Chapter 67
Ellen waved toward Gloria while riding her horse at the start of their journey. Only when she noticed Gloria’s hand signaling her to look ahead did she straighten her posture.
Still, Ellen occasionally glanced back as they made their way toward the main gate. Every time she looked, Gloria was standing steadfastly in front of the mansion.
It wasn’t until Ellen passed through the mansion’s main gate and turned onto the winding road that she finally stopped looking back.
“Feels like we’re going on a trip,” she said.
“It is a trip. But it’s nice not having to carry heavy luggage along the way,” Royle replied.
“Right? This is really convenient. If we had luggage, the trip would’ve been twice as hard.”
As they were talking, Ellen suddenly scrunched her face.
“What’s wrong?”
“I bit my tongue.”
“Ouch. That really hurts. Are you okay? Did you bite it hard?”
Royle grimaced as if he felt the pain himself.
“I’m fine. Not that hard,” Ellen said carefully, speaking slowly to avoid biting her tongue again. Her pronunciation was a bit off as a result. Royle let out a strange suppressed laugh, making a “pffft” sound. Ellen shot him a glare.
“You haven’t spoken on horseback at this speed before. You’ll get used to it soon. I’ve bitten my tongue plenty of times too. Let’s slow down a bit,” Royle suggested.
No sooner had he said that than Ellen slowed her horse. Jenny, excited to be out after a long time and moving her hips enthusiastically, now expressed her dissatisfaction through her steps at the sudden slowdown.
“But if we go at this pace, we won’t keep our schedule,” Ellen noted.
“We can speed up once we get used to it. By the way, what about your dress? Is it finished?” Royle asked as he matched her slower pace.
“No. Not yet. It’s still in the process of being made.”
“What’s the plan then?”
“The design’s finalized. I’ll pack the semi-finished pieces into a box at home, try them on at the Roanoke mansion, and make the final fittings. Since we’re arriving a week before the debutante event, there’s enough time,” Ellen explained, still testing her speech pace as she carefully adjusted how she spoke. She was naturally impatient and frustrated by the slow speed.
“Did you see that I left the maps, money, shuriken, and daggers outside the box on the warehouse floor?” she asked.
“Ah, yes. I wondered why they were on the floor. I also noticed several water flasks there,” Royle replied.
“I left them there so we can just reach into our pockets and grab them quickly. It’s inconvenient to get the box out in a hurry. Albert said he’d make sure the water flasks never run dry,” Ellen said.
“Got it. I’ll remember. By the way, the ‘warehouse handle’—it really is what you said before.”
“The one that drinks blood?”
“Yes. Seeing it in person was less creepy than I imagined, but I still wouldn’t want to get close. That said, I’ll still use the pockets and the warehouse properly,” Royle said, looking at the finger he had pricked while registering. The puncture had already healed without leaving a trace.
“Understandable,” Ellen replied.
“The bottle earlier—was that your uncle’s blood?”
“Yes. I got it from my father. It’s necessary for your registration too.”
“What happens if I just use my own blood without his?”
“They say the flower pattern won’t turn red, but will glow blue as a sign of rejection. I’ve never seen it though,” Ellen said.
“I’d like to see the blue glow once,” she added.
“Quinter says non-humans give off a blue glow, but interestingly, if it’s a family’s betrothed, it turns red again. Even though they’re not married, the betrothed is recognized. I don’t know what kind of logic that is,” Ellen said.
“So, magic,” Royle concluded.
After chatting for a long time, the two fell silent about two hours later. Ellen felt her lower back stiffening and decided to stop.
“Royle, let’s take a short break.”
Seeing her stop, Royle followed suit and dismounted. Ellen handed him the reins and immediately began stretching her body.
“This isn’t as easy as I thought. Traveling on horseback used to be my dream. It looked fun in books,” she admitted.
“Here,” Royle said, taking a water flask from his pocket and handing it to her. She had been so focused she didn’t realize she was thirsty. Ellen quenched her thirst and handed it back.
“Are we going in the right direction?” Royle asked. Ellen, familiar with the area near Quinter Mansion, was still navigating.
“Yes. Want to see?”
Ellen dropped to the ground, removed her gloves, and took out a map. Several maps were stacked and folded together. She selected the Quinter region map and pointed at a location.
“Here, this way. The village we saw on the left earlier, and the path we took from the three-way fork to the right. That’s this village in the distance. We can stop here for lunch before continuing.”
Royle nodded, following her finger with his eyes.
“How’s your body?”
“Ah, I’m fine. I just wanted to stretch a bit after sitting in one position for a long time. My hands are the most uncomfortable. I really dislike gloves. They feel so stuffy,” Ellen complained.
Royle noticed her gloves lying at her feet and picked them up.
“Did you leave them here to lose them? You can say if you want to rest anytime,” he said.
“I want to walk a bit before riding again.”
“Then let’s do that,” he agreed.
Ellen folded her map and put her gloves back on as Royle untied the reins from the tree. Holding one rein each, they started walking slowly. The road was quiet, with no pedestrians or carriages.
Ellen glanced at Royle walking beside her. She thought he had grown quite a lot recently.
“I used to think Mass was too big compared to Royle,” she thought.
Also, seeing Royle in travel clothes for the first time gave her a new impression.
“Travel clothes suit him. I wish there were proper women’s travel outfits too,” she mused, glancing down at herself. She wore a traveler’s robe over her riding outfit.
Women’s travel outfits were more comfortable than regular dresses but still had long skirts, making horseback riding or walking through forests cumbersome. Traditionally, traveling was reserved for wealthy nobles who didn’t need to walk, using carriages instead. Rare female mercenaries would wear full sets of men’s travel attire, which Ellen, as a noble, couldn’t do.
Curious, Ellen studied Royle’s clothes in detail. Catching his gaze, she reflexively turned her head.
“…Why am I avoiding him? I didn’t do anything wrong,” she thought.
Their eyes met again.
“Why?”
“Why?”
Both asked simultaneously.
“Because your travel outfit looks nice.”
“Because you looked,” they answered at the same time.
Feeling awkward, they looked ahead instead.
The mood felt strange, even though nothing had changed. Ellen felt a little embarrassed.
Trying to change the atmosphere, Royle spoke.
“By the way, why did you suddenly call me ‘Royle’?”
As soon as he said it, he wished he could hit his head.
‘That was completely random!’
He had been curious, but timing matters when asking someone a question. Trying to change the mood, he blurted out whatever came to mind.
“What do you mean? What’s ‘Royle’?” Ellen asked, confused.
“After returning from the front, you suddenly called me ‘Royle.’ In letters, you always called me ‘Roy.’ I wondered if I’d done something wrong,” he explained, scratching his cheek.
“Me?”
Ellen widened her eyes, surprised. She hadn’t realized it at all.
Royle felt a quiet relief seeing her genuinely puzzled expression.
Ellen seemed to be thinking about something. What could it be?
Watching her, Royle mounted his horse. Neshu, who had been trailing behind with his short legs, jumped in front of Ellen.
As they entered the outskirts of the next village, Ellen pulled the hood of her robe over her head. Though the robe was thin, combined with the heat and the horses’ body warmth, it became quite hot.
Still, she had no choice. They weren’t far from the Quinter estate, and surely someone there would recognize her.
With the hood covering half her face, Ellen had difficulty finding their destination. Royle led both horses and searched for the restaurant Albert had noted on the slip of paper.
“Welcome! You can leave your horses over there,” a girl cleaning the door greeted cheerfully.
She flinched at Ellen’s hooded figure but brightened when she saw Royle’s face.
Ellen and Royle glanced around the restaurant with mild curiosity and handed the reins to a boy approaching them.
“Doesn’t look like a particularly famous place,” Ellen whispered.
“Yeah. Why did Albert tell us to come here?” Royle whispered back.
The restaurant was small but tidy. The wooden tables’ edges were worn smoothly, and the utensils were complete and clean.
“Are you ready to order?” the waitress asked.
“What’s good?” Ellen asked, unsure what to choose.
“Today, I recommend bisque soup, salad with yuzu sauce, and chicken pie.”
“Then I’ll have that.”
“Me too,” Royle said.
After the waitress left, Royle teased her.
“You almost spoke informally, didn’t you?”
“Yes. Totally out of habit. I need to pay attention. By the way, they even have yuzu sauce this season?”
“Seems like that’s why Albert recommended it.”
“It’s busy too,” Ellen said. Though not crowded, most tables were occupied. Their neighbors, also wearing travel attire, smiled and observed the restaurant.
