Please Die, Your Highness - Chapter 39

Prince Declan, after several hours, only upon the morning arriving, was able to perceive the situation.

Rory, with his limbs bound, in a shabby state, greeted Declan. While Fionechta was explaining the situation, Maeve was meanwhile next to them, with an anxious face, letting Colm’s murmuring monologue drift past her.

Declan, with a slightly dazed-looking face, listened to Fionechta’s explanation.

The matter was that Fionechta, while standing nearby guard duty, upon returning due to a strange sound, saw Rory sweeping up all the carriage’s goods.

He also said that Rory seemed to have tried to sneak away the goods and escape, probably taking advantage of the gap when everyone was asleep in the early morning and Fionechta was far away.

The talk that he had intended to also kidnap the Prince was deliberately not made. Fionechta instead showed a rope tied with a noose.

Declan, having confirmed that, was looking down at Rory with a coldly hardened face. A deep sense of disillusionment was apparent all over his face.

Aside from Fionechta, with whom he had now come to speak, Maeve, whom Declan had viewed favorably from before, and Colm, who seemed to lack the courage for such an act in the first place, Rory was a person who was out of Declan’s favor in many respects.

Declan had inwardly hoped that this swaggering mercenary, too, would leave by himself when he let Craig go, and thus, far from being hurt, he felt rather relieved.

With lightning speed, Rory was abandoned.

Fionechta said to firmly tie Rory, whose four limbs were bound, to a wooden pillar and then leave. That was the same as simply letting him die.

It was the same as saying to leave him to be eaten and killed by flying beasts or nearby bears and packs of wolves.

Declan, too, seemed to have fully anticipated that. As he unconsciously made a sour face, Fionechta, as if unsurprised, proposed an alternative course of action.

Eventually, Rory’s leg bindings were released while only his two arms were tied. Instead, snap, Fionechta broke his right ankle in front of everyone.

To the extent that a nearby bird was startled and flew away, Rory screamed with a cry full of pain.

Colm, who had been restless throughout, suddenly knelt down on the spot and pleaded.

“P-Please, please forgive me. I only heard words asking me to pretend not to know. Because he threatened that if I didn’t, he would not leave me alone…!”

Declan sighed with a tired face.

“It’s enough, Colm. Get up.”

“Thank, thank you. I will.”

Colm sniffled and got up from his spot, and Rory, now driven by malice, poured out curses that did not properly reach everyone.

Regardless of that, the party finished packing the horses and the carriage and prepared to leave. Since the one horse that Rory rode remained, Maeve naturally mounted the horse.

“Shh, come here.”

As she gestured to the donkey loitering near Rory, the donkey trot-trotted and followed behind the horse she was riding.

The party left the spot, leaving Rory who continued to pour out insults without a trace of reflection.

It was an additional departure faster than expected. Maeve had predicted that Rory would be next eventually, but she had not known he would be so quickly reckless and get himself expelled.

The party was now only four, including the Prince: the Prince, the mercenary Fionechta, the coachman Colm, and the maidservant Maeve.

After the shocking incident of the night before, Colm became even quieter. The Prince’s speech also lessened. Only Fionechta was peaceful. He was planning the next route without any agitation.

Anyway, since leaving that place, the Prince Declan no longer spoke to Maeve more than was necessary. Maeve felt, for now, that this was fortunate.

Not only was it tiresome every time she had to listen to his stories she had no interest in, but her heart felt uneasy, as if an imaginary shackle was being created.

After several more days of sleeping outdoors, the party finally arrived at a small village. It was a tiny village inhabited by about ten households. The village elder warmly welcomed the unexpected guests. The party was treated with extreme care and stayed at the elder’s house.

The village was truly small, with only private homes and nothing that could be called an inn.

When the next day arrived, contrary to the expectation that they would immediately depart, Fionechta suggested that they rest for one more day. His reasoning was that it looked like it would rain at any moment.

And just as Fionechta had predicted, it truly began to rain from noon. The Prince Declan skipped lunch that day. Instead of eating, he shut himself in his room and lay down all day as if thinking about something. Maeve, having confirmed the Prince Declan’s appearance for the last time, closed the door and came out.

Even in Maeve’s view, the Prince Declan was noticeably low in spirits. Having just chased away his attendant, and then not long after having to send away one more person due to an unfortunate incident, it was understandable that he would be distraught. She roughly estimated that to be the case.

Just then, Fionechta called out and stopped her.

“Maeve.”

Maeve turned her head and looked towards the direction from which the voice came. Fionechta was dressed in clothes that looked more comfortable than usual.

“Could I ask you for some water? I checked the carriage a while ago, and the drinking water is almost running out. There is a well in the corner of the village. If you ask the people, they’ll tell you.”

“Understood.”

Maeve nodded and left the village elder’s house.

When she went to the wagon, the water had indeed reduced significantly. Maeve carried a couple of shrunken leather sacks and shuffled towards the center of the village.

When she asked the villagers for the location of the well, one of the women said that the village well had long since dried up and exposed its bottom. The villagers had to walk to a nearby river and fetch water themselves.

Maeve had no choice but to take the sacks and walk straight in the direction the villagers had pointed out. The woman who had given directions followed Maeve closely with a face full of curiosity, asking her this and that.

“Where are you from? Your accent is unique.”

“I am from Lutea.”