Chapter 23
Maeve suddenly found herself unemployed.
“Maeve, what are you doing?”
“Sitting.”
Aside from the bare minimum chores—like washing or tending to the fire—Craig had taken over everything else, leaving her with absolutely nothing to do.
“Maeve, what are you doing?”
“Lying down.”
With nothing else to occupy her, she either sat idly or lay around doing nothing. Craig, watching her from afar, gnashed his teeth in frustration, but unlike the previous day, he didn’t dare approach her to threaten her again.
Before he could even think about it, the prince had already summoned him, and besides, his bruised, blue index finger still showed no signs of recovery.
Rory came over and sat beside Maeve, who was lying down and pulling at the grass.
“What kind of trick did you pull? The prince is working that annoying bastard to death.”
“Well, I suppose something must have happened between them.”
It wasn’t that she was particularly loyal to either side.
In any case, that attendant would now be kept tightly in check by the prince, who had learned his true intentions. There was no way he could secretly feed him medicine again. It was for the best—Maeve hadn’t wanted him to do such a thing, anyway.
Rory didn’t seem to mind Maeve’s disinterested response and chuckled.
“Thanks to that, that stiff bastard’s been taking it out on us even more. The coachman already ran off somewhere, saying he needed to find good grass for the horses. I should’ve used an excuse like that too.”
Maeve stared absently into the distance. She could see Craig, who had just gotten down from the prince’s carriage, yelling and pointing at Fionechta, who was tending to the horses nearby.
Even so, he really shouldn’t be treating swordsmen that way. It seemed he didn’t even have the sense to realize that much.
Anyway, since Prince Declan had discovered Craig’s true nature, he was punishing him in his own way—and Craig, in turn, was venting his frustration by harassing the rest of the group one by one.
“By the way, Maeve, how much did you get paid?”
Rory asked bluntly. Maeve looked at him with a flat expression.
“Why?”
“What are you going to do with it? Buy a house, maybe a farm?”
“I haven’t made any plans yet.”
“Really? Then how about doing something with me? It’s nothing big, but I’ve got some skill with my hands.”
Rory said confidently.
When Maeve simply stared at him without replying, he added defensively,
“Ah, it’s nothing grand. It might look like some lowly gambling scheme on the surface, but it’s actually quite profitable.”
It seemed Rory had grown rather comfortable around Maeve, regardless of how she felt about him.
His explanation was elaborate, but in the end, it was just a plan to lure wealthy men into gambling and strip them of their money.
As she listened to Rory describe it as though it were some great enterprise, Maeve stared off into the distance.
In a way, Rory was someone whose purpose and goals in life were unusually clear.
About two days after leaving the cabin, the group finally emerged from the forest and arrived at a certain village.
This small village, called Ballinoor, belonged to no kingdom. It was a place where travelers and wanderers who had passed through eventually settled down. For that reason, the villagers came from various origins. Standing idly in the middle of the town, one could hear a confusing mix of different languages.
The group headed straight to the street where one of the village’s main sources of income — the inns — were located. There were three inns in total, and they chose the best one among them.
On the day of their arrival, Prince Declan’s party immediately rented rooms and rested to recover from the exhaustion of travel.
Maeve and the others only came out of their rooms the next day, moving sluggishly.
Since Maeve was, after all, nominally a maid, she thought about stopping by the prince’s room — the finest one on the top floor. However, the moment she glanced up the stairs with that thought, she heard Craig berating the inn’s staff to prepare hot water, and she immediately gave up on the idea.
Maeve went down to the first floor of the inn, where the dining hall was located. Fionechta, Rory, and Colm were already seated together, having a meal.
When Maeve joined their table, a plump woman approached, scooped out a red stew from a pot, and handed her a plate.
The stew, which had been simmered for a long time with all sorts of ingredients, was almost dark red up close and gave off an indescribable smell.
However, despite its scent, it tasted quite good. As Maeve began eating the stew, the group resumed their conversation.
Fionechta asked Colm,
“Colm, you said you were going to fix the carriage?”
Colm rolled his eyes and nodded.
“Y-Yes… I need to fix the carriage wheel. We’ve been traveling over rough roads, and it’s about to break any moment now…”
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