"Sorry for my disheveled appearance, Your Highness."
In Shilai's sitting room, Miranda sat in a chair, looking exhausted as she tossed a bloodstained towel into the copper basin on the floor, letting the hot water ripple with a dark-red ring.
The Northern swordswoman wore only her marching undershirt, with an obviously ill-fitting Royal Guard summer jacket draped loosely over her shoulders. Her abdomen, shoulders, arms, and even the knees and calves exposed by her cut-open trouser legs were almost entirely wrapped in bandages, filling the room with the heavy smell of medicine.
The coffee table was piled with messy medicine bottles and bandages, while her armor and weapons lay unloaded at her feet.
As two maids cleared away the tableware and left, they silently exchanged a covert, mocking expression with their mouths: "Northerner."
Tales saw it all, but merely frowned and said nothing.
"You're staying here to bandage your wounds, change your medicine, eat, drink, and use the privy, and they don't object?"
He picked up a leather bracer from the floor, examining the crack in it as he glanced toward the inner room:
Beside the large bed draped with gauze curtains, the Cavendil family reunion was underway. Jann sat while Federico stood, both silent and solemn. The composed Ashford butler stood nearby, quietly reporting on the young lady's condition.
Through the gauze curtains, Tales vaguely saw Shilai lying on the bed, her eyes wrapped in bandages and her unconscious body completely motionless.
"Of course they object."
Miranda yawned and nodded toward Shilai's bedroom.
"Ashford has already reminded me for the third time that they have spare guest rooms, dressing rooms, lounges, and washrooms."
"Then why do you still..."
"I told him that the exact words His Highness the Prince gave me were, 'not leave her side for a moment.'"