Chapter 33: The Most Dangerous Weapon
After Olivia had finished preparing our meal with the skill of a seasoned chef, the camp transformed into something resembling a small court in the wilderness. Ornate folding chairs were produced from the baggage carriages—delicate things of carved wood and rich velvet that seemed almost absurdly luxurious in our forest clearing. These were arranged in a perfect semicircle around the crackling campfire, positioned to catch the maximum warmth while maintaining proper royal protocol.
Queen Emma settled into her chair with grace, the firelight catching the golden threads woven through her traveling cloak. Even in this remote setting, even dressed in the practical clothes of a traveler rather than her usual royal regalia, she attracted easily attention.
Princess Judith took her place beside her mother. She’d exchanged her formal gown for a simple wool dress and warm cloak, but nothing could diminish the inherent nobility in her bearing as well.
As for me? I found myself perched on a fallen log that had been dragged over to complete our dining circle. The rough bark pressed against my legs, and I could feel the slight dampness of evening dew beginning to settle. But honestly, I wasn’t complaining in the slightest.
After spending the last thirteen years of this life sleeping on floors made of packed earth before I’d finally learned enough magic to construct proper house, a tree log felt positively luxurious. I’d known true hardship, real deprivation on Earth—this was merely a reminder of social hierarchy, nothing more.
Besides, Olivia’s cooking was more than making up for any discomfort in seating arrangements.
"This is absolutely delicious," I said, taking another bite and allowing genuine appreciation to color my voice.
And it truly was. Considering she’d prepared this meal outdoors, in the growing cold of evening, using nothing but portable supplies and a handful of heated stones as her cooking surface, the result was nothing short of remarkable. The chicken was perfectly seasoned and cooked through, the meat tender and juicy despite the challenging conditions. Accompanying it was something that reminded me of a fusion between tomatoes and sausage—a local delicacy, perhaps—that provided a rich, savory complement to the fowl.
I glanced around, hoping to catch Olivia’s eye and convey my appreciation for her culinary efforts, but she was nowhere to be seen among those gathered around the fire. Like Oliver and the other knights, she had melted back into the protective perimeter they maintained around our small gathering. I could occasionally catch glimpses of armored figures moving between the trees, silent sentinels ensuring our safety through the dark hours ahead.
It was simultaneously reassuring and weird. The knowledge that trained warriors were constantly vigilant on our behalf provided a sense of security, but it was just strange.
"She’s not here," Judith said, noticing my searching gaze. She delicately speared a piece of chicken with her fork, chewing thoughtfully before continuing. "Olivia is responsible for our safety along with Sir Oliver. They take their duties very seriously."
Both the Queen and Princess had indeed changed from their more formal attire into practical traveling clothes. Gone were the elaborate gowns and jeweled accessories, replaced by well-made wool and leather designed for comfort and mobility. Heavy cloaks wrapped around their shoulders provided protection against the night’s growing chill. Yet even dressed down, Queen Emma’s captivating beauty remained undiminished—if anything, the simpler clothes seemed to highlight her natural elegance rather than mask it.