PDCOO Chapter 32

Karlah opened her mouth. Found it empty.

Anna yanked her shirt down and laughed.

"Mama, he's really gotten under your skin, hasn't he."

"Oh, be quiet. Don't give me things to worry about! Or just hurry up and pin Dieter down, then. Poor Collie, having a son who still won't grow up."

"You want to marry two people who haven't grown up and watch the house fall apart? Don't say frightening things. Go to sleep."

Anna closed the matter with a joke and retreated to her room.

Karlah, who had apparently spent everything she had on five soldiers, was asleep within minutes, breathing with a soldier's regularity.

Anna listened to it.

She turned to look at her own reflection in the window.

The flush had mostly faded.

But when she thought of what Bertram had said, what he'd done —

It came back.

He had said it like a man proposing an arrangement: since she did not yet know him, she wished to know him better, yes?

He had lifted both her hands, careful and deliberate—closer to supporting her on her feet than escorting her anywhere.

'Somehow, the fact that my meaning to you remains undecided—I find that hopeful. More than anything, I hope that the weight we hold for each other will come to be the same.'

Across their joined hands, his mouth had been still. But to Anna, it had looked, somehow, like a warm smile.

The people of this village operated on an absolute principle.

Are you healthy?

Then work.

Holiday and days when work is unavoidable but impossible were luxuries for the overfed souls of cities.

Accordingly, Karlah had been sorting onions and garlic—the pile she'd been intending to hand off to Bertram—when she remembered, belatedly, that he was in hiding.

A worker who cannot work was a category this village had no entry for.

Karlah exhaled.

'Those idiots. Took away a perfectly good pair of hands. The way I feel, I'd like to sit them all down with his onion pile and let them cry through it.'

"Excuse me, Madam."

A soldier interrupted her thoughts.

"Going to wash? The well's that way."

"Thank you. But actually—"

"Heated water isn't available. Cold wash."

"No! That's not what I meant." He seemed slightly flustered. "You've had all this extra work because of us, and I was wondering if there's anything we can help with."

Karlah blinked.

It had been some time since she'd encountered an outsider with both functional ears and a conscience. The novelty was genuinely disorienting.

The soldier smiled pleasantly and gestured to his sword.

"Four of us here, Madam. If there's heavy work anywhere in the village, say the word. We're free until midmorning."

One man conspicuously unaccounted for: Franz.

Does that one not have hands? Karlah suppressed this with some effort, and produced her best professional smile.

"How kind. Then let me get breakfast on first, and I'll ask the village chief if there's anything that needs doing."

"Of course! No need to hesitate."

The soldier smiled pleasantly and went. The others drifted toward the well one by one.

Karlah went to Anna's room.

Anna, at that precise moment, was in the process of falling out of bed. Karlah caught her forearm.

"Get up."

"Hmm...? Mama?"

"Eyes open, quickly. I'll keep those men occupied through breakfast, then I'll send them out toward the ranch to deal with wolves through the morning."

"Those men? Oh — right, the soldiers are still here."

Anna's eyes went properly wide.

"So get things settled with Bertram before noon."

"Settled? You mean send him away?"

"Yes. Do you think the villagers will keep covering for him indefinitely? Men with swords wandering around? The soldiers are friendly enough now, but who knows when that changes."

Anna glanced uneasily at the window.

Men were splashing well-water over themselves. Each one built like he'd been constructed for load-bearing. Even Erich—who could barely open his eyes through the hangover—had his muscles moving visibly with each cold dousing.

The most unsettling of the uninvited guests was, of course, Franz.

If he was genuinely a duke's son, he probably thought nothing of cutting down a few commoners.

"Anna."

"...Alright. I'll go say it and come back quickly."

"Good girl. I'll make sure those men stay busy. Understood?"

They held each other briefly—the way you do when you both know what the morning requires.

Then Anna ran for the kitchen. You didn't go empty-handed to a person who hadn't had breakfast. Karlah knew this was right and didn't try to stop her.

She did have minor regrets when the smell of grilling meat started coming from inside.

At last, Anna went charging up the mountain with a packed lunch.

Karlah called the soldiers to the table.

"Everyone, come eat!"

"We grate— ... thank you."

The soldiers fell into silence before the sparse meal.

There had definitely been a smell of grilling meat earlier. And yet what sat in front of them was brown bread and slightly wrinkled apples.

None of them had quite enough shamelessness to say wasn't that meat meant for us?, so they ate without asking.

Except for one.

Franz was absent.

"Where's the knight?"

"He said he'd take his breakfast separately."

Karlah was out of the restaurant before the sentence finished. The last thing she needed was that one tailing Anna up the mountain.

She found Franz on the low wall behind the restaurant, sitting on top of it, watching the surroundings.

"Not eating, sir?"

"Someone ought to keep watch."

"Very dedicated. I thought perhaps my food didn't suit your palate."

"Not at all. The hospitality you offered last night was more than enough to demonstrate your skill, Madam."

The words flowed out smooth and automatic, accompanied by a smile. Karlah's mouth curved in the opposite direction. She had never been able to determine why a compliment from this man irritated her more than most people's insults.

Franz asked, directly.

"Why don't you like me? It's not just you—this whole village seems to have a particular hostility. I understand there were conflicts with the ruling class over wartime requisitions, but even accounting for that, this feels like something more. Is there another reason?"

"You're too handsome."

"...I—pardon?"

"Over twenty years ago, a young nobleman who'd come here seeking refuge spent a few weeks winning over various women in the village before someone caught him at it and he ran. After that, a warning spread: beware handsome noblemen."

"That's shameful behavior. Was the man never identified?"

"He was a handsome man. Gold hair and beautiful blue eyes." Karlah tilted her head. "Just like yours."

Franz, not knowing what to do with this, carefully shifted his gaze sideways.

Karlah put her face directly in front of his.

"So I wanted to ask. What is your father's name?"

The corner of Franz's mouth twitched.

Is your father also a rake—the provocation was clear enough.

His first instinct was to protest. His father was in his fifties and had never left the capital.

But as a member of the ducal family, engaging with provocations directly wasn't advisable. The moment you responded was the moment you lowered yourself to their level.

Franz looked down at Karlah, eyes half-lidded.

"I see no reason to tell you. In fact, I'd like an apology for that offensive question."

"Yes. Sons always want to believe in their fathers so much that they put up thorns the moment the world asks anything about him."

"...Madam Karlah."

Franz moved his hand to his hip. No sword there—fortunately or otherwise. But the sound of something catching made it clear enough what the hand had been reaching for.

A voice as cold as a blade followed.

"I am trying to conduct myself with courtesy toward all of you. But if this kind of thing continues, I will exercise the duty and authority I have received from His Majesty."

"As if I didn't know that."

"You're behaving as though you don't. My patience with country folk has limits."

"Yes, I'll make sure this country thing's head remembers it. And I have something to say as well: stop putting that pretty face of yours in front of whichever woman you've decided to extract information from. If the day ever comes when someone in this village actually falls for you—"

Franz smiled, and cut her off before she could finish.

"My appearance is a gift from God, and therefore beyond my authority to manage. If you'd like to avoid the arrows of love, I'd recommend prayer."

Karlah was still processing this when Franz strolled away at a leisurely pace—and, as if to illustrate his point, called out "Good morning!" to a village girl passing near the restaurant. Full radiant smile.

The girl screamed he's definitely a swindler! and fled at speed.

For the first time that morning, Karlah found something to smile about.

Everyone finished eating. The village chief appeared.

"Sleep well, all of you! I hear you've kindly offered to help the village."

"That's right," the older soldier said.

Franz showed no sign of intending to be involved in anything.

"We'd like to repay your hospitality somehow. Even a short time — anything that needs muscle, call on us."

"How very gracious. In that case, could you deal with some wolves? They've been lurking around the communal ranch and giving us considerable trouble."

"Ah, actually—we chased a few off on the way here! Ha ha ha!"

The village chief and Karlah bit down on the same back teeth at the same moment.

So it was you. You spooked them down toward our farm in the first place.