Chapter 51
At the western gate of the city, there was a ten-seater stagecoach that only traveled back and forth to Rogner Village. We walked all the way to the gate and boarded it there. It seemed that other passengers were also heading to the village for the street festival, because the carriage filled up quickly.
Once it passed through the city’s western gate and entered the main road, the tall stone walls of the capital grew smaller in the distance, and lush greenery began to surround us.
“It’s been a while since I went outside the city.”
“You should try going out more often on Sundays—meet some friends, relax.”
“I don’t have any friends in the city. My hometown is three stagecoach transfers away from here. It takes at least two days just to get there, so I rarely get to see my old friends.”
“Wow, that’s really far.”
“Yeah. If I could get a week off, I’d go visit—but until then, it’s impossible.”
As we chatted, I looked around at the other passengers. None of them seemed very different from us. Some were talking among their companions, while others held bundles—maybe selling something at the festival. Back in the palace, I was used to the arrogant gazes of nobles who thought too highly of themselves. But here, every pair of eyes held a different story, a different life.
For the first time in a while, I felt like I had regained the colors of life—vivid and varied, like a rainbow.
Our carriage suddenly slowed and came to a stop. We couldn’t have arrived already, so I tried to peek outside, but the carriage was enclosed by a white, dome-shaped canvas that blocked the view.
Oddly, I was the only one looking around in confusion. The others didn’t seem surprised at all, as if stopping here was expected. Seeing my puzzled expression, Nancy explained,
“There are patrol soldiers along the main road. Sometimes they conduct inspections around this area.”
“Ah…”
The imperial roads were built and maintained with imperial taxes, and patrols regularly passed through to ensure safety. That’s why everyone preferred traveling by stagecoach—because it always stayed on these secure routes.
We soon heard the clatter of horseshoes outside the white canvas.
“Inspection! Please remain seated.”
One of the patrolmen entered the carriage, looking over each passenger and checking their bags for suspicious items. Satisfied, he was about to leave—but suddenly turned toward me and Nancy. We were seated, so I could only see his chest plate.
“Where are you headed?”
“Huh? Oh—we’re going to Rogner Village.”
“You’re not out without permission, are you?”
What? Did the Crown Prince really send my sketch all the way to the patrols? I looked up nervously—and saw a familiar face.
“S–Sir Magnum! Oh… so this is where your patrol route is.”
“Yeah, this stretch is the busiest. I’d rather be out in the wild catching bandits than here—too many carriages, no time to rest. Anyway, going to the festival, are you?”
“Yes, with Nancy. And for the record, we have a legal travel pass.”
“Good. Otherwise, I’d have to arrest you on the spot.”
Nancy also bowed politely. “Thank you for helping us last time.”
He laughed lightly. “Then have fun out there.”
After that playful remark, he stepped back out. His brown patrol uniform gave him a different air from his usual navy knight attire. With the cap pulled low over his face, I almost didn’t recognize him.
The carriage started moving again, and as it pulled away, I saw Magnum waving from the back. We waved back, smiling.
When we finally arrived at the village, the earlier encounter was forgotten amid the excitement. Unlike the grand streets and ornate shops of the city, this village welcomed us with humble stalls, cozy buildings, and winding stone paths that felt warm and nostalgic.
“Since it’s in the mountains, the village feels really close to nature.”
“Right? I’ve thought about moving here myself. Fewer conveniences than the city, but it’s peaceful.”
We strolled around until we found a small plaza and sat down. It wasn’t large, but there was a big zelkova tree in the middle, with benches placed in a circle around it, shading us from the afternoon sun.
As I looked around, my eyes landed on a fruit stall selling cherries. Nancy noticed.
“Lady Shanael, would you like some cherries?”
“Yes—ah, I’ll go buy them!”
“No need. You helped me earlier, remember? Let me treat you.”
She came back with a small bag of cherries, and we shared them together. As we talked about our childhoods, I felt a quiet fullness inside, like something that had been missing for a long time was finally returning.
The fresh mountain breeze blew through the plaza, clearing my heart like a breath of spring air.
Ordinary days. Ordinary conversations. Ordinary people.
It was the simple, peaceful life I had missed so deeply.
While chatting with Nancy, I noticed a crowd gathering in one corner of the plaza.
“Nancy, what are they watching?”
“Not sure—I can’t see past the crowd. But since it’s mostly men… probably a shell game.”
“A shell game?”
“Yeah. You know—three upside-down cups, one has a marble, and you guess which one it’s under. People bet money on it.”
“Oh, that sounds fun! Let’s go watch!”
I grabbed Nancy’s hand and we squeezed through the crowd to see.
On a small white board sat three yellow cups. The man running the game lifted one to show a white marble underneath. A player placed one silver coin on the board, and the shell game host grinned.
“All right—let’s shuffle!”
At his words, every onlooker’s eyes focused on the cups. He moved them so quickly that it was impossible to follow; the white marble blended perfectly with the board’s color.
After a long shuffle, he lifted his hands.
“Now, make your choice.”
The man who had bet stared hard, blinking as if trying to wake from hypnosis, then hesitantly reached for a cup. His fingers trembled—clearly unsure.
But I had seen it clearly: the marble was under the middle cup.
After some hesitation, the man picked the same one I had in mind.
“This one!!”
Those who had guessed the same cheered in support. The player already looked pleased, expecting to double his silver.
The shell man said, “Let’s see then,” and lifted the middle cup—
—but the marble wasn’t there.
“Huh? Where’d it go?”
Nancy chuckled, unsurprised. When I asked what she meant, she leaned close and whispered,
“They flick the marble out when flipping the cup, then sneak it under another one later. Classic trick.”
So it was a scam. But the player didn’t realize—he just looked disappointed.
“How do you know all that?”
“My friend used to be a shell game hustler.”
A losing game from the start.
So that’s how they cheat.
Still, the host wasn’t greedy; sometimes he let people win small bets to keep them hooked.
Even knowing the trick, I couldn’t catch his movements—they were lightning-fast.
Then suddenly, a shrill whistle blew in the distance. The village watch! The crowd scattered in an instant.
The shell game hustler grabbed his board and cups, shoving them into a big bag as he fled with practiced ease.
“Raid! It’s a raid!” someone shouted.
In the Empire, all gambling outside licensed casinos was illegal, no matter how small. Nancy and I hurried back to our bench, pretending we hadn’t been watching.
The patrolman merely dispersed the people and walked off without making arrests. As soon as he turned into another alley, the same crowd trickled back—and before long, the hustler had set up again like nothing happened.
Nancy and I exchanged amused glances, then quietly stood and went to watch again.
“Ah, I should’ve stopped after one round. But he tricked me on the second—why?”
“He probably noticed us watching too closely. Still, you won back what you bet, so it’s fine.”
“It was fun anyway.”
“Lady Shanael, if we want to get back to the palace on time, we should have an early dinner. What would you like?”
“Nothing fancy—just cornbread and mashed potatoes. Something ordinary.”
“I understand. There’s a local diner only villagers go to—it’s all home-cooked food. Want to try it?”
“Yay! Let’s go!”
The village was small, so even the festival was modest—street musicians playing, puppet shows here and there. Simple, but heartwarming.
We followed a winding path up the hill and stopped in front of a sign with a bear face on it. If you weren’t from here, you’d never guess it was a restaurant—it was tucked deep inside a quiet alley.
