The Knight of One (2)
"Ellie? When did you get here—"
"Lenart. Getting a little hot in here, is it?"
Cutting off Lenart's greeting with an icy tone, Ellie spoke in a voice that broke off at every word.
"Your cheeks are bright red. Or maybe you ate something bad?"
"Wha— what?"
At Ellie's words, Lenart found herself touching her own cheek without thinking. Only then did she register the faint but unmistakable flush trembling at her fingertips.
Her eyes spun round and round, up and down, unable to fix on anything at all.
"W-wait a minute... this is..."
"Hmph."
Leaving a flustered Lenart behind, Ellie grabbed Kallen's arm and pulled him away.
The sound of the mercenaries clutching their bellies with laughter at the sudden lovers' quarrel rang out across the entire training grounds.
Having had her good laugh, Vice-Captain Ayli called after the departing pair.
"Make it a quick one, you hussy! Otherwise we'll gobble him right up!"
"Ugh...! I only left you alone for a moment, and already...!!"
Once the two of them were finally alone, Ellie let burst all the frustration she had been holding back.
"It's not like you grow a pair of tits and that makes you somebody!! It's so annoying...!"
She was stomping her feet on the ground, eyes brimming with tears, as if something utterly unfair had been done to her.
Kallen simply watched her with a smile of long familiarity.
Time had flowed equally for the boy and the girl alike. Just as Kallen had grown into a man, Ellie, too, was becoming a woman.
The baby fat had melted away to reveal a slender jawline and delicate features that brought to mind a small, fragile deer. Her auburn hair, tied back neatly, always glistened with a healthy shine, and her large walnut-green eyes were the crowning jewel of it all.
Ellie envied the mature figure Lenart had grown into, but it was always Ellie—shamelessly pressing herself flush against Kallen at every opportunity, proudly showing off just how much she'd grown—who left him at a loss.
That she had zero self-awareness about it only made things worse.
"You still haven't fixed that potty mouth. And you want to marry into a good family how, exactly?"
Kallen teased her as she went on kicking pebbles with all her might.
"Shut your m—... be quiet. I behave just fine in front of other people, you know?"
Ellie glared daggers at him before hastily correcting herself.
"I'm just annoyed right now, that's all... Why are you laughing!! Stop laughing!!"
"Pfft... ahaha...!"
At the sight of her, Kallen could no longer hold it in and burst out laughing.
Ellie hopped about frantically, hands clapped over her mouth, but against her strength it was a hopeless struggle from the start.
After a good long scuffle, the two of them ended up tangled together, tumbling down into the grass. They rolled over a few times before coming to a stop—and by then Ellie was somehow straddling Kallen's stomach as if riding a horse.
"..."
An awkward silence laced with a strange warmth stretched between their locked gazes.
After gazing up at Ellie for a long while, Kallen finally spoke.
"Ellie. Do you still hate being poor?"
"Yeah."
"Then do you hate poor men too?"
"Of course I do. I told you, didn't I? Living in filth and squalor makes me sick."
At Ellie's blunt answer, a faint shadow began to fall over Kallen's face.
Glancing at him sidelong, Ellie muttered quietly, as if to herself, feigning reluctance.
"Still... maybe I don't hate you, though."
It was a voice full of shyness, so unlike Ellie.
Kallen stared at her as she avoided his eyes, blinking wide-eyed. Then, as if nothing had happened at all, he broke into a bright smile and answered her words.
"I like you too."
"...?"
Ellie tilted her head in confusion at his reply. It would take her quite some time to finally catch his meaning.
"Ah— aaah..."
A blush every bit as red as the one she had mocked Lenart for bloomed across Ellie's face.
Muttering some incoherent string of words under her breath, Ellie suddenly shook her head hard and began pounding on Kallen's chest.
"I said I don't hate you, not that I like you!! You idiot! Die! Just die!!"
"Puhuhu..."
A flurry of tiny fists didn't hurt in the slightest. Kallen could only let loose a foolish, helpless laugh.
The Kallen of today was the person in the world who understood Ellie best. He had never particularly wanted that, and yet the years the two of them had piled up had made him that way, all on their own.
Ellie was a girl like a wild mare running free across the plains. No bridle existed in this world that could tame her. And for such a girl to endure the suffocating life Kallen had suffered through was all but impossible.
Outdated books on proper conduct were little more than meaningless spells cast for her benefit—ones she had tossed aside long ago at that. As for the admission to Elysion Academy she had once sung about so loudly, her mouth had long since gone silent on the matter. The one year she had sworn by was far behind her now, and still Ellie showed no thought of leaving the mercenary company.
And Ellie's gaze rested, always, on Kallen alone.
The two of them had become like a pair of trees grown into one another. Their intertwined branches would never let each other go; they only wound tighter, deeper, wrapping around one another. As if they would never release their grip, no matter what storm or wave came crashing down.
For two people like that, coming to understand each other's hearts was—by now—not such a difficult thing at all.
"Die! Just die already... Eeek!!"
Kallen reached out, seized the girl who was still pounding his chest, and suddenly pulled her into his embrace.
Holding her tight as she squirmed, he opened his mouth softly beside her ear.
"I love you."
"..."
Ellie's struggling slowed little by little, and then stopped entirely.
She had gone completely slack against the lines of his body, her face still buried in his firm chest.
And so, unable to meet his eyes, Ellie spoke in a voice that could barely crawl out of her throat.
"...I love you too."
And at last, Kallen had something he wanted to do with his life.
Even the most peaceful of days had a way of presenting moments that felt like a thorn driven under one's fingernail—sudden and sharp. For Kallen, that moment was now.
"Victory! The Empire is victorious!"
A commotion erupted in the middle of the market square of the small territory where the mercenary company was staying.
A soldier, clearly a messenger, galloped in circles around the plaza, waving a proclamation high overhead.
"The party of Noel, Sword's Successor, has crushed the beastfolk host and cut off the head of Great Chieftain Gorgal! Velita has been retaken! Askrifo has been retaken! And..."
At the sound of a certain name, Kallen—who had been browsing the stalls—froze mid-motion.
The herald rattled off an endless list of war merits before hastily wheeling his horse around and riding out through the city gate. And at once a clamor close to rapture burst forth from the crowd.
"Truly magnificent. To think he's accomplished so much at such a young age..."
"The Sword Saint reborn, without a doubt...!"
"May the God Aten watch over the Empire's finest knight..."
"May his flame never die, and burn for eternity...!"
Hearing those fevered voices, a wry smile crept unbidden to Kallen's lips. How could it not? The Noel they praised by name was the name of someone who had inherited the sword and the House of Aramis in his stead.
Noel, who had graduated early from the Imperial Academy to keep pace with the turbulent times, had formed his own party and was now flaunting a steady stream of military achievements. The subjugation of Great Chieftain Gorgal was just one more entry in that shining record.
The beastfolk were a subspecies with the heads of beasts and thick fur covering their bodies. Because they worshipped demons and took humans for prey, they had long been targets of imperial subjugation—but at times they would mass into great hosts and stir up fierce upheavals.
Gorgal's horde, too, had swept entire territories off the map without a trace, becoming an object of terror for the Empire's citizens. But by now they had long since been reduced to mere ash beneath the flame of Prominence that Noel wielded.
A hero appearing in an age of chaos invariably set the masses ablaze with fervor. Everywhere he went, people sang Noel's praises with one voice. The bards, keenly attuned to the mood, composed and performed songs hailing Noel as the Sword Saint reborn, the undefeated hero.
And with even his betrothal to the Imperial Princess all but settled, it was no exaggeration to say that Noel was currently the most famous and most promising figure in all the Empire. Piece by piece, he was making his own everything that had once belonged to Kallen.
"..."
Not that he felt any envy about it now, of course.
The feats Noel had achieved were deeds that deserved praise, and having been chosen by Prominence, his skill was beyond any doubt exceptional. It was only that Kallen kept agonizing over the difference between Noel and himself.
Why had he been the one not chosen, while Noel could be?
Even now, having blended seamlessly into a mercenary's life, such thoughts would now and then sink Kallen into a mild melancholy. His identity as a duke's son had long since faded into a blur—and yet the inferiority complex he could never quite surmount grew only sharper each time that name reached his ears.
And still, Kallen could not arrive at an answer.
"Seems your countenance is troubled, young man."
A quiet voice pulled Kallen back to his senses. The middle-aged woman running the sundries stall had been staring at him thoughtfully for who knew how long.
"I've a devil's talent for reading what's in people's hearts. That Noel fellow getting all that praise must be churning your stomach, eh?"
"..."
Cut off mid-scheme, Kallen could only laugh awkwardly. The woman nodded as if she understood his heart completely, and went on.
"Truth be told, I feel the same. I'm originally from El Rima, out west. Saw that fellow up close once, and he truly turned my stomach. Speaks all languid and foppish like a court dandy, and looks down on people as if they were the dirt under his boot..."
"Is... is that so?"
"I tell you it's true. Why else would every knight escorting him wear a face like they'd been chewing on gravel? Well, they know it as well as anyone. A noble young master with a rotten temper—no great mystery there..."
The woman had somehow launched into a full-length lecture by now.
"It's only because those simpletons don't know any better that they sing his praises. If they saw him up close, they'd all say the same as me."
The woman glanced slyly at Kallen's face, then finished in a low, meaningful voice.
"Between that hollow husk Noel or whatever his name is, and you, young man—you're far and away the better catch. Handsome, too, and polite in a way you rarely see these days."
She was a merchant truly seasoned in her craft, no question.
When Kallen, surrendering with a laugh, held out three silver coins, the woman accepted them without the slightest pretense of refusal, her face lighting up.
"I wasn't saying it to make a sale, mind you."
"It's fine. This is just paying for the goods. Besides..."
At the way Kallen's words trailed off, the woman nodded with an air of certainty.
"That's the finest item in my whole shop. Even the proudest young lady in the world wouldn't have the strength to hold out against it. Take it with you, and worry no more."
"I trust you."
"Oh, think nothing of it. Off you go now, then. Enjoy the festival to your heart's content."
Parting ways with the woman, Kallen melted back into the sea of people. For all the peaceful atmosphere, a faint tension was somehow seeping into him, and a light sigh was just escaping his lips—
when someone barged up out of nowhere, grabbed his arm roughly, and pressed in close.
"Kallen! Where on earth have you been?"
He knew who it was from the voice alone.
"Do you have any idea how long I've been looking for you?"
Ellie.
The star of the day, having finally tracked him down, was glaring at him with a face full of sulky indignation.