Inside the freshly built luxury coach—the Cullinan—I stretched out, savoring the wide seats, the polished reddish woodwork, and the sight of the highway rolling past the window. The monster-hide cushions swallowed me comfortably, and the gold-trimmed frames with their soft lamplight made the cabin feel more like a noble’s salon than a carriage.
“Honestly, you should quit while you’re ahead, boy.”
Panamera, sitting across from me, had a look halfway between a wince and a scowl. I blinked at him.
“Eh? You don’t like the carriage?”
He narrowed his eyes as if scolding me. “Like it or not isn’t the issue. This is more lavish than anything in the royal fleet. A brand-new baron flaunting such a thing—what will people say?”
I gave him a sheepish grin. “It’s not like I’m keeping it all to myself.”
Turning to Til, I nodded. “Would you bring tea and sweets?”
“Yes, right away!”
She bustled to the built-in shelves, pulled down a twin-walled flask, and poured steaming black tea into cups. Even after two hours on the road, it was still hot. Then she placed a basket of wrapped pastries in the middle.
“Thanks,” I said.
“Hehe, not at all! Ah, can I have one too?”
“Go ahead.”
She happily claimed the first sweet, cheeks full, while I motioned for Panamera to help himself. He sighed, but still lifted a cup and sipped. His usual harsh demeanor softened for just a moment, looking almost refined. Almost.
“Good, isn’t it?” I offered.
“It is,” he admitted, setting the cup down—only to glower again. “But that’s not the point! What in blazes is that container? How does it keep the tea hot this long!?”
He was nearly shouting. I tilted my head. How could anyone get angry over good tea? Maybe a snack would calm him.
“…Would you like a pastry as well?”
He accepted grudgingly, peeled one open, and daintily ate half. “Mm. Tasty.” He followed it with another sip of tea, though his brow stayed furrowed.
Then he exhaled sharply. “I see. Boy, you’re shoring up your position. That’s what this is, isn’t it?”
His eyes grew sharp. “Your weapons and strange engines only win over soldiers and knights who see them firsthand. But this carriage, this magical flask—these would impress even nobles who don’t care for war. Even I, with my merchant’s eye, see nothing but profit.”
I had to bite back a grin. Profit, huh? If it’s that promising, I should start a production line… The design’s strong but not battlefield-threatening, so why not sell them?
Panamera sniffed and smirked. “Terrifying, really. Not even ten years old, and already… Lady Arte, your husband may end up king someday. If that happens, I wouldn’t mind being a concubine.”
“E-ehhh!? P-Panamera-sama!? Th-that’s not for me to allow…!”
Arte flailed, crimson to the ears.
“Oho? You didn’t deny calling him your husband. So you’re already wed? Had your bridal night, have you?”
He grinned like a schoolyard bully. Arte froze, eyes wide—then squeaked a noise I’d never heard before.
“P-pyehh!? Wh-wh, wh-what…!”
I couldn’t help but laugh along with Panamera.
“Ha ha ha! Forgive me, Arte, just teasing.”
“Please don’t bully her too much,” I said, still chuckling.
“Yes, yes, my apologies.”
Arte opened and closed her mouth like a fish, speechless. Til, unfazed, popped another cookie into her mouth with a smile.
And so, to my surprise, our long road began not in tension, but in laughter and tea. A rare kind of peace, rolling along in the Cullinan.
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