“Your Highness, where are you going…………”
The soldier on guard was about to ask when Cecilia cut him off with a finger pressed to her lips.
If Rita was really up to something, it was better not to let these soldiers see—thinking this, Cecilia set off alone in the direction Rita had left.
Although most of the campfires near the tents had either died down or were reduced to small flickering embers providing just enough light and warmth, the moonlight above gave Cecilia good visibility, allowing her to move forward without hindrance.
Several still-awake people greeted Cecilia with salutes upon seeing her, and some even offered to escort her as temporary guards, but Cecilia politely refused them all.
She disliked being bound by elaborate formalities, yet Imperial Etiquette made it impossible for her to ignore the greetings, so she returned each salute simply and briefly.
As she advanced, responding out of courtesy slowed her pace considerably.
From afar, she saw Rita slip into Momoka’s tent, though she was still some distance away.
Just as Cecilia thought the two inside would soon be locked in a fierce duel, the tent flap suddenly opened again.
Rita crouched and slipped out, followed by Momoka carrying a long spear.
The two headed straight for The Forest.
Wild… a field exercise?
Cecilia let out a light cough, but in the relatively noisy night wilderness, the sound was quickly drowned out by the surrounding noises.
Having finally left the camp’s boundaries, proceeding further meant entering The Forest.
The chaos from earlier that day was still fresh in Cecilia’s mind, and she knew continuing alone could be dangerous.
But if she followed behind Momoka and Rita, it should be safe.
Balancing her safety with the current situation, Cecilia ultimately chose to follow.
She didn’t want to witness any scandalous scenes; her only reason for trailing them was a subtle, almost imperceptible feeling of betrayal growing in her heart.
When Rita had lived at the Lord’s Mansion, she had once begged Cecilia for help with a problem.
Now, she had gone to seek help from others, which genuinely stirred that feeling of betrayal within Cecilia.
Regardless of whether she wanted to or could really help Rita, the fact that Rita had left without asking for her consent left Cecilia somewhat displeased.
Cecilia considered herself reasonable and understood that Rita would never take things that far with her, but that tiny thorn of emotion embedded deep within was impossible to ignore.
Was Cecilia bothered by Rita’s messy private life?
Not really.
What bothered her was that Rita hadn’t kept her promise.
In other words, what troubled her was Rita’s disloyalty.
Although Rita had probably never been truly loyal, given the enormous mystery surrounding her and her opportunistic nature, Cecilia understood deep down that loyalty might be an illusion.
Perhaps the so-called loyalty was just a misconception Cecilia had developed after hearing the soldiers’ anxious descriptions of Rita’s behavior during the night of her near-attack.
But still, she cared, even if only a little, about the fact that Rita hadn’t even asked her before running off—that was somewhat reckless.
Cecilia thought as she walked, now fully entering The Forest.
The air still carried the smell of burnt wood and the sharp scent of heated tree resin.
Leaves beneath her feet and trees beside her had turned to dry charcoal, as if the heat from the day hadn’t dissipated at all.
As soon as she stepped into The Forest, Cecilia heard the clang of metal.
And then Rita’s voice—one Cecilia knew all too well.
“It’s okay, try again. This time, you’ll definitely be able to block it.”
“You’re still relying on instinct rather than anticipating my moves. If you keep this up, you’ll be half a beat slower than me from the start.”
Alongside Momoka’s voice came a sharp, grating buzzing that seemed to resonate in Cecilia’s brain, followed by a rapid series of clinking sounds like sand and stones being whipped against a carriage. The clash of metal grew fiercer.
Cecilia stepped closer but was still far from the two darting figures.
She couldn’t see clearly or understand much, only that the weapons dazzled in the moonlight as they struck each other with blinding speed.
She stood quietly in the shadows, not even noticing the tension on her face gradually easing with each clash.
The trace of anxiety that had driven her to follow them alone in the dead of night seemed to burst like a popped balloon, replaced by an inexplicable sense of relief.
And a subtle hint of embarrassment.
What did Rita’s private life have to do with her? What had she been so nervous about until just now?
Cecilia sighed and quietly stepped out of The Forest.
“You’re getting slower. Let’s call it a night,” Momoka said, stepping back a few paces and stopping her assault.
“Hah.” Rita exhaled deeply, sheathing her sword. “Thanks for today.”
“No sweat. Real combat makes me stronger too.” Momoka’s eyes flickered with suspicion. “But are you tired? Or just not taking this seriously? You seem worse off day by day.”
Rita wasn’t tired nor careless; she was just a bit hungry.
Her hunger wasn’t severe enough to affect her much yet, and if Momoka hadn’t pointed it out, Rita might not have noticed her declining state.
“I don’t know, maybe I haven’t been resting well these past few days,” Rita answered casually.
“Overtraining will only hurt you. Although this trial seems simple, don’t be careless. Anyway, let’s head back.” Momoka was serious about such matters and, after a brief warning, led Rita out of The Forest.
Rita dragged her aching body from the woods. Without trees to block the view, the landscape suddenly opened wide.
Under the moonlight, a figure was especially clear.
Cecilia sat on a Great Boulder nearby, moonlight illuminating her golden hair and her usual expressionless face, making her golden eyes, which were fixed on Rita, appear particularly bright.
Momoka reacted faster than Rita, quickening her pace to leave Rita behind. Then, she placed a hand on her chest and bowed toward Cecilia.
“Your Highness.”
Seeing Cecilia nod slightly, Momoka immediately dashed away, leaving a still-shocked Rita standing there.
“C-Cecilia-sama…………” Rita’s heart raced as she struggled to control her trembling legs and stopped before Cecilia. “Why are you here?”
Cecilia’s gaze swept over Rita’s face, dampened with sweat, strands of hair stuck to her forehead, cheeks flushed from exertion.
“Roaming the camp in disheveled clothes at midnight, you seem in good spirits.”
Rita’s face flushed an even deeper red at Cecilia’s words.
“Cecilia-sama, please don’t mock me…………”
“That’s a compliment.” Cecilia’s face remained unchanged. She stepped forward, lifting a stray lock of Rita’s hair stuck to her cheek and rubbed it between her fingers. The cold touch against Rita’s heated skin made her instinctively shrink her neck.
“But leaving the one you should protect alone in the tent at such a late hour is a bit negligent.” Cecilia said, releasing Rita’s silver hair.
“Y-Yes……………” Rita nodded sheepishly, twisting her hands nervously behind her back.
Cecilia extended her hand as if inviting her to a dance, and Rita immediately understood, taking her hand.
“We can talk about it later. You must have something to report to me.”
Several minutes later, inside Cecilia’s tent.
“Cecilia-sama, isn’t this a bit… inappropriate?”
Rita glanced nervously at the two wine glasses set before her, her gaze darting around.
Cecilia, however, looked calm as she followed Rita’s eyes to the candlelight reflected in the liquid and asked, “What’s inappropriate about it?”
Rita knew it was a little late to voice these concerns now that the drinks were poured, but Cecilia’s sudden request to share a drink after returning to the tent gave her a bad feeling.
Logically, finding out you snuck out in the middle of the night to fight others wouldn’t provoke this reaction.
Cecilia must have some scheme! Or at least some ill intent! Otherwise, she wouldn’t act so strangely.
“Um, I thought the military forbids drinking?” Rita stammered after a long pause.
“Are you a soldier?”
“No.”
“And me?”
“No.”
“Will this drink get you drunk?”
Of course not. Cecilia’s tolerance was ridiculously high—one cup or even a whole barrel wouldn’t affect her.
Besides, this was just some Low-Alcohol Beer Momoka had brought, hardly different from Wheat Juice.
Rita thought for a moment and shook her head.
“No, it won’t.”
“I just have to continue marching tomorrow……..”
“That’s fine. I can rest a little while riding the carriage.” Cecilia answered astutely. “Are you curious why I suddenly want to drink with you?”
Rita timidly nodded, like a little mouse caught doing something wrong.
Though she didn’t feel she’d done anything wrong, seeing Cecilia’s face unsettled her completely.
“The answer isn’t complicated. I’m curious about the scent that captivates you so deeply by the campfire every night.” Cecilia explained. “Besides, I said before I want to experience things I haven’t before. This is a good opportunity.”
Though true, these reasons were only part of the story. Cecilia’s unspoken motive was simpler.
Alcohol always symbolized something special: reward, recognition, negotiation, even conspiracy.
When Cecilia and Rita had dinner earlier, she specifically forbade drinking for this reason.
It was improper for attendants and masters to drink together, but by giving Rita this right, Cecilia was showing closeness and trust.
Of course, Cecilia wouldn’t say things like, “This is a gift, accept it gratefully,” or “This is a sign of my trust; serve me better in the future” in such a setting.
Also, alcohol numbs the nerves—while Cecilia wouldn’t get drunk, the atmosphere might make Rita more willing to open her heart.
In short, after discovering Rita’s little secret today, it was the perfect chance to get to know her better.
Only Cecilia, who had never drunk before, overlooked one thing.
Her tolerance was apparently far too low.