The Fallen Noblewoman Grasps the Future with a Merchant Woman - Chapter 7

The dining hall was utterly silent. Outside the window, the morning light had begun to faintly whiten the cobblestones. Dawn was breaking. The long, freezing night was finally coming to an end. Klara Wilhelm sat on the dining hall floor, staring at her own palms. Her injured left shoulder throbbed with pain. But thanks to that pain, she could feel that she was alive, here and now. Her fingertips were still caked with her own half-dried blood. She gently traced the texture of that blood with the pad of her finger. It was damp, slightly sticky. As if her body heat still lingered within it. When she slowly inhaled, the faint scent of iron tickled her nose. "...It's over, isn't it." Her voice was hoarse. The back of her throat felt tight, and it was a whisper so faint she could barely hear it herself. Beside her, Marta was carefully examining the evidence documents she had taken from her leather bag, one by one. Her silver short hair gleamed coldly in the morning sun. On the back of her left hand, a burn scar stood out white. Marta answered without looking up. "No. This is the beginning." Klara turned those words over in her heart. (The beginning.) Yes. Until yesterday, we were merely chased, crawling on the ground, doing everything we could just to survive. But now, it's different. Marta stood up, put the evidence documents back into her leather bag, and slung it over her shoulder. Her movements were swift and without hesitation. "We're going to Wasserburg. We leave at dawn. Before Friedrich can use official documents to declare the evidence a forgery, we have to make the first move." "Yes." Klara also tried to stand. But the moment she put weight on her left shoulder, a pain that resonated deep in her bones shot through her. "...Ngh." Her breath caught. The edges of her vision blurred white, her knees buckled, and she put her hands on the floor again. The wound from being struck by the club had not yet healed. Marta rushed over immediately. Her footsteps rang out loudly on the floorboards. "Don't push yourself. The bone in your shoulder might be cracked. You overdid it in yesterday's fight." Her hand supported Klara's right arm. It was a cold hand with a burn scar. But that coldness was, in fact, pleasant against her feverish wound. "But I have to go. If we stay here, the next move will—" "I know." Marta cut off Klara's words and picked up an old cane that had been leaning in the corner of the dining hall. It was something Hans had prepared for them the previous night. She gripped it lightly once, as if checking the feel of the knobby wood. "I borrowed this. Walk with it for a while." Klara accepted the cane. The weight of the wood settled into her palm. When she tapped the floor lightly with the tip of the cane, it returned a small, hard *tok* sound. (I'm not alone.) That fact alone gave strength to the hand holding the cane. Just as the two were about to leave the dining hall— From the shadow of the front desk, the innkeeper Hans Lieder appeared. His face was still pale, but his eyes held a different light than they had the night before. "Wait." Hans took a small cloth pouch from the drawer of the front desk. It was a well-worn leather pouch, small enough to fit in the palm of a hand. "This is... the lodging fee from last night. I'm returning it. I can't possibly take money from you." "I can't accept it." Marta shook her head. "You told us the escape route last night. That's help enough." "That's not it!" Hans's voice shook the air of the dining hall. "I was... I was scared. I even considered betraying you. I thought if I handed you over to Eisenring, the inn would be safe. But—you fought. Just the two of you, you stood up to Lord Friedrich." Hans took Marta's hand and firmly pressed the cloth pouch into her palm. His hand was trembling slightly. "This isn't the lodging fee. It's my... way of settling things. ...Please. Take it." Marta silently stared at the cloth pouch. Then—she let out a small breath. As if tracing the feel of the leather with her thumb, she quietly, but surely, folded her fingers and enclosed the pouch. "...Alright. I'll hold onto it. But I don't intend to have you return it. Someday, when our trading company grows big, I'll pay you back double." Hans's eyes widened. Then—his tightly drawn mouth relaxed just a little. "Haha... well, I'll look forward to that. I suppose I'll keep my business going until that day." Klara watched their exchange in silence. The morning sun outlined Marta's profile. (Marta is properly thinking about the future.) "Someday, when our trading company grows big"—there was no lie in those words. Something pulsed faintly deep in Klara's chest. (I'll be standing there too. Surely.) The two bid farewell to Hans and went outside through the inn's front entrance. There was no longer any need to escape through the back door. The cobblestone street was still empty. The sky was growing light, but the town was still asleep. As if the siege of the previous night had been a lie, the area was quiet. But—looking closely, here and there on the cobblestones, traces remained of being trampled by iron boots. The aftermath of Friedrich and the Eisenring soldiers' departure. "First, we cut through the Eschenwald Forest. The highway is dangerous. Eisenring might be watching it." Marta spoke without unfolding a map. Her blue eyes seemed to already see through the path ahead. "Is the path through the forest safe?" "Better than the highway. Besides—I have an acquaintance in the forest." "An acquaintance?" "The ruins of St. Katharina's Chapel. That place has long been a gathering spot for outcasts like us. It's convenient for hiding and resting." Marta lightly stroked the burn scar on her left hand. "There—eight years ago, after I lost my family, I took shelter there for a while." Klara nodded without saying anything. The two began to walk. Leaning on her cane, Klara slowly stepped on the cobblestones. Every time her left shoulder ached, she gritted her teeth. But—her feet did not stop. Each time the cane struck the cobblestones, a regular *kok*, *kok* sound echoed. It was like a marker confirming her own existence. (Marta is beside me.) (That alone makes my feet move.) The townscape of Graustadt sank into the morning mist. The stone houses, the roof of the central market visible in the distance, and—the Brennhart mansion towering on the hill. Klara looked up at that mansion for just a moment. A huge three-story residence. Friedrich was somewhere within its more than eighty rooms. What kind of expression did he have now? How was he taking last night's defeat? "...I don't ever have to go back there again, do I." She was surprised at herself after saying it aloud. There was no loneliness in those words. Rather—one of the weights on her chest had vanished. Marta spoke, still facing forward. "Yeah. That place isn't where you belong. The place we're going to build from now on is your place." Klara put strength into the hand gripping the cane. The sensation of the wood digging firmly into her palm. (That's right.) (I'll make my own place, for myself.) Passing through the town gate, the two entered the path leading to the Eschenwald Forest. The cobblestone road ended, turning into a path of dirt and grass. The damp air wrapped around their cheeks like cold palms. The forest was quiet. The chirping of birds could be heard in the distance. The leaves of the trees rustled softly in the wind. The morning light streamed thinly through the gaps in the branches, painting flickering white patterns on the ground. Klara stepped into this forest for the first time. (It was such a quiet place.) When she was a noble lady of the domain, she never walked through forests. She always just passed through on the highway in a carriage. The forest was merely a "place to pass through." But now, it was different. Every time she stepped on the earth, the scent of damp undergrowth rose up. The cold air filled her lungs to the depths. Only the sound of Marta's footsteps walking beside her could be heard, regular and steady. "Marta." "What is it." "I... I'm glad I got to run a trading company with you." Marta stopped walking. Her blue eyes stared intently at Klara. She blinked twice. "...What's this, all of a sudden." "It's not sudden. I've been thinking it all along. Last night, when you took out the evidence documents—when you held my hand instead of running away and leaving me—even long before that, always." Klara's voice trembled slightly. The hand holding the cane tightened firmly. Her fingertips turned white. "I was abandoned by my family, abandoned by my fiancé, and had nowhere to belong. But because you were there—I can still stand." Marta was silent for a while. The wind swayed her silver hair. Then—she abruptly turned to face forward. "...Same for me." It was a small voice. As if she was telling it to herself. "For eight years, I lived thinking only of revenge. I never once thought about doing something together with someone. But—when you acted as a decoy for my sake, I felt like I was going crazy. I thought I didn't want to lose you. It was the first time. Having that kind of feeling for someone." Marta gently traced the burn scar on her left hand with the fingertips of her right hand. "So—thank you, Klara." Klara felt heat behind her eyes. Her vision blurred. Marta's back grew hazy within the silver light. A single tear overflowed, traced down her cheek, fell from the tip of her chin, and soaked into the earth. "...Yes." She couldn't say anything more. The two began walking again. The path through the forest curved gently, with traces of old cobblestones remaining here and there. It must have been a path where many more people once came and went. Now, it was mossy and quiet. After walking for a while—the shadow of an old building came into view ahead. "We're here. The ruins of St. Katharina's Chapel." It was a decaying stone church. Part of the roof had collapsed, and the wooden door had come off its hinges and fallen to the ground. Ivy crawled up the walls, and fragments of stained glass were scattered in the grass, flickering in the morning sun. But—strangely, it didn't feel unpleasant. The morning sun streamed through the gaps in the collapsed roof, softly illuminating the inside of the chapel. "It's a beautiful place." "Yes. I think so too, every time I come here." Marta walked deeper into the chapel. She stopped in front of the ruined altar, knelt on one knee on the stone floor, and touched it with her hand. "I hid here with my mother and little brother. My father died, we lost our shop, we were chased by debt collectors—we fled into this forest under the cover of night. That was eight years ago now." Klara stood beside Marta. The left hand with the burn scar trembled faintly on the stone. Klara crouched down and gently placed her own hand over it. She intertwined her fingers with those cold fingertips. "We'll find them. I'm sure of it." Marta didn't answer. But—her fingers squeezed Klara's hand in return. That alone was enough. The two rested in the chapel for a while. Marta handed her canteen of water to Klara, then leaned against a collapsed wall and closed her eyes. Klara took a sip of water, felt its coldness travel down her throat, and rested her injured shoulder against the wall. (From here, we go to Wasserburg.) (We'll leave the evidence with Marta's childhood friend, the tailor, and begin our counterattack in earnest.) (Friedrich will absolutely not give up. He will definitely make his next move.) The battle had only just begun. But—. (I wasn't trembling anymore.) An injured hand and a hand with a burn scar lay side by side on the floor. With these two hands, they would grow their trading company from now on. Morgenstern Trading Company—the Morning Star. A light worthy of that name, so

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Episode 7

Name: The Fallen Noblewoman Grasps the Future with a Merchant Woman
Author: Novelia

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