[V14C8] Let's Eat

Even after Margrave Valmbelk excused himself from the main hall, the banquet continued peacefully for the most part, though a hint of awkwardness remained.

Until they heard Patrick’s comment upon taking one sip of the wine.

In the Kingdom of Ridill, low-alcohol beverages like wine and ale were legal to drink starting at age sixteen. To be honest, Albert was not particularly fond of alcohol, but he made a habit of taking at least a sip of the wine, which was often served at the events he attended.

After picking out a wine for Albert, Patrick took a small sip and said…

“Albert-sama, you shouldn’t drink this.”

His usual drawn out tone was nowhere to be seen, and he quickly glanced at the nearby guards from Ridill. Sensing his intentions, the guards promptly gathered around Albert in a defensive formation.

Almost simultaneously, the sound of a shattered wineglass echoed through the room.

Birendahl, one of the high-ranking members from the Imperial side, fell to his knees amid shards of glass and spilled wine.

The others who drank the wine began collapsing to their knees in quick succession, each complaining of sudden discomfort.

“It’s poison! The wine is poisoned…!”

Birendahl shouted in a hoarse voice, with beads of sweat visible on his pale face.

Albert immediately scanned the room. People could be seen crouched and holding back their nausea. Both those from the Empire and those from Ridill were affected.

If this was an Imperial trap, then Albert should be their main target. On the other hand, if the culprit was a lone actor from Ridill, then their target should be the Imperial delegation.

But from what Albert could see, it looked like the poison was spread indiscriminately, with no consideration for who was affected. Moreover, it seemed to be a weak type of poison meant to immobilize them rather than kill.

Who had done this? And for what purpose? Albert arrived at a terrifying conclusion, right he saw the soldiers stationed under General Strauss draw their swords.

Despite several of his fellow countrymen collapsing to the ground, General Strauss stood tall.

“This room is now under our control,” he declared. “Anyone still able to move, come over here.”

The still kneeling Birendahl widened his eyes and started trembling violently.

“General Strauss! Have you gone mad!?”

“Indeed. I lost my sanity long ago, Lord Birendahl.”

His reply was eerily calm, making it all the more chilling.

The soldiers of Valmbelk Castle and those from Ridill drew their swords, ready to retaliate, but they were hopelessly outnumbered.

To make matters worse, Strauss’s men had already blocked off all the doors.

Ridill’s soldiers awaited orders from Albert. If he gave the command, they would fight until the end, no matter how slim their chances for victory.

(But I would be sending them to their deaths.)

In spite of the grim situation, Albert stood tall and gave the order to his men.

“All of you. Lay down your weapons and listen to General Strauss.”

Though many of the soldiers looked regretful, they obeyed Albert and discarded their weapons.

General Strauss changed his expression for once, turning to Albert with a slightly raised eyebrow.

“A wise decision… I had expected you to resist.”

Albert was almost overwhelmed by the fear to run and the fury at being looked down upon.

However, he stood his ground and swallowed both emotions, responding in a stern tone.

“I will not waste the lives of my men. More importantly, state your demands.”

General Strauss drew his sword, a well-polished blade that gleamed under the lights of the main hall. With a steady hand, he pointed the tip of the blade toward the floor of Valmbelk Castle.

“Acknowledge the establishment of a new nation on this land.”

＊　＊　＊

“I’m pretty sure General Strauss is behind everything, but well… I have no clue what he’s after.”

Henrik murmured his thoughts as they walked down the corridor, guided only by the faint glow of a single candle.

Suddenly, Bridget felt something brushing against her cheek. Dust, or perhaps a cobweb. She forcefully ignored the sensation by focusing on the conversation.

“You said that General Strauss invited you to join his bid for independence, yes?” She asked.

“Right, but… if you’re pushing for independence, you need a figurehead or a grand cause. General Strauss may be popular, but he’s not of imperial blood, or from any of the Four Great Houses, or connected to the Electors. He doesn’t even have a territory to rule.”

As Henrik said, General Strauss did not have a noble cause for declaring independence. This was why Henrik didn’t take the invitation seriously.

“Really, why would he plot a rebellion…?” Henrik muttered. “Oh, there’s a fork in the path here, so we’ll turn right.”

Bridget could not see any fork in the faint candlelight, but Henrik’s steps showed no hesitation. He must have the secret passages memorized perfectly.

“Please be careful from here on out, as the moss on the ground makes it slippery. You can place a hand on the wall to support yourself.”

“…Understood.”

Henrik was showing Bridget as much consideration as possible, so she must respond by not dragging him down… She reminded herself of this while brushing away the small bug crawling on her cheek.

(It’s fine. I can handle a few bugs. I still have my gloves on.)

Just as Henrik warned, the feeling underfoot shifted slightly as the moss appeared. She could even feel the mossy texture on the walls through her gloves.

Henrik turned around and asked a question while waiting for Bridget to catch up.

“I believe General Strauss intends to take Lord Birendahl and Prince Albert hostage, then demand independence from the Empire and the Kingdom of Ridill… Do you think King Ambrose would accept that?”

“He would never,” Bridget replied, quickening her pace.

“I expected as much,” Henrik said with a wry smile. “Our Emperor would never accept that either. In fact, he’d probably send a massive army to subjugate them…”

Bridget pondered this mystery. If General Strauss’s goal was rebellion, then why would he act during the visit of the Third Prince from a neighboring country?

Taking Albert hostage was, to be frank, an incredibly foolish move. Even if he succeeded in gaining independence, he would be making enemies with the Kingdom of Ridill.

She briefly considered the possibility of an insider on the Ridill side who wanted Albert dead. However, the idea was quickly dismissed.

(If it was the Second Prince getting caught up in this rebellion, I might suspect that His Majesty or Duke Crockford was trying to secretly eliminate him…)

The First Prince was set to become the next king, and the Second Prince had many enemies. However, Bridget could not think of anyone willing to take such a risky gamble to kill Albert.

(Perhaps a warmonger on the Ridill side is using General Strauss to provoke a war with the Empire? No, after Duke Crockford stepped down, no one in Ridill has the political power to call for war.)

In that case, General Strauss had little reason to put his plan into motion with Albert present.

“…Could it be that General Strauss needed to act right now for some reason?” Bridget muttered.

In contrast to her careful reasoning, Henrik responded in an incredibly casual tone.

“Oh right, there’s about to be a civil war in central Daguel. His Majesty diverted a bunch of troops over there, so this might be the perfect time for General Strauss to declare independence. Ah, I get it now… He wants to snatch Valmbelk and claim independence in the chaos of the civil war…”

Bridget had researched current events in the Empire beforehand, but this civil war in Daguel was news to her.

It must have been a very recent development, occurring during their travel to Valmbelk—and not something publicly announced.

(Come to think of it, when I dumped a task on that man, he said…)

The sorrowful face of the perfect prince crossed her mind, along with a few words:

—— “There’s something fishy going on in Daguel. Keep an eye on them.”

That infuriating man seemed to know about the civil war in Daguel, but he likely did not foresee General Strauss’s rebellion.

Still, the thought that he might have been able to predict the situation irritated her to no end.

Perhaps the annoyance was showing on her face, as Henrik timidly glanced back at her a few times before apologizing.

“Uh, I’m sorry if I’m slow to catch on… I’m ashamed to admit that I’m not very savvy with political matters…”

“Everything I’ve said is merely speculation. We won’t know the truth unless we hear it from the culprit’s mouth.”

Henrik smiled awkwardly and paused to place his hand on the wall. He moved his fingers around in search of something.

Once he found a small indentation with less moss, he pulled sideways and created a gap with a little light seeping through.

Henrik blew out the candle in his hand and turned to Bridget.

“This is the exit. It’s really narrow because of a design flaw… so, um, please do your best.”

Bridget went speechless upon seeing the narrow gap. It was just barely wide enough for a person to squeeze through sideways.

(…What did you plan on doing if I couldn’t fit?)

Thick shelves were lined up on both sides of the exit, and they had to squeeze between them to pass through.

The slender Henrik slipped through with ease.

On the other hand, Bridget had to awkwardly inch sideways, getting a certain portion of her body stuck multiple times before she managed to push herself out.

“…Hah…”

She let out a strained huff as he finally emerged from the shelves, examining the room as her eyes adjusted to the brightness.

There was a large hearth, a worktable, and many eating utensils. Apparently, they were in the kitchen, and the exit of the secret passage led to a gap between two utensil shelves.

(…Thank goodness there’s no mirror here.)

By now, she must be a mess, covered in dust and cobwebs. Her hair was disheveled and her makeup was ruined. She’d surely be tempted to fix herself up if she had access to a mirror.

Henrik, who had come out before her, was already rummaging through the utensils, holding a kitchen knife and muttering to himself.

“This will probably get stuck if I use it… Maybe a frying pan or a fireplace poker would be better…”

Bridget decided not to ask what exactly he was worried about getting stuck in, instead turning her gaze toward the kitchen door.

There was no sign of anyone in the kitchen or beyond the door. Just as their pursuers had said earlier, the castle’s staff must be gathered in a different room.

Suddenly, a rumbling sound came from behind. Bridget turned to see Henrik, who had been checking the frying pans, rubbing his stomach and scratching his cheek awkwardly.

The sound of his growling stomach rumbled again.

“Sorry…” Henrik apologized. “The truth is, I was so busy with all the preparations that I had to skip lunch…”

Considering how Henrik had left the banquet with Bridget almost as soon as it began, he likely didn’t eat anything there either.

The same applied to Bridget, so she was actually quite hungry herself. However, she knew how to suppress her hunger. A diplomatic secretary letting their stomach growl was simply unthinkable.

Henrik started looking for food, opening the lid of a pot on the counter. But they were all empty. All the food had probably been taken to the hall.

He slumped his shoulders for a moment, before suddenly lifting his head with a start and heading to the hearth.

“Of course, they should be around here… Found it!”

Henrik used a set of fire tongs to dig through the ashes of the hearth, then pulled out a blackened lump about the size of a fist, exclaiming in delight.

Bridget couldn’t help but ask.

“…What is that?”

“Just a potato. The servants do this all the time. After cooking, they toss a few potatoes into the remaining ashes for themselves. Ah, it’s hot.”

Henrik peeled off the charred skin and sprinkled a pinch of salt from a small jar, then offered it to Bridget.

“Here you go.”

“…”

Henrik held out the potato with such a natural, sincere smile.

But once he saw Bridget’s silent reaction, Henrik realized his mistake.

“S-Sorry. I just remembered that they don’t eat potatoes in Ridill. Uh, bread… we have some bread somewhere… I hope…”

He was always slow on the uptake, but his kindness lacked any sense of pretense or ulterior motive. Bridget could not help but think how strange he was.

Right before Henrik went into a full panic, Bridget reached out for the potato in his hand.

“I’ll take it.”

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