Chapter 39 - The Farm in Irttat

 

Chapter 39: Visitor from the Royal Capital 05

Thirty-year-old Doctor Stasia, as a pureblooded human, was in the prime of her life, but she seemed to have no interest in crowds and never joined the town’s women in idle chatter at the tavern.

She also seemed indifferent to romance. The story of Elisa—the most sought-after veterinarian in the local dating scene—courting her had become a favorite topic over meals and tea, yet her rejection remained as cold as ever.

In the townspeople's eyes, she was a somewhat rigid and dull woman. But in the eyes of the town's young people, Doctor Stasia's image was much more glorious.

When she first arrived here three years ago, her professional and remarkable medical skills, along with her outstanding and elegant demeanor, once won the favor of all the town's young people.

The youths were full of curiosity about the outsider from the city. They queued up wanting to be her students. Some also came courting with bouquets of flowers. A headache-stricken Stasia personally escorted them all out, one by one, until she finally closed her doors to visitors altogether.

After a few drinks, the women at the tavern would sometimes discuss her aloofness. Was it the pride of the upper class that made her reject closeness with country folk?

Such discussions always happened in the hazy hours after sunset. After working all day, the women came to this old small tavern to dissolve the day's tension and enjoy a moment of relaxation.

These unguarded words after drinking were sometimes vulgar, sometimes wild, and sometimes about romance unattainable in everyday life.

Some would fantasize about secret affairs in the reed marshes on spring nights. Others fantasized about kites in spring fields.

At such times, Stasia would sit quietly in a corner, listening with a faint smile, her figure softened by the dim light near the window.

She didn't participate, holding her wooden bowl filled with liquor, occasionally sipping a few mouthfuls but never drinking to excess.

All of this made the tavern after dusk Stasia's favorite place.

People continued their speculations.

Some guessed Stasia was a devout ascetic.Others believed she was simply reserved and bound by strict propriety. Still others insisted that, having come from a human city, she looked down on the town’s simple customs.

None of these guesses were correct.

In fact, as long as no one bothered her, Stasia could very much appreciate Irttat's local customs and culture.

The town’s youth possessed a bright, unpolished vitality, blooming like sunflowers in the sun. They roamed in groups, exploring the world without restraint. They carried neither the sorrow born of poverty nor the cold calculation cultivated in high society. There was a pastoral simplicity here that brought her a sense of peace she had long forgotten.

But she ultimately didn't come from here. Her soul ultimately couldn't belong here, so she could only appreciate it from afar.

Additionally, Stasia wasn't interested in worshipping deities, nor was she the kind of woman who bound herself to rigid moral codes and restrained her desires.

It was just that all her desires had been completely spent in that summer thirteen years ago.

Thirteen years ago, in the Eaton royal capital Staland.

This year was the fiftieth birthday of Eaton Kingdom's Audrey III.

The king's birthday celebration would be held in July, but before that, vassal states and lords enfeoffed from all directions had already arrived at the royal capital, frequenting the gates of dukes and princes.

They had traveled thousands of miles, of course not merely to prostrate themselves at the king's feet and piously congratulate her on her birthday before leaving. Undercurrents surged in these castles decorated with grapes and wine, while the wilted birds lying on trees saw only a peaceful scene of toasting and drinking.

In these castles built of marble, banquets were held almost daily. Barrels of uneaten, rotting grapes and melons were carried out the back door. The smell of alcohol and perfume powder was sickeningly sweet.

The symphony of violins and flutes intertwined with this barely perceptible fragrance, lingering in these gray-white ancient buildings.

Behind windows covered by soft green cypress vine, beautiful young men had already tied on gorgeous lace throat scarves and donned splendid, graceful cage skirts, admiring themselves before mercury mirrors.

Several petits frères gathered together whispering, faces flushed as they discussed the elegant ladies downstairs.

While the petits frères whispered, Stasia had already seized the opportunity to sneak out.

Unlike her sister who was skilled at socializing and making connections everywhere in the hall, Stasia was not her mother's chosen heir. She herself was not keen on power either, devoting herself entirely to medical research and finding the conversations in the hall, where everyone harbored their own thoughts, extremely tiresome.

Moreover, she had long sensed the faint, lingering gazes from upstairs.

Those empty-headed noble young men would probably be brought out as precious treasures saved for the finale because of their beauty, accompanying these guests for the last dance, then shyly accepting the gentlewomen's compliments, becoming decorations for this banquet.

Unfortunately, she couldn't stand the smell of those perfume powders.

Passing through the corridor hung with lush cypress, she saw the spacious backyard.

A small pond, a corridor by the pond, a small wooden pavilion against the wall.

Under the pavilion sat a youth reading, one leg bent, leaning lazily against the rose trellis by the wall. The cypress hanging from the corridor was blown open by the breeze, revealing the youth's indistinct profile.

The youth wore a snow-white formal dress shirt. Light golden hair hung down. Green pupils gazed expressionlessly at birds roosting in the tree.

Her eye shape tilted slightly outward in an arc, like the slender wings of a flying bird, sharp and dangerous.

The gem brooch Stasia kept tossing in her hand didn't get caught in time. With a "plop," it fell to the ground.

She bent down to pick it up, holding the still-intact sapphire in her hand while involuntarily staring at the youth's profile.

She seemed to hear the sound of her own heartbeat.

Thump, thump, thump.

Every organ in her body was clamoring. Indescribable heart palpitations controlled every inch of her muscles, making her stand in place trembling slightly, unable to move a step.

Her heart contracted tightly, pumping out masses of scalding hot blood, clearly flowing toward all her limbs and bones.

Perhaps her gaze was too intense. The youth seemed to sense something. Her eyelids drooped slightly as she looked this way.

Stasia was startled. Not knowing why, she suddenly felt guilty. Just as she was about to turn and leave, she heard the youth coldly demand: "Who?"

Her hawk-like gaze locked onto Stasia.

Stasia turned back and showed a proper smile: "Hello, I am the second daughter of the Marquis of Heberley. I happened upon this place. Am I disturbing you?"

The youth answered neither warmly nor coldly: "Not really. This isn't my home anyway. Anyone can come."

Stasia took no offense. Giving herself courage, she shamelessly turned around the corridor and walked under the pavilion: "May I ask who you are?"

"The owner here is my sister." The youth casually made room and poured Stasia a cup of rye beer from the pot.

The owner of this castle was the king's second child, Prince Claire.

Stasia bowed slightly with some surprise: "So it's Your Highness Kelsey."

The current king had given birth to three daughters. The eldest had already been established as heir apparent. After coming of age, the second had also been made a prince. Only the youngest daughter, Kelsey, had just turned seventeen. It was said her ennoblement as prince was imminent.

Many noble families sought to present their sons to her, hoping to add their bloodlines to her offsprings, and establish even a slight connection with the royal family. Even if they couldn't, being able to have some romantic connection with the future prince and whisper pillow talk would make many things much easier.

But Kelsey wasn't like her two sisters who had countless romantic affairs. She kept even further from bearing children, never getting involved in these matters, wholeheartedly being her idle prince.

When her mother and sister asked her, she only got one response: "Not interested."

Of course, this was a secret the royal family didn't speak of publicly.

In the public eye, Kelsey was a gentlewoman very cautious about selecting intimate partners. This instead made her an object of pursuit among young men in noble circles.

In any case, troubled by the ardent gazes of some overly forward, brave young men, Kelsey had again slipped away at such a banquet, finding her way to her second sister's backyard to read.

Who knew today...

She glanced at Stasia, who was awkwardly sipping the rye beer, and a faint smile flickered at the corners of her lips before she suppressed it.

Rye beer wasn't high in alcohol content, but the aftertaste was very bitter. In today's era when expensive wines prevailed, almost no one would drink this cheap liquor invented by commoners.

As a child, Kelsey drank this habitually to stay alert while reading, so much so that now she needed a cup every time she read.

And Stasia's slightly furrowed brow as she pretended to be calm while drinking this cup of liquor actually made Kelsey taste a trace of cute charm.

Stasia's lips were dyed somewhat fuller by the rye beer. She sipped in small mouthfuls, oblivious. Kelsey watched, mesmerized.

They became friends like this.

Perhaps friends with one side harboring secret thoughts. Perhaps friends with both sides harboring their own thoughts.

Stasia invited Kelsey to visit her laboratory—yes, even in the only property in the royal capital, Stasia still tirelessly pursued her research career.

She always secretly ran to the slums to treat the poor, charging nothing, only requiring a promise: "If you unfortunately die, your body belongs to me."

This requirement sounded truly evil, so even though she charged nothing, she was often chased out by devout believers.

Many people would rather choose "pure" death to ascend to God's kingdom than hand their souls to the devil.

Stasia spoke anxiously. Kelsey instead laughed and fell into her arms: "Fool, you could just secretly pick them up from the mass grave!"

The naive evil doctor scratched her head: "I always feel it's better to get the person's consent first."

She explained earnestly, but the princess's hand lifted her other palm, caressing her fingerprints.

What did this mean?

Stasia stiffened her hand, afraid on one hand that withdrawing it would seem too deliberate, while on the other hand her heart was in turmoil.

Kelsey's face showed nothing, nor did she mean to explain.

Ambiguity that seemed present yet absent always rose and dissipated in such atmospheres, suddenly scattering just when you were about to grasp it, leaving you unable to touch any tangible sense of security.

Not long after morning light filled the castle, Stasia would always find her way familiarly to the door, digging Kelsey out from piles of sheet music: "Get up quickly, let's go horseback riding. We already agreed."

Kelsey made a bitter face: "Don't want to go anymore. I'm not good at horsemanship. You see, they all laugh at me privately."

Stasia tempted her: "Let's go to the suburbs and practice secretly away from them. Then we'll be a stunning success."

"Not going. I can't practice well. Let them laugh." Kelsey simply lay on the ground with eyes closed, playing the rogue: "I fell asleep."

Stasia would tease her, scratching wildly at her armpits: "Oh? Let me see if you really fell asleep?"

Kelsey laughed while dodging: "Tired! I'm really so tired..."

Countless chaotic mornings either ended with both falling back onto the bed for a nap, or with Stasia dragging Kelsey out the door.

On the outskirts of the royal capital, the summer pastures were at their most lush.

Kelsey took Stasia to her private pasture to camp, watching a day's worth of starry rivers like water in the wilderness.

The two lay side by side in the grass. Even with flying insects buzzing, it was difficult to spoil their good mood. The fresh fragrance of plants and trees was right at their noses. Cool breezes gradually rose in the night, but people's hearts were burning hot.

Stasia couldn't help but think, her heartbeat was so loud, if it were heard, how embarrassing would that be?

She turned her head to look at Kelsey but bumped into a pair of eyes also looking over.

She couldn't help but want to reach for Kelsey's hand, but after restraining herself again and again, she still gave up.

Flocks of pigeons flew over Staland's castle complex. The king's birthday had finally arrived.

July in the royal capital was the hottest time, but fruits had accumulated half a year's worth of sugar. This was also when they were sweetest. The long tables surrounding the palace were full of grapes, melons, and cut pineapples. The smell of honey and rosemary lingered around the palace city. Pure gold wine cups and soup bowls were casually placed. Golden candlesticks burned through the night, displaying this kingdom's glory and abundance.

Almost everyone here seemed like they had sweet wine flowing through their veins.

The two grabbed wine and hid in a corner of the palace garden to chat.

Stasia unexpectedly had a taste for sweet wine but no tolerance. After drinking a whole bottle of wine, she felt somewhat dizzy and lay in a rocking chair with eyes closed, recuperating.

Kelsey, who had accompanied her, put down the rye beer bottle in her hand and gazed at her with her chin propped on her hand.

Drunk Stasia had flushed red cheeks. Her thick black eyelashes trembled slightly. Her full lips appeared extremely soft. Probably stained by the wine, they looked like the deep red roses on the flower frame beside them, about to wither.

As if possessed, Kelsey lowered her head, leaning slightly closer.

She stopped at a position about to touch Stasia's nose tip and involuntarily moved her throat.

The hot breath exhaled from Stasia's nose sprayed on her face, making her cheeks slightly flush too.

"Your Highness Kelsey!"

A servant in the distance called out once and hurried over, seeming to have some urgent matter.

Kelsey was startled. Turning to look, she carefully covered Stasia with her outer coat and hurriedly left with the servant.

Stasia opened her eyes, looking at Kelsey's receding back, and exhaled deeply.

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