93. The Prince's Destiny
Erna, her consciousness dimmed by the overwhelming shame, forgot how to close her eyes and watched the absurd reality unfold. The fact that she had started far behind quickly faded into oblivion. Bjorn, who had quickly closed the gap, began to gradually gain a lead over his competitors.
Erna, who had stopped screaming without realizing it, looked at the starting line and other participants moving away with wide, surprised eyes.
This guy is a really good runner.
Her heart began to pound like a small bell as she learned another new fact about her husband.
“Bjorn, hurry!”
Erna shouted urgently as she saw another young couple pursuing her with fierce momentum.
“Catch me! Hurry up, just a little faster!”
She didn't want to do this, but Erna had already become serious. If it was going to be a complete embarrassment, she figured it would be better to win and suffer the humiliation. At least then she wouldn't have to suffer the bitterness of defeat.
“Alright! It’s almost done!”
As the finish line neared, the couple who had been following closely began to lose strength.
Bjorn, sprinting at full speed, crossed the finish line with a wide gap over second place. "Wow!" The square shook with cheers and applause from the excited spectators at this thrilling comeback victory. Erna, completely oblivious to the humiliation of being carried, also erupted in jubilation.
Bjorn let Erna down, his breathing heavy and mixed with laughter.
"Bjorn! We're first! We won!"
Erna hovered beside him, catching her breath, bouncing around like an excited puppy.
“You look so happy to have won, ma’am.”
“Yes! Because Dniester doesn’t play games, they can’t lose.”
Where did that once so demure lady go? Erna's eyes sparkled with emotion as she gave a bold answer.
Bjorn smiled cheerfully and spread his arms. The lady, intoxicated with triumph, unhesitatingly embraced him.
Even at the spring festival in the countryside, Dniester was victorious.
It was a great achievement that the couple achieved together.
“Hmm. It’s big.”
Erna, who had carefully examined the prestigious prizes awarded to the winners of the village festival, expressed her feelings in a few short words.
“It’s very big.”
Other than that, she had absolutely no idea what else to say.
Bjorn, who had become the village's top man by running like a racehorse, reaped a mountain of crops. Pumpkins, potatoes, garlic, oats, wheat, and countless other vegetables and grains, stacked high above Erna, filled chests.
A hollow laugh escaped Bjorn's lips as he gazed intently at the prize he'd won. It was undeniably large, so the waiter's words were certainly true. The wooden chests, containing the immense blessings of Burford's fertile land, were adorned with uselessly pretty flowers, further bewildering Bjorn.
“You two, come up here. Hurry up.”
The host led the winning couple, who were just staring blankly at the wooden box, to a stage covered with colorful flowers.
The grand ducal couple were crowned winners of the festival, amidst the cheers of the crowds that filled the square. Bjorn received a bottle of wine, and Erna received a wreath and necklace made of lilies of the valley, the symbol of May in Burford.
“Now, the Prince and Princess of this festival have arrived!”
The mighty man's booming shout echoed high into the bright late spring sky. Then, like the sea parting, the onlookers retreated, clearing the way for their procession.
“Erna, I guess I’m destined to be a Prince.”
The Prince of crops, holding the wine bottle like a scepter, whispered softly.
“No matter what you do, you’re a Prince.”
Bjorn smiled faintly and politely extended his hand.
“Let's go, princess.”
Erna looked at Bjorn in amazement and burst out laughing. A small white flower bud fluttered above her head.
Erna, escorted by her husband, marched through the town square. Bjorn's gestures, waving to the playful cheers and applause of the onlookers, were as skillful and elegant as those of a royal procession.
"By the way, doesn't that young man look familiar? I'm sure I've seen him somewhere."
A middle-aged woman whispered softly as she watched the prince of crops leisurely walk through the center of the village square.
“Come to think of it, Prince! Yeah, don’t you look a bit like the twin Princes?”
A man who had been looking at him closely shouted excitedly.
“Oh my. I drank during the day again.”
Unfortunately, that claim was quickly dismissed.
The carriage carrying the Grand Duke and his wife returned to Baden-Wurttemberg only at sunset.
Baroness Baden, who was tidying up the finished patchwork quilt, watched the scene unfold through the window. Bjorn, who had stepped out of the carriage first, escorted Erna with the utmost gentlemanly demeanor. The joyous moment they had enjoyed was evident just from Erna's bright face.
“I’m so glad to see you’re feeling better, Madam.”
Mrs. Greve, who had been supporting her, breathed a deep sigh of relief.
Baroness Baden nodded, took off her reading glasses, and stood up. As she put on the shawl Madame Greve had brought her and headed for the front door, the western sky grew even more rosy.
“Did you enjoy the festival, Your Highness?”
Bjorn turned around at the greeting offered with a smile. A soft smile appeared on his lips as he offered a polite greeting.
“Yes. Thanks to you, I had a good time.”
"I'm glad to hear that. Erna, how were you?"
“...I had fun too.”
Erna, her gaze fixed on her fingertips, answered softly. Her expression was awkward, as if the events of this morning were still weighing on her mind.
“That’s fortunate.”
Baroness Baden nodded and spread her arms, as if welcoming a child back from playing in the fields.
After hesitating for a moment, Erna approached cautiously and embraced her. The sunset settled on the wrinkled back of Baroness Baden's hand, which was stroking her stiff back.
“Thank you for your permission.”
There was a faint moisture in Erna's whispering voice.
“I’m sorry I’m so late, honey.”
Baroness Baden, who was looking at the distant sky where dusk was falling, answered while closing her reddened eyes.
It wasn't a feat to raise her, locked up in this remote world.
Every time she heard news of the clumsy Grand Duchess, hated and ridiculed by the world, she regretted it again and again. Fearing that this child might also end up as unhappy as Annette, she built a wall higher and higher, even though she knew she couldn't live forever in that world.
She should have raised her like the other noble daughters. If she had, the child wouldn't have been treated this way and suffered this kind of pain.
Instead of those deeply regretful words, Baroness Baden smiled more affectionately than ever.
“You must be very hungry. Let’s go in quickly.”
As she was about to turn around, holding her granddaughter's hand, her gaze stopped on the boxes being lowered one by one from the carriage.
“Oh my goodness, Erna. What is that?”
Baroness Baden's eyes widened as she recognized the crops. She briefly looked embarrassed. Erna squeezed her hand, her eyes sparkling.
It was a lovely look that seemed to have a lot to say.
The horse carrying the two men stopped beneath a large tree. The forest was empty, as the servants had all left after completing their picnic preparations.
While the excited Erna looked around, Bjorn dismounted first. The breeze that brushed his nose was filled with the refreshing scent of flowers and grass.
Bjorn gently lifted Erna and placed her down on the grass. A wide blanket spread out in the shade was perfectly prepared, complete with cushions, a basket of food, and even a brazier for tea.
Erna, momentarily forgetting her modest ladyhood, ran to the far side of a secluded forest clearing. Wild roses and blackberry bushes. A clear stream. As she checked out each of the longed-for sights, her trembling movements resembled a young animal released from a trap.
Bjorn sat half-reclined against a pile of cushions, gazing at his wife. The scenery, filled with leisurely drifting clouds, trees and grass swaying in the breeze, and clusters of spring flowers, was as beautiful as Erna had described.
Even as he willingly acknowledged the truth, Bjorn's gaze remained fixed solely on his wife. The braided hair swayed behind her slender back. The straw hat with its white ribbon. The muslin dress is embroidered with floral patterns. As he carefully examined each and every detail, his gaze gradually deepened.
Erna, who had been wandering through the cluster of silverbells by the stream, returned with a few flowers. Bjorn greeted his wife with a gentle smile and poured her a glass of wine from the basket.
"Me too."
Erna, who had been quietly watching him, took out another glass of wine and sat down next to him.
“It seems that a respectable lady is drinking in broad daylight.”
“Because today is a special day.”
Erna's cheeks flushed a peach as she smiled shyly. Only after thoroughly admiring her face did Bjorn pick up the wine bottle again.
The sound of two glasses filled with deep red wine gently touching each other resonated clearly.
Erna emptied her glass as she told stories from her childhood.
A loving mother. A very warm and caring grandparent. The beautiful days spent with them in their country home. The story, devoid of any hint of shadow, felt like a fairy tale.
“I like this flower too.”
Erna, who had been staring blankly at him for a while, suddenly pointed to the silver bell flower placed in the water glass.
"I know."
As he refilled Erna's glass, which had already become empty, Bjorn suddenly realized that this lady, who could only drink one glass, was already on her third glass of wine.
“I’ve liked it since I was little.”
The blink rate has slowed down significantly.
"But now, I can't like them. Flowers are just flowers. They don't just bloom in that greenhouse. There are so many of them here, too. People, they're really bad. It's weird."
Judging by the way she was talking nonsense, it was clear she was drunk.
Bjorn put down the bottle without refilling her glass. Erna, who had been staring blankly at him, frowned in disapproval. It seemed likely that if she got a little more drunk, she would be transformed into a total drunkard.
After a moment of hesitation, Bjorn eventually filled his wife's glass. A blissful smile spread across Erna's face as she watched him quietly.
“Thank you, Bjorn.”
You're walking the path of a good drinker, but you're being unnecessarily polite.
Even Bjorn smiled, finding the vast distance so endearing. With such fine weather and beautiful scenery, it seemed like there was no reason not to tolerate a pretty drunkard.
Erna, her consciousness dimmed by the overwhelming shame, forgot how to close her eyes and watched the absurd reality unfold. The fact that she had started far behind quickly faded into oblivion. Bjorn, who had quickly closed the gap, began to gradually gain a lead over his competitors.
Erna, who had stopped screaming without realizing it, looked at the starting line and other participants moving away with wide, surprised eyes.
This guy is a really good runner.
Her heart began to pound like a small bell as she learned another new fact about her husband.
“Bjorn, hurry!”
Erna shouted urgently as she saw another young couple pursuing her with fierce momentum.
“Catch me! Hurry up, just a little faster!”
She didn't want to do this, but Erna had already become serious. If it was going to be a complete embarrassment, she figured it would be better to win and suffer the humiliation. At least then she wouldn't have to suffer the bitterness of defeat.
“Alright! It’s almost done!”
As the finish line neared, the couple who had been following closely began to lose strength.
Bjorn, sprinting at full speed, crossed the finish line with a wide gap over second place. "Wow!" The square shook with cheers and applause from the excited spectators at this thrilling comeback victory. Erna, completely oblivious to the humiliation of being carried, also erupted in jubilation.
Bjorn let Erna down, his breathing heavy and mixed with laughter.
"Bjorn! We're first! We won!"
Erna hovered beside him, catching her breath, bouncing around like an excited puppy.
“You look so happy to have won, ma’am.”
“Yes! Because Dniester doesn’t play games, they can’t lose.”
Where did that once so demure lady go? Erna's eyes sparkled with emotion as she gave a bold answer.
Bjorn smiled cheerfully and spread his arms. The lady, intoxicated with triumph, unhesitatingly embraced him.
Even at the spring festival in the countryside, Dniester was victorious.
It was a great achievement that the couple achieved together.
***
“Hmm. It’s big.”
Erna, who had carefully examined the prestigious prizes awarded to the winners of the village festival, expressed her feelings in a few short words.
“It’s very big.”
Other than that, she had absolutely no idea what else to say.
Bjorn, who had become the village's top man by running like a racehorse, reaped a mountain of crops. Pumpkins, potatoes, garlic, oats, wheat, and countless other vegetables and grains, stacked high above Erna, filled chests.
A hollow laugh escaped Bjorn's lips as he gazed intently at the prize he'd won. It was undeniably large, so the waiter's words were certainly true. The wooden chests, containing the immense blessings of Burford's fertile land, were adorned with uselessly pretty flowers, further bewildering Bjorn.
“You two, come up here. Hurry up.”
The host led the winning couple, who were just staring blankly at the wooden box, to a stage covered with colorful flowers.
The grand ducal couple were crowned winners of the festival, amidst the cheers of the crowds that filled the square. Bjorn received a bottle of wine, and Erna received a wreath and necklace made of lilies of the valley, the symbol of May in Burford.
“Now, the Prince and Princess of this festival have arrived!”
The mighty man's booming shout echoed high into the bright late spring sky. Then, like the sea parting, the onlookers retreated, clearing the way for their procession.
“Erna, I guess I’m destined to be a Prince.”
The Prince of crops, holding the wine bottle like a scepter, whispered softly.
“No matter what you do, you’re a Prince.”
Bjorn smiled faintly and politely extended his hand.
“Let's go, princess.”
Erna looked at Bjorn in amazement and burst out laughing. A small white flower bud fluttered above her head.
Erna, escorted by her husband, marched through the town square. Bjorn's gestures, waving to the playful cheers and applause of the onlookers, were as skillful and elegant as those of a royal procession.
"By the way, doesn't that young man look familiar? I'm sure I've seen him somewhere."
A middle-aged woman whispered softly as she watched the prince of crops leisurely walk through the center of the village square.
“Come to think of it, Prince! Yeah, don’t you look a bit like the twin Princes?”
A man who had been looking at him closely shouted excitedly.
“Oh my. I drank during the day again.”
Unfortunately, that claim was quickly dismissed.
***
The carriage carrying the Grand Duke and his wife returned to Baden-Wurttemberg only at sunset.
Baroness Baden, who was tidying up the finished patchwork quilt, watched the scene unfold through the window. Bjorn, who had stepped out of the carriage first, escorted Erna with the utmost gentlemanly demeanor. The joyous moment they had enjoyed was evident just from Erna's bright face.
“I’m so glad to see you’re feeling better, Madam.”
Mrs. Greve, who had been supporting her, breathed a deep sigh of relief.
Baroness Baden nodded, took off her reading glasses, and stood up. As she put on the shawl Madame Greve had brought her and headed for the front door, the western sky grew even more rosy.
“Did you enjoy the festival, Your Highness?”
Bjorn turned around at the greeting offered with a smile. A soft smile appeared on his lips as he offered a polite greeting.
“Yes. Thanks to you, I had a good time.”
"I'm glad to hear that. Erna, how were you?"
“...I had fun too.”
Erna, her gaze fixed on her fingertips, answered softly. Her expression was awkward, as if the events of this morning were still weighing on her mind.
“That’s fortunate.”
Baroness Baden nodded and spread her arms, as if welcoming a child back from playing in the fields.
After hesitating for a moment, Erna approached cautiously and embraced her. The sunset settled on the wrinkled back of Baroness Baden's hand, which was stroking her stiff back.
“Thank you for your permission.”
There was a faint moisture in Erna's whispering voice.
“I’m sorry I’m so late, honey.”
Baroness Baden, who was looking at the distant sky where dusk was falling, answered while closing her reddened eyes.
It wasn't a feat to raise her, locked up in this remote world.
Every time she heard news of the clumsy Grand Duchess, hated and ridiculed by the world, she regretted it again and again. Fearing that this child might also end up as unhappy as Annette, she built a wall higher and higher, even though she knew she couldn't live forever in that world.
She should have raised her like the other noble daughters. If she had, the child wouldn't have been treated this way and suffered this kind of pain.
Instead of those deeply regretful words, Baroness Baden smiled more affectionately than ever.
“You must be very hungry. Let’s go in quickly.”
As she was about to turn around, holding her granddaughter's hand, her gaze stopped on the boxes being lowered one by one from the carriage.
“Oh my goodness, Erna. What is that?”
Baroness Baden's eyes widened as she recognized the crops. She briefly looked embarrassed. Erna squeezed her hand, her eyes sparkling.
It was a lovely look that seemed to have a lot to say.
***
The horse carrying the two men stopped beneath a large tree. The forest was empty, as the servants had all left after completing their picnic preparations.
While the excited Erna looked around, Bjorn dismounted first. The breeze that brushed his nose was filled with the refreshing scent of flowers and grass.
Bjorn gently lifted Erna and placed her down on the grass. A wide blanket spread out in the shade was perfectly prepared, complete with cushions, a basket of food, and even a brazier for tea.
Erna, momentarily forgetting her modest ladyhood, ran to the far side of a secluded forest clearing. Wild roses and blackberry bushes. A clear stream. As she checked out each of the longed-for sights, her trembling movements resembled a young animal released from a trap.
Bjorn sat half-reclined against a pile of cushions, gazing at his wife. The scenery, filled with leisurely drifting clouds, trees and grass swaying in the breeze, and clusters of spring flowers, was as beautiful as Erna had described.
Even as he willingly acknowledged the truth, Bjorn's gaze remained fixed solely on his wife. The braided hair swayed behind her slender back. The straw hat with its white ribbon. The muslin dress is embroidered with floral patterns. As he carefully examined each and every detail, his gaze gradually deepened.
Erna, who had been wandering through the cluster of silverbells by the stream, returned with a few flowers. Bjorn greeted his wife with a gentle smile and poured her a glass of wine from the basket.
"Me too."
Erna, who had been quietly watching him, took out another glass of wine and sat down next to him.
“It seems that a respectable lady is drinking in broad daylight.”
“Because today is a special day.”
Erna's cheeks flushed a peach as she smiled shyly. Only after thoroughly admiring her face did Bjorn pick up the wine bottle again.
The sound of two glasses filled with deep red wine gently touching each other resonated clearly.
***
Erna emptied her glass as she told stories from her childhood.
A loving mother. A very warm and caring grandparent. The beautiful days spent with them in their country home. The story, devoid of any hint of shadow, felt like a fairy tale.
“I like this flower too.”
Erna, who had been staring blankly at him for a while, suddenly pointed to the silver bell flower placed in the water glass.
"I know."
As he refilled Erna's glass, which had already become empty, Bjorn suddenly realized that this lady, who could only drink one glass, was already on her third glass of wine.
“I’ve liked it since I was little.”
The blink rate has slowed down significantly.
"But now, I can't like them. Flowers are just flowers. They don't just bloom in that greenhouse. There are so many of them here, too. People, they're really bad. It's weird."
Judging by the way she was talking nonsense, it was clear she was drunk.
Bjorn put down the bottle without refilling her glass. Erna, who had been staring blankly at him, frowned in disapproval. It seemed likely that if she got a little more drunk, she would be transformed into a total drunkard.
After a moment of hesitation, Bjorn eventually filled his wife's glass. A blissful smile spread across Erna's face as she watched him quietly.
“Thank you, Bjorn.”
You're walking the path of a good drinker, but you're being unnecessarily polite.
Even Bjorn smiled, finding the vast distance so endearing. With such fine weather and beautiful scenery, it seemed like there was no reason not to tolerate a pretty drunkard.
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