SALP Chapter 9

How should I escape this time? Is there any way? How can I get to Floretta...

Lanthe subtly asked Nina about Floretta as well.

But she only tilted her head in confusion.

"Floretta? It's incredibly far from here. Sometimes guests who live there visit our castle, but they don't talk much so they rarely mention their hometown. I remember them saying it's a southern territory, so far away that it costs a lot of money every time they come."

"So it needs a lot of money after all."

Then it would be difficult. If it were a place she could reach on foot, she'd walk for a month or two. Having learned that in this world, you can't do anything without money.

In any case, Lanthe didn't need to agonize long over solving this troublesome problem.

Because she wasn't given that luxury.

That very night, just as she was about to go to bed, Rix called her out.

"Everyone is waiting in the conference room."

Someone from Newbella had come looking for her.

If I grab the doorknob and kick up a fuss about not wanting to go, will Vigo tear me away by force and send me to Derek?

Lanthe stood before the conference room, staring at the floor as she thought.

"Please go in, Lady Lanthe."

Rix had already knocked. His gaze urged her on as he looked at her strangely, making her self-conscious, but her feet absolutely wouldn't move.

Derek Gebimonde. The one who killed Aunt Louise and burned down the village. He might not have dirtied his own hands, but he was the mastermind who ordered his subordinates.

Thinking that man was beyond the door made her body freeze cold.

"Lady Lanthe."

When Rix carefully urged her again.

"Come in."

Vigo's voice came from beyond the door.

"Excuse me, my lord."

The door finally opened. Unable to help it, Lanthe steeled her eyes and took a step forward.

The conference room was a bleaker space than the room where Vigo worked. With not a single window in the completely sealed interior and only a few candles lit, it felt gloomy. In the center of the room sat only a large rectangular table, and expressionless knights stood surrounding the walls. Besides Hermea's knights, she also saw familiar dark red uniformed knights. Newbella's knights.

At the table set with refreshments decorated prettily enough to seem out of place sat only two people.

Occupying the seat of honor at the back of the room was Vigo, and at his diagonal left was...

She was there.

Not Derek, but Fiarelle.

"Your Highness!"

She jumped up when she saw Lanthe.

"I'm so glad you're safe."

She approached Lanthe with quick steps, scattering what seemed like a genuinely pleased smile.

"I came to escort you, Your Highness. You must have been startled by the sudden accident, weren't you? But I must give thanks to Goddess Ailea's grace for being with Your Highness since you're safe like this."

A flustered Lanthe only rolled her eyes to survey the conference room while being pulled into Fiarelle's embrace.

That man isn't here? He didn't come?

"I came alone today, Your Highness."

Fiarelle released her arms from embracing Lanthe and smiled affectionately while meeting her eyes.

"Our princess would feel most comfortable with me, after all. I received permission from His Majesty Derek to come escort you by myself."

I see. So that man isn't here...

Lanthe's dazed gaze wandering around the conference room suddenly landed on Vigo.

A strange smile dwelt in his eyes as he watched them quietly.

"Let's hurry back to Newbella, Your Highness. It's really cold here. Newbella doesn't get this cold even during the Selea feast day."

What was he thinking with those wolf-like eyes observing whether she was prey or not?

Lanthe was very bothered by his gaze.

What he would think about the fact that she was being called 'princess,' how far he and Fiarelle had talked between themselves, how much he knew about Derek's plans, and so on...

"I'm not going, Lady Fiarelle."

In any case, what she had to say was clear.

"I hate you people."

She spoke as if for him to hear, not taking her eyes off Vigo.

Then the corners of his mouth, which had been faintly raised, grew longer, drawing a smooth arc.

"I find you people who killed my mother terrible and disgusting."

She'd always wanted to say it, actually. Every time she saw Fiarelle smiling and pretending to be kind. She wanted to curse and condemn her. She wanted to spit on her inhuman kindness that didn't even hide her sinister intentions while justifying them.

I hate you. She could only say even these few words in her imagination every day. During the time she lived with an invisible leash in their territory.

"Mother, you say, Your Highness."

Fiarelle made a pitying expression, drooping the corners of her eyes.

"I dare say your mother was not there. Though there may have been a commoner who impudently impersonated Your Highness's mother. You were deceived by a fraud."

Impudent commoner? Fraud?

"...Who are you to decide whether someone is qualified to be my mother?"

You who know nothing.

Lanthe moved her gaze from Vigo to direct it toward Fiarelle. Shaking off the hand that had been holding her limply.

"I know that much—that she wasn't my biological mother."

"Why are you angry? I thought Your Highness understood our circumstances..."

Fiarelle explained as if flustered.

"Please withdraw your hatred, Your Highness. Remember that we rescued you from the shackles binding you to an unfortunate life."

"Shackles?"

She felt like hollow laughter might burst out at her utterly ridiculous performance.

"Still with that kind of talk..."

Wasn't it said that tragedy viewed from afar becomes comedy?

The Newbella people she'd feared so much looked ridiculous now that she viewed them from a bit of distance here. Had something inside her changed just from escaping them for a few days and seeing a new world? Or was it because she'd experienced something called a miracle when escaping from them?

Like a protagonist who had wept silently within a tragedy but escaped outside the play to contemplate her own story.

"...If I tore apart that mouth that cut off my cherished golden bracelet without permission and then lies calling it shackles, even Goddess Ailea would applaud saying I did well."

As if returning to the troublemaking child of ten years ago, Lanthe spat out rough words.

"Y-Your Highness..."

"Go ask your goddess in the afterlife if anything I said was wrong, you wicked and foolish witch."

Instead of the pale Fiarelle, low laughter came from an unexpected place. The boy who would have been frightened and stopped her ten years ago had now become an insolent man, laughing at her curses.

"How, how could Your Highness use such crude curses..."

She looked back at Vigo with wavering eyes.

"What have you done to our Your Highness here, my lord? She wasn't someone who would use words only commoners would use, so how..."

"Didn't you know she originally had a rough temperament?"

Vigo said with arms crossed as if it was none of his business.

"Pardon?"

Fiarelle stared at him as he laughed irresponsibly.

Was his origin publicly known, was he trying to reveal he knew her well? Lanthe watched tensely inside, but Vigo lightly shook his head with a shrug.

"You didn't know the Raphlishians were originally a barbaric people with strong aggression, Prophetess. A few natives I knew long ago also had foul mouths and twisted personalities."

He glanced sideways at Lanthe with narrowed eyes.

Fiarelle frowned her neatly shaped eyebrows as if she hadn't caught his true meaning.

"It's the first I've heard of them being twisted. Aren't the Raphlishians known as gentle pacifists from ancient times?"

"Mm. Unfortunately, that's merely what they aspire to through faith, but their true nature is savage and fierce friends befitting barbarians."

"But when I personally visited Roas, I didn't get that impression..."

Visit? Who calls an invasion a visit? Lanthe's stomach churned at her phrasing that seemed utterly oblivious to their own crimes, and she was raising her eyes when—

"You can trust my word since I have that barbarian blood mixed in, Prophetess."

Thud. Vigo put his booted foot up on the table and stretched as if tired.

"My mother was Raphlishian. She ran away from Roas in her maiden days."

"Ah..."

Though the silence didn't last that long, it felt like being trapped in a long stillness.

"I see."

Fiarelle's gaze and voice wavered slightly as she answered pretending to be composed.

It seemed Lanthe wasn't the only one hearing about his origins for the first time.

"So let's both not mind trivial attitude problems and get to the main point."

After rubbing his eyes and openly displaying fatigue, Vigo artificially lifted the corners of his mouth.

By that point, it seemed less like he was saying to disregard Lanthe's cursing and more like he was telling them not to mind his own rude attitude of reclining halfway in the large seat of honor.

"...I can only trust the lord's insight."

But Fiarelle returned to her usual courteous smile and bowed her head.

"Leaving bloodlines aside, I believe everything you've experienced and realized is fact, my lord. As a prophetess who lives reading books in a palace like me, I have no intention whatsoever of competing with you in experience, so please don't misunderstand."

She returned to her seat and sat down. It was an even more obedient attitude than before King Derek.

Now only Lanthe stood awkwardly.

"Your Highness, please be seated as well."

Vigo gestured beside him as he spoke.

She hesitated for a moment, not wanting to sit with Fiarelle, but she didn't drag it out long. There were soldiers beyond the door anyway. Even if she escaped from here, she didn't know the way to anywhere. She didn't even know the way to her destroyed hometown.

"...Actually, I hate staying up late at night. I heard that in Hermea too, visiting someone's house in the middle of the night is rudeness you can't complain about even if you get slapped for. Please keep your words brief, Lady Fiarelle."

Lanthe spoke coldly and walked around the table. When she approached, Vigo pulled out the chair beside him slightly, so she sat there holding her head up stiffly as if it were her natural right.