Chapter 36
Raphaella slowly rummaged through her memories. The last thing she recalled was Rosalie holding a broken bow. After that, there had been a tremendous noise.
“Is that fire salamander bastard dead? Is Rosalie safe?”
“Is that really what matters right now?”
“Of course it is. He wasn’t easy to catch.”
“…Ha.”
“What’s the problem?”
“Her Highness truly is… sigh.”
William pressed his rough hand against his forehead. Then, with an expression dark with anger, he rose from his chair.
“I’ll go fetch the doctor. Do. Not. Move. Stay. Lying. Down.”
“Duke?”
Ignoring Raphaella’s call, William turned sharply and left the room. He was so cold it was almost awkward.
“What’s wrong with him?”
“What do you mean, what’s wrong?!”
Perry fluttered over, puffing up her cheeks as she hovered right in front of Raphaella’s face.
“You were hurt this badly, that’s what!”
“It’s just a few broken ribs. What’s the big deal?”
“Good heavens! You coughed up blood and lost consciousness, and you call that nothing?!”
“Well, things like that happen in a fight. Besides, I’m up already.”
“You woke up after three days, you know?!”
“Huh? Three days?”
Perry shook her head vigorously and narrowed her eyes.
“The Duke stayed by your side the entire three days! Even though he was injured too and the doctor told him to rest, he didn’t move an inch.”
“Then why is he so angry? He should be happy I woke up.”
“Ugh. How can you be more clueless than me, Master?”
“What am I missing?”
Raphaella slowly pushed herself up.
William had told her to stay lying down, but she felt too stifled to endure it. Every joint in her body screamed in protest, and only after considerable effort did she manage to sit up.
“The Duke isn’t angry. He’s upset!”
“I’m the one who got hurt—why is he upset? Cough.”
Perry fluttered over to the bedside table, hugged the glass of water, and brought it to Raphaella.
“You’re still a princess, Master! He’s probably worried he’ll be severely punished for letting a royal get hurt!”
“Ah, that makes sense. He’s responsibility incarnate, after all. I should tell him there won’t be any punishment.”
Reaching that conclusion on her own, Raphaella downed the water Perry handed her in one go. Cold liquid slid all the way down to her stomach, sending a small shiver through her. Only then did her parched throat feel somewhat relieved.
From down the hall came the sound of several people running, their footsteps echoing loudly. Moments later, the door burst open.
“S-Sister!”
“Oh my goodness, Your Highness! Are you all right?!”
Rosalie, Count Sester, and a doctor hurried inside.
The doctor examined Raphaella carefully, changing the bandages on her shoulder and thigh as he spoke.
“You were very close to disaster. If His Grace hadn’t run all the way to where the knights were and used emergency medicine, you could have been left with permanent lung damage.”
“My injuries were that serious?”
“One of your lungs was already filled with blood after being pierced by broken ribs. The bleeding was severe—you nearly drowned in your own blood.”
“See?! I told you it was serious!” Perry chimed in.
The doctor glanced at Perry with curiosity but continued.
“Fortunately, the wounds to your shoulder and thigh will heal soon, though scars may remain. Be sure to apply this ointment daily. However, since you suffered internal injuries, you must remain in bed for at least a month. If the barely healed lung or bones move, they could reopen.”
“A whole month? A week should be enough.”
“Oh dear. His Grace said you’d say exactly that. Absolutely not. You must rest.”
“Tch. That Duke really leaves no openings.”
After handing her the medicine and saying he would return tomorrow, the doctor left.
Rosalie, who had been holding back tears the entire time, suddenly grabbed Raphaella’s hand.
“S-Sister… I really thought you’d never wake up… sob.”
“I’m fine.”
“If I’d just been a little faster back then, y-you wouldn’t have been hurt this badly….”
“The doctor’s exaggerating. It doesn’t hurt that much.”
“I-I’m so sorry… sob.”
“I told you I’m fine. Want me to get up and show you?”
As Raphaella pulled back the blanket to rise, Rosalie’s tearful eyes suddenly sharpened. She grabbed Raphaella’s shoulders.
“N-No! Absolutely not! For the next month, you’re not leaving this room! I’ll make sure you stay in bed no matter what!”
“That’s a bit much…”
“T-The Duke ordered it. E-Explicitly.”
When Rosalie firmly forced her back down, Raphaella gave in and lay back.
She then looked at Count Sester, who was wiping sweat from his round face.
“Count, just what did the Duke say to everyone to make them this worked up?”
Count Sester flinched and laughed awkwardly. He glanced at Rosalie, who shook her head slightly, eyes narrowed.
Putting on a smooth smile, Count Sester replied,
“Your Highness exaggerates. His Grace was simply concerned for your health. Ha ha ha.”
Despite Raphaella’s suspicious stare, he smoothly changed the subject.
“Ah! Your Highness, thank you sincerely for saving my daughter Rosalie. As you were unconscious, I could not thank you properly until now—please forgive me.”
He clasped his hands and bowed deeply. Raphaella waved him off, embarrassed.
“No need for thanks. That’s not why I did it.”
“Thank you as well for bringing me back to my senses when I had lost them.”
“That’s enough. More importantly, tell me how things were handled while I was out.”
“Yes.”
Count Sester sat beside the bed and began his explanation, which went on for quite some time.
In short, by the time Mark and the knight order arrived, the tunnel had already completely collapsed. Fortunately, Rosalie and William managed to escape safely with the unconscious Raphaella, and William—despite his injured knee—carried her all the way to the knights.
After Raphaella, William, and Rosalie departed for treatment at the lord’s castle, Mark and the knights arrested everyone left at the bandits’ hideout. Since the Duke had already broken or injured each of them somewhere, binding them was easy.
The collapsed tunnel was only fully restored the day before Raphaella woke. They recovered the corpse of the fire salamander and all the valuables the bandits had hoarded. Count Sester looked thoroughly pleased as he spoke.
“Those scoundrels had gathered quite a stash, like squirrels. All sorts of luxury items—enough to fill three wagons.”
“I didn’t even give instructions, yet you handled everything well. Thank you, Count.”
“Only natural.”
“Natural, my foot. You safeguarded my property—of course I should thank you.”
“…Pardon? I don’t quite follow.”
“That all belongs to me.”
As Raphaella grinned and tried to claim the hard-won treasure, Count Sester panicked.
“W-Well… imperial law states that illegal assets seized from criminals are to be reclaimed as operational funds for the territory that captured them.”
“That applies when they’re ordinary criminals. Those men were assassins. And they were targeting me.”
“B-But even so, the law—”
“They targeted me. I beat them myself. That makes it mine, right? Of course, the Duke and Rosalie helped.”
“…E-Excuse me? Rosalie helped?”
“Rosalie, you still haven’t told your father?”
Rosalie blushed and lowered her head. Count Sester’s eyes widened as he looked between the two, but Raphaella cut in.
“We’ll talk about that later.”
She swiftly changed the subject.
“Anyway. I personally dealt with those who targeted me, so I’ll take their assets. Any objections?”
“B-But our territory also suffered losses because of them—”
As Count Sester scrambled to argue, Rosalie gently grabbed his arm.
“F-Father… S-Sister is right. I-I returned safely thanks to her.”
“Rosalie.”
“And Father… I-I have something to say.”
“All right. We’ll talk in my study later.”
“N-No. I’ll say it here.”
Releasing her father’s arm, Rosalie stepped closer to Raphaella and spoke.
“I… I want to follow Sister.”
“…Huh?”
