The Flower Dances and the Wind Sings

57.

“So, what did my dear sister ask you to do?” Caron’s voice seemed indifferent, but on the inside, he was not.

Ercella usually only asked for occasional small favors. But this time it felt different. Caron felt a subtle sense of discomfort that he had never felt before.

Dale knelt down and began to report what he had heard, “She asked me to search for the name of a disease.”

“Name of a disease?” Caron’s eyebrows rose. He had assumed that it might be related to war, but Dale’s report was completely out of line with his predictions.

“Yes, I’m not a doctor, so I don’t know exactly, but it wasn’t a disease I was aware of. Perhaps it would be better to ask a doctor, however...”

“However?”

“She ordered me to search for it. I think it’s only right for me to search for it in foreign countries such as Conrad, Lenart, and Ludelshia.”

“That’s a pretty wide range.”

“The Duchess agreed to pay for the search.”

The words irritated Caron.

“Did she stake Sannar?”

“Not the fief, but ten years’ worth of its income.”

In any case, it was not much different from what he had expected. In order to cover the expenses, Ercella would have had to use Sannar. Caron had given it to her to do as she pleased with it, so he had no intention of getting involved in how she used the fief.

However, he was worried because he didn’t know what the disease was and whether it was worth so much money. From his point of view, it was not valid.

“What’s the disease?”

“I don’t...know. She asked me to find it.”

“Oh, right.”

His sister’s eccentricity must have momentarily paralyzed his thinking to make such a mistake. Caron put his palm on his forehead. “What are the symptoms?”

“To put it simply, the disease is said to cause mortality due to persistent chest pain.”

“What else?”

Looking at Caron’s expression, the explanation must have been too simple. Dale added awkwardly, “Well, the unusual thing is that the blood quickly dries up when it comes into contact with air.”

The more he heard of it, the more strange it was. Caron frowned. Suddenly Dale exclaimed, as if he had remembered something, “Oh! There’s vomiting blood, too.”

“Blood?”

“Yes, that’s the usual symptoms.”

“The usual. My first sister suffered from it, as well.”

“Her Majesty, the Queen?” Dale tilted his head at the news he had never heard.

“Yes, she’d throw up blood. Had the fact that she vomited blood during pregnancy became known, I feared that rumors would spread that the prince might have abnormalities, so I blocked them.”

“...”

“It doesn’t matter if it’s known now,” Caron muttered bitterly. Dale lowered his gaze solemnly.

“Do you miss her... a lot?”

“It’s been less than a year since her death.”

That was a roundabout answer. Dale didn’t ask any more questions.

Queen Eshahilde was pregnant four times and miscarried three times. Frequent miscarriages weakened her body, leading the doctors to express concern about possible abnormalities during her last pregnancy. Perhaps, the Queen was also preparing her heart. And in the end, she met her death due to difficult childbirth.

That day, Dale hurried up to the capital after receiving a telegram that the queen had passed away. A day when the skies were weeping. Arriving after the Queen’s funeral, Dale saw a man standing lifeless in the heavy rain that day. It was a breathtaking moment. He had never seen such a profound sense of loss in his life. It was the first time in his life that he had ever seen his noble lord shed tears.

‘...’

The sound of constantly repeated whispers echoed akin to a broken person. The Marchioness, who stood afar, watched him quietly. The rain pitter-pattered through the whole world, yet everything seemed stagnant.

The silence was shattered when Caron collapsed. When she found out Dale was there, the Marchioness smiled solemnly at him.

‘Take him...to the bedroom.’

From that day on, Caron seemed to have become indifferent. He did not show any sorrow, nor did he appear to have lost his soul. He looked surprisingly the same as usual. Like now.

“What are you looking at?”

“...Nothing.” Dale evaded Caron’s gaze, who asked in a dull manner. Caron had an insipid expression.

“Isn’t the Coming-of-Age Party of Young Lady Garten in six days?”

An untimely question. Dale was puzzled, yet replied obediently, “Yes. Coincidentally, it’s also the same day Duke Garten returns.”

“He’s late.”

“Obviously. Doesn’t he like to put on airs? He must have been late receiving bribes from his men living in Conrad.”

“Hm.”

“But why do you ask that? Are you...planning to attend it?”

“Why, am I not allowed to?”

“Um...”

“Yes?”

Adora had a question.

“The Duchess said I was your first lady-in-waiting...”

“And?”

“May I ask why you never had one before?”

A lady’s lady-in-waiting would likewise be a noblewoman, so married women would select some of their relatives and the children of their family to have them as their ladies-in-waiting. It was an honor for an unmarried young woman to become a lady-in-waiting for a noble lady. The more esteemed the person she served, the more honored she was. This meant that their social status was also elevated.

In a country without a queen, a princess, or a grand duchess, Duchess Bernhardt was considered the highest woman in the country. There was also Duchess Garten, but her house was far below Visaride’s. The woman in front of her was, in fact, without a doubt, nobler than anyone else.

For a woman of her stature, many girls would want to be her lady-in-waiting. So, why didn’t she have one? And why did she accept her as a lady-in-waiting?

“I was wondering why you hesitated so much, was that it?”

She asked carefully, wondering if there was any story behind it, but the Duchess’ calmness puzzled Adora.

“...I’m just curious. Most ladies have their relatives as their ladies-in-waiting.”

“I’m afraid to keep people around.”

“Sorry?”

“I’m afraid they’ll leave me. That’s why I didn’t have any.”

For a person who loves people and always attends parties, what does it mean to be afraid of having people beside her?

The Duchess said nothing more about it. Adora didn’t bother to pry either. Instead, she asked another question, “Then why did you make me your lady-in-waiting?”

Was it because of the circumstances that my mother said? The Duchess smiled. It was a smile as transparent as morning dew on dry leaves.

“Just because.”

A silly answer. It’s not much different from saying she did it on the spur of the moment. Perhaps, she wasn’t honest because she didn’t trust her yet. Indeed, why would the Duchess trust and be honest about herself with her? It’s only been four days since they met.

“May I comb your hair?” Adora suggested as the silence grew.

“Would you?” The Duchess turned around in spite of herself. Adora brought a comb from the dressing table and began combing her hair. The comb ran through the hair creating small streaks, like strands of golden thread, as soft as it looked without being entangled in the middle.

“It’s my first time. Am I doing a good job?”

“You’re doing fine.”

“That’s a relief.”

Actually, it seemed that the brush had even scratched the Duchess’s scalp... but when she said so, Adora decided to bury this secret. She was now getting a hang of it when Ercella asked, “Is Lafern good?”

“Yes, it’s a nice place. My mother doesn’t like it, though.”

“Isn’t it out of town? There’s no village nearby.”

“Huh? There is a village an hour’s drive away.”

“Really? I guessed so.”

“Yes, there aren’t many residents, but it is lively due to its high population density. But how do you know that? Have you ever been there?”

“I went there once in the early days of its establishment. I don’t know if you know, but my mother was a princess of Ludelsia. A Ludelsian-based theology school was being established in Grania, how could a Ludelsian royal not go? It was a formal ceremony, so I went to commemorate its establishment.”

It was a well-known fact among all aristocrats in this country that the Marchioness of Visaride was the Eighth Princess of Ludelsia. The news was quite the scandal at that time.

The royal family of Ludelsia was said to have inherited the blood of goddess Ludelsia, the goddess of creation, and so did they believed themselves. They were so tightknit that they mainly engaged in incestuous marriage to prevent their noble bloodline from being passed on to outsiders. A noble princess from such a country had married in Grania, of course, it would cause a stir.

The specific reason for this union was not known, but opinions were usually divided into two:

One was that, since Ludelsia is a country that prioritizes matriarchal succession, the 8th Princess Beatrice, who was then the first heir to the throne, fled to Grania to escape from her half-brother, the current king,

and the other being, a romantic story in which the previous Marquis Visaride, who was sent as an envoy to Ludelsia, and Princess Beatrice, fell in love at first sight and got married.

“Was it when I was five? I suppose so. There was only one building in the field, what would a child be interested in it? I can’t remember much because it was so long ago, but I guess I was bored, so I wandered around alone while my mother was distracted. Fortunately, they said that thanks to a kind person, my mother was able to find me.”

“Goodness! You must have been very surprised because it was a remote area at that time.”

“I guess. She has always said that her heart always trembles whenever she thinks about that day. She’d nag me about it even after I got married. Whenever she’d look at me, she’d say, ‘At the very least you didn’t get lost while gadding about by yourself and worrying everyone around you.’”

“The Marchioness said that you were gadding about?”

“Whew, she’s glad that I at least didn’t get lost? She’s such a nag!” The Duchess waved her hands and shook her head. In response, her neatly draped blond hair fluttered in waves looking ethereal, like the embodiment of light.

Adora inadvertently thought that the Duchess felt out of place here. What am I thinking? No other woman was more worthy of the exalted Bernhardt name than her. A needless thought.

“The moon is bright,” Adora murmured, looking at the moon stretching outside the window.

“It seems it’s a dark night.”

Came a mysterious reply.

* * *

Harsen !

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