Chapter 192: Did We Do Well?

The Rubenhart carriage had been traveling for nearly three hours.

By then, the capital was far behind them.

The stone roads closest to Skargardia’s royal castle had gradually given way to quieter routes bordered by dark woods, open fields, and low hills. The wheels rolled steadily beneath the carriage, their rhythm muted by the thick interior walls. Outside, the mounted Rubenhart knights moved in disciplined formation around them, their armor occasionally catching the pale glow of the moon.

They had departed in the evening.

If the road remained clear and the weather did not turn against them, they would reach Rubenhart territory by the following afternoon.

Inside the carriage, the arrangement had remained the same as it had been during their journey to the capital.

Ulrich sat alone on one bench.

Across from him sat the three sisters.

Esther occupied the middle, tucked warmly between Hermione and Airam, her hands folded in her lap. Hermione sat beside the window with her cloak drawn around her shoulders, while Airam leaned against the opposite side, her dark eyes watching the night beyond the glass.

Yet the mood inside the carriage had changed entirely.

On their way to the capital, the sisters had been tense.

Esther had been excited but nervous, imagining royal ballrooms, princesses, gowns, and all the things that might happen within the walls of the grand castle. Hermione had tried to hide her worry behind a composed expression, though she had watched every noble carriage they passed as if expecting someone to stop them and demand an explanation for why three witches were traveling with Count Rubenhart.

Airam had been silent.

Not nervous, exactly, but vigilant.

She had watched the roads, the guards, the servants at every inn, and the shifting expressions of every stranger who noticed the Rubenhart crest.

Now, on the way home, they looked different.

Not entirely carefree.

The ceremony had taken too much from them for that. They had seen the cruelty of the court. They had heard the whispers. They had watched demons fall dead upon a royal ballroom floor. They had watched Ulrich bleed, collapse, and lie feverish beneath the care of royal physicians.

But they had endured it.

They had danced in a royal ballroom despite the stares. They had spoken to a princess. They had received kindness from the Queen. They had offered gifts that Camellia had truly cherished.

And they had returned to the carriage not as frightened girls hoping to survive an unfamiliar court, but as members of House Rubenhart who had faced it and remained standing.

That had been one of Ulrich’s reasons for bringing them.

The noble world was not gentle.

It was beautiful from a distance: bright chandeliers, silk gowns, gold-rimmed dishes, music, and graceful dances. But beneath the elegance lived ambition, prejudice, cruelty, and people who smiled while searching for a weakness to exploit.

Ulrich wanted the sisters to understand it.

Not so they would become cold.

But so they would not be broken by it.

Esther, especially, had entered the capital carrying too many bright dreams. She had expected royal festivities to resemble the stories she liked to read. She had expected every noble to behave like a courteous prince or graceful lady.

Instead, she had learned that beautiful and noble people could be cruel.

That a room full of powerful adults could whisper hateful things about girls they had never spoken to.

And that being good did not guarantee people would treat someone kindly.

The lesson had hurt her.

But she had not shattered.

She had danced.

She had smiled again.

She had made friends.

Perhaps Camellia had helped more than anyone expected.

Ulrich had hoped the sisters would establish a favorable relationship with the princess before the events of the academy began. He had wanted to ensure they would not stand on opposite sides when the future arrived.

But he had not expected Esther to become so close to Camellia within a day.

Camellia had invited the sisters to breakfast, shown them genuine kindness, and stood at the castle gates to see them off. That was a considerable change from the novel Ulrich remembered, where Camellia and the three sisters had repeatedly encountered one another as enemies.

The story had already begun to bend.

Ulrich found that deeply satisfying.

"Did we do well, Lord Ulrich?"

Esther’s timid voice pulled him from his thoughts.

Ulrich looked toward her.

She sat very straight, though her fingers had gathered together in her lap. She seemed to be trying to appear mature while waiting for his judgment, but the hopeful light in her blue eyes gave her away.

Hermione turned her attention toward him as well.

Even Airam, though her face remained pointed toward the window, seemed to listen.

Ulrich did not make Esther wait.

"You did."

Esther’s face lit up at once.

"You heard that, Big Sister?"

"Yes, yes, I heard it." Hermione’s lips curved into a small smile. "You have been asking that question ever since we left the castle."

"But Lord Ulrich did not answer until now."

"Because he was thinking," Hermione said.

Esther turned eagerly toward Airam.

"Eldest Sister! Lord Ulrich said we did well!"

Airam finally looked away from the night outside.

Esther had already caught her arm and was holding it with both hands, smiling so brightly that Airam’s usual detached expression could not hold completely.

The corner of Airam’s lips lifted.

She reached over and patted Esther’s blond head.

"You did well," Airam said.

Esther giggled.

Then she leaned fully against Airam’s arm, hugging it as if she had received the highest praise possible.

Ulrich watched them for a moment.

Hermione looked toward him again.

"Did we embarrass you at all then?" She asked with a teasing smirk.

Ulrich raised an eyebrow.

"That depends."

Hermione glared immediately..

"On what?"

"Doesn’t matter," Ulrich said, looking back outside the window. "You all did well."

Hermione was silent before she leaned back, sulking and twirling a strand of her silver hair between her fingers

The carriage rocked gently as it rolled onward through the night.

For the first time since the attack, Ulrich allowed himself to relax against the leather seat. The poison had left his body weak in small, inconvenient ways, but the pain no longer held the sharp edge it had carried that morning.

He had survived.

The sisters were safe.

Kaliantha was alive.

And the demons had lost five assassins within the royal castle.

For now, that was enough.

Ulrich lifted one hand and knocked twice against the small panel separating the carriage cabin from the driver’s seat.

A moment later, a rider moved closer to the carriage window.

Hendrick was mounted on a dark horse beside the vehicle, cloak moving behind him as he guided the animal easily beside the rolling wheels.

"My lord?" Hendrick called.

"Find a suitable place," Ulrich said. "We will make camp."

Hendrick’s expression did not change.

He simply inclined his head.

"As you command."

Then he moved forward, giving a low signal to the knights ahead.

The carriage continued another half hour.

By then, the night had deepened fully.

The moon hung high above the road, bright enough to paint the fields and trees in pale silver. The air beyond the glass looked cold, and a thin mist had begun to gather low over the grass.

At last, the carriage slowed.

Esther straightened.

"Are we stopping?"

"We are," Hermione replied.

"Already?"

"We have been traveling for hours."

"It does not feel that long."

"That is because you spent most of the journey talking about Princess Camellia."

"B—Because she was so kind," Esther replied, blushing.

"I know," Hermione smiled teasingly.

Esther just pouted.

The carriage eventually came to a complete stop.

Outside, the Rubenhart knights had already begun spreading through the chosen area.

Hendrick had selected the camp with care.

It was a broad, gently sloping stretch of ground near a clear stream. The land remained open on three sides, with only sparse clusters of trees far enough away that no enemy could conceal themselves within striking distance. A low rise stood behind the clearing, giving the knights a higher point from which to watch the road and the surrounding fields.

There were no thick woods close by.

No narrow ravines.

No boulders large enough to hide a group of armed men.

No abandoned structures where someone might wait unseen.

It was not a place one would choose for beauty alone.

It was a place Hendrick had chosen because he could defend it.

The first group of knights dismounted and began securing the perimeter. Another group checked the stream and the nearby ground for signs of recent tracks. Two men set lanterns around the edge of the clearing, while others moved to unhitch the horses and lead them toward water.

Only when Hendrick had inspected the area himself did he approach the carriage.

"My lord," he said, opening the door. "The camp is secure."

Ulrich stepped down first.

The cool night air met him immediately.

It was clean and nice after the warm confines of the carriage. He breathed in slowly, feeling the scent of grass, damp earth, and the nearby stream.

Behind him, Esther emerged with far more enthusiasm.

"The air feels so good!"

She stepped down from the carriage and stretched both arms high above her head, her pale blue cloak slipping slightly from one shoulder.

Hermione followed more carefully.

"Yes," she said, smiling as she looked up at the open sky. "It is much better than being inside the carriage."

Esther tilted her head.

"Can you hear that?"

Hermione paused.

The night was alive with soft sounds.

Water moving over stones in the stream.

The faint rustle of wind through distant branches.

The low snorts of horses.

And beneath it all, a steady chorus of tiny voices rising from the grass.

"Crickets," Hermione said.

Esther’s eyes widened.

"They are loud."

"They are always loud at night."

"I do not hear them much at the estate."

"That is because we sleep with the windows closed," Airam said as she descended from the carriage.

Hermione pointed toward the edge of the stream.

"Oh. Look."

Esther followed her gesture.

Her breath caught.

Fireflies drifted above the grass.

At first, there were only a few, small pale lights rising and falling against the darkness. Then Esther saw more of them hovering near the reeds and low bushes by the stream. They moved in slow, wavering patterns, their gold-green glow appearing and disappearing as though tiny stars had descended into the field.

Esther took one step forward.

Then another.

"They are beautiful," she whispered.

Hermione smiled.

"They are."

Airam watched the fireflies in silence.

For all her coldness, she did not tell Esther to stop staring.

"Don’t get too far," Ulrich interrupted them before she could move further away. "Stay close to the knights." He added with a warning tone before walking off.