IBWHK 60

~Chapter 60~

Ramon was a competent administrator.

He quickly rented out a high-end inn overlooking the harbor. At first, he tried to reserve the entire building, but even Ramon—oblivious as he was—could tell from the look in my eyes that the longer he haggled with the owner, the frostier my expression became.

So, he settled for renting out just the top floor.

In the end, my “retinue” was nothing more than myself, Baron Comte, and Gareth—one of the Duke’s aides, who had been attached to me because apparently leaving the Baron alone with me would be “worrying.” Thus, my dignity was insulted once again.

Berry had stayed behind at the estate to care for Nero, who couldn’t handle long trips.

Hah. I thought I was going to die.

I shed my clothes like a molting snake and collapsed face-down onto the bed.

If I’d been forced to stand for even one more minute, my spine—already pushed to its limits—would surely have snapped.

Let’s just pretend I’m overseeing the road repairs and take this as a vacation until the inquisitors finally leave.

The gentle crash of waves and the squawking of seagulls drifted softly in from the harbor. For the first time in ages, I felt comfortable. At ease.

First, a long nap. Then a walk along the beach. Maybe poke around the shops and buy a few snacks.

A nice pen and some ink, too—maybe finally pick up the books I’d been meaning to read.

In my previous life, I’d never made it out to Bellamare. It was a major trading hub with foreign merchants, so there had to be plenty to see.

For once, it felt like I might actually get a real vacation.

I was now standing in the middle of a wasteland.

I had told Ramon to “take me to the market,” but somewhere, something had clearly gone awry.

Feeling uncharacteristically forgiving after a good night’s sleep, I asked, “I said I wanted to go to the market. So why are we standing in a field? Are my words really that hard to understand?”

“Well, this is the largest market in Bellamare…” Ramon offered.

Maybe I wasn’t fully awake yet.

Scratching my chin, I looked around again.

Empty stalls. Deserted roads. Not a single soul in sight. The air itself felt bleak.

Bellamare’s officials, reading my expression, fumbled for excuses.

“It’s, uh, because it’s winter! Yes, the market will look completely different when the weather warms up, you’ll see.”

“Funny, but it looks like this isn’t just a seasonal problem,” I shot back. “It looks like it’s been dead for a while.”

“The landslide! That’s right, there was a landslide that blocked the roads, and the aftermath’s just dragged on, that’s all.”

“You think? Isn’t this your job? You don’t even know the details…?”

I cut myself off mid-rebuke.

I’d come to Bellamare for a vacation. Technically, “road reconstruction” was my official excuse, but I had no intention of letting myself get roped into real work.

Ugh, there goes that bad habit again. Meddling in other people’s business. Stop. Just stop.

I forced myself to ignore the creeping sense of unease.

Scanning my surroundings, I spotted a stall selling snacks. The merchant greeted me with practiced cheer.

“Well, the sun must be rising in the west tomorrow. A lady of such high birth, here in Bellamare?”

“Business doesn’t care about rank,” I replied.

“Well, all we really get through this port are minerals and foodstuffs. Ladies like yourself usually prefer Florence in the south. Are you sure you’re in the right place?”

“I’m grateful for the compliment, but even a free citizen like me can play the part of a noble with just this,” I replied, making a circle with my thumb and forefinger.

Nothing more universal than that gesture, and the word “free citizen” seemed to flip a switch in the merchant’s demeanor.

“Well now, you must be well off. Forgive me—I was blinded by your dazzling beauty, my lady! Hah!”

“Hear it all the time.”

Definitely a good call to keep my identity hidden.

Elaborate formalities were nothing but a pain, and if anything happened to me—a “duchess”—it’d be the Lombard family’s reputation on the line.

So I posed as a freeborn merchant, with my companions as staff.

“Well, let’s see what you can do,” I said.

“Anything you want, my lady!”

I scanned the stall’s offerings: plump herring skewers, thick-cut cod skewers, salmon glistening with oil, sardine skewers, and… more sardine skewers.

All fish. Nothing but fish.

“No meat? Nothing else?”

The merchant looked at me as if I were mad. “Madam, the whole world here is fish. What else do you expect?”

“Every other port I’ve passed through has all sorts of food.”

“You must not be from around here. Up north, food is scarce. Even if something makes it in, it’s hard to store, and, well, people can’t always afford it anyway.”

I felt myself beginning to regret this.

Back home in the mountain interior, I’d barely seen fish. Once I started working as an official, I’d occasionally encountered it at formal dinners, but the smell always put me off.

Still, it’s a new body. Maybe my tastes have changed.

Without thinking, I took the merchant’s recommendation—a sardine skewer—and took a bite.

And proceeded to empty out the entire contents of my stomach onto the marketplace cobbles.

The servants following me went into full emergency mode.

I’d barely taken a bite before I was doubled over, retching. At first, they suspected poisoning and nearly dragged the stall owner off to jail.

But when I managed to choke out a description of breakfast, Gareth, the Duke’s aide, simply tasted the same skewer himself.

“Horribly, overwhelmingly fishy,” he declared.

And that was that.

The merchant’s pride was wounded—though the financial compensation softened the blow.

A carrier hawk from Gareth arrived with his usual punctuality.

Edwin unfastened the leather strip from its leg and tossed it a scrap of meat.

“Is there a problem, my lord?” asked Bertolt, the head valet, quick to notice his master’s tightening jaw.

Edwin’s gaze was fixed on the letter.

“It seems the Lady has fainted.”

“What? Why would Her Ladyship—?”

He answered by simply placing the letter on the desk.

The local physician’s note detailed that Elicia, already exhausted from travel, had collapsed after eating something that didn’t agree with her. There was also a list of prescribed medicines.

“Summon her personal physician. I want him to review this prescription.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Bertolt moved efficiently, as befitted the head servant of a great house.

Before long, Gilbert arrived, looking haggard after days of tending to the inquisitors.

“The Lady has fainted?”

“I need you to check this prescription.”

“Damn it, I knew I should’ve gone west with her, but those inquisitors—” Gilbert grumbled, but his eyes were already scanning the note and the medication list.

The Duke asked, “Any chance of poisoning?”

“You can rest easy there. If it were some deadly toxin that acted instantly, Sir Gareth wouldn’t have survived a taste either.”

“Good.”

“And the medicine is fine—just common tonics to restore her strength. There are a few things I’d add, though.”

“Write them down.”

Gilbert dipped a pen in ink and jotted down a new prescription. It wasn’t really proper to use a lord’s desk for this, but as a commoner, Gilbert was oblivious to such rules.

Edwin, as usual, let it slide when it came to his wife or her favorites.

Bertolt looked as if he wanted to intervene, but in the end, he let it go.

“Would you consider going to Bellamare yourself?”

“I’d like nothing more, but my orders from the Lady come first. She told me to see to the inquisitors’ recovery, and I can’t ignore her command.”

The prescription finished, Edwin handed it to Bertolt, who left quietly to deliver it.

“So,” the Duke said, “how are the inquisitors doing?”

Gilbert hesitated, clearly unsure how to phrase his answer.

“To be honest, my lord… I’m starting to wonder if they’re really human. The speed at which they’re recovering is hard to believe.”