"
"Brigandine, I said. Apparently all the cousins getting main house training start sword lessons young."
"Main house training?"
"Yeah. That's why they had one sized for me. Cheap training model, though."
Come to think of it, Dad and Uncle had mentioned something yesterday about their main house training days.
What was main house training, anyway?
I tilted my head, puzzled, then sat down where Florian—who'd entered just after Dietrich—beckoned me.
"The Northern Duke Family's main house training is pretty famous. You two never heard of it?"
"Nope."
"Nuh-uh."
Florian fell silent for a moment.
He eyed us—me and Dietrich blankly cocking our heads—with a lukewarm gaze, then let out a small sigh before speaking up.
"Main house training is the education that the duke's direct descendants and select collateral and vassal family children receive together."
"Eeeh...?"
Education? Wasn't that just... education?
"I've heard they teach everything from politics to military studies—everything a ruler needs. Getting selected for it is a huge honor."
Like elite noble schooling, huh.
Makes sense. I hadn't experienced the whole world yet, but even at a glance, this place had a rigid class system.
"How do you know so much about it, Florian?"
"...Once the North's program got famous, the imperial family and other dukes started similar ones."
Hmm.
Better not dig deeper.
I recalled his former tutor—the one who'd tried to kill him by setting the crown prince's palace ablaze—and prepared to change the subject.
Wasn't hard. Servants from the kitchen had just set appetizers in front of us.
"Hey."
I grabbed one servant who was turning away after placing mine down.
He regarded me with crisp poise and deference—nothing like the main house staff we'd had dispatched to our place.
...Now I got why those guys always mocked our house servants as 'lowly branch family hires'.
Sure, they probably meant to belittle us too.
But that wasn't all. Compared to the main house—where even a single servant stood like a soldier—our staff came off as downright lax.
"Yes, miss?"
"Fo... For Fworian, don't give meat plain. Chop it up like this and stew it."
"You mean meatballs, miss?"
"Yeah. Soups soft ones mostly, with a widdle almonds or walnuts."
"Understood."
If digestion's weak, better to eat stuff prepped easy on the gut.
For bulking up, way smarter to sneak in quality nuts regularly than scarf empty high-calorie junk.
Some people were like that.
Super skinny types stressing out and slamming fast food or corn syrup just to gain weight.
Gaining healthy was as key as losing.
Stuffing yourself like that was just begging for diabetes or high cholesterol.
'And first off, gotta keep Florian from puking it up.'
As soft and stomach-friendly as possible. Vomiting wrecked your esophagus and throat every time your gut rejected it.
The servant headed back to the kitchen with my instructions, and Florian whispered softly.
"You don't have to go that far."
"No way. You're too scrawny, Fworian. Gonna shoot up soon and wanna twain with Detti."
I spotted his ears turning a bit pink.
I wasn't even cooking myself—just passing a few notes to the kitchen staff—but it seemed even that was unfamiliar care to him.
Prince or not, what a rough life.
"What about me, Baby Ella? Me?"
Dietrich shoved his face in, unable to stand being edged out of the attention.
'Like you could digest rocks.'
I ignored the clingy Dietrich and glanced at the empty head seat.
Speaking of, where was Dad?
I turned to one of the main house maids hovering constantly nearby.
"Where's Dad?"
"Lord Leopoldt has gone to the underground dungeon."
"Why?"
No way Grandpa had tossed him in while we slept?
"He's interrogating the servants."
The maid's brow furrowed ever so slightly mid-sentence, but it was over in a flash.
Servants meaning folks like Yasmin we'd dragged from our mansion, right?
Didn't sit well with the main house staff, apparently.
Makes sense. Some of their own who'd been sent to our place wound up dead, the rest hauled back as suspects and witnesses, caged like beasts...
Even if they were guilty as sin, blood bends inward.
"Dad must be busy. Baby Ella, Florian—wanna go see Erich after breakfast?"
"Yeah!"
"Erich... your brother?"
"Yup. We're here at the main house anyway—might as well see big bro's face. Saw him so young, memories all fuzzy."
So Dietrich had at least met Erich once.
Me? Never crossed paths my whole life, from what I'd heard.
Word was Erich took after Mom and Dad half-and-half: black hair, blue eyes.
Wonder what his personality's like? Me and Dietrich were pretty similar—would he be too?
"Pardon the interruption. May I say something?"
I was just about to suggest grabbing dessert to go when a nearby maid cut in, looking troubled.
Dietrich—as head of our little table—nodded, and she spoke.
"You can't see Master Erich right now."
Why not?
Me and Dietrich tilted our heads in unison, and Florian stifled a chuckle watching us.