TCCIO 38

Chapter 38. And Be Happy

The might of the Stilleitz Empire’s army was overwhelming. They were heading straight south toward the Iorenti capital, without pause, without turning back. News of fresh defeats arrived at the royal palace every day. A sense of impending doom rattled the capital, to the point where it wouldn’t have been surprising if a cannon had exploded right before their eyes. The Iorenti royal family had no choice but to hasten preparations to dispatch a diplomatic envoy to Boswell.

“Load the cargo quickly!”

The captain’s urgent voice echoed through Lesté Port. Following his orders, laborers hefted heavy crates onto the ship. Countless boxes were loaded onto the royal vessel docked at the harbor—fine fabrics, dazzling jewels, paintings and sculptures meant as gifts. Not only the belongings Delia would need immediately, but also valuables to be used as dowry were being carefully stowed aboard.

“There’s really so much.”

Delia muttered to herself, watching the workers move. Their hurried steps betrayed a creeping sense of unease.

“It’s like we’re fleeing.”

Across the sea lay the island nation of Boswell. Standing at the far edge of Lesté Port, Delia looked in the direction where Boswell must be. Sea winds whipped her robe, and the white foam of waves at her feet surged like they would swallow her whole. The vast, unending motion erased all thought—Delia couldn’t look away.

“What are you thinking about so deeply?”

Startled by the sudden voice, Delia flinched. Turning her head slowly, she met Queen Eleanor’s gaze—soft, moist eyes watching her.

“It’s nothing.”

“Don’t worry too much about things here.”

The queen etched her daughter’s final image into memory as the sea breeze fluttered her hair. Her eyes shimmered with unspoken sorrow. Her trembling fingers gathered Delia’s golden hair and tucked it gently behind her ear.

“Your father and I are here. You don’t need to worry so much.”

As she soothed Delia, the queen unpinned a brooch from her own garment. With careful hands, she fastened Delia’s robe and secured it with the brooch. It sparkled with multiple rays of light from its intricate design.

“General Enrico has resumed his position as Supreme Commander. We won’t be pushed back so easily.”

Delia remained silent, listening without a word.

“We’ve already contacted the Duke of Boswell. A welcoming party will be waiting when you arrive.”

The queen studied Delia, who only stared silently at the waves. Her daughter, who had always chattered brightly. How anxious must she be to stand so speechless now? The queen lovingly smoothed Delia’s collar.

“Uncle Viborg is there too. Be sure to visit and greet him when you arrive.”

“Yes, Mother.”

“He’ll help you settle in well.”

Delia reached up and took her mother’s hand, the one that was adjusting her robe. Did her mother realize how damp her voice had become? Though it was the queen who felt most anxious, she was doing everything she could to reassure her daughter. Delia could no longer ignore that effort.

“Even if it’s hard, I’ll endure.”

“Don’t worry. I am a princess of Iorenti.”

She must never forget her place—whether in Iorenti or Boswell. Her duties and responsibilities as a royal must be remembered. To falter just because of some hardship—unthinkable. Unacceptable.

“I won’t break, Mother.”

Delia’s firm determination made the queen all the more sorrowful. How had things come to this in their generation? She gently stroked the hand she had to let go of.

“Yes. You’ll do well, no matter where you go.”

“Please take care of yourself too, Mother.”

“You as well.”

Just then, Captain Jer approached.

“Your Majesty. All the cargo has been loaded.”

“Thank you for your hard work, Captain.”

“The princess’s birdcage has been loaded as instructed.”

Delia responded with a nod. She had brought even Mei’s ominous and unsettling bird along—it was something she couldn’t bear to part with.

“Delia.”

Now that everything was ready, the queen gripped her daughter’s hand tighter. The moment of departure had arrived—a moment where she might never see her daughter again.

“Yes, Mother.”

“When you reach Boswell, life won’t be as it is here. You must know how to lower your head appropriately.”

The queen’s concerned words passed through their joined hands. Delia bowed her head and answered meekly.

“Yes.”

“Even if things don’t go your way, don’t be too forward. Let it go with grace.”

She wouldn’t be able to live as freely as she had in Iorenti. The queen worried her daughter might be scorned if she stood out too much in a foreign land.

“Live modestly, avoid excess. Take care of those around you.”

The queen knew that once her advice ended, Delia would have to leave. So she couldn’t stop. One last set of nagging instructions.

“Never forget your pride as a princess of Iorenti, no matter where you are.”

“Yes, Mother.”

“Even if the new environment is hard, stay strong.”

All of this endless advice was really for one thing.

“And be happy.”

That was all that mattered. Everything else was just a means to this one simple wish.

“As long as you’re happy, that’s enough.”

With those final words, the queen cupped Delia’s cheeks. Praying that her daughter’s path would be filled with blessings, she kissed her forehead.

“Yes, Mother.”

Only after hearing that reply did the queen slowly let go. With her final goodbye, Delia turned and boarded the ship. The guards and maids joining her for the journey also boarded, and the ship began to move. The queen stood motionless at the harbor, like a statue, until the ship disappeared from view. She strained her eyes through the haze, trying to hold onto the last image of her daughter’s ship.

‘You must be safe too, Mother.’

Delia couldn’t voice it aloud, but she sent the thought into the sea breeze. Leaning over the railing, she watched the harbor vanish. Her mother’s figure blurred into the white foam left in the ship’s wake.

Even the lingering image of the Iorenti port faded from view. Yet Delia didn’t return to her cabin. She stared only at the sea. No matter where she looked, there was nothing but ocean. Everything from Iorenti had vanished, and she was now alone in the vast sea. Left alone, her identity became even clearer.

“I am a princess of Iorenti.”

Fingering the brooch her mother had fastened, she whispered,

“It’s my duty to form a marriage that benefits the kingdom.”

As the ship cut through the waves, the wind whipped her hair and robe. Thanks to the brooch, her robe didn’t come loose. She clutched it, feeling her mother’s invisible touch.

“If… it truly is a marriage that benefits the kingdom.”

Delia turned her gaze toward Boswell.

“Will those who stood idle until now really help us?”

The crash of waves and the echo of a slap on a maid’s cheek overlapped in her mind like a duet.

“Boswell is sending reinforcements now? After all this time?”

Their veiled violence, their scornful glances at weak maids, their polished politeness toward royalty… Boswell’s two-faced nature boiled in her memory.

“Boswell helping desperate Iorenti? Really?”

Delia’s muttering turned sharp.

“Impossible.”

She had long dismissed the spy’s warning that Boswell was dangerous. If it was for national benefit, she had to go, no matter the danger. If it was for the country, she had to marry. That was royalty’s duty. But if none of it benefited Iorenti…

Delia turned to Jer beside her, who looked uneasy.

“Bring it to me. The royal letter with Father’s seal.”

“Your Highness, opening it without the king’s permission is unlawful.”

“I’m sure it mentions me.”

“But—”

Delia cut him off firmly.

“I need to know what I’m being traded for. Get it. Now.”

Unable to disobey, Jer ordered his men to bring the box. Carved with Iorenti’s crest, the chests were opened on deck under the blazing sun. Delia watched as the treasures were unpacked—royal jewels, fine silks, all shimmering like her father’s image.

“There’s definitely something.”

She remembered the moment her father mentioned reinforcements—the hesitation in his eyes. Barely a second, but etched in her mind. Either Boswell or her father—or both—had lied.

“Your Highness. We found it.”

Jer handed her a small wooden box delicately carved with Iorenti’s butterfly crest. Delia stared at it, then slowly opened it. Inside was a rolled letter, sealed with royal wax.

“Your Highness, this must be delivered to the Duke of Boswell. If they see the seal broken—”

But Delia had already broken the seal. Her hands shook as she unrolled the letter.

“To the esteemed Duke of Boswell.

Due to the ruthless invasion of the Stilleitz Empire, Iorenti’s fate is sealed. We request asylum in your nation. Relying on our alliance, we ask for the protection of Princess Delia…”

The words blurred through misty eyes. Droplets fell and smudged the ink.

It was a lie. Her father had lied. He hadn’t sent her to arrange reinforcements—he had sent her to escape. The marriage was a smokescreen. He had already given up on Iorenti and sent Delia away—to save her.

“Now—”

Crushed by the truth, Delia clenched the letter in her fist.

“Right now.”

Abandoning her country, her parents, to flee? She hadn’t eaten poison to run. She hadn’t escaped him to hide. She would never accept such an order.

“Turn this ship around. Now.”