CHAPTER 17
The moment the door closed, Erishy was overcome by an indescribable feeling.
How should she put it?
Like she was the last person left in the world?
Of course, she wasn’t really alone. Inside this cabin… was the man she had just married today.
Just as she became acutely aware of Rahan’s presence, she turned her head.
“Hey.”
“Ah, yes?”
“Is this all the firewood we have?”
Rahan scratched the back of his head as he asked.
Erishy looked at the bundle of firewood Liet had tossed down earlier. Just one bundle. Enough to last maybe a day or two for two people.
“I’m not really sure. Maybe there’s more near the hearth?”
“…Let’s go check.”
The man opened the door first and stepped out. Erishy followed him, glancing around.
“Oh, there’s a chicken coop!”
“There aren’t any chickens though.”
Erishy caught up to Rahan and lightly grabbed his arm. He turned to her with a questioning look, and she smiled shyly.
“You can just call me Erishy.”
“…”
“It’s just, you keep saying ‘hey’…”
She had already sensed that he was calling her that out of awkwardness. After all, they’d only just met yesterday.
The man looked uncomfortable at her touch. But approaching shy people with warmth was something Erishy was quite good at. Back at the monastery too…
No, never mind. Erishy pushed the thought away and smiled brightly.
“We’re married, remember?”
At that, the tips of the man’s ears turned red again. He paused for a moment before replying.
“…I know.”
He seemed the type to get embarrassed easily.
Still, if he got flustered over something like this—how were they supposed to live together?
She was about to say so when he spoke first.
“You can speak casually too.”
“Oh.”
“You’re not a novice priest anymore.”
Under the blessings of Eridrahan, priests are to humble themselves, even before commoners. It’s customary for them to show deference to others.
But Erishy was no longer a novice priest. She was even the heir to the title of Prince-Elector.
It seemed Rahan felt awkward being the only one using informal speech.
See? I knew he was a good person.
No matter how you look at it, he was the man who helped her in her time of need.
Even if she didn’t know the full story—and even if it seemed he was keeping things from her.
Rahan added another comment.
“And, since both our situations are… complicated, feel free to ask me anything you’re curious about.”
“Ah.”
“I’d prefer we didn’t have any secrets between us.”
Secrets.
At that, Erishy suddenly recalled the conversation Rahan had with the other knights last night.
About divorce.
She couldn’t help but wonder if it might be a possibility. The head of the Wilbert Monastery had only said, ‘The Grand Duke of Lachaise ordered this marriage.’
So… maybe he was planning to divorce her someday?
She wanted to ask, but it felt too forward.
From Rahan’s perspective, this woman he was ordered to marry suddenly asking, “Are you going to divorce me?” right after he said to speak freely—what kind of mood would that put him in?
Not a good one, most likely.
Besides, he was a kind person.
She didn’t want to ruin that.
Just like yesterday afternoon—when she’d asked him for a kiss. In hindsight, what a ridiculous request. But he’d obliged, for her sake.
She could still feel the lingering warmth of that kiss on her chest.
Almost fainted this morning while changing clothes…
At first, she thought she was sick. Only later did she realize it was from the chaos of the previous day. The way she’d been flailing her arms in embarrassment that morning—it still made her cringe.
And yet, when she thought of that kiss again, she felt a tingle down to her toes.
Erishy glanced up at the man before her.
In the daylight, under the sun, he looked even more handsome. Compared to him, that so-called most-handsome guy Robbie from the village might as well be a potato.
Those lips… on my earlobe…
Just as the thought formed, she squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again. Her face was about to go red again.
“Then… I’ll talk casually… o-okay?”
But it was hard to break a lifetime of habit. Her face flushed red despite her effort to change the topic. Rahan chuckled at the sight.
Eventually, they came to a silent agreement: they’d just speak however felt natural, whenever it felt right.
“Well, I guess it’s only natural—we’re both new to this.”
“It’s my first time too!”
“Obviously…”
They both chuckled at how ridiculous they sounded. Then Rahan spoke, slightly more seriously.
“But be careful in front of others. Technically, you’re the primary heir to the Electorate.”
“…Ah.”
Erishy blinked. She wasn’t unaware of her birth secret. Still… it didn’t feel real.
Rahan gave a sympathetic, wry smile.
“I get it. Sometimes, when someone asks if I’m the son of the Margrave of Norwich, I feel like I’m going to choke.”
“….”
“You can’t choose your parents, after all.”
He shrugged as he said it playfully. Erishy finally gave a small smile.
“Take it slow, no rush.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll try to do the same.”
In any case, things felt much less stifling now than when they were left alone just moments earlier.
Like… she wasn’t the last person left in the world after all.
“Shall we go look for more firewood?”
“Sounds good!”
While searching for firewood, they examined the cabin much more closely than the priests ever had. Thanks to that, they discovered it had more than expected.
“There’s a well!”
Rahan dropped a wooden bucket into the well and pulled up water to taste it.
Despite the cabin being right beside the sea, the water tasted surprisingly fresh. He handed some to Erishy, who drank it gratefully while sneaking a glance at him.
I hope he likes this place…
Would this cabin, just the two of them, be good enough for a man from the Grand Duchy?
But the man didn’t seem bothered. He looked around with curiosity.
“There’s even pumpkins planted. And apple trees!”
The backyard had been well-maintained with various crops. Some plots were empty, but whoever had tended it had clearly put in effort. It would be a while before anything could be harvested, but Erishy smiled reassuringly.
“Behind the wheat field, there’s a potato patch. It belongs to the monastery, but I don’t think the priests would mind if we took a little.”
They found a few more firewood logs stacked under the eaves at the back of the cabin. Not much, and damp.
“Probably from the morning dew,” Erishy said, touching the wood with a hint of disappointment.
“The field’s about to be fallow, so the caretaker probably didn’t expect this house to be used and didn’t restock the firewood.”
“Got it,” the man nodded. Sensing the conversation dying, Erishy quickly spoke again.
“You saw the forest next to the village on our way down, right? That’s where the villagers get their wood.”
“Should we go there too?”
“Well… maybe.”
Erishy tilted her head in thought.
The village forest is a communal area, maintained by collected funds. Technically it belongs to the Lord of Arnsberg, but the village chief oversees it.
Villagers gather wood there in exchange for paying taxes twice a year.
“We probably can’t use it right away.”
After she explained about the taxes, Rahan nodded.
“So we need to pay a fee.”
“Yes. But the village chief went to Arnsberg to pay those taxes to the collector.”
Tax collectors don’t usually visit such small villages. Until the chief returned, they couldn’t use the forest—they hadn’t paid the tax.
Erishy whispered quietly.
“The priests chop wood in the forest below the monastery… maybe we can borrow from there, just for a bit?”
“Hmm, Erishy.”
Rahan winked.
“Sure, the monastery probably won’t say anything. But why do you think Abbot Wilbert gave us just a single bundle of firewood?”
“…Ah.”
Erishy blinked. Rahan gave a wry smile.
“I’ll say it again—you’re not part of the monastery anymore.”
“Ah…”
That’s right. A non-priest taking monastery property without permission would be punished. Rahan didn’t think Abbot Wilbert would be stingy, per se.
But it did bother him.
“If word gets out that the daughter of House Aachen misused monastery property, it could cause trouble.”
“Ah…”
She hadn’t thought of that.
Erishy looked around as if wondering, Is it really that serious?
But Rahan, who’d spent years near Grand Duke Lachaise, knew better.
The Eridrahan faith may be in decline, but the domains of gods and men were still separate.
And religion’s favorite way to handle secular powers was to exploit their weaknesses.
Rahan was almost certain: when Philrod Aachen left in such a hurry, he didn’t go without leaving something behind.
He most likely planted a spy nearby.
