The Maid With a Child - Chapter 11

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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11. A Difficult Existence
Racalte opened his triangular eyes and glared at Adlen.
“You’re not thinking right now that the Crown Prince is pitiful, that you should have handed him over, are you?”
“…….”
Adlen’s mouth sealed shut. She couldn’t bring herself to deny it.
The arrow had struck too true, and blood poured freely.
“Good grief, what an idiot. Aren’t you from Tephlan?”
Adlen flinched.
That strange man—no, General Kias had been muttering something odd too.
“Y-yes! I’ve never even been to Moren, and I’ve never met anyone from Moren!”
“Then why were you thinking of taking Moren’s side?”
“Me?! When did I?!”
Had she perhaps fainted while speaking? Was she forgetting her own words as she said them?
She couldn’t for the life of her recall when she’d taken Moren’s side.
“The moment the Crown Prince returns to Moren, General Kias will launch a full assault on Tephlan.”
“!”
“He’s holding the only Heir to the Throne hostage, which is why we’re holding off on war right now. Do you think we should just hand him back peacefully? Do you want to destroy Tephlan?”
“N-no, I, that, those kinds of thoughts……. I didn’t know…….”
“Right, I hope you didn’t. But you’ve already wavered over whether to hand him over or not, and just now you were thinking it again.”
“…….”
Even if she had a million mouths, she’d have nothing to say.
Racalte let out a derisive snort as if he’d expected as much.
Adlen felt defeated.
She’d been praised everywhere for working well and doing her utmost in service—how had it come to this?
She should have simply watched over the child as ordered and been quiet about it. Her refusal of the master’s command out of private sentiment had surely kindled the divine anger of the servant’s deity.
But life did not serve up despair in isolation.
“Right, we were talking about a timeline. Since it’s come to this, let me be more precise. If things go well, a few days; at most, a few months.”
“!”
“Until we’ve lured out and captured General Kias.”
“……Ah…….”
The face that had begun to brighten darkened again at once.
There seemed to be no way for everyone to end things happy and at peace.
Just a short while ago, she hadn’t known when, where, or how the war was being waged. Now she found herself absurdly, easily thrust into the very heart of the battlefield.
If she pitied the enemy, all her own side would die; if she fought for her own side, the enemy would perish pitiably.
“Don’t think you can save your own skin just by keeping out of General Kias’s way. Right now the Crown Prince is the only member of the Royal Family left in Moren. What do you think happens if he disappears?”
“I, I don’t know.”
Talk of Right of Succession and such were utterly foreign and incomprehensible to Adlen.
“Anyone at all could declare themselves king of Moren.”
“……Ah…….”
“So anyone who wants to be king now sees their chance. Kill the Crown Prince and the opportunity arrives—and you, standing right beside him, what becomes of you?”
“I, I’d die along with him……?”
“That’s right.”
Adlen finally understood.
No matter what happened, staying at her master’s side was the only way to survive a little longer.
“But since you might take it into your head to run off to Moren with the child on some misguided impulse of sympathy, I’ll keep you within my sight.”
“Yes, understood…….”
Adlen could only nod through tears. There was no other choice.
She’d never even held a man’s hand, and now she was about to sleep in the same room.
How much further will my life fall into the abyss?
* * *
She felt as though holes were being bored through her face.
Was he perhaps studying execution by drilling holes with his gaze?
Unable to bear Racalte’s burning stare fixed upon her, Adlen rolled her downcast eyes this way and that.
“…….”
“…….”
A stern silence filled the room.
The child was quiet too.
If only he would fuss and whimper, she could focus on tending to him and become less aware of the master’s gaze. But with the child silent, there was nothing to do.
“Coo…….”
All she could do was pat the baby’s bottom where he lay peacefully.
There was nothing to do but watch the baby.
It was the master’s room, so she couldn’t go strutting about dusting things or polishing furniture as she pleased.
“Uhhh…”
The sleeping baby stirred, letting out a soft whimper.
Adlen seized the precious opportunity without hesitation.
“Yes? Little one, are you bored? Shall I sing you a sweet lullaby? Come now, wake up?”
The baby said nothing. Gave no sign. Yet Adlen persisted, humming and swaying.
She shuffled about the sofa in a little dancing gait, testing her limits.
A quick glance to gauge the master’s mood. He said nothing. Simply watched her, unblinking.
“Hush now, hush now. At night the birds sleep, and the stars sleep, and the flowers sleep…”
She improvised a lullaby as she moved, gradually widening her range of movement.
How wonderful it would be to venture far enough that his gaze couldn’t reach her.
“Shall we see if the birds outside the window are sleeping?”
“Why, so you can escape through it?”
“…No, sir.”
I have no such intention, nor could I manage it.
Only you are capable of such things.
“Windows at night are perfect for ambush. Come back inside.”
“Yes, sir.”
Adlen flinched and turned on her heel. But she hated returning to the sofa, so she took the longest possible route back.
Now she realized just how vast the room truly was.
Of course it would be—it was the master’s quarters—but until now she’d been too frazzled to notice.
The room was not ornate, but grand and elegant. Premium materials and rare-looking ornaments were arranged in harmonious balance throughout.
It was a room in name only; structurally it was practically its own small house, with several adjoining chambers off the main living space.
‘At least there should be places to hide even with the master’s eyes upon me.’
Whether her eyes were open or closed, being within his line of sight suffocated her. At least, there seemed to be a few blind spots where she could catch her breath.
“When you’re done sightseeing, sit back down. You’re making a nuisance of yourself.”
“Oh! Yes, sir! My apologies!”
It was just as her tour was winding down.
The master’s summons yanked her back. He hadn’t been ignoring her after all—he’d been indulging her.
Adlen hurried back to the sofa.
The torture of his gaze resumed. How much longer would this ordeal continue?
Adlen stole glances at Racalte’s face.
Now that she thought about it, she’d never properly looked at the master’s face before.
When in his presence, she was usually so terrified she saw nothing, or bent so low her eyes were fixed on the floor.
The master was, first of all, large.
Tall and broad, with long limbs and large hands and feet to match.
Yet he didn’t seem clumsy like a bear. There was something sleek about him, like a great feline predator.
Dark grey hair, ice-blue eyes, and skin pale as wax created an aristocratic yet strangely inhuman aura.
Considered purely on form, there was not a flaw. No feature twisted out of place, no proportion warped or askew.
In short, he was handsome.
But the first thought that struck her was fear, not beauty.
Racalte emanated the aura of a predator in his very existence. To meet his gaze was to feel one’s knees weaken without cause.
Adlen’s legs trembling now were a direct result of that.
“Stop fidgeting.”
“S-so sorry, so sorry…”
“Guilty conscience?”
Racalte interpreted Adlen’s anxious response to his stare as an admission of something.
“No, I won’t run away.”
“Not now.”
“…”
“Wave a blade in front of you a few times and you’d fold like parchment.”
“No, I… I wouldn’t…”
Even as she protested, she knew it sounded unconvincing.
There was no point denying it if he wouldn’t believe her anyway, and she couldn’t even convince herself.
But it wasn’t fair.
How could loyalty or patriotism bloom without a life to sustain it? I’m just an ordinary maid, not some hero willing to die for country.
Of course, these were thoughts she could never voice aloud.
The words her mouth could not speak leaked out instead through her pouting lips.
“…Hmm.”
Racalte stared at the maid, who stood frozen between action and inaction, trapped in her own indecision.
The Crown Prince was already a headache; now the maid had managed to become one as well.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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