I’ve Become a S*ave Bride - Chapter 65
“Does this happen to you often?”
The Markal, who had been brushing the dirt off her trousers, jutted out her lower lip and looked at her grandson’s bride-to-be.
“Everyone’s like this when they get old. Why are you getting so serious?”
“I’m asking because, as a physician, I can’t just overlook it.”
The Markal gave a short laugh and replied.
“Fine. I do get dizzy from time to time. But that’s just what happens when you age.”
Lenette didn’t respond to that. Instead, she asked something else.
“What about loss of appetite or feeling fatigued easily?”
“That’s also just a part of getting old.”
“Do you experience headaches or find yourself getting short of breath easily?”
“I told you, it’s all just because I’m old.”
“……”
Now she knows. She knew why the Markal and the physicians didn’t get along. The Markal was the type of person who was extremely uncooperative when it came to medical treatment. Most physicians hate dealing with patients like this.
Lenette reached out to take the Markal’s hand to support her. But the older woman swatted her hand away. In that brief contact, however, Lenette discovered something.
Her hands and feet are excessively cold.
There were cool, shaded canopies set up here and there in the herb garden for resting. But everywhere else was under the literal “scorching sun.” And yet, her hands and feet were cold?
This is unusual.
“Markal.”
“What.”
“Believe it or not, I was quite a well-known physician back in my neighborhood.”
“And?”
“Instead of only talking about herbs, why don’t we discuss medicine as well?”
The Markal narrowed her eyes, then her lips curled into a smirk.
“You want to examine my health, is that it?”
“It would be a lie to say otherwise.”
“If you’re doing this just to get on my good side, it isn’t a very good method.”
Lenette shook her head.
“Even if you weren’t ‘The Markal’ but just an ordinary woman, I would have asked the same.”
“Out of some sense of duty as a physician? Is that it?”
“No.”
Lenette looked straight into the Markal’s eyes as she answered.
“It is because I wish for the person who raises these precious herbs with such care to live a long, long life.”
“What? Hahahaha!”
It was half-sincere and half-exaggerated. Knowing this, the Markal let out a pleasant laugh.
“You are an interesting child. I wonder if it’s because you’re a foreigner that you’re so fearless, haha.”
“Wouldn’t you be the same, thee Markal?”
“I would be the same?”
“Yes. If there were someone who knew herbs well, wouldn’t you want to look over them a bit more than others?”
Lenette smiled brightly with an innocent expression that practically said, ‘That’s me, right here.’ It was a touch of charm unique to Lenette, one she only showed to elders much older than herself rather than her peers.
“That Kazen fellow has brought home a real vixen, I swear.”
The Markal clicked her tongue, though she ended with a smile. She tossed a suggestion to Lenette like she was throwing an object.
“Fine then. Have a meal with me later.”
The place where The Markal resided was Karan Palace, a zone forbidden to men. For that reason, Lenette headed toward Karan Palace alone, without Kazen.
“You may not enter beyond this point.”
As she reached the front of Karan Palace, female warriors with formidable expressions blocked the path of Nazan, Hosanta, and the others.
“I’ll go in alone from here,” Lenette said.
“Understood, my lady.”
The warriors of the Abandoned Palace, all of whom were men, retreated without protest.
Lenette stepped alone into the complex and magnificent building. True to its nickname as a “Zone Forbidden to Men,” Karan Palace had only a single entrance. Following that lone path, it wasn’t long before a mysterious palace draped in shades of blue appeared.
It feels so refreshing.
Karan Palace was essentially a sanctuary of rest for the Kal. Perhaps that was why it felt so different; as if it had been designed to provide a sense of cool relief atop this scorching desert, it was filled with far more greenery than the other palaces.
Maybe they grow so well because there’s so much water nearby.
She scanned the interior as she walked. Likewise, the women of Karan Palace scrutinized her in return.
“I heard she was a slave.”
“Just look at her skin; she’s obviously a slave.”
“Goodness, of all people, he picks a woman exactly like his mother.”
Was it because they felt secure under the Kal’s protection? They didn’t hold back their tongues, even toward a guest invited by the Markal herself.
Is the reason Damer and Jaran are so foolish simply a problem with this place in general?
Lenette narrowed her eyes, wondering if those two weren’t uniquely dim-witted after all.
Just then, she arrived at her destination.
“The Great Markal is waiting inside.”
The place she arrived at was a room located at the very center of the palace. It didn’t look like a formal dining hall, but rather the Markal’s private quarters.
Once inside, she found The Markal sitting alone.
“You arrived quickly.”
“I had a feeling you would be sitting here waiting for me.”
When Lenette smiled sheepishly, the Markal shook her head slowly. However, her face remained clear of any annoyance toward Lenette’s boldness.
“Bring in the meal,” The Markal commanded a palace maid, then gestured for Lenette to sit in the chair across from her.
“What do you think of Karan Palace?”
“It has a very refreshing feel.”
The Markal narrowed her eyes. “Is that all?”
“There are many plants, which gives it an exotic atmosphere. I liked that.”
“Enough that you would want to live here?”
That question, asked so casually, wasn’t merely an inquiry into Lenette’s preferences. What kind of place was Karan Palace? It was the residence of the Kal’s wives. Asking if she wanted to live here was equivalent to asking if she intended to put Kazen on the throne.
If she answered “yes”—whether she understood the hidden meaning or not—it wouldn’t leave a good impression.
Regardless, it’s best not to directly answer a question designed to gauge the extent of my political ambition.
Of course, she didn’t mean she would literally ignore the woman. She simply meant she would provide a different kind of answer. A faint smile spread across Lenette’s lips.
“What does my preference matter?”
At that sly response, The Markal set down the teacup she was holding and stared intently at Lenette. Then, her eyes softened as she let out a hearty laugh.
“Clever. Very clever.”
“I simply spoke the truth.”
“Indeed. It is the truth. But do you know what? When I ask other children that same question, they spend a very long time sweating and shifting their eyes about.”
“Is that so?”
The Markal scrutinized Lenette’s face with a piercing gaze. She clicked her tongue and muttered to herself.
“What a waste. If only you weren’t a Northerner, it would have been perfect.”
This time, Lenette set aside her bold persona and gave a sheepish smile.
“I believe it is precisely because I am a Northerner that I’ve gained the honor of facing you like this. So, how could I lament my origins?”
It was a reply layered with dual intent: she was subtly appealing to her unique circumstances as a Northerner while simultaneously signaling that she was content with her current position.
Whether she saw through it or not, The Markal burst into a boisterous laugh.
“Kazen, that boy… he certainly picked his wife well.”
Watching her, Lenette thought quietly to herself:
‘I guess having a lot of laughter runs in the family.’ Kazen and The Markal—they really were alike in so many ways.
Just then, the food arrived. Lenette scanned the trays placed before herself and The Markal.
There’s no meat.
She wasn’t looking at her own tray, but at The Markal’s. It was entirely greenery; and even among the plants, they were only side dishes that were exceptionally easy to digest.
That dizziness from earlier…
While Lenette was busy forming a diagnosis in her head, The Markal spoke up.
“Now then. Let’s hear it. What did you mean when you said you were able to strike up a conversation with me only because you are a Northerner?”
Starting such a serious conversation right in front of a spread of food—talk about an abrupt beginning.
One might find this sudden pivot strange, but Lenette hadn’t come here expecting a simple, quiet meal in the first place. Without even placing her hands on the table, she answered immediately.
“Is it not true that the reason you took an interest in me, The Markal, is ultimately because I possess knowledge of herbology?”
The Markal did not deny it.
“You do seem to know your herbs better than the riffraff in this palace.”
Lenette picked up her teacup and took a sip to hide the laugh that threatened to spill out.
Even the bluntness is a carbon copy of Kazen.
The Underwater Temple was where the most brilliant physicians from across this vast empire gathered. Even if medicine was less developed here than in Eckaron, these were still the geniuses of the Empire.
And yet, she calls them riffraff. The palace physicians would weep if they heard her.
“Is the herbology you know that of the North?”
“Yes.”
At that, The Markal adjusted her posture and asked,
“I suppose herbology is quite advanced there?”
“It is.”
“More so than here?”
This time, Lenette didn’t offer an immediate answer. She took a moment, then asked a question of her own.
“What kind of answer do you desire?”
When she countered like that, the corners of The Markal’s mouth curled upward.
“An honest one. Just… don’t make it too nakedly blunt. I still have affection for this empire, seeing as I’m the one who worked so hard to build it.”
‘Seeing as I’m the one who worked so hard to build it.’ Those words held a lot of weight.
Lenette cleared her throat and began in a low voice.
“The Tazetra Empire is undoubtedly a great and prosperous nation, incomparable to the Kingdom of Ecaron. In contrast, Ecaron is small and a country of many lacks.”
“And yet?”
Lenette briefly withheld her answer to ask something else.
“What do you think of ‘deficiency’?”
“Deficiency?”
“Yes. Scarcity.”
“Well now.”
After a moment of deep thought, the Markal offered a clear response.
“I suppose it is a necessary evil.”
