The Prince Doesn't Cry From Mere Onions

Carla had a talent in making merry in a frozen situation with the help of a little bit of alcohol, and the soldiers passed out after an average of two bottles per man.

Franz himself resisted by barely drinking—as if to intentionally stop himself from acting per Carla’s secret designs—but the problem lay not in him, but in the bespectacled soldier: Erich.

After downing half a bottle, he had exploded out with his complaints that he’d been suppressing in his heart until that moment.

“I’m so tired. Sir Franz, too, was so cool when I saw him from afar, but serving him up close is all a huge mess! Do you know how many people have invaded the knights’ hall because of all the trouble he causes in high society? It’s to the point that they joke in Schleisen to follow the woman holding handmade cookies or the one with an axe in her hand if you want to find Sir Franz! Just what in the world is this….”

His drunken grumbles continued endlessly. The tears flowing out from behind his glasses were an added touch.

Franz spent all his energy calming Erich down, and after Erich fell asleep, he gulped down the honey wine Carla gave him with the air of defeat before he too passed out.

The time Carla succeeded in putting those five men to sleep in the restaurant was 2 AM.

That was also around the time her daughter, who’d gone off to deliver food to Bertram, returned.

While scampering home, Anna gave a jolt of surprise when she saw Carla.

“Mom, you’re not sleeping yet?”

“What kept you so long, hm?”

“Why, what time is it? Oh, oh wow. It was this late already? I had no idea!”

Awkward acting.

For the first time in a long while, Carla pulled her daughter in by the ear.

“Owowowow….”

“Did you sit beside him and plant the crops to feed him with? Huh?”

“All I did was ask him why he was being chased!”

Carla’s grip loosened.

That was something she had also been wanting to ask.

“What’d he say.”

“Apparently Mr. Bertram ran away from home to pay back all the debts he incurred during the war. But because he hasn’t returned for so long, he thinks his only surviving family member, his father’s younger brother, sent people after him.”

“What does this uncle of him do that he can send off the son of the duke as he pleases?”

“I wanted to know that, too, so I asked Mr. Bertram that it looks like it might turn out he’s some super higher-up noble.”

Nervous, Carla swallowed thickly.

“And what did he say?”

“He said he’s someone who finds no meaning in things like rank, so we should treat him normally.”

“Ha! That’s one convenient excuse. Looks like he has something to hide.”

“Mom!”

“Just how are we supposed to trust him when he doesn’t tell us anything. The folks in the village won’t help him out for long either. Tell Mr. Bertram he better figure out how to take care of himself alone from tomorrow on.”

“Buh….”

“Wait. My child, why are you looking dissatisfied…?”

As they crossed over into the house, Carla realized that her daughter’s cheeks were flushed red.

Was it because she’d run here? Or, don’t tell me….

Carla asked her daughter as she was throwing off her jacket.

“What do you think of that fool?”

“H-hmm?”

Due to her raised shirt, she could not see her daughter’s face, but the voice she heard from inside her clothes was definitely flustered from Carla’s question.

Carla stepped a menacing foot forward.

“How does my dear daughter think of that man? Hm?”

“As a worker who’s horribly hard to get through with words!”

“If you had a direct answer, why’d you get surprised earlier?”

“Because, mother dearest, you threw me such a random question when I was undressing. It’s ‘cause you’re always saying weird things that I get all conscious myself, you know! Are you scared I’ll go romancing along?”

She’d hit the nail on the head.

While Carla was rendered speechless, Anna shrugged into her shirt with a cackle.

“Looks like Mr. Bertram weighs pretty heavily on your mind, huh?”

“You be quiet. And stop giving me things to worry about! Or just pull in that Dieter fool and make a place for yourself. When I look over at their house, it always looks like Collie’s suffering because her child is far from mature, too.”

“So you’d rather see two immature kids married off to ruin their family? I’d say that’s about enough with such scary logic—go to sleep, mother.”

Concluding things with a joke, Anna returned to her room.

Perhaps because she had had a time herself dealing with Franz and co., Carla’s breath soon steadied as she fell asleep.

Listening to that rhythmic sound, Anna looked at her own face reflected on the window panes.

Her blush had mostly disappeared.

However, when she remembered what Bertram had said, had done, back up at the quarters, her face was inflamed once more.

“Did you say you would like to know me better because you do not know me yet.”

With those words, Bertram cautiously raised Anna’s two hands up in support. His gentle movements felt closer to a helping hand rather than an escort.

But the words Bertram said soon after was a wish of sorts that fell square into Anna’s heart.

“For some reason, the fact that my meaning to you has not been decided yet comes across as more encouraging than otherwise. I pray the hope that the weight in which we think of each other will one day become the same.”

Beyond clasped hands, Bertram’s mouth was firmly closed as always, but in Anna’s eyes, somehow, it had looked like a warm smile.

***

The people in this village had one unconditional behavioral principle.

Were you healthy?

Then work.

‘Holidays,’ or ‘inevitable days off,’ were customs that only city folk with their full bellies could enjoy!

Accordingly, Carla was in the middle of preparing Bertram’s share of onions and garlic she would make him chop that day as well before she remembered that he was in hiding.

‘The worker who does not work’ was a concept that simply could not exist.

Carla sighed.

‘Ugh, thanks to those things, I can’t even use the workers I do have! If it was up to me, I’d make them peel these onions themselves.’

“Um, excuse me, madam.”

One of the soldiers broke off Carla’s inner monologue.

“Going to wash up? The well is that way.”

“Thank you. But…”

“We can’t get you any heated water. Please use cold water.”

“No no! That’s not what I meant. I only wanted to ask, since you’re doing more work because of our unprecedented appearance, whether there’s anything for me to help you with.”

Carla’s eyes rounded into saucers.

She hadn’t seen an outsider whom she could communicate with and had an overflowing conscience in so long that, transcending delight, she felt rather discomposed.