Chapter 157: 156 Caravan and Road

On Tuesday morning, the moon had just fully vanished from the horizon, and the sun would not rise for over an hour—this was the darkest hour.

Yet beneath thousands of whale-oil streetlamps, Redwood Avenue blazed as bright as noon; its usual quietness had been shattered by this extravagant lighting, already thrumming with noise.

Coal, flour, spices, lamps… crates and baskets of every size, piles of precious vessels, mounds of silk ribbons and velvet cloth…

Carriages laden with goods and gifts nearly filled the wide freight lane entirely; these vehicles, strung end to end like interwoven dragons, snaked toward the end of Redwood Avenue—the Lane Estate…

Wow, no wonder—it's the Lionheart Duke's succession ceremony, what a lavish spending!

Leaning out from a light two-wheeled carriage, the young woman in a pale blue gown glanced ahead at the endless line, shivered from the autumn chill, and quickly pulled back inside, rubbing her frost-nipped, round, delicate nose as she muttered:

"Mistake. Should've worn more layers if I'd known it'd be this cold."

"…"

Watching the young woman, cold enough to blow warm air onto her palms and stomp her feet roughly, the middle-aged noblewoman held back her irritation until she finally couldn't contain it:

"Princess Veronika, even if you sneaked out, please mind your decorum!"

"Forgive me today—I'm too cold to care about decorum. Honestly, if the carriage could just warm up, I'd not only mind my manners, I'd get out and dance for you."

After teasing the middle-aged noblewoman with a smile, the young woman tugged hard at her wool shawl, covering the two mounds of pale, plump flesh nearly spilling over the top of her underskirt, then leaned against the window to observe the carriage procession outside.

"So many people came today…"

Squinting at the noble-only roadway, counting the carriages that had passed, the lovely young woman smiled faintly:

"Silver Cup, Mandarin Bird, Light Shield… in just this short while, three great noble houses have passed by. Clearly, the Lane estate's inheritance is tempting enough.

Whether they should come or not, anyone with power wants to take a bite now—this succession ceremony will be incredibly lively indeed!

"…"

I don't know if it'll be lively later, but this dress on you is far too hot!

Watching how the young woman's posture against the window frame nearly pushed her ample bosom out of her bodice, the middle-aged noblewoman's eyelids twitched; she yanked her back in, eyes blazing:

"Princess, mind your decorum! Really…

If your identity is exposed during the ceremony and they see you dressed like this, the entire royal house will be shamed! Couldn't you at least find a more modest dress?"

"I… I couldn't help it…"

Looking down at her gown, the young woman tugged at the floral ruching at her waist, showing the noblewoman how much space was left, then sighed helplessly:

"My dress size is unusual—I always have them custom-made. This is the best I could find in a hurry. Look how much space is here—any bigger and I couldn't even wear it."

"…"

The middle-aged noblewoman's lips twitched sharply as she stared at the gown—once modest in design, yet on her, shockingly provocative.

She roughly snatched the young woman's shawl, tore off the tassels from the carriage cushion, and tied a dozen decorative knots along the shawl's edge, fashioning a net-like border to cover the front.

Once she'd draped the modified shawl back over the young woman, seeing how the tassel net now concealed her chest, the noblewoman exhaled deeply, then bit her teeth in threat:

"Once we reach the estate, even if you die of heatstroke,

you will not remove this shawl. You will wear it properly. Understood?"

No way?

The young woman froze, looked down at the thick wool shawl, and her face darkened with distress.

"This is pure wool, with the tightest stitching. And the Lane Estate has charcoal fires burning—if I don't take this off…"

"Princess Veronika!"

"Fine, fine, I won't take it off."

Seeing the noblewoman's "wear it or die" expression, the young woman knew this was the limit. She sighed, obediently pulled the shawl back over herself, then leaned out the window again to watch the carriage flow.

"By the way, you telling me to take the freight lane instead of the noble road? That was a brilliant idea. If I'd taken the noble road, I'd never have seen so many interesting things."

After three carriages bearing the Three-Feathered Bronze Crown raced past, the young woman counted the noble participants, then grinned at the worried noblewoman:

"Look, even that little weasel of a count showed up—wonder if he brought his cabbage along?"

Little weasel count?

Hearing this, the middle-aged noblewoman frowned and asked:

"Princess, what do you mean by 'little weasel count'?"

"It's an insult."

The young woman smiled and explained:

"The new Lionheart Duke had a dispute with this count recently. When he saw the count's coat of arms had only three basic feathers despite his title, he jabbed his finger at the emblem and sneered, calling him a 'little weasel'—nearly drove him to collapse on the spot.

After the count recovered, to get back at the Lionheart Duke, he placed a cabbage in his home and declared that the Lionheart Duke's dukedom would rot faster than his cabbage."

After explaining the origins of "Little Weasel Count" and "Cabbage Duke," the young woman grinned brightly:

"Even though he's about to inherit the dukedom, the Lionheart Duke just doesn't feel… noble at all. That's why I had to come today—to see what other amusing things he'll do."

After all, the princess is still just a young person who loves excitement…

Watching the young woman laugh joyfully, no longer her usual frowning, brooding self, the noblewoman's heart softened slightly. Just as she opened her mouth to say something, a commotion erupted behind them.

"Clear the way!"

"Make way! Make way!"

"Royal procession! Civilians, stand aside!"

The two in the carriage turned in surprise to see the temporary barrier separating freight and noble lanes forcibly knocked down and shoved roughly to the roadside.

Then two lines of brightly dressed guards, wielding long poles with curved ends designed to shove people aside, shoved countless carriages off the road, forcibly widening the center of Redwood Avenue to allow a luxurious carriage drawn by eight steeds to enter.