Side Story 2: A Trip Together
“BERTINE, I think I can manage some time off.”
“Oh, how wonderful! How long?”
“Around two weeks or so. Ignacio did his best to arrange it.”
Bertine’s mind whirred with things to do and places to go in those two weeks. Cecilio was ridiculously busy. She had known as much before they were married, but the reality hit her hard after when he brought documents home from the capitol. So time off was extraordinarily precious.
“We need to go somewhere we can be alone,” Bertine said.
“Oh? You’re not taking Dorothée along then?” he asked.
“No. She needs her rest too. She can go years without taking a break if I don’t say something. I have to force her to take time off.”
An excursion would use up too much of the two weeks on travel alone, there and back. Bertine thought of a great location just then.
“Do you know the grasslands located between Ybit and the hinterlands? The stretch of area one can see from a boat when looking toward the banks of the Saran River? I would like to pitch a tent there and camp. We can use the boat to transport our luggage.”
“Ah, I know what you’re talking about. That was the site of a former battle. I concur. Let’s relax there.”
The planning went smoothly after and Bertine decided to take the Hummingbird, the smallest of the three riverboats in her possession. They loaded everything they needed for camping onto the vessel, then the Hummingbird set forth. Since it was a small sailing ship, it sped down the river shockingly fast on particularly windy days. This was luckily one of them. They arrived at the old battleground the next afternoon. However, they hit a bit of a snag.
“There’s no pier here, so we’ll need to use a rowboat to reach the bank.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize that was the case.”
In a practiced manner, Cecilio packed their belongings first into the rowboat, then set off toward the bank. After he unloaded everything, he returned to the Hummingbird for Bertine. He helped her settle in, then rowed back to the bank.
“You’re very good at this,” she commented.
“Did you forget where I was born? Children in Callisto learn how to do this fairly early in life.”
Cecilio still found himself embarrassed by Bertine’s effusive praise over everything he did. Although it did make him happy, of course. He hid his bashfulness by briskly setting up camp. He pitched the tent, started a fire, warmed the wine in a small pan, and stuck skewers of sausage into the ground near the fire, where the meat sizzled as it cooked.
Once the sausage cooked through, he sprinkled a liberal amount of black stingers on the meat before they bit into their respective morsels. The juices from the meat burst into their mouths, almost hot enough to burn.
“Mmm! Delicious.”
“Now drink the warm wine.”
“Okay, let me try. Oh, my. This is fantastic.”
“I’m glad you think so too.”
Having grown up on her family’s estate in San Luenne, Bertine had never gone camping until now. It would have meant taking several guards with her if she had asked her father, so she had refrained. But right now, it really was just the two of them alone. She found the experience novel.
“I always dreamed of this, you know. Staying in a tent with a man I love,” she said.
“Say that one more time.”
“Staying in a tent?”
“After that.”
“…Staying in a tent with my ridiculously tall, awkward husband with a mane of black hair like a lion’s?”
“That’s not what you said the first time.”
She burst out laughing then and couldn’t stop. When they were together, she smiled no matter what they discussed. Everything tasted delicious too. Bertine hadn’t known being married could be this fun and she savored every moment keenly.
That night, within the confines of the tent, they reminisced about the flavors of their youths.
“There was a beehive in our garden,” Bertine began. “I asked the gardener to take it down for me and he did, even cutting it into round slices. I broke them into smaller morsels then put them on bread. It was scrumptious!”
“I’m surprised to hear you enjoyed eating such wild things. I assumed you would regale me with stories of decorated cakes or some such,” Cecilio said. “As for me, there was one particular way I liked to cook my fish. After gutting a large one, I’d wrap it in palm leaves then start a bonfire on the beach. After heating two stones in the fire, I would sandwich the wrapped fish in between to steam.”
“I can imagine how much more delicious it was because it was freshly caught.”
Cecilio’s expression was peaceful as he thought back to his childhood. “Parents have a variety of roles, but I think one of their biggest is to stay alive until their children grow up.”
“…You’re right. My mother must regret not being here.”
“Mine too.”
“At least I had Dorothée, who was like a mother to me,” Bertine said. “She was so incredibly mature despite being only three years older than me.”
“She doesn’t plan to wed?”
“She says she won’t, but I’ve been trying to convince her otherwise.”
A comfortable silence stretched between them for a while before Cecilio started talking about Ignacio. He sounded amused.
“Ignacio has been living together with his partner for a while now. He never said a word to me about it, but I could tell just by looking. His shirts are always crisply starched, and he brings lunch from home three times a week. He hasn’t been going out much lately for drinks after work either.”
“Oh, really? I wonder what his partner is like,” Bertine said.
“I caught a glimpse of them walking together once at night. She was quite a bit older, but she seemed kind. He looked ridiculously happy walking by her side.”
“That sounds nice.”