The Calamity Sword, Part 4
When I returned to the lodging with Sirien, Isha was curled up in a corner, fast asleep. From the looks of it, she had spent the entire time we were gone worrying herself sick before finally collapsing from exhaustion.
It made sense for her to be anxious. If someone were to burst through that door, her life would be forfeit on the spot. No matter how strictly the inns of Requitas guarded their guests' secrets, there was no telling if they would uphold that policy in a crisis like this.
Of course, on our end, we were confident we could rescue her in a heartbeat even if the worst-case scenario occurred. We had reassured her that everything would be fine before we left, but it seemed she hadn't been able to put her mind at ease. Sirien gently tapped Isha to wake her.
“Isha? We're back.”
“Eek! I-I wasn't sleeping!”
“No, anyone could see you were asleep.”
“...”
She looked so disheveled. Sirien stared blankly at her, and Isha sheepishly avoided her gaze.
“Come along. Let's get you changed first.”
Isha took to Sirien much better than she did to me. It wasn't that she ignored me or anything. Since I was the one who had actually rescued her, she was clearly grateful and went out of her way to be polite. However, there was an unmistakable undercurrent of fear. For one reason or another, she seemed to find me intimidating.
She was trying her best not to let it show, which only made it harder for me to bring it up. Besides, Sirien was taking good care of her, so it was fine. Sirien had always looked after her younger siblings back at the castle. She was affectionate, even if she pretended otherwise.
Once Isha returned wearing her new clothes, I set the food we had bought on the table. Isha began to munch on a sandwich. Since Sirien and I had already eaten on our way back, we simply had tea and light refreshments.
Sirien brewed the tea herself. She still refused to let me touch the kettle. Personally, I didn't think there was that much of a difference. At most, the tea I brewed was slightly less fragrant and had a bit of a bitter aftertaste. Yet, Sirien had hurled all sorts of abuse at me, claiming drinking my tea felt like drinking dishwater.
Maybe I should brew it next time and clear up this misunderstanding. If I tricked her into thinking I bought it from somewhere else, even Sirien wouldn't be able to tell the difference. Tea was tea, after all. How different could it possibly be?
Despite her hunger, Isha only picked at her food. She looked as if she had something to say. We waited patiently, and before long, she opened her mouth.
“Um... I have a confession to make.”
“A-A confession? All of a sudden?” Sirien gasped, startled. But Isha was the one who ended up even more shocked. “No! Don't do it! Absolutely not!”
“Pardon...?” Putting aside Sirien's bizarre behavior, Isha decided to finish what she was saying. As Isha hesitantly looked between us, Sirien, her face flushed red, avoided my eyes. I gave a slight nod, prompting Isha to muster her courage once more.
“I have a way to contact my dad.”
“Didn't you say all your communication channels were cut off?”
“I wasn't lying. It's true that all the methods we used within the guild are blocked. We don't know which channels were compromised, and almost everyone who managed them is dead.”
Just one or two weeks before we arrived in Requitas, the Crescent Moon had suffered a massive assault from the Sewer Rats. Russell, the guild master and Isha's father, had barely escaped with his life after being gravely wounded by Millen. The guild had sustained literally catastrophic damage. While the surviving members had likely gone into hiding somewhere, just as Isha said, all the communication channels used within the guild were now completely useless.
At this point, it was highly uncertain whether the surviving guild members would even respond to a summons. Honestly, the situation was bleak. Sirien offered a cold assessment.
“I don't know what methods you used, but you'd better give up on them entirely. The ones who got captured probably spilled everything long ago.”
“I know. The captured guild members must have been tortured, and someone was bound to talk.”
“But since you're bringing this up now, you must have another card up your sleeve?”
“Yes. Because it's not a method the guild ever used.”
Although the Crescent Moon was primarily an information guild, they also dabbled in assassination. The difference was that their methods were far more sophisticated than those of other organizations. They employed highly skilled assassins, the likes of whom were hard to find anywhere else. This was entirely thanks to their guild master, Russell. Because he kept his past strictly under wraps, even Isha didn't know what he had done or where he had been. But it was clear he was a genuine, top-tier assassin.
In fact, it was only natural. In the original novel, Isha had definitely operated as an assassin, and someone had to have taught her the trade. At the very least, it wasn't Sirien or me.
“It's a bit embarrassing, but... it's a method I used when I fought with my dad when I was little. It's completely private, so no one else could possibly know about it. Though, I don't know if Dad still remembers it.”
When she was young, Isha absolutely hated training. From the minor details like her stride and breathing, to finding blind spots in a person's vision, or swinging a sword without making a sound—the training, which felt like completely restructuring her every movement, was both painful and boring.
At first, it was fine. She liked the praise the guild uncles showered her with. Hearing that she had talent motivated her. But motivation couldn't wash away all the pain. For some reason, Russell wanted to raise his daughter to be the ultimate assassin, but being an assassin was never Isha's dream.
The only reason Isha participated in the training despite her hatred was because she accepted the environment she was born into. In Requitas, the weak die. She realized that, in her case, her weakness could even lead to the deaths of those around her.
As Isha grew stronger, the training became increasingly harsh. Her threadbare motivation had withered away long ago. The only solace she had was her childhood friend. The grueling days repeated endlessly, as if they would never end until the day she died.
Eventually, one day, Isha's patience snapped. Deciding she would rather run away to a place where no one knew her than live like this, she fled.
Isha headed to a secluded hill in Requitas. It was a place her mother, who had died of illness when Isha was young, had shown her. Since it was her first time running away, she had no plan. When night fell, Isha was cold and hungry. Yet, she didn't want to go back, so she sat weeping before a snow-covered camellia tree.
"I've been looking everywhere for you. You should be past the age of throwing tantrums, yet you still make me worry."
"Why did you come? To scold me?"
"You deserve a scolding. But I will put that aside for now."
A thick coat was draped over Isha's shoulders. Russell wrapped his arms around her. His voice was warm and gentle, a stark contrast to his usual stern tone.
"I suppose I pushed you too hard. Was it very painful?"
"...Yes. I... I don't want to train anymore. I hate getting hit while fighting, and I hate the way the uncles look at me like I'm some kind of monster."
They talked about many things. She had expected to be scolded, but that day, Russell ate with her and spent time with her. For the first time in a very long time, Isha tasted true happiness.
The next day, the training resumed without fail. Even so, Isha was able to endure it. Because they had made a promise. If a day ever came when she truly couldn't bear it anymore, she would leave a message on the rock on that hill. If she did, her father promised he would listen to her with all his heart.
Following Isha, we arrived at an untamed field. There were several low hills, and occasionally, vibrant red camellias caught my eye.
Camellias were also Sirien's favorite flower. A flower that bloomed even in the dead of winter. Whenever the red blossoms bloomed in the snow-covered garden, the castle servants would whisper that they resembled the young lady. The Duchess of Ilencia had watched them with a pleased smile, and Sirien had never shied away from the affection people showed her. The Winter Garden of Leheim had never been without its camellia trees.
Reminded of those days, I plucked a flower and handed it to Sirien. She looked bewildered for a moment as she took it, but soon a broad grin spread across her face. They said women loved receiving flowers, and it seemed the saying held true.
“Rajen, do you know what the camellia represents in the language of flowers?”
“No idea. Aside from a few famous ones like roses, I don't know any. Why, is it something strange?”
“No, it's not strange. But I'm not going to tell you. If you're curious, find out yourself.”
Sirien seemed to be in an exceptionally good mood. She tucked the flower I gave her behind her ear, her face adorned with a constant, bright smile.
“I'm going to keep this flower even when we go back. I'll dry it and use it as a bookmark.”
“I didn't know you liked flowers so much. When we were kids, I thought you preferred trees over flowers.”
“Huh? Why?”
“You rarely went deep into the gardens where the flowers were. You always walked along the tree-lined paths.”
Even when we were staying at the cabin, Sirien had said she loved the scent of the coniferous forest. That was why I assumed she preferred trees to flowers, but her reaction today was incredibly warm.
“The scent of the flowers in our garden was just too overwhelming. That's why I liked walking along the edge of the garden the most. You actually remembered that?”
“It wasn't that long ago.”
“Hehe, I suppose. Still, you've been good, so I'll give you a reward. Come closer.”
What she handed me was a camellia identical to the one she was wearing. She tucked it behind my ear, just like she had done with hers. I felt a sudden wave of embarrassment, but looking at her beaming smile, I couldn't bring myself to take it off.