#40.
To the ever-so-relaxed Prince Archie, who always has me jumping with excitement,
Surely, you aren’t just sitting idly by, waiting for my letter to arrive, are you?
Hurry and send Noel to Lady Josephine.
May the blessings of scribe Beder always be with Lady Josephine, encouraging her to share a little more gossip.
I’m dying of curiosity and can’t sleep, wondering about Princess Edwina’s letters and Prince Reiner’s behind-the-scenes stories.
How did Prince Reiner end up becoming Sir Arthur Gillen?
Is “Sir Arthur Gillen” some kind of secret code between them, perhaps?
Like how we have our own little “I’m alive”?
P.S.: By the way, do you think it’s okay if I sneak a peek at this letter, which Lady Josephine only allowed to Edwina’s daughter and Adelaide’s child? Dearest Prince Archie Albert, the most lovable thief, I hold myself to a much higher moral standard than you, you know.
At the beginning of the Fruit Moon,
-Cordelia, excited after reading a letter as entertaining as yours for the first time in a while.
* * *
To my surprisingly unreliable pen pal, Miss Cordelia.
Greetings from your pen pal, Archie, who is quite disheartened that I can’t write a letter more amusing than Lady Josephine’s.
Let’s skip the pleasantries and get straight to what you ordered.
Noel is already at Lady Josephine’s castle. I knew you would command this, so I sent her as soon as I received your letter. By now, she’s probably jumping into a bed far more comfortable than anything in the monastery and startling Lady Josephine.
Actually, Cordelia,
Though I’ve never explained in detail, our little Noel is like the youngest daughter, cherished and obsessively loved by everyone at the Lethe Monastery.
Old Beder keeps saying that Noel needs to be sent to a good household before she gets any older, but judging by his actions, it seems he has no intention of letting her marry, ever.
Last time, a rather unpleasant lady from the village came by, suggesting that Noel could be taken in to do chores and help care for her children. But Beder outright refused, saying Noel was entrusted by a noble family and could not be made to do such things.
And that’s not all.
Our monastery’s biggest gluttons, Philip and Louis, wouldn’t even touch the chicken the lady brought, and they ‘accidentally’ splashed a bucket of water on her to chase her off!
Given how protective Beder and the Seven Scribes are of Noel, I didn’t expect Lady Josephine’s request to borrow her as a letter courier to be accepted. But I figured I’d at least ask, so I went to old Beder.
And my expectations were completely off. As soon as I told him that Lady Josephine wished to see Noel again, Beder made a strange face. Then he called Tilbert and started whispering furiously. Tilbert, in turn, responded with gestures and signs that only Beder could understand.
I have no idea what conspiracy they were cooking up, but after a serious discussion between the two monks, Noel, for the first time in her life, was allowed to leave the monastery.
Of course, Noel couldn’t go alone, so Flynn was assigned as her companion. The two of them left for Lady Josephine’s castle two days ago.
And they still haven’t shown any sign of returning. Lady Josephine’s castle is quite close to the monastery, so they could’ve made the trip in a single day. It seems they’re being treated with great hospitality.
Now, my dear Coco, who must be sulking by now,
Your pen pal has somehow managed to get hold of Lady Josephine’s letter. Though, in truth, I didn’t do much—this was all thanks to Lady Josephine’s kindness. Instead of sending Flynn and Noel, she had someone else deliver the letter.
“To the impatient daughter of Edwina,”
…was written on the envelope, suggesting Flynn must’ve been urging her. This works out well for someone as impatient as you, right?
Now, fold up this boring letter of mine and open the letter from Lady Josephine, wrapped in a pretty ribbon. I just finished reading it, and I must admit, I can’t argue with you.
It’s far more entertaining than my letter. If your Liam’s sequel isn’t any good, I’m tempted to suggest publishing Lady Josephine’s letters as a book.
-Your ever-curious pen pal, Archie Albert.
P.S.:
Forget about your lofty moral standards.
Florian, who received the letter, specifically said, “Make sure Cordelia sees this.”
* * *
To Edwina’s daughter, who is probably reading this letter with Adelaide’s son,
I’m glad to hear that my previous letter satisfied your curiosity.
Although I knew you would be curious about what happened next, I deliberately refrained from saying more. Consider it a sly tactic of mine as I grow older and more cunning. I felt that if I didn’t do this, I’d never get to see little Noel again.
My plan worked out perfectly, and now that girl is happily bouncing on the soft bed as if it were a grassy field, and I’m sitting in the next room, writing this letter while listening to her. This is to repay your generosity.
So, you’re curious about how Prince Reiner became Sir Arthur Gillen?
To explain that, we must go back to those days in Reutlingen.
Ever since Princess Edwina discovered Prince Reiner’s secret, life for us in Winterton improved significantly. At the very least, we no longer had to worry about starving. Prince Reiner, true to his word, brought us potatoes, bread, and even meat almost daily.
With his large stature, carrying that much wasn’t unreasonable for him. But with his pale complexion, as if he hadn’t eaten well himself, and his delicate, almost too-perfect face like a flower from a greenhouse, it always seemed as if he was struggling with such tasks.
On the other hand, Princess Edwina, though much smaller in frame, was quick and nimble. She seemed far more reliable than Prince Reiner when it came to managing the provisions.
Whenever the princess organized the supplies and distributed them to the others, Prince Reiner would sit with his chin in his hands, gazing at her with such deep admiration, as if watching something magical. It took Princess Edwina a while to notice that look before she’d snap at him.
“Aren’t you going to help? What are you doing, you?”
“Oh, oh, Edwina! I’ll do it all. Get out of the way.”
At that, we all laughed at the sight of Prince Reiner hurriedly rushing down the stairs to assist her. He was the prince of a rival nation, but watching him, we couldn’t help but forget that fact.
Who could possibly dislike someone like him, who would smile so innocently, even while we laughed at his expense?
“Eat a lot. If it’s not enough, just let me know, okay? Oh, by the way, the meat—I couldn’t just bring that easily, so I gave you all of mine. But it’s okay! I don’t even like meat that much…”
He’d sit among the servants, boasting playfully like a child. Who could resist such a charming prince?
And so, Prince Reiner became everyone’s friend in Winterton.
However, this clumsy supplier of provisions rarely ate for himself. Though Princess Edwina had a blunt way of speaking, she was quite caring. She worried endlessly about Prince Reiner’s meager appetite.
“Why aren’t you eating?”
…Even though she spoke in that tone, anyone could tell from her expression that she was concerned for him. Still, no matter how much she insisted, the prince would never eat much at once.
“Oh, no, I’m fine.”
“Come on, just eat something.”
“Edwina, don’t worry about me. I feel full just watching you eat.”
As he smiled gently after saying that, I almost fell in love with him myself. But Princess Edwina didn’t seem to see him as a man. It was more like… watching an owner fret over a dog that wasn’t eating properly.
“You’re not giving us all your food and starving yourself, are you?”
“And what if I am? As long as you’re all well-fed, that’s all that matters.”
“Still, come here.”
At her command, Prince Reiner would obediently trot over to her, like a little puppy.
“Hm?”
“At least eat a potato. How are you supposed to rule the empire like that? Some prince you are.”
With that, Princess Edwina would stuff a potato into his mouth. Though it was clearly forced upon him, to Prince Reiner, it must have felt like a tender gesture, gently feeding him, as his face would flush with delight.
“Edwina, this potato is delicious.”
“Good, now eat properly.”
“But you know, you’re a fool. How could I ever be emperor? Of course, my brother will be the emperor. When that happens, I might end up dead.”
Then, Princess Edwina would respond with exasperation.
“Good grief, why are you treated like that?”
“That’s the way it is. But Edwina, from the looks of it, you’re not that different from me…”
It’s a truly sad and pitiful story, so at such moments, I and the other attendants would feign ignorance and look elsewhere. The only ones who could laugh about it were Prince Reiner and Princess Edwina themselves.
“That’s true. You and I are both abandoned second children, aren’t we?”
“Indeed. We must be destined for each other, don’t you think?”
Prince Reiner would laugh wide-mouthed, finding joy in this shared similarity. Princess Edwina, finding his grin ridiculous, would grab his cheeks and pull them with an exasperated chuckle. Watching them, it was like witnessing a well-trained puppy and its owner.
To our Princess Edwina, at that time, Prince Reiner was just that—a loyal puppy following her around, one she reluctantly had to feed and care for. Of course, it was Prince Reiner who provided food to the princess, but the dynamic remained.
However, to Prince Reiner, our princess was much more than just a master.
I realized this not long afterward.
Around that time, Prince Reiner’s visits became infrequent. He would come one day, then not show for two more, then visit again, only to disappear for three days. And when he did visit, he often limped, coughed while talking, or flushed with fever. Despite his obvious illness, he continued to bring us provisions, often carrying even more than usual. But there were limits to this, and with prying eyes all around, it wasn’t possible to send someone else to deliver supplies.
Then, after more than ten days passed without a visit, our stock of food began to run out.
It’s funny how fragile human emotions can be. After one day, two days, three days without food, the concern we’d once had for Prince Reiner’s health began to fade. Our immediate hunger took precedence over his well-being. We couldn’t just wait indefinitely for him to return, so we had to do something.
That’s when Princess Edwina’s “lady-in-waiting game” began.
The princess willingly volunteered to starve in our place. The first person to wear her clothes and eat in her stead was me.
It wasn’t because I had the highest status, or because I was weak, or greedy.
At the time, we still had remnants of modesty, shame, and reverence, so the other attendants couldn’t bring themselves to wear the princess’s clothes and take her place at the table. After a few of the younger attendants fainted at the mere suggestion of wearing her clothes, Princess Edwina clicked her tongue and tossed her garments to me.
“You go first. If you do it, they’ll all follow.”
For me, it wasn’t a problem. I’d spent enough years casually calling her by name and playing the role of her friend. In our younger days, she would even take off her crown and place it on mine or Adelaide’s head.
Thus began our role-switching. On the first day, the people of Reutlingen brought breakfast, and I filled my belly, shrunken from hunger, as best as I could. As I ate, everyone gathered around me, asking all sorts of questions.
“Doesn’t anyone suspect anything?”
“How was it? What does Reutlingen food taste like?”
“Let me try that veil, Josephine.”
As I was surrounded by everyone and about to remove the veil, there was a sudden bang, and the door to the annex swung open. I had the veil halfway off, and we all froze—the attendants gathered around me and Princess Edwina, who was disguised as a maid.
The person who entered was a hunched old woman. From her clothing, she appeared to be someone of considerable rank.
The room was so silent that I could hear the rapid heartbeat of the young maid sitting next to me.
It wasn’t Princess Edwina, nor anyone from Winterton, who broke the silence.
It was the stern-looking old woman from Reutlingen who finally spoke.
“What are you all doing there, gathered like that?”
She spoke in Winterton’s language.
Her intonation, her speech—everything was just like Prince Reiner’s.
And that’s how we met Prince Reiner’s nanny, Old Hilda.
—= Afterword =—
Dear readers,
As I write this, the number of subscribers has reached 11,111!
To the 11,111 readers who made my heart flutter with this repeating number that I love so much, I send you all my love.
P.S. 1: Thank you for the subscriptions, recommendations, and the passionate comments! Like Beder, I silently respond to each comment with joy.
P.S. 2: Yes, once again, I failed to control the length and have returned with another consecutive release. Please click “recommend” and then proceed to the next chapter.
<– –>
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