Episode 33
“Yes, Brother.”
But hearing that he had sorted out his belongings reminded me of something.
“But when you say you sorted out the items from the battlefield…”
“Hmm?”
Rurik looked down at me with a puzzled gaze.
“I was just wondering… if that included the letters we exchanged… were they all thrown away too?”
Rurik let out an incredulous, scoffing laugh.
“Nonsense.”
He stated flatly and then added.
“The letters you sent me were the cleanest and purest things from that battlefield. There was absolutely no reason to throw them away.”
Aww…
If he had thrown them away somewhere, I was only thinking of finding and reading them, so I tried hard to hide my disappointment.
‘My only wish is to see those letters someday.’
Then, looking at the demon sword always hanging at Rurik’s waist, I asked.
“Your sword… do you always use the same one?”
Rurik habitually moved his hand to lightly stroke the sword hilt.
“Of course. You’ll probably never need to know this in your life, but for a swordsman, a sword is like a hand or an arm. Besides, this sword is also Brentani’s treasure.”
To be precise, it’s a demon sword. Both Rurik and I know that, so his insistence on calling it a ‘treasured sword’ was suspicious.
‘Did he call it a ‘treasured sword’ on purpose because he’s afraid I’ll tell him to change it?’
For now, since Rurik said he had sorted out his belongings, I needed proof that this alone wasn’t enough. Meaning, I had to wait for a moment when Rurik showed signs of rampage again. So I decided to bring up the demon sword another time and opened my mouth again to cover my own tracks.
“It’s so nice to be back in the capital and see you often, Brother. Although it feels like autumn comes faster here than at the Academy, which is new to me.”
Rurik answered with his usual stoic face.
“Well, I heard you rarely returned to the imperial palace even during breaks. Maybe the climate in Timor suits your constitution better.”
I nodded cheerfully.
“It was warm, and perhaps because it was near a lake, the air was soft.”
That was a characteristic of Timor, where the Academy was located, but according to my research, Edessa, the lakeside city in Flavi, was the same. Unaware that I was steadily laying the groundwork for permission to travel to Edessa for convalescence later, Rurik nodded gently.
“The capital is drier than the southern cities. So imagine how cold and desolate Babenberg must be. It’s good you didn’t stop by Babenberg this time.”
I felt the conversation had taken a slightly odd turn, but I was satisfied enough and retreated.
“You’re right, Brother.”
During the few days I spent holed up in my room, the diary showed a few more pages of new entries. But the diary’s time was still stuck in the first month at the Academy, and the name of Moghold, whom I was desperately eager to see, never appeared.
‘It’s Callisteon again today.’
Finding the familiar name in the newly revealed diary, I subtly frowned. This time, the diary didn’t end with his clumsy attempts; a third party appeared.
I was startled because Sister Chirlila visited my dorm.
Since enrolling, my sisters had never visited me separately, not even once.
Sister said her mentee was stupid and she didn’t like her, and she spoke ill of him, saying Senior Callisteon probably thought the same about me.
If she came to see me just to give that kind of advice, it was a wasted trip.
Because I already knew well enough without being told.
It seemed Cyril had had her eye on Callisteon for quite some time. I chuckled, finding both a terrible misunderstanding and small, sharp thorns in Louise’s writing. The discontented diary continued at length.
Sister said my room was the girls’ quarters closest to Senior Callisteon’s room and called it lucky, but the luck I desire is just not being bombarded with questions in history class because I’m a royal.
Also, Sister said I had wasted Senior Callisteon’s precious time by having him give me three academy tours.
It was only after hearing that far that I clearly realized Sister Cyril had feelings for the second son of Babenberg.
If Her Majesty the Empress found out, she would be furious. I hope I don’t get blamed because of Sister’s unnecessary courage.
Huh…?
Looking at it now, it seems Louise was smarter and more perceptive than I expected.
‘She’s definitely not the type to act foolishly.’
But then why and how did she end up with three potential baby fathers?
‘By the way, she referred to Cal as merely the ‘second son of Babenberg’.’
Although this was before he inherited the title, compared to Cyril’s attitude being no different from now, Louise was incredibly cold.
‘Cal really had a hard time…’
Feeling a bit of sympathy, I closed the diary.
“Rue~, did you wait for me? I’m a bit late, right?”
The moment Ernst entered the palace, he clung to me and turned on the charm. Seeing Phoebe subtly get up and leave her seat, it seemed the power of the bribe Ernst had given her was still effective.
“Yeah~, I waited. Why are you so late, Erni…”
I humored him appropriately and sent him an expectant look. Having lain in bed for days using travel fatigue as an excuse, it was obvious Rurik would soon find it strange and call a palace physician.
‘It’s impossible to fool a palace physician with the same shabby trick used at the monastery.’
In that case, I desperately needed a palace physician who, even if ordered by Rurik to examine me, would not reveal the pregnancy. Ernst, fully aware of my situation, opened his mouth as if complaining.
“The imperial palace physicians are just too unnecessarily clean. If I can’t find a weakness, I’d have to bribe or threaten them, so I was agonizing over which to choose for a while…”
“Th-threatening might be a bit much, don’t you think…?”
It’s not that I want to point out illegality. If a physician yields to threats from one of us, they’d be too scared to move in front of the more terrifying Rurik. Fortunately, Ernst rolled his golden eyes and smiled with satisfaction.
“But our Toruan has a real talent for unorthodox methods, you know.”
He proudly mentioned his secretary’s name.
“He thoroughly dug into the personal physician of the detached palace, Zita. Turns out that family’s son has a huge debt to the Babenberg Bank.”
“To the Babenberg Bank? If he’s the son of a personal physician, it would have been much more beneficial to borrow from the Imperial Bank.”
Although the Rurik in my novel later used banks to fleece nobles, until then, the Imperial Bank was a cozy haven for nobles. They could borrow freely, extend repayment dates like rubber by buttering up the Emperor, and if they were rich, it was good for interest rate games.
“It seems he didn’t want to inherit the family business and tried starting his own behind his father’s back. For your information, the business seems to have already failed, and the repayment date is approaching.”
“So you’re going to have the Babenberg Bank pressure the Zita family for repayment?”
Ernst beamed.
“Exactly. Of course, the Zita family won’t have that kind of money. But he is…”
He snapped his long, white fingers.
“…a friend of the Crown Prince of Flavi.”
“…Since when?”
As he shrugged his shoulders, his expensive shirt rustled.
“Starting this evening. And let it be known that Flavi has banks too.”
Relieved, I held his hand.
“I’m really glad he’s a friend of the Crown Prince of Flavi.”
The golden eyes facing me sparkled as brilliantly as jewels under a chandelier.
“You only realized that now?”
That same evening, I was able to newly appreciate just how great a friend Ernst was. Because the name Ernst, which had only been mentioned in passing in the diary until now, finally appeared importantly. Of course, it wasn’t a pleasant topic.
Was Sister Chirlila dissatisfied with my attitude yesterday?
If so, she could just tell me to fix it.
Even though she easily could, she had to cheaply drag Sister Jenais into it.
The diary was provocative from the very first line. I don’t know exactly what happened, but she must have been very upset, as the ink was smudged in several places.
Ah, Erni.
If it weren’t for Erni, how could I have endured this Academy?!
When I read that far, my chest suddenly swelled and tears welled up. The feelings of injustice that Louise must have pressed down hard while writing strangely flooded into my own heart.
