FJ 35

Chapter: 35

4. The Cradle of the Red King

Near Robel Station, where Juliet got off, there were many inns that doubled as restaurants and taverns.

Most of them were similar in quality—dining halls on the first floor, guest rooms on the second.

Young children clung to travelers, calling out to lure them inside, but Juliet had clear conditions in mind. Because of that, she chose her lodging carefully, walking around tirelessly until she finally found a suitable place.

Found it.

A little distance from the station, in the shopping district, there was a building that combined an inn and a butcher shop.

Carrying her luggage, Juliet entered the butcher shop first.

Jingle.

“Wel—come.”

The butcher, who had been trimming meat, looked up and spotted Juliet as she opened the door.

After a brief glance over her simple appearance—travel bag in hand and nothing else—the owner spoke politely.

“Miss, the inn entrance is on the side.”

Since the butcher shop and the inn shared a wall, customers often walked into the wrong door.

“My wife will guide you there. You can fill out the lodging register—”

“I’d like to order a meal and preserved rations first.”

Only then did the butcher wipe his hands on his apron and come over to the counter to take her order.

“I’ll need a large amount of premium jerky.”

“That won’t be a problem.”

Many travelers bought food for their journeys, and although premium jerky was expensive, it was excellent emergency rations. Business at the butcher shop was good because of that.

Juliet ordered a week’s worth of supplies. Up to that point, nothing seemed strange.

“And for the meal, I need raw meat. Uncooked. A lot of it.”

The butcher froze, lifting his head to stare at her again. That was definitely strange.

Juliet continued calmly.

“The fresher, the better.”

Her request was peculiar—meat that hadn’t been cooked at all, still dripping with blood.

And not just a little. She asked for an amount that looked like it could be half a cow.

The stoic-looking owner kept glancing at her as he wrote the figures on the bill, clearly debating whether to speak. In the end, he seemed to gather his courage.

“Do you… perhaps have companions traveling with you?”

“No.”

“…Then you intend to eat all of this yourself? That’s quite a lot.”

Behind her veil, Juliet smiled faintly.

In truth, he probably wanted to comment on the bizarre taste of someone ordering so much freshly slaughtered raw meat. He’d simply chosen a polite way to ask.

But she had no idea what kind of excuse he’d believe.

Without thinking too deeply, Juliet placed silver coins on the counter and replied casually,

“I’m pregnant.”

“Pregnancy can make people crave strange things, can’t it? Half a cow’s worth isn’t impossible, I suppose.”

“Ah… is that so?”

Downstairs, as they prepared Juliet’s unusual order, the innkeeper and his wife seemed to reach that conclusion.

Juliet rented a private room so the butterflies could eat freely without attracting attention.

The couple followed her requests faithfully.

They not only brought thick cuts of freshly butchered meat but also several large knives.

Plates completely covered the large table in the private room.

Juliet’s own portion, however, was just a small plate holding an ordinary sandwich.

“You can eat now.”

The moment permission was given, the butterflies burst out joyfully.

It had been a long time since their last meal. In the blink of an eye, they devoured everything, not leaving a single drop of blood behind.

While the butterflies ate, Juliet spread a map across the table.

“This is Robel.”

She’d run into some trouble along the way, but in the end, Juliet had safely arrived in Robel.

Robel was a small city, but it sat at an important crossroads.

Argenta. Milos. Kanahan.

Roads connected Robel to three of the eastern region’s major cities, and from here, one could easily catch a stagecoach straight to any of them.

First, I need to evade pursuit.

That was why she’d gotten off at Robel.

The Eye of Argos currently in Lenox Carlisle’s possession was a second-grade holy relic.

To break a tracking spell, she would need a holy relic of the same grade—or a higher one.

Or I could receive consecration directly from a high-ranking priest.

That would place a kind of protective blessing over her, preventing the relic from detecting her.

“Wasn’t there a Grand Temple in Argenta?”

Juliet fiddled with the dove-shaped brooch resting on the map as she thought.

Where should she go?

Argenta, the closest city, had a massive Grand Temple.

Kanahan, the farthest commercial city, housed the largest auction house.

And Milos… Milos was where the Library was.

Going to Argenta for consecration would be the fastest and easiest solution, but meeting a priest of the Grand Temple would cost a great deal of money…

Juliet weighed the funds she had on hand.

She had enough for travel, but with butterflies that constantly complained of hunger, she couldn’t afford to spend carelessly.

And paying a large sum to the temple for a single consecration felt wasteful, too.

<Annoying?>

“…Huh?”

Startled by the sudden voice, Juliet looked up.

The butterflies, who had been folding and unfolding their wings contentedly after eating, fluttered over to her.

<Contract. Us. Annoying?>

What were they talking about all of a sudden?

When Juliet didn’t respond right away, the butterflies spoke again, their voices oddly hesitant.

<Sorry.>

Juliet tilted her head.

“For what?”

<We. Keep. Hungry.>

<Sorry.>

Only then did Juliet understand. She smiled gently.

“It’s okay.”

Thinking back, it had always been this way—both in her first life and in this one.

Juliet had always had chances to live a different life, to choose a different path.

Seven years ago, instead of staying by Lenox Carlisle’s side after avenging her parents, she could have forgotten everything and lived an ordinary life.

But even knowing her feelings would never be returned, Juliet stayed by the duke’s side. Even knowing revenge wouldn’t change anything, she still stained her hands with blood.

It was because she had been unbearably lonely her entire life.

Her parents. The child she never got to hold.

The people she loved had all left her far too easily.

Juliet always chose the path that made her just a little less lonely.

And even now, she found comfort in the fact that she wasn’t alone.

Having decided on her destination, Juliet left the inn early the next morning.

The streets at dawn were quiet, littered only with passed-out drunks.

The stagecoach stop should be that way.

As Juliet turned the corner onto the main road, she immediately found herself in trouble.

“Miss! Where are you headed?”

There were many children energetically soliciting customers in front of the station.

“Do you need lodging?”

“Come to our inn!”

Surrounded in an instant, Juliet hesitated, worried her bag might be snatched right from her hands.

“No, I—”

Bang.

Suddenly, the door of a tavern beside her flew open, and a young man reeking of alcohol stumbled out.

Wrinkled clothes. Red hair.

“Damn it…”

Still half-asleep, the man scowled the moment he saw the crowd of kids.

“Hey! Get out of the way.”

He shoved the children aside with rough pushes and staggered forward.

The kids hurled curses after him, but the man ignored them completely and kept walking.

Thanks to him, Juliet was able to escape the crowd.

Wow.

She followed after the long-striding man, stealing glances at him.

He really stands out.

Unlike Juliet, who dressed plainly to avoid attention, the tall man drew eyes wherever he went.

His appearance was striking enough to make passersby look twice.

His red hair was a tangled mess, and his clothes were rumpled—but to Juliet, who was familiar with men’s clothing, they were clearly of very high quality.

Despite his delinquent-looking air, he carried a fine longsword.

What is he?

There was a massive casino in a nearby city. Maybe he was an addict who frequented it—or the wayward heir of some wealthy family…

“…?”

After following him for a while, Juliet noticed something odd.

He was heading toward the stagecoach stop.

Don’t tell me…

From that moment, she felt a bad premonition. And Juliet’s instincts were usually right.

“Miss! Are you heading to Milos?”

The coachman called out to Juliet, who stood alone at the stop—but she glanced first at the red-haired man climbing into the carriage ahead of her.

Of all things, the destination was the same.

With a sigh, Juliet followed the suspicious man into the stagecoach, which soon departed.

She had expected more passengers, but the large carriage held only the two of them.

She later learned there were two kinds of coaches bound for Milos.

Most travelers used the newer models—but Juliet had unknowingly followed the man onto an old-fashioned one.

In any case, it was Juliet’s first time riding a stagecoach, so she had no way of telling old from new.

The rattling carriage was nothing like the refined vehicles used by noble families.

Inside, there were only two long wooden planks facing each other for seats. Naturally, there were no backrests.

Fortunately, the man sprawled out on the opposite bench and fell asleep the moment they departed.

There was nothing for Juliet to do during the two-hour journey.

The young man’s hair was a deep red, almost the color of blood.

He had a slightly rough air but a handsome face. Did he have a habit of sleeping anywhere he pleased?

His eyes slanted upward like a cat’s, and silver piercings lined his eyebrows and ears, making him look even more dangerous.

He really likes standing out, huh.

Thanks to him sleeping, Juliet comfortably removed her veil and found herself idly studying him.

She had nothing else to do.

“What brings you to Milos?”

After some time, the coachman suddenly spoke from the driver’s seat.

“To meet someone.”

Juliet answered vaguely.

The friendly coachman went on chatting, mentioning that he himself was from Milos, launching into stories no one had asked for.

“In the eastern region, there’s no place safer than Milos. After all, it’s His Highness’s hometown.”

The familiar honorific made Juliet flinch.

“‘His Highness’…?”

There were five ducal houses in the Empire, but only one duke was addressed with a royal title.

The Duke of the North, who ruled an autonomous territory.

But of course, the “His Highness” the coachman referred to meant a different king altogether.

“You didn’t know? Lionel Levatan—the Red King, His Highness.”