SALP Chapter 10

"I intend to return with Your Highness as soon as dawn breaks tomorrow."

Fiarelle got straight to the point. The tea in her cup had long since cooled, devoid of any lingering steam.

"If Your Highness has recovered enough that travel won't be too difficult..."

"I'm not going."

Lanthe cut off her words sharply.

"I clearly said I won't go. I'm not your slave. Lady Fiarelle, you're neither my family nor my friend. You have no right to advise or force me to go or not go."

"Your Highness."

Fiarelle spoke in a deliberately gentle tone as if coaxing a child.

"As those who rescued Your Highness, we have an obligation to take responsibility and protect you to the end. Since Your Highness is someone with an inherently merciful and affectionate nature, I understand you're heartbroken over the commoners you grew up with, but..."

"Commoners?"

When she looked directly and asked back, Fiarelle hesitated with an "ah," clouding her expression.

"That referred to those excluding Your Highness. Not with the intention to disparage, but because they actually had no status or position..."

"Watch your words. They aren't commoners. We don't distinguish by status. Everyone is equally just subjects. Even in the era when we had a king, there were no separate commoners and nobles."

"I see. Please forgive my ignorant discourtesy. Our understanding of Raphlang was insufficient..."

"The real commoners are you people."

Without listening to the end of her words time and again, cutting them off abruptly, Lanthe continued pointing out.

"Criminals who harm innocent lives and spill blood. We call such folk commoners."

Then a strange coughing sound came.

Lanthe and Fiarelle's gazes turned to one place simultaneously.

"Excuse me. The air is cold."

Vigo seemed to have fake-coughed to suppress laughter. Erasing his expression immediately, he continued with a composed look.

"Why don't you two rest for today and spend a few days leisurely talking? You seem to be people who lacked conversation. It's already the water season, as it happens. They say not to send guests out of the castle once the water season sets in. I don't know who said it, but it's good advice that force consideration in a harsh world."

At his words, Fiarelle's eyes sank murkily.

"...Those were Jibril's words, my lord."

"Ah, words left by Oden's sage."

Vigo nodded with a smile.

"In any case, let's do that. I'll prepare for Your Highness to stay in my castle with the prophetess until the weather warms."

Are you insane?

Lanthe glared at him, suppressing her inner desire to slap down his leg planted firmly on the table.

"I'm grateful for the lord's suggestion, but we must return to Newbella as soon as possible."

Whether fortunately or unfortunately, Fiarelle also didn't seem to intend to accept his proposal.

"As I mentioned, the wedding of His Majesty Derek and Your Highness has been postponed due to an unexpected accident, making it difficult to wait longer. His Majesty must depart for the campaign soon."

"But the weather has suddenly gotten so cold."

Vigo pretended to be cold without even making a gesture of closing his chest exposed clearly in the cold air.

"I heard from our physician that Your Highness hasn't recovered enough for long-distance travel."

"But didn't you just say she was healthy?"

Fiarelle revealed bewilderment as she examined Lanthe's complexion and body.

The answer came from Vigo's mouth, not the person in question.

"Yes. She's healthy for someone who nearly stopped breathing in the middle of the Northern Sea this season and was rescued. They said there's no danger to her life at all. But forcing a march to Newbella is a bit much."

Knock knock, knocking sounds rang out.

When Vigo answered to come in, a servant entered carrying a tray. They'd brought fresh hot water to use for tea.

The conversation paused briefly. The sound of Fiarelle's small sigh, the trickling sound of tea being poured. The quiet sounds gave slight warmth to the conference room.

In any case, it would be better to owe Vigo than Fiarelle, so Lanthe quietly observed the situation, thinking it would be advantageous for her if he continued leading the conversation like now.

"We cannot be delayed here long, my lord."

As soon as the servant left, Fiarelle urged impatiently.

"His Majesty Derek wishes to have Your Highness accompany him when he goes on the Peros expedition."

By whose decision? Lanthe was dumbfounded but didn't even open her mouth.

Was she someone one could communicate with anyway? Even if she pointed out what was wrong, it just wouldn't get through at all. Dealing with beasts might be better than this.

"In this expedition, we will obtain Berkin and Molheom. The 20,000 krone His Majesty gave you today as compensation, my lord, was the amount we could secure with sincerity immediately, and he's considering additional appropriate gratitude. Even 20,000 krone is too meager to praise the lord's heroic courage for leaping into the Northern Sea to save the princess."

She smiled and continued speaking in a quite urgent tone.

"How about if the lord receives Molheom as a transfer? In return, if you support us so we can depart even tomorrow and arrive safely in Newbella, His Majesty Derek will be grateful."

She didn't know what scale of territory it was, but did she have authority to decide to transfer one of the king's territories? Lanthe looked with fresh surprise at the prophetess who had Derek's complete trust.

Vigo's eyes also gleamed with interest.

"...You mean you'll hand over Molheom entirely, including the gold mines?"

"Of course, my lord. Playing stingy tricks while expressing gratitude to a benefactor would only stain His Majesty Derek's honor."

"King Derek must cherish his fiancée greatly."

"Wouldn't any man in love be that way?"

Fiarelle smiled, folding her eyes like crescent moons. It was an expression that enhanced her delicate beauty.

"Love..."

A low sigh flowed from between Vigo's lips. Though it was a voice that sounded deliberately sweet, it certainly wasn't an expression welling from emotion. The subsequent look he directed at Lanthe and the smile at the corners of his mouth were utterly insolent.

What's so funny? I'm the one who wants to sneer.

She also silently returned a sharp look to him.

"I'm curious."

He lowered the leg he'd put on the table and straightened his posture.

"What kind of charm she must have for King Derek, the embodiment of cold rationality, to be in such a hurry to take Your Highness back that he'd give away land of considerable value."

"It's because of His Majesty's thorough sense of responsibility and love. His feelings run deep for the woman he promised to make his queen."

Fiarelle's words seemed to become even more urgent.

"Hmm. It would have been more brilliant if King Derek had come in person. What a shame."

"That was out of consideration for the princess..."

"In the name of consideration for the princess."

In contrast, Vigo had relaxed the sharp observation and found complete ease.

"Let's have you spend this season here."

He gazed at her with eyes devoid of laughter. While making only a formal smile with his lips.

"Let's do that."

It was a firm voice. As if the discussion ended here.

"My lord."

Fiarelle expressed difficulty, her pupils moving busily. It was the first time seeing her so flustered, so Lanthe also kept rolling her eyes, watching her and Vigo alternately.

"I am King Derek's prophetess. Just coming here means I've been away from my lord's side too long."

"If you insist, I'll allow the prophetess to return first."

"But the princess must also accommodate our schedule..."

"Right now, the princess is my guest."

"My lord."

Fiarelle's face reddened slightly.

"You're saying something difficult."

"Didn't I rescue the princess when she was dying? So I should take responsibility and have the obligation to protect her to the end."

Vigo, who had mimicked the words she'd said, suddenly looked back at Lanthe.

"Your Highness cannot take a single step out of my castle. Not until the water season ends."

"My lord."

Fiarelle jumped up from her seat.

"It would be troublesome if you're viewing the princess as an object to satisfy your curiosity. You'll remember Kaizan's command not to obstruct a woman's path. I don't believe an exceptional knight like the lord would disrespect the god of war and valor."

"Ah, yes. 'Do not block where a woman goes.' The guardian deity of knights did say such things."

He nodded indifferently.

"I recall it was a warning to scoundrels blocking and harassing a woman trying to go to her husband."

"You know the scriptures well. Then you'll help us escort the princess to His Majesty Derek, won't you?"

"He's not a 'husband' yet, is he?"

Fiarelle's expression, which had brightened a bit, hardened again.

"...It was right before the ceremony, my lord."

"Actually, I have something like a prophetess under me too."

Vigo continued, tapping the armrest with his fingertips as if just remembering.

"When that fellow offered healing prayers for the princess a few days ago, he called her a 'maiden.' I hear prophetesses can sometimes tell just by looking at someone's face whether they have a spouse or not. Anyway, I never imagined she'd have a fiancé."

"My lord!"

Her face turned pale then reddened again.

"I don't want to deny what you've confirmed, but that's thanks to His Majesty Derek respecting the conservative Raphlishian tradition..."

"Then whom should the maiden be returned to? From what I learned briefly, when an unmarried maiden who hasn't received a husband is in distress, returning her to her parents is the duty of one who is a knight."

"But the princess's parents passed away long ago. The princess's guardian is His Majesty Derek."

"My mother was alive until just three months ago."

Lanthe, who had been only listening, shot out quietly. Guardian? Guardian?

"If you people hadn't murdered her, my mother would still be by my side now. To claim to be my guardian—do you know neither minimum human conscience nor shame?"

You people murdered her. You people made me a daughter who lost her mother through your atrocities.

Lanthe's violet eyes flashed deeply with hostility she no longer concealed.