[V14C9] The Worst Flower Field

The potato was very hot, even through her gloves. Bridget didn’t know if she should hold it in her fingertips or rest it on her palm, but she ended up alternating between the two because it was too hot to hold.

Henrik pulled over a small round stool and offered it to her, so Bridget gratefully accepted and took a seat.

The rough wooden stool had no backrest and wobbled when she sat on it, but just being able to sit brought a strange sense of relief.

Henrik also sat down, and after peeling the potato with practiced hands, he promptly bit into it.

(Does he not find it hot…?)

Henrik huffed a bit because of the heat, but he eventually swallowed it with glee.

Though this was not very good table manners, his blissful expression somehow reminded her of the family dog.

“Man,” Henrik murmured. “Salt really makes a difference…”

“…”

Seeing the awkward stare from Bridget, Henrik smiled sheepishly as he peeled the rest of his potato.

“Ah, sorry. Salt is pretty expensive around here… The price has gotten more stable recently, but we sometimes didn’t have any back when I was a kid…”

“I’ve heard that the price of salt stabilized due to Emperor Leonhart’s economic policies and the resulting influx of merchants.”

“Yeah. A lot of people were monopolizing the rarer goods under the previous emperor.”

Bridget came from the western part of Ridill, relatively close to the sea, and they had a modestly-sized port.

There were no salt pans, but they never had trouble getting salt. In fact, there were many types of salt available, so they often used different ones depending on the dish.

In comparison, Valmbelk had no access to the sea. The western border of the Empire was entirely land. Only certain regions in the north, east, and southeast had coastline.

In other words, Valmbelk and the western part of the Empire was very far inland.

“According to the doctors,” Henrik continued. “People die if they don’t get enough salt. Even aside from that, salt is essential for long-term food preservation… Not being able to produce preserved food within your domain is pretty fatal.”

He talked about matters of life and death so casually during a meal.

Bridget would have grimaced if this was a formal party at the royal palace.

(Death is just that close to them here…)

Now that the potato in her hand had finally cooled down, Bridget took a small bite.

To tell the truth, she would’ve liked a fork, but she felt she should follow Henrik’s example here.

This was her first time eating a potato. The fluffy texture turned out to be similar to roasted pumpkin. She had imagined an earthy taste, like eating dirt, but the flavor was simple and enjoyable.

The only problem was that it dried her throat more than bread.

As she nibbled at the potato, Henrik offered her a cup. She expected it to contain water or wine, but it turned out to be beer.

It must have come from one of the large barrels lined up on the wall with a tap for dispensing.

“…Thank you.”

Bridget had never liked beer, and as expected, the unique bitterness didn’t appeal to her at all. But she had to admit, it did go well with the potato.

To think she would be eating potatoes and drinking beer in the kitchen of a dilapidated old castle. This would be unthinkable for Bridget back when she was attending Serendia Academy.

“Ah, I feel alive again.”

Henrik let out a satisfied sigh while rubbing his thin belly. Though Bridget had only eaten about a third of her potato, Henrik had already finished his.

Bridget hastily began stuffing the rest of her potato into her mouth. After all, they did not have the luxury of time right now.

“Oh, um, don’t worry,” Henrik said. “We still have plenty of potatoes if you want seconds!”

Not even Bridget could stop her cheek from twitching. This man truly thought she was scarfing down the potato out of hunger.

She washed down the final bite with a swig of beer and set the empty cup on the table before replying.

“I’m quite full, thank you. It was delicious.”

“Oh, okay. You’re welcome…”

An awkward silence followed, so Bridget dabbed her mouth with a handkerchief and changed the subject.

“My hometown is in the western region of Ridill, by the sea.”

“Whoa! So you had access to all the salt and fish you could want!?”

This was the stereotypical response of people from land-locked regions.

“Well, there were no salt pans,” Bridget explained. “But we did have a great variety of salts. The fish was rather plentiful too.”

“Wait, there are types of salt? Salt is just salt, right? Oh wait, I think Frieda mentioned something about pink salt once… I wonder what they used to color it pink…”

Henrik suddenly cut off casual conversation and put on a stern expression. He brought a finger to his lips, gesturing for Bridget to remain silent.

Bridget went frozen stiff on her stool.

“Don’t move,” Henrik whispered, slipping a kitchen knife into the belt at his waist. Then, he quietly positioned himself next to the kitchen door, holding his fire poker at the ready.

They had both noticed the footsteps coming from the other side of the door. And if anyone were to open the door, Bridget would be sitting in plain sight, right in front of them.

She resisted her urge to hide, as she knew she could not move without making a noise. That was why Henrik instructed her to stay still.

The door slowly opened to reveal a soldier wearing a red uniform, who quickly noticed Bridget and looked her straight in the eyes.

Even knowing that this would happen, the moment of being discovered by an enemy still sent a chill down her spine.

The soldier tried to shout. But before he could emit any sound, Henrik jabbed the fire poker into the man’s throat.

The soldier gave a muffled grunt and staggered back. However, Henrik dragged him into the room and pushed him face-down against the floor. Then, he pressed the kitchen knife against the man’s throat.

“Ah, sorry. Could you close the door?”

It took Bridget a moment to realize Henrik was speaking to her.

She stood up on her trembling legs and quietly shut the door, doing her best to tiptoe.

“Thank you,” Henrik said, before lowering his voice as he whispered into the soldier’s ear. “Who do you work for?”

“…”

“Where are you holding the castle staff?”

“…”

Despite the knife at his throat, the soldier did not speak a word.

His facial expression made it clear that this was not due to a throat injury from Henrik’s attack. He was determined to avoid leaking information.

“Your loyalty is impressive. From that, I can tell how high your side’s morale is.”

Henrik struck the soldier’s temple with the fire poker, knocking him unconscious. Then, he used the apron hanging on a kitchen chair as a makeshift rope to bind and gag him.

Bridget secretly felt a bit relieved to see that Henrik chose not to kill the soldier.

“Getting him to talk will be tough,” Henrik muttered. “Well, I already have a good idea where the castle staff are being held, so we can start checking there.”

“I see. Should I arm myself as well?”

Bridget asked while glancing at the frying pan hanging on the wall, but Henrik shook his head.

“No, that’s probably not a good idea. It’s best to have your hands empty if you need to run.”

Henrik was essentially saying that there was no point in Bridget swinging around a frying pan. She would be useless in a fight, so she should focus on avoiding them instead.

And he was exactly right. The enemy soldiers looked like battle-hardened veterans, and their current objective was to find and kill Bridget as soon as possible.

“…Understood.”

The chaos of the situation had almost made her forget her real weapons. As a diplomat, those were her ears, her words, and her intellect.

Regardless, their brief respite was over.

Bridget stood up and followed Henrik, who was now armed with the sword taken from the soldier in addition to his kitchen knife.

＊　＊　＊

They left the kitchen and moved to a nearby storage room.

The place was crammed with old armor, helmets, and boxes stuffed with miscellaneous items, all covered in dust.

Henrik explained that there was a separate room for proper weaponry, but the enemy had likely secured it already.

“You mentioned you had a good idea where the castle staff is being held. Where exactly would that be?” Bridget asked.

“The storage rooms on the first floor are too cluttered to hold a large group of people. So if they wanted to confine the entire staff, they’d have to use the storage room on the second floor. But all the staircases to the second floor have probably been sealed off…”

As he said this, Henrik placed his hand on one of the storage room shelves.

“Hup!”

Henrik exerted his upper body strength, gradually shifting the shelf sideways. The wall behind it appeared normal at first glance, but it slid aside to reveal a narrow opening when he pressed his fingers against it.

The secret room was only big enough for a single person, but there was a ladder leading upward. This would be his route to the second floor.

“This passage is connected to the second-floor storage room. I’ll go up first. Please follow once I give the signal.”

“Understood.”

He seemed to be considering the possibility of enemies in the room above.

Henrik promptly climbed the ladder. Bridget tried to look up after him, but he had already disappeared into the darkness.

To be honest, Bridget felt rather anxious at being left behind by herself. Of course she would, as she was in a castle filled with people trying to kill her.

(But if I allow the fear to take me, I will lose the ability to think properly. I cannot let that happen.)

All she could do now was strain her ears so as not to miss the slightest sound or conversation.

She could hear nothing from the hallway on the first floor, but there was some muffled noise above her. Not the signal from Henrik.

(Something must have happened up there.)

Hopefully, Henrik had found the servants of Valmbelk Castle in the second-floor storage room, and was in the process of freeing them.

But if that were the case, why did Henrik not call for her immediately?

Bridget continued waiting, suppressing the fear gripping her chest and resisting the urge to check on Henrik.

She could not tell how much time had passed. It was probably not that long in reality, but it felt like an eternity to her.

“Sorry to keep you waiting. You can come up now.”

Hearing that voice, Bridget let out a sigh of relief.

The unfamiliar ladder gave her a bit of trouble, but she ascended carefully, making sure not to slip. Before long, she saw a faint light from above. Henrik was illuminating the passage with a candlestick.

Even such a small light was reassuring in the darkness.

She gave one final push to lift herself into the second floor, emerging from the floor at the corner of the storage room.

The relatively spacious room was packed with luggage brought by the Imperial envoy.

There was no sign of the captured castle staff, but two human figures could be seen on the far side of the luggage.

The first was a man in a red uniform, lying on the floor bound and gagged. He was likely an enemy soldier subdued by Henrik, just like the one he captured in the kitchen.

As for the second, there was a man in his forties straddling the bound soldier.

He wore round glasses and had loosely tied steel-gray hair. His clothes were fairly well tailored, so he was no soldier, but he didn’t look like a castle servant either.

And for some reason, he seemed incredibly irritated. The man had grabbed the bound soldier by the collar, shouting furiously with his face twisted in rage.

“How dare you insult my daughter like this… I’ll turn your chest hair into a field of flowers!!”

Hearing that, all of Bridget’s thoughts came to a screeching halt.

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