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Chapter : 30
When she first arrived at Wintergarden, the villagers grew curious at the sight of the royal carriage bearing the Olive crest that had suddenly appeared. They stopped what they were doing and stared as the carriage passed by. Then, as if recognizing someone familiar, they began to follow it with expressions of delight.
Finally, when the carriage stopped at Wintergarden, all eyes turned toward it, filled with anticipation. But when the doors opened and Emblin appeared, the villagers’ gaze immediately shifted behind her. The royal carriage, the beloved Wintergarden—who they truly wanted was Meryl.
Emblin, with a proud expression, scanned them before speaking.
“Who speaks for you?”
At the coldness in her voice, someone stepped forward as if sensing it.
“That would be me. I’m Jack.”
“Very well, Jack.”
Emblin lowered her gaze and continued.
“From today, I am the new master of Wintergarden.”
The people gasped at her words. Jack did too, as if hope had suddenly arisen.
“So… will Queen Meryl be coming as well?”
Their eyes sparkled. Emblin realized immediately—they truly loved Meryl. Did Meryl know? She must have.
From what Emblin had heard, Meryl had received the love of Count Redian and all the people of the territory. Those who have been loved know how to love in return—perhaps that’s what had led to such tragedy.
To the crowd waiting expectantly for a reply, Emblin answered coldly.
“Your mother has passed away.”
In an instant, the villagers’ faces twisted as if about to cry… but Emblin paid them no mind and spoke again.
“Wintergarden needs a maid to care for it.”
They looked at her with shocked eyes, surprised at her lack of visible grief over Meryl’s death. But Emblin only stared at them coldly, as if pressing them into submission. They were commoners—there was no way they could refuse her command.
Jack lowered his gaze and asked,
“Understood. How many should we send?”
“Two will suffice. I’ll request more if needed.”
At that moment, the middle gate opened and a maid appeared. She bowed and immediately turned back, signaling that the morning chores were finished. Two maids were employed—they came to Wintergarden every morning to prepare meals and clean. While they worked, Emblin took her walks.
Being here, she realized she hated people—their sounds, their expressions, everything. She resolved not to share space with anyone. In the capital, nothing went her way, but in Wintergarden, she vowed she would do as she pleased—and she was putting that into practice.
Emblin dragged her heavy cape as she walked. She wasn’t sure if it was the cape that was heavy, or her shoulders. A cold smirk formed on her lips. What did it matter if her shoulders were heavy? She had to survive. She had come here after driving Meryl to death—she would survive, no matter what. She lifted her gaze, which had been dropping downward, higher.
She entered the hall, where the fireplace blazed, driving away the chill. She sat at the table. Breakfast was stew and gingerbread. The maids were probably waiting in the kitchen for her to finish eating.
She tore the bread elegantly. The sharp spiciness of the ginger slid down her throat, soon warming her entire body from the heart outward. Gingerbread. She hadn’t said a word, yet the maids somehow knew to prepare gingerbread for breakfast—Meryl’s favorite.
The villagers had loved Meryl so much that even twenty years later, they still remembered her tastes. Yet every bite choked her, as though she were consuming Meryl’s flesh and blood. Emblin’s lips twisted bitterly. Probably, it would feel like this for the rest of her life.
Then it happened. Bang! Bang! Bang! The sudden sound shattered the quiet, and Emblin’s head jerked up. She looked at the door. Bang! Bang! Bang! Someone was hammering violently. Even the maids peeked from the kitchen, startled.
Emblin pressed her lips together. Who would be knocking at such an hour? Not the villagers—they did not particularly like Meryl’s daughter, yet they respected the king’s daughter. As she thought this, the knocking continued. Bang! Bang! Bang!
Could it be…? A glint of surprise appeared in Emblin’s eyes. She had sent a letter to Tris. Could he have arrived? She had never left the capital and had stubbornly taught herself to read. She wanted to read books, and not just that—mathematics, architecture, administration, geography, diplomacy—she wanted to understand how knowledge shapes the world.
Yet she had never been properly taught. She had memorized bits of information she had overheard, so she had no sense of distance or geography. She couldn’t estimate how long it would take from the Aike territory to here. Or perhaps she would immediately know if the visitor outside was not Tris. But she didn’t know.
“What… shall we do?”
The maid asked, frightened. Emblin replied haughtily:
“Open the door.”
The maid hurried and unlocked the bolt, opening the door. At that moment, Emblin’s expression stiffened. A strange man strode across the hall without hesitation. Emblin spoke.
“Stop. You have no permission to enter.”
The man smirked.
“Since you opened the door, it’s as good as permission. Breakfast? Perfect. I was hungry anyway.”
Thudding footsteps. The maids rushed forward to protect Emblin, blocking his way. She said,
“Step back.”
But the maids did not move. Emblin commanded coldly:
“Now!”
Only then did they step back. Emblin glared at the man.
“Who are you?”
“Curious? Even if I told you, you wouldn’t understand. How could someone as noble as you possibly know me?”
He mocked her, gripping the sword at his waist as if to threaten.
“A knight?”
He swaggered and drew his sword, aiming it at Emblin.
“Don’t want to die? Then wait, Princess. Then I’ll be gentle. And the pretty ones behind you, wait too. I won’t leave you out.”
Dust rose as he greedily began eating the bread and stew across from her. Emblin’s face hardened. Meryl’s advice flashed through her mind.
Before leaving for Wintergarden, you must find a protector.
A protector…
A husband. Only then can you protect yourself and Wintergarden.
The meaning finally hit her. A woman standing alone in the world… The attacker had come for her. But what use is a protector she does not yet have?
Emblin stared coldly at the man. She could feel the maids trembling behind her. She quietly reached for a knife.
Meanwhile, Tris staggered off the horse. Wow. For the first time in his life, he understood what it meant for the heart to drop. But he wasn’t the only one—behind him, Ron and Shaun were retching. Peta was ghostly pale, lips pressed tightly together, trying to hold back vomiting.
Tris gestured.
“Don’t hold it in. It’s okay now, you can throw up.”
As soon as he said it, Peta bolted to the side. Although he had improved over the past three weeks, he still had to maintain his dignity at times.
Tris took a deep breath, chest wide open. Now he was calm. The Valley of the Wind. He had only heard rumors, never seen it before. And now he had experienced it firsthand. They said winter was safest, yet Peta had nearly been carried away entirely.
After vomiting, Peta’s pale eyes met Tris’s. Tris couldn’t help but laugh. Ha, ha. Hahaha. Hahaha. Suddenly laughing, Peta twisted his lips in disbelief—he felt as though his organs had fallen out, yet Tris laughed.
Tris’s lips twitched too. That insane moment in the gust—he couldn’t even scream properly as he was lifted into the air.
“Peta!”
If Tris hadn’t instinctively grabbed his legs and pulled with all his might… he would have shown that humans can fly. But he survived. Hahaha. Peta began to laugh too, indebted to Tris for saving his life.
Tris clutched his stomach, laughing.
“Your expression was priceless. Your eyes were huge!”
Hahaha. This was the first time in three weeks they had laughed like this.
It had taken three weeks to reach Wintergarden, located at the very edge of Redian territory. They had arrived much faster than expected.
But it felt as if they had endured a lifetime of hardship. Tris had run a shortcut upon hearing that Queen Meryl had committed suicide, making the journey even harder. There were no villages, so they slept outdoors, couldn’t wash, and their beards had overgrown.
