The Regressed Princess - Chapter 25

Chapter 25: Unraveling the Threads

 

“Ugh, cough cough cough! I—I’m fine, I just woke up… my legs, my legs are a bit weak, cough cough.”

 

The little princess abruptly lifted her face out of the water basin, coughing while trying to soothe Shanhu, who was pacing circles in a panic.

 

“Oh dear! I’ll definitely hold onto you better next time…”

 

Guiltily, Shanhu picked up a towel to wipe the water droplets off the bridge of Eleanor’s nose, muttering to herself, “Really, I should have held you more steadily just now.”

 

“It’s not your fault… Ha-uuu~”

 

Eleanor took a deep breath. Her legs hadn’t actually gone weak; she had just experienced another world-spinning reversal of time.

 

She touched the six-petaled flower pendant on her chest. Another blood-red line on the first petal had vanished.

 

How could there be a rebellion near the Royal Capital?

 

No matter how greedy or lazy her mother was, the sheer deterrent power she once held should have made it impossible for rebels to breach the capital… In her past life, only the “inner ghost” and Andra had ever managed to achieve that.

 

Eleanor licked her lips, touching her intact left shoulder.

 

The spot where she had been hit by an arrow earlier seemed to throb with a phantom pain. Ugh, although “reloading” could modify the facts of the past, it couldn’t evade the pain already suffered.

 

And…

 

“Whew~” She took another deep breath.

 

An arrow wound to the shoulder wasn’t actually a fatal injury; one just had to risk infection and potential long-term complications.

 

However, the moment she saw a child from the Princess’s Guard cut down to the ground, a reload became inevitable.

 

Eleanor picked up a spoon and began eating her tasteless starch porridge, recalling the events of the day.

 

Everything had been normal in the morning.

 

Because she wanted to try street food with everyone, she had intentionally waited until near noon to lead Jingji and a portion of the Princess’s Guard to the marketplace to search for the young Hudora.

 

They searched for a while but couldn’t find her.

 

This was normal, considering the time difference between now and when she had actually met Hudora in her previous life was two years.

 

She wondered what kind of butterfly effect would occur if she went back two years later? Sigh.

 

Eleanor finished her starch porridge and gulped down some honey water.

 

Think hard… what were the specific circumstances of meeting Hudora in the previous life… I remember now, how could I forget.

 

That year, she was twelve. Having just celebrated her birthday, she had happily held Andra’s hand to wander the market, hoping to find some sages from among the common folk.

 

As for Hudora, she had committed a “crime of the tongue” and was being whipped by a slave owner before being tossed into a cage to wait for death.

 

“Andra, look, that person is so pitiful…”

 

The little princess had tugged on the knight’s hand and rescued the slave in the cage.

 

Her kindness was partly pure sympathy—the pity felt when seeing someone near death. But part of it was because Hudora had a shimmering, deep purple name floating above her head.

 

The little princess had taken several sheets of vellum from her attendants and personally traded them with the beaming slave owner for the heavily injured Hudora.

 

Eleanor felt a bit bashful.

 

In her previous life, every time she recalled her first encounter with Hudora, she thought it felt romantically fated.

 

The King and Queen, in their youth, used sheepskin to ransom the life of a virtuous minister, and later used gold and power to avenge her, thereby gaining a loyalty that never wavered for a lifetime.

 

But that memory, which was as romantic as a fairy tale to Eleanor—how painful and humiliating must it have been for Hudora when she dreamt of it at midnight?

 

Eleanor knew Hudora’s past very well.

 

That proud woman had sold herself into slavery to ensure the safety of her wife and daughter.

 

But the slave owner did not let go of her beautiful wife and young daughter; after she became a slave, he found ways to persecute her family.

 

When Hudora returned to her hometown years later with the gold coins bestowed by the Princess, all she found was a group of awkward-looking relatives and a wooden house that had long since changed owners.

 

Eleanor’s expression darkened.

 

In this life, she had wanted to rescue Hudora early from the very beginning, to change the outcome where her wife and daughter both died.

 

However, this kindness was not rooted in shared suffering, but simply the instinct that “this is better.”

 

Whew~ stop thinking about that for now, keep thinking about what happened with that rebellion today!

 

“Better” is enough. If Hudora knew, she surely wouldn’t blame me.

 

Eleanor shook her head, eating a slice of apple handed to her by Shanhu while she pondered.

 

First, there was no rebellion in the Royal Capital on this day in the previous life.

 

…So, is today’s rebellion a butterfly effect caused by my rebirth?

 

A sense of dissonance welled up in her heart, and she quickly shook her head: No, impossible.

 

Among the major nodes, she had only changed “whether to hunt or not,” and that had nothing to do with a rebellion.

 

Since that line of reasoning didn’t work, the premise must be wrong.

 

The rebellion in the Royal Capital happened on this day in the previous life too; I just didn’t know about it.

 

Assuming this happened in the past life, why don’t I have any memory of it? If it was something as big as a rebellion, I would definitely remember.

 

Therefore people in the previous life didn’t consider it a “rebellion.”

 

A thread suddenly unraveled, and Eleanor came to a realization.

 

Conflicts between nobles significantly impact the royal family, which would have left a memory even in her younger self.

 

However, she had no memory of this, which meant that in the previous life, this “rebellion” was likely suppressed very quickly and didn’t involve any major aristocrats.

 

The location of the event was the slave market, so its essence was—a slave uprising!

 

Eleanor’s expression instantly relaxed.

 

To her, a slave uprising carried a natural sense of justice.

 

This kind of thing wasn’t necessarily a bad thing; she didn’t necessarily need to interfere, and might even be able to provide some help.

 

A slave uprising, a failed escape?

 

These two keywords finally activated a fragment of memory.

 

Eleanor associated them with some scattered images.

 

Her younger self sitting on her mother’s lap, acting spoiled, gesturing to Eva how she was going to grow a watermelon this big to offer to her.

 

“The watermelons now aren’t sweet enough!” the little girl said in a sweet voice. “I will work hard with the scholar aunts to grow bigger and sweeter watermelons for Mother!”

 

“Hahaha,” Eva laughed heartily. “Alright then, I’ll be waiting. Pfft, but if you make them go to the fields to plant melons, they’ll hate you, won’t they?”

 

“They won’t~” The little princess squirmed in the King’s arms.

 

“My King.” The favorite official, Manhani, entered the inner chamber, hand over her chest. “There is a Giant causing trouble in the city. Fortunately, she has been suppressed by your brave City Guard and several enthusiastic citizens.”

 

“A Giant? You’re not trying to tease me, are you?” Eva raised an eyebrow. There were still Giants in this day and age?

 

“I wouldn’t dare!” Manhani hurriedly knelt on the ground and said softly, “They wish to present the head of the red-haired Giant to you.”

 

“Oh? Then bring it in quickly.”

 

Eva’s interest was piqued. Sitting sideways on the couch, she caught sight of the little princess next to her, reached out to affectionately pat her head, and said, “Be good, go to the next room first. Children shouldn’t look at messy things.”

 

“Okay” Eleanor nodded obediently, walked out the door, and took Andra’s hand.

 

However, back then, she still thought the world had magic and wanted to see how big a real Giant was.

 

So she didn’t hide in the next room. Instead, pulling Andra with her right hand, she leaned half her body against the doorframe to peek inside.

 

The noble attendant carried a silver tray and lifted the cover cloth for the King.

 

Revealing a head with eyes that wouldn’t close, mouth wide open as if in a roar, a hideous human head. Her bright red hair was like tangled seaweed, floating with the shout frozen on the face.

 

“Waahhhhh!” The little princess was so scared she burst into tears and couldn’t stop.

 

Eva rushed over, snatched her from Andra’s arms to hold her, and scolded toward the door, “Enough! Do you think I can’t tell the difference between a human head and a Giant’s head? Kill all the liars.”

 

The King looked at the sobbing little princess, gritted her teeth, and said, “…Beat them out of here.”

 

Thinking of Eva’s face, Eleanor sadly clutched her chest.

 

In her previous life, she was truly very close to her mother, but that relationship could never be restored.

 

“Sigh…” She had basically sorted out the details.

 

The slave uprising in the previous life was easily suppressed, so the officials simply reported it as a battle with a Giant, claiming they had killed one.

 

And that head on the tray, which was a size larger than a normal human head… it likely belonged to that red-haired leader she saw standing in the crowd today.

 

Avoiding this event wasn’t difficult.

 

The simplest way was to stay home and rest today. By tomorrow or the day after, someone would present the head to the King, and she could just go to the market a few days later.

 

Even if her perfectionism insisted she go out today, she could head there right now. If she arrived in the early morning or by noon, the other side probably wouldn’t have finished dealing with the slave owners’ armed forces yet.

 

She could “buy and run,” or help the slave owners suppress the uprising on the spot, perhaps earning a bunch of slaves and rewards for free.

 

No, I don’t want either of those options.

 

Eleanor rejected them from the bottom of her heart.

 

Although she didn’t know that red-haired woman, the woman possessed a soul that similarly yearned for freedom, even willing to burn herself for the sake of others’ futures.

 

Eleanor couldn’t bear to strike such a person down into the dust.

 

In that case, it would be better to… a vague idea was born in her mind.

 

Eleanor suddenly bounced up from her chair. “Shanhu, call Andra and Manzhu over. And everyone else call them all!”

 

“Yes.” Shanhu walked out of the bedchamber with a smile.

 

After about ten minutes, a grand procession of dozens of young girls lined up in the corridor of the bedchamber. They wore simple armor with sheathed short swords hanging at their waists.

 

Eleanor looked closely and saw that even the swordsmanship instructor had come along with the team. Wasn’t that just perfect!

 

She walked up to the instructor and said in a loud voice, “Instructor Vivian, I may encounter danger on my trip to the slave market. I hope you can serve as the leader.”

 

The grey-haired instructor’s eyes flickered with doubt, but she did not question the princess. She simply nodded and gave a cold, crisp “Yes.”

 

This should be about enough.

 

Eleanor mentally calculated the combat power on her side.

 

The strength of martial artists in this world varied immensely.

 

Vivian was a top-tier powerhouse in single combat and small-scale brawls, and the members of the Princess’s Guard were also extraordinarily strong.

 

With such a group of people helping, the “Splitting Operation” she wanted to construct was highly feasible.

 

Just as Eleanor was about to step out, she turned back and commanded, “Everyone, go to the armory first to change into your equipment. Use cloaks to cover your iron armor. I—I’m going too!”

 

The physical strength of martial artists on the Moon Mist Continent was very high, but that didn’t mean armor was useless they could wear armor and march rapidly for long periods, and iron armor was effective at blocking stray arrows and blade scrapes.

 

Iron armor? Even the little princess is putting on specially made soft armor? Just how dangerous is this situation?

 

The members of the Guard exchanged uneasy glances; they would surely secretly instruct the attendants to take word back home. But before that, they had to obey the Princess’s orders.

 

At dawn, the group of dozens departed from the Royal Palace.

 

The girls rode on horseback, their dark cloaks rising and falling with the horses’ backs, making a rhythmic clanking sound. Attendants followed behind leading spare horses, carrying longswords and replacement bows and arrows.

 

They deliberately chose side roads with few pedestrians.

 

From time to time, citizens would close their doors tightly, only to peer through the cracks of their windows, letting the whispers behind the doors gradually disappear into the sound of retreating hooves.