MHHC Chapter 142

Palpable Tension

Adelheid wrapped the wound in a clean cloth and squeezed out every last trace of blood and pus.

She wiped the affected area thoroughly with a hot compress, then applied with careful precision an ointment she had blended from several medicinal herbs.

Miriam had been watching the treatment with close attention. She gave a single nod.

"The wound needs firm compression with the bandaging. The bleeding won't stop easily, so check the wrappings and change them every hour. Watch to make sure the tongue doesn't turn purple. Healing magic is an absolute last resort."

Adelheid wiped her sweat-damp forehead with the back of her hand and listened carefully as the priests added their observations one by one.

Miriam taught her in earnest—how to close a laceration, how to immobilize a fracture, how to do what had to be done when there was nothing else to hand.

From running throughout the castle all day, the soles of her feet had gone beyond aching to blistering, and by night she was collapsing into the crowded rows of beds without even the presence of mind to draw the curtains.

Every day she was covered in other people's blood and pus, and yet Adelheid did not complain. She did everything that was asked of her.

Her body was exhausted, but the knowledge that she was fulfilling her share—truly carrying the weight of one person's role—made the hardship feel almost weightless.

"There they go again."

Lena grumbled and jerked her chin toward the training ground. A quarrel appeared to have broken out among the knights.

It had been happening so frequently over the past several days that everyone simply went about their own business, casting sideways glances but making no move to intervene.

"If they end up drawing blood, I wonder who they'll think has the hardest job around here."

Lena announced this loudly, in a tone that was clearly intended to be overheard, then disappeared into the dining hall. Adelheid cast one last uneasy glance toward the knights and followed her inside.

The dining hall was no different. Wherever people gathered in numbers, noise and disorder followed as inevitably as night follows day.

The knights of the south and north, who had never gotten along by tradition, bared their teeth at one another the moment their eyes met—every encounter a low-grade confrontation waiting to become something worse.

Everyone understood, in their own way, that restraint was necessary with the subjugation ahead. But the tension humming through the room was so taut it might snap at any moment without warning.

"Your Grace. Come sit over here."

She had just received her plate—mashed potatoes, a piece of bread, an apple, and water—and was scanning the crowded tables for somewhere to sit when a hand waved in her direction from across the room. It was one of the priests she had come to recognize over the past few days of working side by side.

As she drew near, the priests shuffled sideways in their seats to make room for both her and Lena.

"Thank you."

Adelheid accepted their kindness with a slightly self-conscious smile. The priest who had called her over glanced at her plate, and his mouth fell open.

"Is that all you brought? If that's all you eat, you'll genuinely collapse."

"I don't have much of an appetite."

The priest shook his head as though he found this entirely incomprehensible, then transferred his own portions of bacon and cheese onto her plate.

"Eat these as well."

Adelheid considered refusing, then thought better of it and accepted with gratitude.

The moment she thanked him, the priests seemed to take it as some sort of signal. Their eyes brightened all at once, and questions began to pour in from every direction.

"I've never heard of healing abilities manifesting so late before."

"When did you begin studying herbalism?"

"I've been wondering how you came to know the High Priest Father Padre."

Priests with whom she had barely exchanged three words—Miriam excepted—were suddenly flooding her with questions, and it was all she could do to keep her wits about her.

Some of them, in fact, had made no effort to conceal their prejudice against her only two days prior.

Adelheid broke into a cold sweat, but she answered honestly everything that she could.

She bolted down her meal beneath the barrage of attention, stuffed the apple into her pocket, and rose from the table.

"You're leaving already? The afternoon schedule is lighter today..."

"I have something I need to attend to."

"Well, I suppose that can't be helped."

Leaving behind the disappointed priests and Lena's perplexed stare, Adelheid made her escape from the dining hall.

The moment the door shut behind her, the strength left her legs entirely. She had never in her life been the subject of such overwhelming attention.

'Had she said something wrong, perhaps?' Her suddenly timid heart conjured worries where there may have been none.

Adelheid shook her head firmly and set off at a brisk pace toward the stables. She had been granted a rare stretch of free time, and she intended to spend it making peace with Hazel.

'And catch up on the will-speaking practice I've been putting off...'

She collected the key to Hazel's stall from the stablemaster.

The stables were reasonably well-kept, yet the smell of mud and manure struck her heavily the moment she stepped inside—a thick, earthy presence that no amount of clean straw could entirely suppress.

Among the long rows of stalls, Adelheid found Hazel's without much difficulty.

"Hazel, I'm here."

She eased the door open and whispered it—and Hazel drew near only to nudge her squarely in the chest with her muzzle. A pointed, unambiguous expression of reproach.

It was abundantly clear that the mare had not forgiven her for the prolonged neglect.

"I'm sorry. I've been so busy lately. Are you very angry with me?"

Adelheid soothed her, stroking gently along her muzzle and down her mane.

The clever, good-natured chestnut mare relented quickly. She pressed her nose to Adelheid's collar and then to her pocket, sniffing with focused intent. She had undoubtedly caught the scent of the apple.

"That's right. I brought it for you."

Adelheid smiled faintly as she drew the apple from her pocket. Hazel stamped her front hoof and snorted with impatience, making her feelings on the matter abundantly known.

Adelheid balanced the apple carefully on her palm and extended it toward the mare.

"You'll forgive me after eating this. Understood?"

Hazel seemed to understand perfectly. She drew herself up with a brief, dignified air before snatching the apple from Adelheid's palm.

Crunch. The sweet fragrance of apple filled the stall.

Having dispatched the apple in a single go, Hazel set about searching Adelheid's pockets with her nose—a thorough investigation, pocket by pocket.

"There's nothing left. I'll bring more next time. I promise."

At this, Hazel let her head droop with visible dejection. Moments like this made it seem as though she understood every word that was spoken to her.

Horses were said to be intelligent creatures, but something about Hazel's cleverness felt like a different order entirely.

Hazel amused herself for a while by tugging at the hem of Adelheid's skirt, then nudged her gently with her muzzle—steadily, purposefully—toward the side of the stall where the tack was hung.

"...Don't tell me you want to go out. Right now?"

As Adelheid looked back and forth between the tack and the mare, Hazel let out a short, affirmative sound. Adelheid patted the side of her neck with a helpless expression.

"I'm sorry, but I can't. I'm not confident enough yet to ride you properly. And I don't really know how to put the tack on..."

"Now I find you holding conversations with horses, do I?"

Adelheid startled at the sudden voice behind her and spun around. It was Donovan.

He appeared to have been tending to his own horse; his sleeves were rolled to the elbow and he held a tail comb in one hand. For reasons known only to himself, he stood with one leg cocked in a thoroughly rakish posture, a carrot clamped between his teeth.

He had evidently brought the carrot for his horse and then helped himself to it instead.

Adelheid watched with wide eyes as Donovan's horse made a valiant effort to kick its owner's leg, then managed to find her voice.

"Donovan. You gave me a fright..."

"I believe that's my line, Your Grace. You have no idea how alarmed I was when you simply vanished."

Caught off guard by the sudden reproach, Adelheid blinked and asked back.

"Vanished? Me?"

"I went to your room and there wasn't a single belonging left. They told me you'd moved quarters, but not a soul knew where you'd gone. We turned half the castle upside down..."

"Ah, about that."

Adelheid opened her mouth to explain and then let it close again, uncertain of where to begin.

When she thought about it, she had not, in fact, informed any of Ansgar's servants or knights—except for Lena. She had not seen Valentin's face once since entering the castle, which had made it feel natural enough at the time.

And yet, her place was with Ansgar's forces. When she had need to step away from her assigned position, it had been right to report to Valentin at minimum—and she had failed entirely to do so.

"I'm sorry. I didn't think it through."

"Please, for the love of everything holy, just give us some notice next time. If His Grace had found out we'd lost track of you, every last one of us would have been as good as dead."

"My escort?"

"It was meant to make you feel guilty, and it seems to be working splendidly, so I'd appreciate it if you continued."

Donovan added this with prim satisfaction, then bit down on his carrot with a decisive crunch.

"In any case... it's water under the bridge. No harm came of it. The gap in your escort was only half a day's worth."

Adelheid turned this over in her mind, then looked up with wide eyes.

"Do you mean there's been an escort with me this whole time? Through all of my work?"

"Did you truly think we'd leave you entirely on your own in the middle of a war?"

Donovan asked this as though the notion staggered him. Adelheid shook her head, abashed.

"I had no idea. I didn't notice at all..."

"Of course you didn't. It would have been a catastrophe if someone with no combat experience had spotted us. His Grace has been receiving continuous reports on your whereabouts, even without saying so directly."

"...He's still consumed by the meetings?"

"It's more the political maneuvering. The nobles loyal to His Imperial Highness the Crown Prince are challenging His Grace on every single agenda item, refusing to acknowledge his authority. I can't tell whether they came for the subjugation or to break our spirit entirely."

"..."

"Still, it seems it's nearly over. There should be a conclusion by early tomorrow morning."

Apparently noticing the shadows gathering across Adelheid's face, Donovan added this quickly.

She drew a slow, careful breath against the tightness in her chest. If Donovan was right, she would be able to see Valentin tomorrow.

Which meant that the moment she had been postponing—the moment she would have to face the truth she had been avoiding—had drawn very, very close.