“…There was a bit of fluff on your face.”

Laska withdrew his hand and explained with a soft laugh. A gentle smile lingered on his lips as he looked at her with warmth.

“Ah, I see. Thank you…”

Feeling awkward, Selaia brushed her cheek with the back of her hand. It had already been five years since she had come down here and begun doing everything on her own. Aside from baby Rote, this was the first time anyone had touched her cheek since then.

“Laska…”

As she spoke, his gaze shifted toward her.

“You must have been very popular as a mercenary. The patrons of the Ceylon Spear must miss you.”

“…A popular mercenary, is it.”

He was not a popular man; he was a mercenary.

Although he repeated her words with a smile, there was something faintly hollow about his expression. Selaia was puzzled, but didn’t get the chance to ask any more questions.

“Come on, let’s get back to work!”

By then, Vera had returned from the storeroom with Rote, carrying an assortment of farming tools. In Rote’s tiny hands were a pair of gloves to protect her from injury, and a hat shaded her small head from the sun.

“Um, there’s something I’d like to try.”

Rote fidgeted, then pulled a neatly folded piece of paper out of her pocket.

When she unfolded it, a drawing was revealed.

“What’s this, young lady? It looks like some kind of picture… Waves? Is it the sea?”

Vera asked, peering at it with eager curiosity.

“This is land. I thought if we dug the earth in straight furrows like this, and then planted the seed potatoes in the ridges, the walls would shield the sprouts from the wind and help them grow better.”

“That… actually makes sense.”

It wasn’t written in any farming manual, but it was a thought that carried its own logic.

“All right then, let’s try it just as Rote drew.”

After a moment of thought, Selaia spoke up.

“Laska, could you help Rote? I’ll start sowing from this side with Vera.”

“Yes, my lady.”

Thus, the work was divided as follows: Laska worked with Rote and Selaia worked with Vera. While Vera shaped the furrows, Selaia dug small holes at regular intervals into which she placed seed potatoes.

“Wow, Laska, you’re amazing at digging!”

“I’ve had my fair share of digging in the past.”

From the sound of it, their planting was going smoothly as well. Relieved, Selaia bent to pick up a few more seed potatoes when—

“Hey, Laska.”

“Yes, young miss?”

“What do you think of my mother?”

“…?”

The potatoes slipped from Selaia’s hands, tumbling into the soil. She stiffly lifted her head and glanced at Laska and Rote. His back was to her, so she could not see his face, but she could see that Rote’s eyes were shining brightly as she waited eagerly for his reply. Even Vera leaned closer, looking interested and saying softly, ‘Oh my.’

‘That child, honestly…’

Selaia rose to her feet with a troubled expression. Rote had teased before, saying they looked good together, even suggesting the two might grow fond of each other someday—but now she had gone so far as to drop such a bomb.

‘I should have warned him beforehand.’

She was certain Laska must be flustered, and she moved quickly to intervene, but before she could—

“Her ladyship is a remarkable woman. A compassionate ruler who always thinks of her people.”

His answer came cleanly, without hesitation, spoken with perfect courtesy.

The sparkle in Rote’s eyes fizzled out at once.

“Uh? That’s it?”

“How could it be ‘just it’? A single day wouldn’t be enough to praise her fully. She’s been kind even to someone like me, a mere captain of the guard, and above all—she’s the one who saved my life. I can only be grateful.”

“Hmm…”

Rote’s voice rang with disappointment.

Hearing their exchange, Selaia squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again, trying to withstand the slow flush of embarrassment rising in her chest.

‘Right… she could have meant the question simply as one person asking about another.’

Why had she so foolishly assumed he would answer as though he saw her as a woman?

Fanning her face with her hand, Selaia tried to cool the heat burning her cheeks.

“Then… don’t you want to grow closer than you are now?”

“If such a thing were to happen, it would be an honor.”

Laska smiled faintly as he answered. Rote seemed satisfied with his response, her expression softening. She dropped a seed potato neatly into the hole she had dug and declared triumphantly:

“Then I’ll help make it happen!”

“I look forward to it, young miss.”

Laska covered the seed potato with soil as he spoke.

‘He’s just humoring her out of politeness.’

That must be it—he was a considerate man with an easygoing nature.

With that thought, Selaia forced herself to refocus on her work.

And so, she failed to notice that Laska’s gaze often drifted toward her, watching as she bent over her own planting.

⭕ ⭕ ⭕

Only a few days later did Selaia realize that, contrary to her assumption, Laska and Rote’s promise had been rather serious.

“A picnic?”

“Yes!”

When Selaia repeated the word, Rote nodded vigorously in front of her.

“Now that it’s spring, my lady. The meadows are already thick with grass!”

Vera chimed in, giving Rote a playful wink.

“A picnic would be lovely. Then perhaps the three of us—you, me, and Vera—shall go?”

Elaine detested outdoor activities, and Maximilian was still resting to continue his gout treatments.

Selaia suggested it that way, but Rote’s eyes widened as she countered firmly,

“What about Laska?”

“Ah.”

An awkward exclamation slipped from Selaia’s lips.

Selaia knew well that Laska—ever accommodating and earnest—would not refuse an invitation to a picnic. Yet part of her feared that if he agreed, it might only be because he felt too burdened to say no. Thinking as an employer, she spoke hesitantly.

“Well… Laska also needs time to rest…”

“I already asked him beforehand, he said he’d love to come!”

“What?”

Selaia’s face stiffened with disbelief. It was only then that she realised that what she had thought was an invitation was actually a foregone conclusion, leaving her with no option but to accept.

“Unfortunately, my lady, I’ll need to go down to the village today.”

Vera added, shrugging her shoulders.

“Then we can choose another day for the picnic.”

“I doubt it, my lady. I’ll probably have to go into the village at some point anyway.”

“Vera…”

Selaia’s eyes softened as she looked at the housekeeper and cook. She saw that Vera was smiling cheerfully as she held out a heavy basket.

“I’ve already packed sandwiches. Take this with you, and I’ll be back by evening.”

“Vera, wait—!”

But before Selaia could protest, Vera spun on her heel and vanished.

“Mother, I want to go on a picnic… Can’t we, please?”

Selaia looked down into her daughter’s bright, pleading eyes.

“…All right. We’ll go.”

In the end, her inability to be firm was her greatest flaw.

‘But Laska, these days…’

Selaia smoothed Rote’s hair with an uncertain expression.

“My lady. Young miss.”

Drawn by her daughter’s hand, Selaia descended to the entrance—only to find Laska already waiting, prepared for the outing.

“The weather is splendid today!”

When he saw Selaia with her hair braided to one side, holding the picnic basket, he smiled warmly. His attire was simple — a clean shirt with a vest over the top — and modest to the point of plainness. Yet this only served to highlight the brightness of his presence.

Selaia blinked at the bow slung casually over his broad shoulder. Noticing her gaze, Laska gave a small shrug.

“Miss Vera insisted I bring back a pheasant or two.”

“You can use a bow as well?”

“You underestimate me, my lady.”

Though there was a trace of humor in his voice, Selaia waved her hands in flustered denial. Rote looked back and forth between them with wide-eyed curiosity.

“You misunderstand—I didn’t mean to belittle you. I simply thought you only used a sword…”

“I was joking.”

Laska cut her off with a quiet laugh, the low sound rumbling deep in his throat. The warmth of it made Selaia press the back of her hand against her cheeks, which had grown hot and uncomfortable.

⭕ ⭕ ⭕

In the end, there were three people at the picnic.

Seeing that Laska was carrying a bow, Rote said that she wanted to hunt sparrows too and brought along a small basket and some string. Each time she skipped forward, the red skirt of her dress and the dark blue thread around the edge of her basket fluttered and swayed in the breeze.

“Over here, Laska!”

“What a wonderful spot this is.”

When Rote ran ahead and waved, Laska returned the gesture, then gazed out at the wide meadow in admiration.

Walking beside him, Selaia looked around, too. She took a deep breath of the fresh, clean air and felt the dry, cool breeze brush against her nose.

While Selaia spread a blanket on the hillside, Rote busied herself, weaving a simple bird trap with her small hands.

“You’ve never done this before, have you, Laska?”

Hearing the girl’s confident tone, Laska scratched his cheek awkwardly instead of replying. As a prince, he had never set the kind of simple traps that peasant children used for play.

“Then, I’ll go hunt for a while.”

When he saw Rote’s trap nearly finished, he rose to his feet. Selaia, watching him, spoke with earnest caution.

“Don’t stray too deep into the woods, Laska. It’s dangerous there.”

“They say a family of brown bears lives on Mount Mether.”

Rote chimed in suddenly, piling on the warning. Laska tilted his head, puzzled.

“Bears… I’ve never actually seen one. I admit, I’m curious.”

“Well, the odds of catching one of those Mether bears are about the same as…”

At that moment, Selaia remembered what she had once told her daughter about how unlikely it was that she and Laska would ever grow fond of one another.

“I, for one, would actually welcome it if a brown bear appeared before me.”

“What?”

Both Selaia and Rote turned wide-eyed toward him. For an instant, Laska thought the mother and daughter looked strikingly alike in their surprise. He continued with a faint smile.

“That way, the entire village would have enough meat to eat for three days and nights.”

“…Even so, it’s far more important that you don’t get hurt.”

“Your concern honors me.”

At her worry, Laska’s lips curved upward, revealing a bright, even smile.

“I won’t give you another reason to fret, my lady. I promise I’ll be careful.”

With that cheerful reply, he turned toward the forest. A light breeze stirred his golden hair, making it ripple softly in the sunlight.

“I hope Laska catches a bear.”

Rote murmured, watching his figure disappear into the trees.

However, the tone of her voice was curious — almost as though she wished him to succeed against all odds.