Reborn as the Psycho Villainess Who Ate Her Slave Beasts' Contracts-Chapter 52 --

"We don’t have time. If someone attacks on the water, we need to be functional. Right now we’re..." He trailed off, clearly frustrated.

"Learning," Elara supplied. "You’re learning. That’s allowed."

"Beast knights don’t stumble. We don’t make mistakes. We certainly don’t trip over buckets in front of merchant sailors."

"Well, you just did. All of you. And you’re still here, still protecting me, still functional." She leaned against the rail next to him. "The palace was your territory. You knew every corridor, every shadow, every angle. Out here is different. That doesn’t make you less capable. Just less experienced."

He was quiet for a moment. "The others are embarrassed."

"The others are adapting. There’s a difference."

That evening, Elara watched the beast knights organize themselves. Captain Lyra gathered them in their cargo hold and apparently delivered some kind of speech—Elara couldn’t hear the words, but the tone was clear: get over yourselves and learn faster.

By the third day, they were improving. Still awkward, but less catastrophically so. They learned to move with the barge’s rocking instead of fighting it. Learned where the ropes were. Learned that wet decks were slippery and required different footing than marble floors.

The hawk knight stopped falling over buckets. Mostly.

Captain Lyra stopped glaring at the ropes and started stepping over them with deliberate care.

The fox knight began asking the sailors questions about river navigation, clearly determined to understand his new environment.

It wasn’t graceful. They still moved like people uncomfortable in unfamiliar territory. But they were learning.

And honestly, Elara found it oddly reassuring. These legendary warriors—bound by magic, sworn to protection, feared throughout the empire—were still human enough to be clumsy. Still adaptable enough to improve.

If they could learn to navigate a river barge after three hundred years in a palace, maybe she could learn to navigate Port Crestfall after two weeks of consciousness.

Maybe they’d all figure this out together.

One bucket at a time.

.

.

.

Two days on the river, and the ’Silver Merchant’ pulled into a small trading post for resupply.

The post was barely more than a dock with a few weathered buildings—a supply warehouse, a tavern that doubled as an inn, and a trading office. But it was solid ground, which apparently mattered a great deal to some people.

"We’ll be here two hours," Kael announced to the assembled passengers. "Resupplying fresh water and checking the cargo. You’re welcome to disembark and stretch your legs."

The beast knights looked relieved at the prospect of stable ground. Several of the administrators immediately headed for the gangplank.

And then Lisa emerged from below deck.

Elara barely recognized her. Her servant looked absolutely terrible—pale green, dark circles under her eyes, hair disheveled. She clutched the railing like it was the only thing keeping her upright and moved with the careful deliberation of someone trying very hard not to vomit.

"Lisa." Elara hurried over. "You look awful."

"Feel awful, Your Highness," Lisa managed weakly. "The... the rocking. It hasn’t stopped."

"How long have you been like this?"

"Since we left." Lisa’s voice was barely above a whisper. "I thought I’d adjust. I didn’t adjust."

Seasickness. Or river-sickness, technically. Elara should have checked on her sooner, but Lisa had her own cabin below deck and Elara had assumed she was settling in fine.

"Why didn’t you tell someone?" Elara asked.

"Didn’t want to be a burden. Everyone else is fine. The beast knights are learning. The administrators are working. I’m just..." She swallowed hard. "I’m just useless."

"You’re sick. That’s different from useless." Elara guided her carefully toward the gangplank. "Come on. Solid ground. Now."

"Your Highness, I can—"

"You can’t. You’re green. Let’s go."

She helped Lisa off the barge and onto the dock. The moment Lisa’s feet hit non-moving ground, she sagged with visible relief.

"Oh gods. It’s not moving."

"Correct. That’s what docks do. They stay still." Elara steered her toward a bench near the trading office. "Sit. Don’t move. Breathe."

Lisa collapsed onto the bench and put her head in her hands. "I’m sorry, Your Highness. I’m completely useless. You should have left me behind."

"Stop apologizing. You’re seasick, not incompetent." Elara looked around, spotted one of the merchant crew, and called out. "Excuse me. Do you have ginger? Or anything for motion sickness?"

The sailor nodded and disappeared into the warehouse, returning a few minutes later with a small cloth bag. "Candied ginger. Helps with the stomach. And this—" He handed over a woven bracelet with small beads. "Pressure point bracelet. Not magic, just old sailor trick. Wear it on the wrist, helps some people."

Elara took both and handed them to Lisa. "Try these."

Lisa looked at the items like they were miraculous gifts. "Thank you."

"Don’t thank me yet. We have four more days on the water."

Lisa’s face went pale again. "Four more days."

"Four more days. But now we know you need help. You’ll eat ginger, wear the bracelet, and stay on deck as much as possible. Fresh air helps. Being trapped below deck in a small cabin is probably making it worse."

"But my duties—"

"Your duty right now is to not die of seasickness. Everything else is secondary." Elara sat down next to her. "Lisa, I brought you because you’re loyal and competent. But if you’re sick, you need to say something. I can’t help if I don’t know there’s a problem."

Lisa nodded miserably, chewing a piece of candied ginger with the expression of someone who’d try anything at this point.

Dimitri approached, looking concerned. "Is she alright?"

"Seasick since we left. Didn’t tell anyone."

"Ah." He pulled out a small flask from his coat. "Water with lemon and salt. Old traveler’s remedy. My mother swore by it."

He handed it to Lisa, who took it gratefully.

"Everyone suffers differently," Dimitri said to Lisa kindly. "I get terrible headaches in high altitudes. Some people can’t handle closed spaces. You can’t handle boats. It’s not weakness, just physiology."

"But everyone else is fine," Lisa protested weakly.

"The hawk knight fell over a bucket yesterday," Elara said flatly. "The wolf knight got tangled in ropes. The fox knight admitted he’s terrified of deep water. Everyone’s struggling with something. You’re just more obvious about it."

Lisa managed a weak smile. "The hawk knight really fell over a bucket?"

"Spectacularly. Sailors are still talking about it."

That got a small laugh, though Lisa immediately looked like laughing had been a mistake.

Over the next hour, Lisa slowly regained some color. The ginger helped. The fresh air helped. The solid ground helped most of all.

But eventually, Kael called out: "Resupply complete. We depart in fifteen minutes."

Lisa’s expression turned resigned. "Back to the moving hell."

"Back to the barge," Elara corrected. "But this time you stay on deck. Fresh air. I’ll have your things moved to a hammock near the administrators’ cabins. Being below deck is making it worse."

"Your Highness, I can’t—"

"You can and you will. That’s an order, not a suggestion." Elara helped her stand. "We get through this together. Even if ’together’ means you spend four days looking green and eating ginger while the rest of us try not to fall over ropes."

Lisa smiled weakly. "Thank you, Your Highness."