YWPWYLFDM 51

Chapter 51

The captain approached the cheerful short-haired woman and offered his thanks.

“Truly, thank you. You saved our lives.”

“Oh, it was nothing. We’re all traders out here—it’s only right to help one another. Besides, if it weren’t for that young lady, I wouldn’t be alive right now.”

Scratching the back of her head in embarrassment, she spoke humbly.

It wasn’t entirely untrue that Aila had saved her, but if the woman hadn’t volunteered to help this ship in the first place, there wouldn’t have been such danger at all.

Still, their conversation didn’t last long. A thin, frail-looking man stumbled over from her ship, flailing as he called out to her.

“Natalia, my dear! Are you all right? You’re not hurt, are you?”

With his long brown hair neatly tied back in a single knot, he rushed to her side, fussing as he checked her up and down for injuries.

“Wh-what are you doing here? I told you to stay inside the cabin where it’s safe.”

“But I was so worried about you, Natalia…”

Watching the scene unfold, Aila couldn’t help but feel a little warmth spread in her chest.

That was when Cloud whispered in her ear.

“Miss, it’s time we went below.”

“…You’re right.”

In truth, Aila had no reason to remain here. No—more accurately, she should not remain here.

Exposing herself to this Natalia woman and her crew, whose identities were unknown, was a risk Cloud would never allow.

So, quietly, she followed him back down to the cabin.

After Aila returned to her quarters, the ship—stilled for some time—resumed its journey. Natalia and her companions seemed to have returned to their own vessel.

With that brief incident behind them, life aboard settled back into routine, and the ship pressed on toward the Kingdom of Inselkopf.

A few days later, deep in the night—

Just as secretly as they had boarded, they slipped away under the cover of darkness.

Climbing down a rope ladder into a small boat, they were greeted politely by a man sent by Count Senosfon.

“The count’s carriage is waiting along the coast. Please, this way.”

Byron, pale and hollow-faced from relentless seasickness, only managed a weary nod, lacking the strength to reply. The small boat set off toward shore.

Soon, solid ground came into view. Escorted by Cloud, Aila disembarked and glanced around at the darkened surroundings.

So this is the Kingdom of Inselkopf.

It was her first time stepping foot on foreign soil. She should have felt a deep sense of awe, but under the pitch-black night sky, she couldn’t tell much difference from the Empire of Pelles.

Following their guide, they climbed over rugged rocks until a shabby wagon came into sight.

“…You expect us to ride in that?”

Byron, who had seemed too exhausted to complain, regained his usual temper once his feet were on solid land.

To think they would be made to ride in such a ragged vehicle—his pride was clearly wounded, and his displeasure showed plainly.

“I—I beg your pardon. We had to avoid inspections at the gate…”

The count’s agent bowed his head apologetically. Byron climbed aboard with an expression that said he would overlook it this once.

The wagon had a double structure: their seating area was separated from the cargo space by a thin wooden partition. The cargo side was piled high with carrots, pumpkins, and other vegetables, clattering whenever the wheels bumped along.

After some time, the wagon slowed to a stop. Voices filtered in from outside.

“Where are you rushing off to at this hour?”

“Ah, provisions for the Senosfon household. They’re urgently needed this morning. Here, the papers.”

It was a checkpoint at the city gate. Papers rustled, followed by the weary voice of a guard.

“Looks fine. Move along.”

They passed through quickly.

Even if the guards had peeked inside, all they would have seen was a mountain of vegetables. And since the documents were flawless, there was no need for further inspection.

If only there had been a window, Aila might have glimpsed this foreign land. Instead, she was stuck in the narrow, stifling compartment with nothing to look at but her unwanted companions.

After a long ride, the wagon finally arrived at their destination: Count Senosfon’s estate.

Stepping down, Aila drew in the crisp night air in relief. At last, she felt alive again.

“Welcome, my lord. I have long awaited the day we would meet.”

As Byron descended, scowling, a middle-aged man with bright blond hair greeted him warmly.

“I am Ernest Senosfon.”

Like the people they had encountered aboard the ship, the count’s skin was dark, and his eyes gleamed a vivid emerald green.

He extended his hand deferentially, but Byron only glanced down coldly at the gesture.

“…Are you mocking me?”

With a sneer, Byron lifted his empty right sleeve. Realizing his blunder, Count Senosfon’s face blanched. He hastily withdrew his right hand and offered the left instead.

“N-no! Of course not. My deepest apologies.”

Byron, still sour-faced, reluctantly clasped the count’s left hand.

“This here is my only son. Gerald, come greet our guest.”

The count introduced his son, who looked very much like a younger copy of himself.

Without his father’s hardened features, Gerald had a rather handsome face.

Perhaps unaware of who the guests truly were, Gerald gave only a half-hearted greeting and tried to slip away, leaving his father stricken with embarrassment after his earlier mistake.

“…Gerald, we’ll discuss this later,” the count ground out through clenched teeth.

But Gerald wasn’t listening. His gaze was fixed on Aila, who stood quietly with a composed air.

He stared at her as though entranced—not only because she was of similar age, but because her striking beauty left a strong impression.

“And those companions over there…?”

Sensing his son’s wandering attention, the count looked to Byron, waiting for an introduction.

Since they didn’t know how long they would be staying, Byron couldn’t simply ignore the matter. Resting his hand lightly on Aila’s shoulder, he answered.

“My daughter.”

“Ah, of course! No wonder the young lady is so graceful and refined—she takes after you, my lord.”

Count Senosfon nearly tripped over himself in flattery, while Gerald continued to stare at Aila, unable to tear his eyes away.

Even as they were led toward the annex prepared for them, Gerald’s gaze lingered on her the entire way.

The annex provided by Count Senosfon was surprisingly splendid.

Of course, it couldn’t compare to the imperial palace of Pelles or the ducal manor of Weisshafen, but after the crumbling fortresses, bandit hideouts, and ruins they had used as shelters until now, this was paradise.

Aila herself was pleased with her new room. She had been given a chamber on the second floor, with a window overlooking the garden—a beautiful sight.

Across the narrow hall, Lady Laura and her daughter had their quarters, so she wouldn’t be entirely free, but it was still far better than anything she had known in hiding.

While the weary travelers finally rested, Count Senosfon was busy scolding his son.

“Gerald! What was that behavior earlier? He is an important guest—do not give offense. Be polite. As polite as possible, understand?”

To the count, Byron was a guest of the highest importance.

Already, his own position within Inselkopf had weakened, and he bitterly regretted supporting the wrong claimant in the succession struggle—one who had fallen from the king’s favor.

What had started as a small measure of “insurance” by quietly aiding Byron might now be his one and only lifeline, should the rebellion succeed.

Thus, it was crucial to remain in Byron’s good graces. And yet his only son had barely greeted him, showing obvious indifference. The count was beside himself.

Why do you think I’m groveling like this? It’s all so you can live in comfort one day! And you don’t even realize…

He pounded his chest in frustration.

But Gerald, too, had his complaints.

He hadn’t been told the guest’s name, nor who he really was. How was he to recognize a “distinguished guest” in a weary, travel-worn man like Byron?

Of course, the count had kept his mouth shut; he had no intention of telling his sixteen-year-old son that he was involved in another nation’s rebellion.

Still, Gerald only sulked, lips jutting out.

It would have been enough for him to simply say, “I’ll be more careful from now on.” But instead he stayed silent, and the count grew all the more exasperated.

Then suddenly, an idea struck him. Gripping his son’s shoulders firmly, he said:

“Gerald, listen well. You must win that girl’s favor, understand? The young lady from the annex—Byron’s daughter.”

If she was indeed Byron’s child, then she could one day become a princess of the Empire. And since she wasn’t much older than Gerald, she would make a perfect bride.