Though small, the inn had everything one could need—this was exactly the feeling Rita got.
It didn’t look big, but everything necessary was there, even a semi-open-air hot spring bath reserved for guests.
Once the carriage was settled and the luggage moved into the room, it was time for dinner.
With Cecilia’s permission, the bard Claire also joined the table to dine together with Cecilia.
“We’re not in the royal capital right now, so there’s no need to strictly follow etiquette. Etiquette exists to avoid offending others, not as an immutable standard to measure everything.”
That’s what Cecilia had once told Rita, and at the same time, she’d shared a little story.
In the royal capital, aside from formal banquets, Cecilia’s father, Uranos Julius, always had a seat at his table prepared for a guest.
Who would eat at that seat each day was never certain. Sometimes it was a high-ranking minister; sometimes, a new maid; and once, he even invited a child to dine and chatted about nursery rhymes and games.
Cecilia recounted this.
Since Cecilia had already said so, Rita naturally had no reason to object.
Of course, Claire would have to pay for her own share, but she wasn’t penniless, and the prices here were very affordable.
Dinner was served individually, with each person having their own portion, so it didn’t affect anything.
“These mushrooms are a specialty from near our village—the stew is especially flavorful. This here is cream-fried mushrooms, and these are stir-fried mushroom slices.”
Beaming, the innkeeper brought over one delicious-looking dish after another. Though the portions weren’t large, the presentation was quite nice, and he introduced them as he placed them in front of everyone.
It all looked good, but… why does it feel like a mushroom convention?
Rita recalled that on the road into the village, she’d seen all kinds of mushrooms drying in front of many houses—clearly, mushrooms were a local specialty.
“This is dinner. I hope everyone can eat happily.”
Eat happily… what a peculiar phrase…
Before Cecilia could take any, Rita picked up a mushroom slice and chewed it carefully.
She was very resistant to poison, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t tell if food was laced with something.
No poison—eating this wouldn’t make her see little people dancing.
Following the same procedure, Rita sampled everything before Cecilia, confirming it was all safe, and then spoke.
“Miss Sephalia, it’s all very delicious.”
Cecilia had initially intended to scold Rita for her impatience, but on second thought, she understood the odd behavior and waited for Rita’s summary before starting her meal.
On the other hand, the bard Claire immediately began wolfing down her food, only realizing after several bites that Cecilia was eating with such grace. Embarrassed, Claire hurriedly swallowed and scratched her head sheepishly.
They all ate slowly, chatting idly between bites, with most of the conversation being Cecilia asking Claire about herself.
“I’m originally from a small southern city. My family said I wasn’t suited to be a bard and urged me to settle down, get married, or at least work as a shop clerk and live an ordinary life.”
“But I didn’t want such a dull fate, so I ran away. Time flies—it’s been two years already. During these two years, I’ve composed a lot of good works. Miss Sephalia, please allow me to write this journey into a story!”
“My goal this time… I’m going to the royal capital. I heard the King Selection Ceremony is next spring. That’s perfect material! I’m sure I’ll write even better songs!”
King Selection Ceremony? What’s that?
Hearing this unfamiliar term, Rita glanced at Cecilia, but Cecilia simply cut her mushrooms, as indifferent as she’d been last night with Claire.
Rita’s reaction was instinctive, with no intention to hide, so Claire naturally noticed.
“Oh, this lady is…?”
“Vita. My name is Vita.”
“Alright, Miss Vita, are you interested in the King Selection Ceremony as well? Of course you are—who wouldn’t want to know which of the five princesses will inherit the throne?” Claire’s eyes sparkled with excitement as she spoke.
“Oh! Speaking of which! I have a song—may I play it for you?” Claire grabbed her lute bag from beside the chair, took out her lute in front of the two, shifted to a more comfortable position, and plucked the strings.
“Five morning stars like jewels, set upon the splendid Crown, take on the forms of maidens, weaving together the kingdom’s glory.”
“Their hair as soft as silk, golden blood flowing within, eyes like precious stones, voices singing like the lute.”
“The first princess, Emilya, her story…”
Ting.
The crisp sound of a fork placed on a plate was like a discordant note, cutting off Claire’s song.
Cecilia put down her fork and slowly rose from her seat.
“Vita, I’m a little tired. Take me back to rest.”
Rita paused in surprise but quickly stood and supported Cecilia by the arm, leading her toward the guest rooms, leaving Claire sitting there with her mouth open, fingers still on the strings, pouting and hugging her lute in disappointment.
The innkeeper, busy with something nearby, saw Cecilia rise and hurried over with a bright smile.
“My lady, did tonight’s dinner make you happy? If you have time, please do try our hot springs—it will bring you the utmost happiness!”
“Thank you, I’ll consider it.” Cecilia replied perfunctorily.
But the innkeeper smiled even brighter. “Oh, don’t just consider—please, you must experience it! Not only does it wash away fatigue, but it also… ah, once you try, you’ll understand everything.”
Cecilia didn’t answer, allowing Rita to lead her back to their room. Once Rita helped her off her shoes, Cecilia collapsed onto the bed and didn’t move.
Rita didn’t dare speak—anyone could tell Claire’s song was the reason Cecilia was acting this way.
Rita knew Cecilia was just throwing a little tantrum; even if she tried to hide it, Rita could see through her.
Still, this was rather rare for Cecilia.
Rita had no way of knowing what kind of treatment Cecilia had suffered in the royal capital, but she could understand why Cecilia wouldn’t want to hear such songs or be compared to her sisters.
Cecilia lay on the bed for nearly half an hour before finally getting up.
“Rita.”
Rita had sat by her side for a whole hour, hardly daring to breathe. Now, hearing Cecilia’s call, she sprang to her feet as if recharged.
“Give that bard two Silver Coins, say it’s a reward for her, and later, take me to see the hot springs. If it’s clean enough, a little hot water to ease the fatigue wouldn’t be bad.” Cecilia instructed.
“Two Silver Coins?”
“If you’re too generous, it might raise suspicions. For the daughter of an unknown noble, two Silver Coins is just right.”
Rita took the coins and went to Claire’s room.
Claire’s room was on the first floor—deliberately arranged so. As soon as Rita entered, she saw Claire sitting there in a daze, clutching her lute.
“Miss Vita, is there something you need?” Claire looked up with teary eyes.
The behavior was a bit rude, but Rita wasn’t Cecilia, and Claire probably just thought she was a servant, so Rita didn’t mind.
“Miss Sephalia wishes to reward you with two Silver Coins, for performing for us along the way.”
“She, she really said that?” Claire’s expression brightened instantly.
“Of course.” Rita placed the two Silver Coins down and turned to leave.
Claire’s gaze lingered on the coins before returning to Rita. “Miss Vita, wait, I have a question for you.”
“What?” Rita replied, clearing her throat. “What is it?”
“Why did Miss Sephalia leave as soon as I sang my song? Is it because I really have no talent?” Claire asked seriously.
How should she answer? Say that Cecilia just doesn’t like those kinds of songs?
No, she should try to comfort her.
Though Rita didn’t particularly like or dislike Claire, she couldn’t just stand by when asked so directly.
“No, it’s not like that.”
“Then what is it?” Claire’s earnest gaze was so intense that Rita felt if she handed her a notebook, Claire would write down every word.
What is it, what is it, think quickly!
After pondering a while, Rita put on a wise tone. “Well, if you could understand, there wouldn’t be much need for me to explain. But if you can’t understand, even if I told you, you wouldn’t get it. This is something you have to comprehend for yourself.”
“I see! Truly, hearing a word from a gentleman is like hearing a word!” Claire nodded vigorously. “Miss Vita, thank you so much! Please, go on with your business!”
Wait, was I just insulted without realizing it?
Oh well, never mind. Rita had only ever thought of bards as a troublesome class—always singing, shooting arrows, supporting the group, and dealing with all kinds of difficult mechanics—so she couldn’t really say more.
“Oh, Miss Vita, are you going to try the hot springs?” Claire suddenly called after Rita.
Rita answered honestly, “Depends on what Miss Sephalia wants. Why do you ask?”
Claire cupped her cheeks with both hands. “It’s a free service—I’d love to try it! But Miss Sephalia’s helped me so much, I wouldn’t want to inconvenience her. If we met in the bath, wouldn’t it be awkward? So I’ll wait until she’s finished before I go.”
I see, so Claire had thought it through.
“Don’t worry, I’ll let you know when it’s done.”
“Really? Thank you so much!”
“No problem, it’s nothing!”
With that, Rita left Claire’s room and headed straight for the hot spring bath the innkeeper had mentioned.
A big wooden door, wooden fences, a simple changing room, and the steamy bath itself—that was all there was to the hot spring.
The wood looked a bit old, but it was still clean. No one else seemed to be using it, so it was clearly for the guests.
All things considered, the environment wasn’t bad. It couldn’t compare to the grand bathhouse at the lord’s manor, but this kind of open-air hot spring had its own charm.
And, there were no traces of strange magic—ever since the battle with Dorothy, Rita had become much more sensitive to magic. While hidden magic circles couldn’t be sensed, anything too obvious couldn’t escape her eyes.
Time to go report to Lady Cecilia, then?
With that in mind, Rita strode briskly back to her room.
As Rita left, several pairs of eyes watched her from the nearby bushes, tracking her figure as she disappeared into the inn.