#45
Looking back now, it seems that the reason we were able to enjoy those times so much was all thanks to Princess Edwina. She was always full of energy.
She was the first to wake up and rouse the maids who would dress her in her royal clothes, she would comfort any child trembling with anxiety, and at times, she would even call for a hungry servant and personally dress them in her own clothes.
She would carelessly throw on a white maid’s uniform like an apron and sneak around the storage near the annex, hoping to find even a single potato, scurrying like a mouse.
Yes, that’s how it was. And then that incident happened.
You’ve probably already heard from Beder about how our princess got caught gathering potatoes and ended up in jail.
It was Tilbert, pale as a ghost, who came running to deliver the news.
It was the first time I saw him stutter like that, normally so fluent in his endless chatter in Reutlingenese.
“So, um, Princess Edwina, uh, she… a potato… why a potato there… that’s a prison… oh, what do we do about this!”
Remy, who was already struggling with Reutlingenese, couldn’t understand Tilbert’s rushed words and called me.
By the time I pieced together the fragmented words he spat out and formed the sentence, “Princess Edwina was caught gathering potatoes and was dragged to prison,” a servant ran in to announce that Sir Alphius from Winterton had just arrived.
How could everything happen all on the same day? Surely the gods were not with us that day. But I didn’t have time to complain.
“Take it off, Remy.”
With the princess gone, I had no choice but to give orders like her. I was the oldest among us, and Remy, who had become the princess for the day, was trembling terribly.
“I said take it off! If you go like that, we’re as good as dead.”
With trembling hands, Remy clumsily untied her robe and fumbled to remove her veil.
It was just as I was about to put on the robe she had thrown off.
The annex door opened.
The Reutlingen soldiers flooded in and stood in front of Remy.
“You are summoned.”
Remy, who barely understood a greeting in Reutlingenese, just stood there, clutching her trembling right hand with her left, unable to comprehend what was said.
I stepped between the soldiers and Remy.
“The princess is changing her clothes right now. Leave. She needs time to prepare.”
A sharp pain suddenly exploded on my cheek. My whole face burned as if someone had placed a hot coal on it. I realized after a few seconds that a Reutlingen soldier had struck me hard, which made me stumble and fall.
Remy, trembling, spoke in Wintertonese.
“It’s okay. I… I’ll go… I’ll go. It’s fine. I’ll go now.”
Remy was the youngest among us, the shyest and quietest.
The girl who would faint at the sight of a passing mouse in the potato storage had mustered up such courage that I couldn’t help but tear up. One of the Reutlingen soldiers sneered at her small voice, laughing mockingly and saying, “Speak in Reutlingenese.” I quickly went to Remy’s side and whispered the Reutlingenese words quietly for her.
That was all I could do.
You know the rest of the story.
Sir Alphius quickly realized Remy wasn’t the princess. He pulled off her veil and discovered that another girl was pretending to be the princess. It was fortunate that Sir Alphius had enough sense to get angry at this, but his recklessness in failing to predict what would happen next still infuriates me to this day.
When we met him again later at Arly Palace after returning to Winterton, the way he boasted as if we owed our lives to him still grates on me.
Everyone still believes it, too.
That Sir Alphius saved Princess Edwina.
But what happened to us was far from a fairytale.
The Emperor, upon realizing that the girl was not Princess Edwina, stormed into the annex himself, his face red and furious. Of course, Sir Alphius was right beside him. They gathered all the maids and confirmed that Princess Edwina wasn’t among us.
“Then where is our princess?”
Sir Alphius, acting as if he were someone important, furiously confronted the Emperor. The mad Emperor, hiding his rage behind a calm expression, asked,
“Is this everyone?”
“What?”
“I asked if all of you are gathered here.”
“Your Majesty, one maid was captured earlier this morning while trying to gather a potato.”
A Reutlingen soldier hurriedly interjected. The Emperor immediately beheaded the soldier on the spot for being late in reporting this.
And then, our princess was summoned out of the prison. Dressed exactly like one of us, in a maid’s outfit, she was taken to the bloody palace annex.
Sir Alphius did not stand idly by after the princess was treated with such disrespect, showing his true temper as he raged. The emperor, however, responded without erasing the generous smile from his face.
“I apologize for not understanding you Windsorites properly.”
We all bit our lips hard.
Because we knew we would bear the price for everything:
The act that brought the mad emperor all the way to this shabby place at the far end of the palace,
Forcing that apology from his lips,
And everything that followed.
That night, Sir Alphius must have slept soundly without waking. He probably believed he had accomplished something. All he could do was return to Windsor and report our current situation, and he likely thought that was enough. As if knowing what was happening in Windsor would change anything.
The day Sir Alphius left, maid Remi was executed immediately, beheaded within the palace annex for the crime of daring to impersonate the princess and mocking the emperor of the empire.
The news must have reached the Kingdom of Windsor as well. The people of the royal palace would not have batted an eye over the death of a maid who played princess, but we all wept much.
Our tears tasted of shame and self-reproach, knowing we had kept silent and cowardly preserved our lives when asked who else knew of the incident.
The emperor’s revenge did not stop there. Prince Reiner, who had been in the annex when the emperor burst in, was dragged away after being beaten bloody in front of his subordinates for daring to try to stop the emperor’s tyranny. He did not return to the annex for more than a month.
Those who survived the prison suffered in an environment where it was difficult to find even a clean cloth to stop the bleeding, let alone a healer, and they died one by one, about one each month.
Before the year was over, out of 51, a total of 26 had died. Even though we had fewer people, it became harder to find food due to excessive surveillance, and the road to survival became even more distant.
Fortunately, the bookshelf remained intact. So, we kept putting notes inside, watching for a time when the prince might return. Paper was so scarce that we tore the corners of books to write a single small word. Instead of words like grapes, potatoes, bread, or meat, the bookshelf filled with words like urgent, pain, painkiller, alcohol, clean cloth, and bandage.
Even knowing that the prince had his own busy schedule and unavoidable circumstances, we couldn’t help but resent him when he took even slightly longer to respond.
The only one who remained calm was always our princess.
“Let it be, Josephine. He’ll come by tomorrow.”
“What if he doesn’t? We really have nothing left. I don’t know if Maria will make it through the night.”
“He’ll come. Reiner will come by tomorrow morning.”
And then, as if by magic, Prince Reiner would arrive the next morning, with steps even more unsteady than before and a weak smile on his face.
Even though we knew, this time for sure, that he had risked his life and position to come to us, we all eagerly ignored that fact, content to devour the food he brought. Meanwhile, the two of them would go into a room, leaving even me outside, and whisper to each other.
But I knew it wasn’t the whispering of lovers. Occasionally, I could hear Princess Edwina’s angry voice through the walls, and Prince Reiner’s voice, though quieter and harder to make out, did not carry the tone of sweet romance.
At the end of their conversation, when Prince Reiner emerged from the room, his eyes were often red as if he had been crying a great deal.
“What did you talk about? You looked like someone who had been crying, Prince Reiner.”
“Just… talking.”
“Talking about what?”
“Old stories.”
After saying that, Princess Edwina would stand staring forlornly at a blank wall, pressing her fingertips hard against her eyes.
One servant whispered to me that the princess must have had a headache. Another maid said no, the princess had read a very, very sad story to Prince Reiner, which made him cry, and the princess’s eyes were strained from reading too much.
But I knew.
The habit of pressing her eyes—that was something my childhood friend, Anne Edwina, did whenever she held back tears.
Five more years passed after that incident.
By then, the mad emperor was still not dead, and the empire’s war continued.
Word came that Windsor had given up on the second war and agreed to cede the northern territory to Reutlingen. News also spread that King Alfred had spent a fortune to build a long wall to block the territory’s inhabitants from moving south just before the land was transferred to Reutlingen.
Complaints about King Alfred echoed everywhere. By the time I heard that eight lords of the lands had gathered in the noble council to depose him and enthrone another king, it was already when the throne had passed to Charles Wellesley.
The news that Charles Wellesley had ascended the throne came less than a month later.
Prince Archie, by now, you must be shaking your head, thinking such things never happened.
The war ended after three years, and the mad emperor was killed by the hand of his eldest son. In Windsor, which had returned to peace, Princess Edwina disappeared while searching for the knight Arthur Gillen, and King Alfred took Queen Adelaide as his adopted daughter, allowing her to inherit the throne. Your father, Charles Wellesley, was merely the queen’s husband, ruling only the Ellington estate.
Yes, that’s right.
That’s the world we live in.
But what I am telling you is undoubtedly something that happened at some point.
So please, bear with me a little longer and continue reading my letter with patience.
I am not insane. Even if my father and brother call me a woman driven mad with grief over the loss of her child, and even if I, myself, cannot be certain whether I truly met Edwina in my despair, this much I can assure you. My memories of my youth are still as vivid as if they happened yesterday. They are events I replayed over and over again in my mind, ones I cannot afford to forget, or confuse.
In my world, in 1291, Charles Wellesley ascended the throne. He officially married Adelaide, and word reached even the palace annex that their daughter had been crowned the new princess of Windsor.
Even when rumors spread that King Alfred had relinquished the kingdom and moved his residence, Princess Edwina barely reacted.
“Good thing I never grew too attached to my father.”
“Princess!”
“What are you calling me ‘Princess’ for? I’m not one anymore, am I, Josephine? I’d just rather they let us out of here. If Charles has any conscience, he could at least send us some decent food for the sake of his former fiancée.”
She said it like a joke, and we nodded along, too simple-minded to understand.
The fact that her former fiancé had married her closest friend and now had a child,
That she had been held captive as a princess of a kingdom, only to lose her place when her father was dethroned,
All those things should have been pressing matters, but what was more urgent was the question of what we would eat tomorrow.
It was around that time that Adelaide visited Reutlingen.
Though the agreed hostage period had long since passed, the war dragged on, and the empire extended the time, keeping us confined. From Reutlingen’s perspective, the daughter of a dethroned king and her household were a difficult problem. They couldn’t just send us back, nor could they kill us, so we were left lingering, existing as forgotten entities within the empire. For us, who had endured for years in that erased state, Adelaide’s visit was the last flicker of hope.
And the spark that ignited that hope was the little girl she brought with her, Princess Cecilia.
Before they arrived, we were stiff and tense, debating among ourselves.
“Princess Cecilia? If she’s a princess, what do we call our Princess Edwina?”
“Exactly. Should we just let Princess Edwina sleep for a while? She does sleep soundly, after all.”
We were laughing at the humor still left in us when the news came that Adelaide had arrived. But it wasn’t Adelaide who burst through the doors of the palace annex—it was Princess Cecilia.
A mere four-year-old child, yet so full of confidence.
Princess Edwina, who came out upon hearing the commotion, burst into laughter at the sight.
In the silence, only her clear, ringing laughter could be heard.
Adelaide, dragged in like a lamb by her daughter’s hand, could not bring herself to meet our princess’s gaze. She had always had a tender heart, even as a child. It was clear she was tormented by guilt, believing she had stolen Edwina’s place, her love, and her happiness.
Princess Edwina must have noticed it immediately. Even before that, she would have known that everything leading up to this moment had not been solely Adelaide’s choice.
“If you marry your friend’s man, you should at least hold your head high, so why are you acting like that?”
“Anne!”
I unconsciously called out to the princess, trying to caution her, but she casually shrugged off my hand and walked toward Adelaide and Cecilia.
“Stay out of it, Josephine. Adelaide, is this your and Charles Wellesley’s daughter?”
“Yes.”
“Why the face? You didn’t expect me to address you as king and queen, did you?”
Adelaide shook her head furiously. Beside her, the little Princess Cecilia tugged at Edwina’s skirt.
“Aren’t you going to ask me how old I am?”
Before Edwina could even ask, the young princess proudly held up four fingers. Edwina chuckled softly.
“With something this cute, how can I hold a grudge against you?”
And with that, our princess smiled brightly, causing Adelaide to sink to her knees before her.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I…”
“Don’t do this, Adelaide.”
At that moment, Princess Cecilia tugged on Edwina’s skirt again.
“I am not cute. Take it back. I am four years old.”
Though I had been on the verge of tears over the emotional reunion of the two friends, I couldn’t help but burst out laughing. Edwina quickly knelt down and pinched the little princess’s chubby cheeks.
“You little miss, no matter how serious a face you make, you’re at the age where you’re still just adorable.”
“How insolent.”
When Cecile said that, Princess Edwina turned to Adelaide and whispered softly.
“You know, Adelaide. It’s strange. This kid looks more like me than you.”
“Um… Well, that can’t really be the case, Anne… Even though you were engaged to Charles… but, well… I’m the one who gave birth to her, you know?”
“Why are you so startled, you fool? I was just saying.”
Adelaide stammered in confusion, and Princess Edwina responded with a broad smile. The three of us looked at each other and burst into laughter. Meeting old friends so easily brought us happiness.
Adelaide told us that Charles Wellesley was working hard alongside Vallea and Aldar to stop the emperor’s madness and asked us to hang on just a little longer. She promised to find a way to get Princess Edwina out before the war ended.
Many had disregarded Adelaide in the past because of her gentle nature, but she truly was someone who suited the throne well.
She always cared for others, feared causing harm, and put her heart into everything. Because of that, we trusted her words. So, with that, our tiny flicker of hope grew into a great fire, burning so high it seemed to reach the sky, until the time came for Adelaide to bid us farewell.
While the haughty Princess Cecile, full of curiosity, was busy questioning the maids about life in Reutlingen, she approached Princess Edwina.
“I’ve heard that you are also a princess like me. It was a pleasure meeting you today.”
We all struggled to suppress our laughter at the sight of young Cecile already trying to use formal court manners, though she was still quite clumsy at it. But unlike us, Princess Edwina greeted her with a serious expression. She then asked,
“Princess Cecile, would you be my friend? I rather like you.”
Princess Cecile rolled her big eyes once and stared at Edwina for a while. But our princess wasn’t one to back down in a staring contest. After a while, Princess Cecile spoke.
“Very well, but on one condition.”
“Already laying down terms? You’re truly fit to be a queen. Alright, what’s your condition?”
“Play with me for a while.”
Her expression was so endearing that even Princess Edwina seemed to be holding back her laughter. Biting her lip to stifle a smile, she opened her mouth and replied,
“Alright, Cecile. I’ll play with you for a while. Come here.”
It was then that I realized how well Princess Edwina could handle children. Despite her small frame, she lifted and played with the tall four-year-old Cecile. They wandered off to one side, looking as though they were seriously discussing state matters, exchanging secret whispers with solemn faces.
Judging by the glint of something shiny, it seemed our soft-hearted princess had gifted Princess Cecile a trinket of some sort.
After a long while, it was our Princess Edwina, of course, who grew tired. By that time, we were lucky if we managed to eat one meal a day. Exhausted, our princess looked at Cecile and admitted defeat.
“Cecile, you know what? You should become a king.”
“That’s obvious.”
“When your father dies, you should become king. Even if more sons are born, or more princesses, you should declare that you’ll be king. You’ve got the eyes of someone meant to be a king.”
“Alright. I’ll do as you say.”
Little Princess Cecile seemed pleased with the idea, nodding her head with a satisfied smile.
Before leaving, Adelaide hugged Princess Edwina and me one last time. None of us could have foreseen that the teenage friends we once were would now be facing such different fates in our twenties. It was only then that my eyes filled with tears. But Princess Edwina, as always, spoke with dry eyes, devoid of any moisture.
“If you cry again, I really won’t be your friend anymore, alright?”
With that, she smiled, and our meeting came to an end. From that point on, we simply waited for the day Adelaide and Charles Wellesley would come to rescue us. There was more laughter in the annex, and the sounds of pain grew quieter.
It seemed the war was really about to end, as the palace had not held a ball for some time. A gloomy and uneasy atmosphere filled the court, and Prince Reiner had not been seen for over two months.
On the final day, we were woken not by dawn, but by the smell of smoke. One of the early-rising servants climbed to the roof and saw that the western part of the palace was on fire in the distance.
And then, for the first time in a long while, the creaky doors of the annex slowly opened, and we heard the staggering, uneven footsteps.
Yes, it was Prince Reiner.
But he carried no bread, no meat, no sack of potatoes. Instead, his wrist wavered under the weight of two strange bracelets, three strands intertwined into one.
“Edwina. It’s tomorrow. Let’s try again tomorrow.”
———= Author’s Postscript ———=
Dear readers,
If you’ve read this far and found it boring, the story gets better from the next chapter (!!)
I’ve turned a bit into a snake oil salesman during my break.
…Though I suppose I’ve always been this way…
While I’m at it, I’ll shamelessly ask for some recommendations and preview the next chapter.
If you’re curious about what Reiner means by “tomorrow,” hit the recommendation button and check out the next chapter!
P.S. To all those keeping up with the continuous updates, I love you…
<– –>
(4/7)
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