Chapter 08
“And there are nobles swarming there, so you can gather a lot of information. Whatever you want, you might overhear something useful, don’t you think?”
“That actually sounds kind of tempting.”
“Mostly reputable people go there, but you’ll be fine. Your infamy is high enough.”
Taeri glared at her briefly, slightly annoyed, but then thought of the cruel, rough people protesting outside the hotel and realized she couldn’t exactly argue.
If notoriety counted as reputation, she wouldn’t fall short in attracting attention.
“Think carefully. It’s not a bad deal.”
“If you tell me honestly why you want to do this, I’ll consider it.”
“Huh? This is a deal!”
“No, it’s not a deal. It’s just your one-sided request. I can just ask Ansi. Sweet and kind Ansi will figure it out and tell me what I don’t know.”
“Ugh…!”
“Choose, quickly.”
Finally realizing her disadvantage, Bridget bit her nails and cast a quick glance out the window.
The carriage was steadily advancing, already approaching the river. Beyond the fork, the bridge was impassable, and the path led straight to the herbalist street.
Of course, Taeri didn’t mind either way. Whether they crossed the bridge to the wine bar Bridget wanted or went straight to the original destination—the ruins—was fine.
When Taeri said again that there was no time, Bridget hesitated, then finally revealed her true intentions.
“I just…”
“Yes.”
“Really, just…”
“Yes.”
“…I want to show that we have a princess too.”
…Huh?
Taeri, listening calmly, was momentarily speechless.
“They always talk about how what they enjoy is upper-class noble culture, and this is a barbarian land with none of that. That’s why my teahouse was ignored. Who comes to a place with no nobles?”
“….”
“Even when I tried to explain it wasn’t like that, everything we had… it all collapsed. There’s nothing left to boast about.”
As she spoke, Bridget clenched her teeth, recalling all the indignities she’d suffered.
“Mocked and ignored. So frustrating… my pride was so hurt that I’ve jumped out of bed in anger countless times. I’ve broken more teacups than I can count.”
Her anger slowly swelled again.
With fiery eyes, Bridget grabbed Taeri’s arms firmly, as if vowing revenge.
“So I decided to ditch peaceful methods and go cause a commotion. I won’t just take it quietly.”
Thoughts raced faster than the pain in her arms.
What Bridget wanted was childlike. If one kid shouts that they’ll tell their mom, the other responds, “Well, I have a mom too!” in the same way.
Yet Taeri didn’t want to dismiss that childishness. She could sense the underlying vulnerability.
Bridget wasn’t trying to boast or show off. She just wanted to use the one great thing she had left to maintain her self-respect.
—I want to show that we have a princess too.
The words lingered like an echo.
The idea that a princess’s existence could be someone’s pride and dignity weighed heavily on her, making the request feel almost impossible to refuse.
“Are you sure? Won’t doing something like that isolate you even more?”
“I don’t care. My teahouse is ruined anyway. The first time’s hard, but once you start, it’s easy to get ostracized anyway.”
Her eyes sparkled mischievously, as if it didn’t matter whether she failed alone or with others.
Taeri couldn’t help but smile faintly, imagining why her business had failed with such an attitude.
Seeing that they still had some distance to the bridge, she grasped Bridget’s hands in the same way.
“Let’s call this a handshake.”
Of course, she didn’t really intend to go and make a scene. Probably, that wasn’t truly what Bridget wanted either.
“R-Really? Then the deal’s settled?”
Bridget’s face lit up like a child receiving a gift.
“Okay, then tell me where the key thief is.”
“Oh, come on. You think I’m an empty-headed fool? No credit deals here. It’s gotta be a fair barter.”
Oh, she’s more politically sharp than she looks.
As the carriage approached the bridge, buffeted by the river wind, Bridget threw the windows open and shouted with the freshest smile Taeri had ever seen:
“Ahh, what a perfect day to cause a scene! The wind smells damp, is it going to rain today?”
Perhaps due to a restless night, Claude’s head throbbed.
He stabbed at the steaming soup with his spoon, then angrily overturned the clock announcing noon.
After meeting the princess, he had spent the entire day thinking about her—and that wasn’t enough; he’d lost the whole night to those thoughts, only to end up with a late breakfast.
As a result, he missed the early-morning forest patrol and overslept.
After clearing the meal, he impulsively grasped a troublesome item resting on the shelf.
With a majestic, almost sacred swoosh, the sword was drawn, but its sharp edge lazily struck a corner potted plant.
A holy light traced the sword’s path, cutting half of the plant’s blue leaves cleanly.
Claude watched the severed plant silently. Nothing happened for a long moment. He glared at the sacred sword in his hand.
“Useless scrap of metal…”
He almost threw it out the window.
But he restrained himself, knowing the sword was innocent.
If anything was wrong, it was Claude himself.
The Agatha’s Sacred Sword, passed down to the finest paladins, could channel the wielder’s divine power to perform ultimate resurrection techniques—an artifact of the order.
In reality, though, it had long been monopolized by selfish royalty. Even if the royal blood in Valorans was diluted, the sword still accepted their minimal divine power as a symbol of their lineage.
Normally, even now, it could have saved the life of a single flower. He wasn’t the emperor’s son, but he was the emperor’s nephew, fourth in line for the throne, and a high-ranking royal.
Yet his swordsmanship produced no effect.
Beautiful, precise, yet futile. The empire’s greatest sword, but utterly lacking divine power.
A paladin without divine power. A sacred sword he couldn’t wield.
In short, he was running a massive life-long scam.
If discovered, it wouldn’t be just a scandal. His legitimacy and lineage would be questioned.
Why… does all this go wrong because of a lousy family?
Like Izarisians born with magic, Valorans were born with divine power.
If this sham were exposed, people would first question if he was truly royal.
To make matters worse, he was the late-born son of the Duke of Devonshire—perfect for conspiracy.
It would almost be a relief if I weren’t their child.
He was their child. Too much so. Even the family portraits proved it, but once suspicion started, facts wouldn’t matter.
Sitting on the cold marble window sill, Claude surveyed the building below.
If I quickly absorb this land and disappear, no one will find me.
He’d never sought vengeance, but having become the empire’s top knight, he could at least claim his acting had been impressive.
Yet today’s safety did not guarantee tomorrow’s.
Only three knew his secret: his father, his brother, and the emperor.
He wanted to finish this act quickly, keeping the circle small, then live quietly.
A life where no one knew him, with just enough wealth for comfort.
—I’ll be someone who helps her.
But just as his path should have been quiet, a princess fell from the sky.
Noble, royal, and returning at an unusual time, she carried a string of inexplicable eccentricities.
The shock was so refined that he had spent the previous night burning thoughts about her.
Do I really have to get along with her? No… we’re clearly enemies.
A knock on the door snapped Claude out of his thoughts. He quickly picked up the sacred sword he had tossed aside.
“Good morning.”
When the door opened, aide Jed saw the knight meticulously wiping the blade.
Seeing the sword, Jed was enraptured and knelt immediately.
“Oh, Agatha’s Sword. I haven’t seen it in full in so long.”
Claude’s neat, calm features stared down at him with indifference.
Making a fuss over a single sword—how childish. That was his true thought: cynical, bored.
Jed, however, interpreted it differently.
The knight’s cold gaze and the sword’s winter-like gleam made him seem like a divine envoy.
If asked what a paladin was, he could point here as the perfect example.
Sword and knight—truly perfect.
Anyone seeing him wield it once would instinctively respect and pledge loyalty. Claude commanded that kind of awe among the empire’s knights.
“Why go to such lengths?”
“It’s necessary. The commander doesn’t draw it properly from its sheath.”
“No need to draw it if there’s no reason.”
“Exactly, one mustn’t overuse divine power. But your face looks tired.”
“Just… lost sleep. Any new reports?”
Recently, Claude had become more diligent in managing the forest, observing and hunting personally. Jed’s respect grew again.
“Nothing special, but are you looking for something?”
“I am.”
“Something? What?”
“A woman.”
“A woman?!”
“The princess.”
