MHHC Chapter 39

A Path Forward

"Are you all right?"

It was Günter, the knight commander. He bowed briefly toward her. Adelheid nodded with difficulty, pressing the back of her hand against her lips to acknowledge his greeting.

"Sir Günter. It's been a while."

Then she realized she had made eye contact with the deer's empty pupils behind him, and her already pale face turned utterly bloodless.

He looked at the deer being butchered and the blood-splattered scene with thoughtful eyes, then subtly blocked Adelheid's view with his large frame. Once it was out of sight, the intense revulsion quickly faded.

"......"

Only after the nausea subsided did sudden worry surge through her—had any of the servants witnessed her weak-stomached reaction?

Günter offered comfort as if he had read her thoughts.

"This is certainly no sight fit for Your Grace's eyes. Come this way. The fire is warm."

Adelheid quickly followed him toward the bonfire where knights had gathered. As she drew closer, she detected a savory smell—it turned out that large trout had already been skewered over the bonfire, basted with seasoning and roasting.

When she approached, the knights who had been sitting together hastily rose.

"We greet Your Grace."

"Please, remain seated. You've all worked so hard."

Adelheid offered them a proper greeting according to etiquette. Then her eyes lit up as she gazed at the roasting trout with curiosity—the kind that transforms worry into wonder.

"Did you catch them yourselves? Were there enough trout in the river?"

"We broke through the ice and caught a few. When we cracked open the ice, all the trout were plump and well-fed. This winter, if we just keep catching trout, we won't starve."

A young knight with reddish hair answered her question with a theatrical flourish. It was the handsome man Günter always called Donovan. His confident answer made Adelheid feel somewhat better. She was relieved to have found a stable means of securing food—a path forward, however narrow.

Donovan pointed enthusiastically at the skewered trout roasting over the fire.

"See how the fat's dripping? This is a delicacy you must have in winter. I've been away from the territory so long because of the war, you can't imagine how much I've missed this... Ah, it should be done now. Hey, Klaus! Bring a plate over here. We need to let Her Grace have a taste."

Adelheid waved both hands in refusal. Even without calculation, she could tell there wasn't enough trout to fill the stomachs of these large men.

"N-no, you don't need to do that. I didn't come down to eat. I just wanted to check if anything was needed."

"Once you taste this, you'll forget all about dinner. It's just simple grilled fish, so it might not be refined enough for a lady, but it's truly delicious."

The knight called Klaus served a generous portion of trout flesh onto a plate and handed it to Adelheid. Looking at the reddish, oil-glistening meat, she remembered she had eaten poorly at lunch. Adelheid cautiously picked up a piece of the steaming flesh with her fork and put it in her mouth.

"Wow."

She let out an involuntary exclamation. Was it because she had eaten so poorly these past days, distracted by worry?

The properly grilled flesh was resilient with texture, and the savory seasoning masked the earthy smell characteristic of freshwater fish. The more she chewed, the more a rich, nutty flavor emerged. She finished the piece quickly, savoring every bite.

"It was truly delicious."

"Right?"

Donovan, who had devoured his portion of trout without leaving a scrap, wiped his hands on a dirty cloth and grinned broadly. Adelheid nodded her head vigorously several times.

"Starting tomorrow, I should have the servants fish regularly. If we make it into thick stew or porridge, there'll be no problem distributing it. Whatever's left can be salted and dried for emergencies."

Her words quickened slightly with excitement—the most pleasant development in days.

Klaus, who had been throwing firewood onto the bonfire, looked at her with an expression hovering between amusement and puzzlement. It almost seemed like he was tilting his head. Noticing this, Adelheid bit her tongue in realization.

The man before her wasn't a servant but a knight—one of the honor guard who protected the Grand Duke of Ansgar at close quarters. A proper 'lady' wouldn't buttonhole a knight of the personal guard to elaborate on how fish should be cooked.

Good heavens. What have I done?

'I've had so much to worry about lately that I briefly forgot who I was talking to...'

"That's a good idea. Ah, it looks like the head chef is finally moving his heavy backside."

At Donovan's words, she turned her head to see servants and the head chef emerging from the kitchen carrying cooking tools and bread dough. Adelheid was grateful he had changed the subject rather than laughing or teasing her.

By the time she had eaten the grilled trout, the deer butchering seemed to have finished. The deer head that had disturbed Adelheid had vanished completely. The head chef skillfully cut the venison and added herbs, tomatoes, butter, vegetables, and several types of spices to the boiling water.

Servants shaped bread dough according to the chef's instructions and baked it in the oven. Soon, an extraordinary smell filled the back courtyard—rich and layered, carrying promises of sustenance. Several of the disheveled people staying in the grand banquet hall—who had received only dry rations these past days—emerged and watched from a distance with hollow, yearning faces.

"Those people..."

Adelheid was looking at them with concern when—

"Your Grace, you've been out here in this cold?"

Margaret, having spotted her, wove deftly between the knights to approach. She carried a thick shawl from somewhere. She began fussing over Adelheid, wrapping the shawl carefully around her shoulders.

"How did you come all the way out here dressed like this on such a cold day? You haven't been resting properly lately—working constantly, eating poorly... And why didn't anyone around you think to stop Her Grace? What will we do if Your Grace falls ill?"

Then she bravely glared at the knights. Several knights sitting near her quietly retreated, unable to withstand her fierce gaze.

But Adelheid felt a corner of her heart warm at Margaret's worried scolding—like finding an unexpected coal still glowing in the ashes.

"At least keep the shawl on. Your hands and feet are like ice."

Margaret firmly grasped Adelheid's freezing hands with her own plump, warm ones. Adelheid's eyes stung, tears welling up suddenly. The wind must have shifted, carrying smoke directly into her eyes.

Sometimes regret rose in her like water finding cracks—why hadn't she reached out more actively sooner? Why had she given up so easily? Of course, if Adelheid had acted that way, Greta would have been deeply hurt. And there was no guarantee the outcome would have been the same as now. After all, 'reviving' Valentin had been the beginning of change.

"Should I bring you some tea?"

"I'm fine. More importantly, will there be enough stew for all those people as well?"

When Adelheid looked toward the children swallowing hungrily, Margaret followed her gaze. Margaret spoke cheerfully, as if to say there was nothing to worry about.

"We've hung pots in the front courtyard too. Servants are making stew there as well. The maids are baking bread in the kitchen's large ovens. We'll need to add plenty of dried tomatoes, but there should be enough for everyone to have a meal."

"That's a relief."

"Here, here. Take this."

A warm steam cloud suddenly enveloped them, and Yanik—who had approached without her noticing—held out wooden bowls to Margaret and Adelheid. The bowls were filled with appetizing stew, with freshly baked bread balanced on top.

Adelheid scooped a large spoonful and blew on it before filling her mouth. She nearly burned the roof of her mouth, but it was worth it. The broth harmoniously blended tomato, herbs, and butter, while the chewy venison added savory depth.

As soon as she swallowed, a wave of warmth spread through her stomach, bringing heat to her hands and feet.

"The taste is decent."

Margaret nodded with a rare, faint smile.

Adelheid actually thought it was more than decent—quite delicious, in fact—but didn't say so aloud. People were practically burying their faces in their bowls, inhaling the stew.

She slowly looked around, then suddenly realized something when she saw knights scraping the bottom of the pot.

"Wait, His Grace hasn't eaten yet either. Has something been prepared for—"

"Don't worry. Servants already took food up to him."

"Already?"

"We've been surviving on nothing but salted meat, smoked meat, dried beans, and potatoes. This is the first chance we've had for fresh meat all winter."

At Yanik's answer, Margaret sighed deeply and added.

"If the sheep hadn't died so suddenly in such numbers, the territory's situation would be better than this. We'd have plenty of sheep's milk and cheese. Still, we're fortunate enough preserved foods remain."

"Just hold on a little longer—all this will be over soon. The weather's been noticeably warmer these past few days. At this rate, the snow will melt quickly."

Yanik spoke in an encouraging voice, as if comforting Margaret. Adelheid nodded in agreement.

"It really will be soon. When spring comes, I'll make sure we purchase lambs first."

"An excellent idea, Your Grace."

They silently emptied their bowls for a while. Adelheid tore her bread into small pieces, soaked them thoroughly in the stew broth, and ate. After finishing the bowl completely, she felt pleasantly drowsy with satisfaction—her body heavy with contentment.

"By the way, Your Grace."

At Margaret's suddenly serious tone calling her name, Adelheid turned her gaze from the bonfire where she had been tossing in firewood.