Chapter 15

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 15

Chapter Title: The Coachman's Mischief

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15화

Neril's eyes widened for a moment before she nodded resolutely.

"Let me see if I'll fall for my own scheme. No matter how you try to play this, you won't be able to target Your Highness."

"Here it is, Your Highness."

There was a small side door on the wall of the warehouse at Baldina Royal Palace's western training ground.

"It's a tunnel the squad members dug when they snuck out on excursions. It connects straight to the city."

They said even the royal family was unaware of this passage, hand-dug by Royal Guard members exhausted from grueling training while confined to the palace.

For a tunnel excavated without proper tools, it was remarkably well-kept, and Medea could sense the fervor of those former guards.

At the tunnel's end, an ordinary four-wheeled carriage awaited the two women.

"Neril, you finally made it. I figured you'd dug a fresh tunnel or something—what's this?"

The young coachman, idly flicking his horsewhip, shot Neril a playful grin.

His round eyes swiftly took in Medea standing behind her.

"Hello, Your Highness."

"Tom, show Her Highness proper respect."

"Eh, cut me some slack. Can't teach an old dog new tricks, you know."

Neril issued a frosty warning to the freckled youth's chipper greeting.

"My apologies, Your Highness. I warned him ahead of time."

"It's fine. Hello."

Medea returned the greeting with refined poise, and Tom faltered briefly before nodding.

'An archer.'

She could tell from his seated posture and the callused grip on his whip.

He had to be a disciple of the former Royal Guard Captain.

'He doesn't like me.'

Medea read the veiled resentment in the coachman's gaze.

He probably thought his smile masked it perfectly, but that flicker of emotion hadn't escaped her.

With rumors of the foolish princess everywhere, no doubt the coachman saw her the same way.

'Still, this is mild enough.'

Compared to the insidious disdain and contempt from her past life, it was practically endearing.

"Hyah! Hyah!"

The carriage lurched into motion with a rattle, stirring up a cloud of gritty dust.

Her hunch about the coachman proved spot-on.

"Your Highness, grab hold of me here."

The ride started smooth enough, but grew rougher the farther they strayed from the city center.

Once they hit the unpaved road, the carriage jolted relentlessly—whether it couldn't or simply wouldn't go easy.

"Hyah! Hyah!"

Excited cries urged the horses on. The wheels looked ready to bounce clean off.

"That bastard..."

Neril bit her lip, steadied Medea, and clenched her fist tight.

"I'll have a word with him."

"You're sure this leads to your master?"

"Yes. But still..."

"Then it's fine."

Medea leaned back with a listless expression.

The coachman's petty sabotage and the ground's relentless shaking didn't faze her.

'They must think I'm some princess who's never dirtied her feet in mud.'

But in her previous life, tagging along on Jason's expeditions, moments of comfort were rare enough to count on one hand.

Demonic beasts bursting from shattered earth was routine; terrain this uneven let her catch a decent nap.

Medea parted the curtain.

"Dust will get in and make a mess."

"It's fine."

Medea kept her eyes fixed outside.

The carriage passed beyond the royal castle.

'No cooking fires anywhere.'

A barren, windswept plain dotted with ramshackle huts on the verge of collapse.

'This is the truth. The real Baldina.'

The reality the Regent Duke desperately wanted to shield from her eyes.

Nothing like the pristine splendor inside the castle walls. This was Baldina after a decade of war.

'Even victory didn't make it easy.'

With Peleus away, the Regent Duke's influence had ballooned. Rebellions erupted in waves.

And the kingdom's sole princess, lost in luxury and revelry, ended up captured by rebels—a stain on the royal name.

Yet her brother never once held her at fault.

'Peleus, I won't let it end that way this time.'

About then, Tom's shout rang out from outside.

"Hyah! Almost there. See it? That's Sir Giliphos's estate."

A red-brick mansion appeared far off through the window.

But tiny specks like ants swarmed around it.

'What are those?'

Only after cresting the hill and turning onto the road did the crowd's nature come into focus.

"Retired soldiers and their families. They've been piling up as the war drags on."

Tom explained loud enough for Medea to catch every word.

Most had lost their hometowns to fire or bore wounds too grave to trek home, leaving them adrift near the capital.

"Fought for the kingdom and wound up like that—heh, no hero's welcome, not even a foot in the castle before getting booted."

His heh-heh chuckle sharpened at the end.

"Master couldn't turn a blind eye to their plight and took them in. Now the estate's packed, so he can't shoo them off—just feeds them out front like this."

"......"

"Hyaa~"

After barreling along like a madman till now, he abruptly slowed to a crawl.

It happened as the carriage passed the cluster of veterans.

A jolt rocked them, and the carriage listed sharply.

"Oops. Wheel popped off! Oof, busted again here?"

A cheery voice sounded, followed by Tom's grinning face at the window.

"What now? Gotta patch this wheel. Won't take long!"

"You..."

Neril rose, face set like stone, ready to step out.

"Gonna rough me up? Hey, can't fix a busted wheel on the spot. I'm no mage."

His smug mug vanished.

"Forgive us, Your Highness."

"It's fine."

Medea's expression remained tranquil.

Meanwhile, the carriage's sudden halt drew eyes from the roadside.

"Who's that? Who're they here for?"

"Visiting the marquis? Been a while since anyone came down from the castle."

A gruff retort cut in.

"Whoever, what business of ours? Keep your grub from spilling. Think the crown gives a damn if we starve?"

Cold and hunger had frayed their tempers raw.

The endless war had drained the treasury dry.

Corvée and taxes only climbed, crushing shoulders already bowed.

Baldina, hunkered in the harsh north, had never brimmed with plenty.

"We're scraping by, but up in that palace? Banquets every night, they say. Wine flowing like water, tables heaped with meat."

"Whoa. One bite of meat'd last me a week."

"Meat's just the start. That cursed princess? Draped in jewels clinking everywhere she goes."

Royal lineages might blur, but everyone knew the princess.

"Those gems—sucked straight from our veins, right? Greedy bloodsucker. Royal parasite!"

Voices rose in a chorus.

They railed against the princess, lost to extravagance while the king obsessed over war and the people suffered.

The veterans' ragged tents hugged the road—not far from the carriage at all.

Their furious barbs carried crystal clear.

Medea heard the raw vitriol aimed straight at her.

'Making sure I hear it, are they.'

She saw through Tom—or perhaps Marquis Giliphos's—game.

"Your Highness..."

Neril fidgeted, at a loss.

Then came a countervoice.

"Hey now, zip it if you don't know. The princess draped in clinking jewels? Come off it."

"Huh?"

"You lot behind on the gossip? What went down with the princess in the palace?"