Chapter 17: A Meal from the Prince

The road to the Gerald Territory.

It was a journey embarked upon with no servants and the bare minimum number of knights.

Even among ordinary nobles, traveling with several servants and escorts was the norm, so this was clearly a humble procession.

But it didn’t matter; this modest journey was by choice.

Tap, tap.

Rain began to fall.

Rohan subtly turned his head and gazed out the window at the back of the carriage.

Under the darkening sky stood the solitary Boronia Palace, and a handful of knights, kept to a minimum for escort, followed on horseback behind the carriage.

“By the way, will you be all right? Without servants, you’ll find it quite inconvenient.”

At Martin’s question, Rohan nodded and replied.

“It’s fine. And if we want to get there as quickly as possible, this is the only way.”

“Wasn’t the schedule rather generous?”

“Gerald Territory is far. Who knows what might happen along the way.”

Clip-clop, clip-clop.

With the rhythm of hoofbeats, the carriage swayed steadily.

Martin, clutching his sword tightly, leaned against the carriage window and gazed outside, while Rohan unfolded the map he had brought.

How much time passed like that?

A thick, humid smell began to rise from the ground, and dense trees came into view—signs that they had left the capital’s urban district.

The road ahead was long, the sun was gone, but it was still far from nightfall.

‘It’ll take at least a week of riding to reach Gerald Territory.’

Truly, a grueling journey.

To the north of the Urald Mountains, which stretched along the Empire’s eastern frontier.

That was where Gerald Territory was located.

Pointing to the knights positioned at the front and rear of the carriage, Rohan asked,

“I don’t recognize those men. Where are they from?”

The ones following them weren’t knights who guarded Boronia Palace.

“They were recruited specifically for this dispatch.”

“Of their own accord?”

“I don’t think so… I’ve heard they’re not yet affiliated with any palace.”

“Is that so?”

Which meant—

“So, they’re knights of common birth.”

“Yes, that’s right.”

Usually, knights fell into two groups: the nobles’ faction and the commoners’ faction.

The very process for the exams differed, and so the “grade” was split accordingly.

Martin himself, as the second son of a baron’s family, was assigned directly to a palace.

Of course, since his family had little influence, he was assigned to the quietest of them all—Boronia Palace.

On the other hand, knights chosen from the commoners were often skilled, but, lacking the right connections, frequently had no fixed posting.

Such people would be assigned here and there throughout the imperial city’s noble workplaces, or, if they caught a royal’s eye, given a palace assignment.

“Who made this dispatch assignment?”

“His Majesty the Emperor ordered it personally.”

“Hm.”

Rohan’s eyes narrowed.

So Father made the assignments himself.

He wouldn’t have done so thoughtlessly.

“Martin, get some sleep for now. There’s a long way to go.”

“I’m fine, Your Highness.”

“Of course you are.”

He knew full well Martin wouldn’t sleep, no matter what he said.

Any further and Martin would start going on about the knight’s duty and such.

“I’ll get some rest, then. Wake me if anything happens.”

Rohan pulled a blanket from the luggage compartment under the carriage and wrapped himself in it, leaning his head against the window.

The air had grown chilly from the rain, its dampness settling against the tip of his nose.

A scent never found in the imperial city.

Perhaps it was because it was an air he might have smelled long ago, somewhere far away.

The sound of rain came to him like a lullaby.

Meanwhile.

“Agh, why does it have to rain now?”

“Indeed, sir. Who would have thought our clothes would get soaked through on the very first day.”

The knights following behind looked anything but pleased.

A small group of about thirty.

They had been chosen for this dispatch by the Emperor’s command.

“This is only the beginning. Everyone, leave your complaints behind.”

Hans, appointed as the leader for this dispatch, quickly quelled the knights’ grumbling.

But he understood them.

They had barely finished being pleased at receiving the imperial order, only to discover they’d been grouped together as a detachment of powerless, connectionless knights.

Didn’t it look as if only the unnecessary, surplus men had been gathered?

Moreover, with no servants, the knights had to handle all the trivial matters themselves.

‘If anyone felt good about this, that would be strange indeed.’

Hans let out a quiet sigh, staring at the carriage ahead.

Through the rear window, he could see the prince’s head.

“Must be nice to have it so easy.”

Why was that prince suddenly taking the Imperial Prince’s exam and journeying all the way to distant Gerald Territory?

Would that prince ever understand the hardships they went through for his sake?

Hans’s brow furrowed deeply.

---

Bang!

The carriage lurched violently.

“Ow!”

A sharp pain struck Rohan at the crown of his head, making him clutch it tightly.

“Your Highness, are you all right?”

At once, Martin burst in, throwing the door open.

“Ah… It’s nothing. I think I hit my head in my sleep.”

“Please be careful.”

Satisfied it was nothing serious, Martin closed the door and withdrew.

“Ugh, that hurts.”

Rohan rubbed his aching crown.

“…What a foul dream. Of all things, why dream about that day?”

The very day he met his end.

He’d dreamed of falling from the spire.

“Your Highness? Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Yes, I’m really fine. By the way, where are we?”

“This is tonight’s campsite. Dinner is ready, so please come out.”

Dinner?

Only then did Rohan realize the carriage interior was softly lit, and it was dark outside.

“…I must have slept a long time.”

Rohan quickly fixed his hair, grabbed his coat, and stepped out.

A campfire greeted him, brightening the area.

The rain seemed to have stopped while he slept.

Something, presumably a small wild animal, was roasting golden brown over the fire.

But the preparations overall looked amateurish—perhaps because there were no servants.

“Wow, who did all this?”

At Rohan’s words, someone approached.

“The knights prepared it.”

It was a tall man with a well-groomed beard.

“What’s your name?”

“Ah, I am Hans. I’ve been appointed leader for this dispatch.”

He had a cloth wrapped around his forearm and seemed to be the most responsible among the knights.

“Hans. Pleased to travel with you.”

“…”

Rohan smiled and gestured at the firewood.

“But what’s this?”

“Uh, it’s rabbit. Sir Martin and some of the knights caught it.”

“Oh? Martin, you did it yourself?”

When Rohan looked at Martin, he waggled his eyebrows.

“I caught a lot as a kid. Got to show off my skills for the first time in a while.”

“Haha, really?”

Rohan turned his gaze to the knights.

“You all worked hard, I see.”

Sure enough, their hands were stacked with half-skinned rabbits, while more lay in a pile, eyes closed on the ground.

Hans and the knights looked utterly worn out.

They’d traveled through the rain all day—of course they’d be exhausted.

“Hm.”

Rohan stroked his chin.

“But, do you plan to roast all these rabbits and eat them as is?”

“With no cook among us, we had little choice. But we seasoned them with salt, so it shouldn’t be too bad,” Martin replied.

Salted roast rabbit.

Not bad.

But still, something was lacking.

“Hans.”

“Yes, Your Highness?”

“Are there any pots and ingredients in the carriage?”

“There should be… But why do you ask?”

Hans’s face showed confusion.

“Let’s take a look.”

Rohan searched through the luggage cart.

He pulled out a large pot and a few ingredients.

“Your Highness, may I ask why you need these?”

“I’m going to cook.”

“…Excuse me?”

Hans’s eyes widened as if he’d misheard.

“Your Highness is going to cook yourself?”

“I used to cook a little in my day.”

“…?”

When Rohan rolled up his sleeves with a smile, Hans’s pupils practically shook.

“Martin, will you help me out?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Without a word, Martin rolled up his own sleeves.

The knights who’d been skinning rabbits now looked at Rohan, puzzled.

“What’s His Highness doing?”

“He’s taken up a knife. Don’t tell me he’s really going to cook?”

“Looking at those pots and ingredients… it seems like it…”

A prince, cooking with his own hands.

A sight so rare, you might never see it in your lifetime.

Hans, standing nearby, looked as if his eyes might pop out.

“But, where did you learn all this?”

As he helped, Martin quietly asked Rohan.

“When I was young. Mother was often away, so I had to do the cooking.”

“At that age…?”

Martin sounded incredulous.

No one in the palace cooked for themselves, so this side of Rohan had never been known.

‘Those were good times.’

He would cook, then wait, and his mother would come.

She would say it was the tastiest food in the world, savoring it with a happy face—that image of his mother came to mind.

Chop chop chop chop!

With practiced hands, Rohan began slicing carrots.

The rhythm rang through the dark forest, crisp and lively.

“…What the?”

“His Highness is amazing with a knife!”

“Wow…”

Even men who’d wielded swords all their lives couldn’t handle a kitchen knife this well.

And to see a prince, of all people, cook with such skill—it was fascinating, and left them speechless.

Hans, standing by, looked utterly shocked.

“But where did you learn this sort of thing?”

Martin asked quietly as he assisted.

“When I was a kid. Mother was away a lot, so I was the one who cooked.”

“At that age…?”

Martin couldn’t believe it.

It had just never come up—no one in the palace cooked their own meals.

‘It was a happy time.’

He’d cook and wait, and Mother would come.

She would always say it was the most delicious food in the world, smiling so joyfully.

Splash! Plop!

The pot, filled with rabbit meat and all sorts of ingredients, started to bubble and boil.

“This is… ‘Roup’!”

One of the knights, sniffing the aroma, cried out.

“Roup? Is it really Roup?”

“Heh, it’s been a while since I’ve heard that name!”

‘Roup’ was the soup most loved by commoners.

Made with all sorts of ingredients and the specialty ‘Rooftar’ from Schubert, it had a distinctive scent.

Mouths began to water.

Most of these knights were of common birth and were especially familiar with ‘Roup.’

“Makes me miss home.”

“I used to eat this all the time before coming to the capital.”

Their faces relaxed, a look of nostalgia shining in their eyes.

“All done. Hans, please serve this to all the knights.”

“…Pardon? Ah, yes!”

Hans, who’d been staring blankly at the pot of Roup, started in surprise at Rohan’s words.

“Everyone! His Highness has kindly prepared a special meal for us! Come up and get your serving!”

Having journeyed so far, the knights lined up as if hypnotized.

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

“Thank you!”

“It’s an honor, Your Highness!”

“Eat up, everyone.”

Rohan watched the knights with a pleased smile.

Just then.

Hans, who had been watching this heartwarming scene, approached Rohan hesitantly.

“Um… Your Highness. May I ask why you went to such trouble to make soup for the knights?”

“They’re the ones I’ll be traveling with on this long journey. They set out to protect me, so I wanted to do something—anything—to put my mind at ease.”

“…!”

Hans’s eyes widened.

‘Is there really a royal like this in the world?’

The knights nearby also let out stunned breaths at this unexpected answer.

Royals? Even nobles rarely cared about anyone but themselves, never sparing a thought for those who served under them!

In fact, just the idea of roast rabbit was discouraging—they’d figured there wouldn’t be enough for everyone.

But to think all of this was for the sake of the knights protecting him…

“Thank you… so much, Your Highness.”

Hans’s expression was entirely different from before.

“How long has it been since I’ve had Roup?”

“Wow, this is really good…”

“Imagine, being fed by the prince himself. Who’d have thought?”

Gradually, the dark expressions on the knights’ faces began to lighten.