Raising the Princess to Overcome Death

Chapter 320: Childhood Friends - Straw Ropes

319: Childhood Friends - Straw Ropes

Lena was experiencing firsthand that the winter routine was similar in both the Kingdom of Conrad and the Kingdom of Orun.

Young men and children gathered in clusters around various barns, busy with their hands while engaging in casual, lighthearted chatter. Lena joined them.

These were the residents of Grania’s orphanage, who had plowed and fertilized the fields after the autumn harvest to keep the soil rich for the next year. Now, they were braiding straw ropes.

Lena sat on the edge of the group.

In this setting, all you needed to join was to pick up the plentiful straw lying around and start braiding. Lena, having been raised on a farm, was particularly skilled at making straw ropes from helping her father during the winters.

She wondered how her parents were doing. She had sent them money, but with winter coming, she was worried about them managing without her.

Thinking of her parents and hometown, she picked up some straw and began braiding. Making a straw rope was simple.

For a rope of about 0.5 cm in diameter, starting with four pieces of straw worked best.

Looking around, Lena saw that most of them were braiding ropes of similar thickness. She gathered four pieces, pressing them down with her ankle. Sitting cross-legged, she held two strands in each hand and began rubbing them together.There's a certain knack to it—like pushing the base of your pinky finger against the other palm rather than rubbing both hands like an anxious child. Soon, the straw strands started forming a useful rope.

With a rustling sound, the braiding quickly reached the end. Lena then bent the tip to tie the starting point, pressing it under her ankle.

For beginners, adding strands as you go is essential. The straw naturally thins out, so adding a strand to each side prevents gaps from forming.

When done haphazardly, the rope becomes loose. Adding a strand to the left every so often makes it tighter. Lena diligently kept at it.

Once accustomed to it, the movements felt rhythmic—swift and satisfying. The act of braiding straw ropes had long been seen as a solemn task, akin to a prayer.

With small talk and the rhythmic sounds of hands rubbing, Lena was beginning to blend in with the other children of the orphanage.

Then, a boy spoke up.

“Hey, that’s not how you braid a rope…”

“What?”

A young boy nearby interrupted her. Lena’s eyes widened.

Was this the infamous territorial attitude? But these kids were all orphans.

The boy, with an innocent look, explained, “Why are you braiding it to the right? You’re supposed to braid to the left.”

As Lena looked around, she noticed that all the other orphans were indeed braiding to the left. A bit flustered, she asked, “But that makes it a ‘forbidden rope,’ doesn’t it?”

“What’s a ‘forbidden rope’?”

Depending on the direction, straw ropes are categorized as either ‘right-hand ropes’ or ‘left-hand ropes.’ Generally, most people braid to the right since it’s more convenient for right-handers.

The ‘left-hand rope,’ known as the ‘forbidden rope,’ is typically used to ward off bad energy by hanging it above doorways or on paths.

However, at Grania Orphanage, everyone simply braided to the left. Due to their secluded lifestyle, this unusual method had turned into a custom. The boy laughed.

“Sis, that’s funny. You braid so well, but you’re doing it backward.”

When in Lutetia, do as the Lutetians do; in Orville, do as the Orvillians do. Lena adjusted her position and began braiding to the left.

Though just a minor misunderstanding, Lena had truly begun blending in with the children of the orphanage. While Rev was stirring up trouble in Lutetia, she spent this peaceful farming season quietly braiding ropes.

Sometimes, as the children sang hymns while braiding left-hand ropes, a soft light would playfully glint on the ropes, either from the sun or as if blessed.

---

“Welcome.”

“Thank you for the warm reception…”

Though typically, it was the man proposing who looked uneasy, in this case, the woman was the one with a hint of distaste. The princess was not pleased by her soon-to-be husband, Prince Eric.

She thought his manners were appalling.

It was as if the prince had already considered her his wife.

Princess Elika de Isadora, upon stepping down from her carriage, wanted to climb back in. However, she held back, knowing that this was her fate.

Royal princesses of the Aisel Kingdom had long been mere tools of political marriages, serving to extend the royal lineage.

Ever since the fall of the Arcaean Empire, this was the fate for hundreds of years. She had expected it but could not avoid feeling bitter.

As she took a good look at her future husband…

...at least he’s handsome.

The rumored Prince Eric de Yeriel was, thankfully, as handsome as they said. He had such a face that one might not go hungry living off just its charm.

However, his slightly irritable gaze was a bit of a drawback. His clean blonde hair mixed with a hint of brown was of no particular concern to her... After sending her weary maids away from the long journey, she addressed him boldly.

"Please show me around the palace, Prince Eric de Yeriel."

"...Was that a request directed at me?"

"Shall I repeat your name again?"

Prince Eric let out a faint smile, brushing off her rudeness. "Follow me." His back was chilling as he spoke. Seems his personality wasn't the best.

Oh, what fate I have.

Still, Elika didn’t lose hope. She knew that, given her circumstances, she would simply have to persevere.

She gazed at him with her amber eyes tinged with gold.

"You're awfully quiet. Are you usually the silent type?"

"…"

"That's good. I like to talk. Actually... I plan to talk quite a bit. Where I come from, even royalty couldn't speak freely. Wow! That chandelier is impressive. What’s this place for?"

Though she asked, there was a sign at the entrance clearly labeled "Salon." Eric de Yeriel didn't respond.

He simply walked on, while Elika chatted on without tiring.

She began with questions like, "What's this? What's that?" and gradually, growing bolder, started asking, "What kind of person are you?" It was becoming increasingly difficult for Eric to hold back.

Finally, they reached the third floor, his private quarters, separate from the other rooms.

"Lutetia Palace’s layout is so unique. The rooms are tightly packed without corridors. It's amusing," Elika said, peeking into Eric's room.

It was a bleak room.

Although it was a prince’s room with carpets and elegant curtains, it lacked any personal items. A lone pen was the only thing on the desk, without even a single book.

Is this even possible for a person?

Feeling an eerie chill, Elika stepped inside, only for Eric to grab her wrist firmly. It hurt a little.

"This is my room."

"It will soon belong to my husband as well, won't it?"

After a brief standoff, Elika pulled her wrist free, feeling slightly annoyed but pretending it didn’t bother her.

After all, there’s no going back.

Instead of expressing displeasure and worsening the relationship from the outset, she resolved to understand him better to make her potentially miserable future a bit more manageable.

She stepped to the center of the room, maintaining her dignified poise, and surveyed the surroundings.

But really, why is this room like this?

Oh, what fate I have. Little brother, sister… It seems I’ve been married off to a madman. What am I supposed to do?

Sure, the room was clean thanks to daily maid service, but was it possible for a room to have no items belonging to its owner? She would be delighted if this turned out to be a guest room and he was just pulling a prank. Ah!

Elika’s eyes lit up.

In the display case by the window, there was a single necklace, clearly not his. It looked old, marked by years of handling.

Well, at least he's not completely crazy.

In her excitement, she impulsively grabbed the necklace, only for Eric to seize her by the neck and push her against the wall.

"Eek!"

"I see… you don’t understand your position, do you?"

A princess, sold as part of a transaction between kingdoms.

In contrast, Eric was the prince with de facto control of Conrad and the next in line for the throne. He could do whatever he wanted to her, as long as he didn’t kill her.

Aisel Kingdom? Let them try if they dare. If anything, Oriax would be pleased.

Eric’s hand moved from her neck to press against her chest.

He expected her to either cry or burst out in anger, but Elika just looked up at him calmly.

"Is this necklace that important to you, to the extent that you would commit such rudeness?"

...The tension deflated.

Eric snatched the necklace from her hand. Elika steadied her trembling arms and spoke.

"Answer me. If you wish to make me your queen."

"Why should I?"

"…Prince Eric, you’ve been seeking my hand in marriage for years. This behavior is quite surprising."

Eric let out a faint smirk, his lips curling bitterly, and Elika noticed the self-mockery in his expression.

"I only needed your lineage."

"Why? Because your hair isn’t fully golden, and your eyes aren’t amber?"

Elika’s gaze fixed on his dark, unhappy eyes.

Though his hair was blonde, it wasn’t the royal blue-blonde of the Yeriel family, but rather mixed with the brown of the Tertan duchy, giving it a muted, straw-like hue.

That was the difference between Lean de Yeriel and Eric de Yeriel, despite their uncanny resemblance.

Since Eric didn’t respond, Elika spoke again. She was aware that Prince Lean de Yeriel was alive and knew the color of his hair and eyes.

"In the end, you’re the one who will inherit the throne. What are you so afraid of?"

"Afraid? Me, afraid of what?"

Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!! Eric laughed loudly, full of confidence. Yet Elika sensed an unsettling fear within his laughter.

Not madness... but as though he feared himself.

Elika questioned him again.

Pointing to the only item in his room, the necklace he now clutched tightly,

She boldly asked what significance it held for him, as the woman destined to become his wife.

Eric’s eyes wavered.