Chapter 4: The Princess’s Test

“In other words...” The man’s voice trailed off as he lifted his wine cup in one hand, a mocking gleam in his eyes.

Hersche was a small mining town with a highway running through its center, making it a hub for travelers. Although laughter was booming from one of its inns, this place was only a half a day’s ride from Mt. Urma where revolts were taking place.

The man’s voice carried its usual teasing tone as he explained himself. “I was hunting some prey and followed its trail here. And what do I find? You, my dear bookworm. I decided to keep an eye on you, figuring something was going on.” His slightly wavy hair was the same black color as his eyes, and there was something wild and unrestrained about his demeanor.

His true identity was not something we could publicly reveal. Which made me wonder, why was someone like him even here in Sauslind?

Despite the man’s explanation, the person beside me remained tense. Their eyes were ever wary as they pinned him with a glare.

The man’s lips peeled back in an amused grin. “You’re sending a chill down my spine. And after all I did to save you guys in your hour of need.” He spoke airily as his gaze wandered, looking for support. It landed on me, Elianna Bernstein. As chance would have it, I also couldn’t reveal my true identity or my gender.

~.~.~.~

As we stepped out of the carriage, a strong blast of wind and snow forced me to squint. We were on a mountain path, one leading to the town at the foot of Mt. Urma. If the buildup of snow along the roads here was any indication, the place didn’t see much traffic. But despite this, hoofprints were scattered everywhere, and the stench of blood hung thick all around us.

Moments ago, our assailants had corned our carriage and demanded we step out. With no other recourse, I ventured out into the snow. Lord Alan and Mabel were leading the way, blocking the enemy’s view of me.

The armed escorts who accompanied us were nowhere to be seen. Instead, about ten men on horseback surrounded our carriage. The masks on their faces made it impossible to identify them, but it was obvious what they’d come for.

“You’re Elianna Bernstein,” remarked a man with a gaze sharp enough to pierce right through me. He had been locked in battle only a few short minutes ago, and like his comrades, he continued to radiate bloodlust. He carried a sword in one hand, coated in thick, red liquid.

I stiffened, fisting both of my hands. That blood belonged to Grandpa Teddy and the other Black Wing Knights who’d been guarding us. Up until we stepped out of the carriage, fear had been pumping through me, leaving my lungs tight and restricted. Yet now an eerie calm settled over me. I placed my hands on the shoulders of the two trying to protect me and stepped past them, putting myself face-to-face with the intimidating man on his horse.

“Yes, I am Elianna Bernstein, the fiancée of Sauslind’s crown prince. I know you are here because of me, but I won’t allow you to harm me so easily. State now what your master hopes to gain by killing me.”

“Hah.” His lips quirked beneath the mask as mocking laughter trickled out. “Oh, you’re not going to cry and beg for your life? You’re going to give orders instead? Gutsy. But I would expect no less from the country’s next crown princess.” The man sneered at me, his animosity unabating. “But you must not understand the situation you’re in. You’re just a sheltered, ignorant noble girl. If you’re going to die anyway, it won’t do you any good to know the truth.”

The man whipped his sword through the empty air in an attempt to intimidate us. The way his eyes gleamed made me gulp. Puffs of white colored the air around us as the horses inhaled and exhaled.

Lord Alan and Mabel scrambled toward me, trying to intercept our attacker. But before they could, he spurred his horse forward and lifted his weapon, intending to cut me down without mercy.

A short sword came whizzing out of nowhere, piercing through the man’s arm. I let out a shuddering breath, and in the same instant, Mabel stifled a scream. Our assailants whipped their heads around in confusion. More blades came crashing through the air, twinkling as the light caught them. I didn’t have the luxury of seeing whether they hit their mark, though, because someone suddenly grabbed me.

“M’lady!”

“Jean,” I gasped.

“Hurry, while we have a chance!” Apparently, in the confusion, he’d disconnected the horses from our carriage. But as we made our way toward them, one of our attackers escaped the rain of daggers to block our path.

The atmosphere around Jean shifted instantly as a sword came racing toward us. He reached into his coat pocket, but before he could do anything, a horse raced past us. The rider cut down our enemy.

Another gust of snow whipped across my face, but I still got a glimpse of our rescuer. His hair was as black as midnight, his body light and agile. His eyes housed a feral gleam, but they didn’t survey us as mockingly as they had when we first met; he hadn’t the luxury of patronizing us when he was too busy glaring.

“Come, Bibliophile Princess!” He leaned down and wrapped an arm around me, scooping me up.

“Lady Elianna!” Mabel cried.

Jean and Lord Alan shouted after us, but they were no less surprised than our assailants by this development.

“After them!”

The rain of daggers had ended. Our enemies, who had sustained only minor scratches, now turned their bloodlust back toward us.

I peeked over the shoulder of my savior. Someone I assumed to be our ally was facing off our attackers by themselves. Lord Alan managed to wrangle a horse that had lost its rider, scrambling up into the saddle before pulling up Mabel as well. Jean also managed to locate a mount for himself, bringing up the rear. Behind them were three shadows locked in battle with our pursuers.

“Those are...” I mumbled.

“You’ll bite your tongue. Keep your mouth shut.” That line made him sound more like a kidnapper than my savior.

His body wrapped around mine, blocking out the blizzard surging around us. I peered up into his dark eyes. There was something foreign and mysterious about him.

His lips curled in a mocking grin. “If you get assassinated by some random, bloodthirsty hooligans, my country will take the blame. It’ll trigger all out war. I’d like to avoid that, Bibliophile Princess.”

He was Maldura’s prince, Irvin Orlanza.

We took remote, narrow paths as we weaved our way through the mountains, trying to throw off any pursuers. Even as the minutes turned into hours, we didn’t stop. Not until even I, as a novice, was sure they’d lost our trail. The sun had already ducked over the horizon by that point, and the chill of night began to envelop us.

There were six of us spread out on four horses. Prince Irvin and I took the lead, checking the road ahead. Lord Alan rode beside us, occasionally helping navigate. Mabel sat behind him, her concern for me unwavering. At our heels was Prince Irvin’s servant, who was intent on protecting his master’s back. Jean acted as our rearguard.

We were all on edge, anxious to put some distance between ourselves and our pursuers. No one spoke more than a few words as we wound our way through the wilderness. Right as apprehension, exhaustion, and the chilly night air were starting to take a serious toll, Prince Irvin guided us to a tiny village. The people there were openly wary of us, but after negotiating with them, Prince Irvin managed to secure a room for Mabel and myself. The boys spent the night in a barn.

There wasn’t any time for me to ask Prince Irvin questions, and moreover, I didn’t even have the strength to speak. I sank onto the bed beside Mabel, heavy with exhaustion, and fell deep into sleep.

The next morning, Mabel woke well before me and cobbled together some clothes to help disguise me. For some reason, she was dressing me up as a male attendant-in-training. She put my hair in braids and neatly gathered them on top of my head, wrapping a cloth around my scalp. The style resembled something I had read about in foreign books, but the concept wasn’t altogether foreign since the region was cold and people often covered their heads here. Although its main purpose was to serve as a disguise, I welcomed the warmth it provided.

Once finished, Mabel briefly explained that I needed to hide my identity since I was being targeted. General Bakula had mentioned it as well, but someone was leaking my information. So long as the culprit was still at large, we would need to keep up this charade, especially since we were still in unsafe territory.

I could hardly refuse when they were the ones protecting and looking after me. And so, I nodded. Mabel would continue to dress as a woman, and I would play the role of El, her male apprentice. Part of the reason she wasn’t disguising herself was because her feminine figure was more conspicuous than my own.

She’s also probably preparing herself for the worst case scenario—intending to take my place should our pursuers catch up with us.

I clenched my fists.

By the time the late winter sun began its ascent, we were back on the road. I was riding with Prince Irvin today as well.

As the snow crunched beneath our horse’s feet, I peered over my shoulder at him. “Um...” It was about time to start asking my questions.

Prince Irvin was tearing out bites from a clump of hard bread. Despite how dry it was, he had no issues swallowing it down before he spoke. “This is no time to worry about how ill-mannered it is to eat on horseback. Just accept it. Consider it a chance to experience something new.”

“Okay...” As I glanced between the chunk of bread and the hard block of cheese he handed me, I remembered I hadn’t eaten since breakfast the day before. I took small bites as my body rocked back and forth atop the horse—an experience I’d certainly never had before.

Lord Alan rode beside us, Mabel sitting behind him once again. She glanced over at me and said, “Lady Elianna, I’m afraid water is the only drink we have, but would you like some?”

I wanted to politely turn her down, but I was too busy struggling to swallow down the dry bread.

Prince Irvin’s tone was light as he replied, “You’ll rouse suspicion if you talk to him that politely, and you’d better not use his real name when we’re in town.”

Mabel glared at him, lips thinning. Lord Alan had already explained to her Prince Irvin’s true identity, and that he wasn’t an enemy (at least for the moment). She was only more suspicious once she knew he was a Malduran Prince.

When we were first deciding who would ride with whom, Mabel had protested, claiming I should be riding alongside my manservant or Lord Alan. Jean and Prince Irvin’s servant disagreed, insisting it would be easier to protect the two of us if we were together. They had a point; it would cause an international scandal if something were to happen to either of us. Especially since Prince Irvin was a Malduran prince and we were already in a politically precarious situation in Sauslind.

Speaking of which...

I started gulping down chunks of bread, trying to hurry through breakfast so I could finally get to the question I’d been wanting to ask.

Mabel quipped, “I fully intend to be careful around other people, but I appreciate the input of our ‘foreign bodyguard-for-hire.’” She put special emphasis on those last few words, taking a dig at Prince Irvin’s disguise.

Despite not being able to see his reaction since he was sitting immediately behind me, I could still sense his amusement.

Before the two could trade barbs any further, a voice cut in. “Enough with the quibbling. I’d thank you both to finish your food quickly. Once we get onto the highway, we’ll be speeding up.” Rei, Prince Irvin’s servant, also had his hair wrapped in fabric and hidden away. The way he spoke was firm and uncompromising, as if he wouldn’t forgive a delay in our schedule.

Like Prince Irvin, Rei was in his early twenties. For a man, he had beautiful features and a slender figure, but the hideous number of freckles scattered across his face ruined his otherwise captivating appearance. Even the villager who’d lent their room to us pitied Rei so much they went out of their way to suggest a local tonic.

Rei had looked genuinely guilty after the exchange, mumbling to himself, “I never imagined anyone would take my disguise that seriously.”

Lord Alan chuckled, bringing my attention back to the current conversation. “I guess even Maldura has people like Alex.”

Another voice chimed in from behind, heavy with sorrow. “This is the first time in a while since servin’ the young miss that I’ve had to eat something so boring and bland. The last time I ate like this was to clear out my stomach after eating that concoction the miss and her older brother made.”

As the sky began to darken after a long day’s journey, we at last arrived at our original destination, a small hub town near Mt. Urma called Hersche.

I wanted to make haste and stop the revolts where they were happening as quickly as possible so we could redirect our efforts to looking after the infected. At the same time, I wondered what happened to Grandpa Teddy, the Black Wing Knights, and the others we left behind in the second carriage.

There was so much weighing on my mind. Yet at the moment, all I could do was hide my true identity. To make matters worse, I had neither medicine nor supplies, and there were no doctors knowledgeable about illness alongside me. There was a limit to what we could do even if we did make our way to where the revolts were taking place. Although I was sheltered and ignorant of the world, I wasn’t so naive as to believe my title as the prince’s betrothed would be enough to bring relief to the people.

When the Ashen Nightmare spread before, it brought with it an abundance of misinformation that still remained deeply entrenched. It was even worse when coupled with people’s baseless prejudices. If that wasn’t abundantly clear to me already, it soon would be.

When we reached the inn, a sense of relief hit me. We at least had a roof over our heads. The main room was comparatively warm, accompanied by the inviting scent of fresh food. It was a bit cramped inside, but the rooms were neatly maintained and the beds were clean. It was also reassuring to see how normal life was for the residents and merchants here, despite how gloomy and anxious the outside world was.

Exhausted from the day’s ride, we washed our hands and gathered for dinner. That was when the trouble began.

A couple of handicraft merchants were fussing over their seven- or eight-year-old child, whose cough alarmed the other patrons at the inn.

“Hey,” someone whispered. “Are you sure that kid doesn’t have the Ashen Nightmare?”

The atmosphere in the room abruptly shifted. People’s faces colored with fear and apprehension as they distanced themselves from the child. Underlying that was a strong desire for self-preservation, which often encouraged people to shrink away or even consider eliminating the source of danger—in this case, the infected.

I stepped forward to intervene before things got violent.

“Please wait a moment.” I hurried over to the couple and knelt next to the coughing child, inspecting them. I requested some boiled water from a person I assumed worked at the inn and then turned to the mother. Before I could inquire as to when the coughing symptoms first appeared, the child started vomiting.

Muted shrieks and gasps rang out around the room.

There was talk that the bodily fluids of an infected person were the physical manifestation of the disease. I’d heard about that before, and in a sense, they weren’t entirely wrong.

“It’s all right,” I cooed as I took the child in my arms, stroking their back as they continued hacking and heaving.

Even their own parents had pulled away instinctively when they heard someone mention the words “Ashen Nightmare.” Their expressions were mixed with apprehension, guilt, and love. They wanted to comfort their child but were afraid.

I recognized those emotions and nodded, keeping my voice calm and low as I repeated, “It’s all right.”

Once the child had finished retching, I pressed my hand to their forehead to check for a fever and turned back to the other patrons. “I think it’s a simple cold, but we need to clean the area since they vomited. Please get me some alcohol, quickly. I believe this region has some particularly strong distilled liquor which will do the job. We should also quarantine the inn so people can’t enter or leave for the day, and boil as much water as we can.”

“For a whole day?!”

“‘As much water as we can’? It’s winter! Our resources are kinda limited here!”

While sounds of protest erupted around me, I remained composed. “Disinfecting an area with alcohol is something doctors commonly do as well. If we’re diligent and careful, the disease won’t spread. Besides, there’s no guarantee this child even has the Ashen Nightmare. If you can’t prepare enough water to boil, then you should have steam baths at least, yes? Ralshen has adopted them from Norn, I believe. That should be easy to prepare since you have so many mines in this area from which to draw heat stones. If you don’t have the supplies to boil a dozen pots of water, then we can use the steam bath to circulate steam through the building instead.”

I was wracking my brain for the best steps to take given our circumstances and relaying those instructions to everyone one by one.

“The plague is just like the normal cold in that it thrives in the winter when the air is dry. It’s known to recede and weaken during summer because the disease is weak to heat and humidity. Research has shown as much. Many of you tend to take steam baths when you start getting cold-like symptoms, yes?”

The child in my arms was slumped and heaving, as if each breath was more painful than the last. The urgency of their condition was not lost on me, but I had to keep my words measured lest we botch the first few crucial measures to ensure no spread occurred.

One of the patrons asked, “Are you a doctor or something?” Their tone was understandably skeptical; I was dressed as a mere boy, an attendant-in-training.

“No, but—”

“Throw them out!” someone’s strangled cry interrupted.

I flinched in surprise, and a chorus of agreement rang out as others joined in, directing their hostility toward the child and me.

“Yeah, throw them all out!”

The couple swallowed hard, clinging to each other. Even the rasping child in my arms began sobbing. I squeezed them close, gaze fixed on those jeering at us. What I saw was not anger and hatred but a deep-seated terror.

“You’re fine with that even if it means you all might be infected?” I asked. My voice was still partially drowned out by their shouting, but at least one of them heard me and paled. My lips thinned. They were only condemning us out of fear.

Sixteen years ago when the Ashen Nightmare first broke out, the government recommended inns and eateries implement sinks at the front entrance of their establishments. They believed that by having people wash their hands and rinse out their mouths, they could prevent the spread of the disease. High-class restaurants, inns, and even noblemen’s estates in the capital and surrounding regions were all equipped with these. However, I had seen for myself during this journey that the same could not be said of where human traffic was the strongest; businesses lining the highways not only didn’t have sinks at their entrances, they often didn’t even understand their necessity.

“The Ashen Nightmare does spread from one person to another, but the primary source of transmission is oral, according to researchers. Some of you have already finished your meals, haven’t you? You’re just as likely to have been infected, then.” While I did feel guilty for spreading fear without proof, I kept my voice level and continued, “You catch this the same as any cold. If we take the appropriate measures now, we can significantly decrease the chances of it spreading. I’m not a doctor, however I have learned a great deal about the Ashen Nightmare. Please listen to me and take preventative care.”

Murmurs erupted as they glanced among themselves.

Mabel slipped through the crowd with Jean hot on her heels. At Mabel’s order, the latter was carrying a bucket of boiled water and a number of rags.

“Out of the way,” she barked, more commanding than I’d ever heard her before. As soon as she navigated her way through the spectators, she hurried on over to me and got to work.

Lord Alan soon joined us, carrying some liquor with him. A man, who I could only assume was the innkeeper, followed close behind him, frazzled and dismayed. “Ah, hold on there, that’s my finest brew!”

“Don’t worry, my good man, I’ll be sure to work it off later.” Lord Alan poured a copious amount of alcohol on a clean rag, prompting the innkeeper to blanch and clutch at his chest.

While I felt guilty for making so many demands, there was still more that needed to be done.

“Innkeep,” I said, “you told us about your steam baths when we first arrived. Have some heat stones carried in there and create as much steam as you can to fumigate the inn.”

“B-But the steam bath fee...”

Mabel turned her sharp, unrelenting glare on him. “Which is more important to you, your life or your money?”

“Personally, I think they’re both quite important,” Lord Alan chimed in jovially, smiling at the child in my arms as they gargled and cleaned their mouth. “You must be frightened. Sorry you have to go through this. Everyone here is just scared of the sickness spreading.” His tone was warm and soothing.

Mabel, meanwhile, turned her icy gaze on the patrons who were standing around staring at us. “Innkeep, considering the possibility of disease spreading in here, perhaps it might be best if you drove out the guests idly standing around.”

Several men jumped the moment they heard that and scrambled. “Sorry, old man, but it’s an emergency,” they said as they hurried to the steam bath.

“Can’t we just circulate some air through here?” one of them asked me before they went.

“Unfortunately, no. That won’t help,” I said, shaking my head. I was thankful that at least for the moment they were choosing to put their faith in me.

On the off chance that this really was the Ashen Nightmare, I asked the innkeeper to send for a real doctor, but he shook his head.

“We don’t have any doctors here. They all headed for Mt. Urma to help with the outbreak there.” He sighed. “What is the regional lord even doing to help out right now?” There was a hint of resignation in his voice. It was a sharp reminder that Sauslind’s government was partially responsible for the suffering of the people here—and by extension, that meant I was as well.

Without any doctors or herbalists in the area, I suspected it might be difficult to find what I was looking for, but since this village was close to the mines, I decided to take my chances and ask.

“Does anyone here have any Kenneth’s Herb?”

“Kenneth’s Herb?” the people echoed, mystified by my question.

The merchant couple behind me looked similarly puzzled as Mabel approached and handed off the child to the mother after having thoroughly cleaned them up.

As I suspected, information about the herb hasn’t made its way to the people out here.

Vexed by this development, I chewed on my lip, combing my memories for any other herbs that might be effective in prevention or treatment.

“Wait,” said a voice. I almost didn’t hear them over the rest of the clamor as people moved around the busied hall. But when I followed the sound, I spotted a child with chestnut-colored hair at the edge of the crowd.