#33. Comrades Sorry for Not Fighting Together, Glad Comrades (1)
“It's our last night together... how about we all sleep in the same room?!”
Emilia made the suggestion with a beaming smile as they ate dinner, but the response was lukewarm.
“Hmm... sleeping together would be uncomfortable.”
“Me too.”
“Mixed sleeping arrangements are only for married couples.”
The replies came one by one from Biela, Daltan, and Gleon. Especially at Gleon's stuffy refusal, Emilia pouted her lips as if to say what a sight.
“Tch. No romance at all. Rapelon! What about you?”
“Uhmm...”
Suddenly put on the spot, Rapelon's hand paused mid-scoop of his soup. He was a lowly commoner, and it was obvious Emilia would be granted the title of grand duke upon her return. No matter how close they'd grown over the year's journey, he couldn't agree.
“...Uhmm, I, uh, agree with Sir Gleon.”
“What? Y-You too, Rapelon? Living such a boring life?”
“N-No, that's not it...”
“Tch, fine. Guess I'll have to hug my pillow alone again tonight.”
With that, their final dinner ended. Excited for the grand triumphal ceremony awaiting them tomorrow, Emilia headed to her room first to get some sleep.
Probably.
That night, she might have been the only one who could fall asleep.
The next morning dawned, and Emilia, up first as usual, knocked on the room next door. Rapelon always woke her like a nanny, but strangely, he was nowhere to be seen today.
“Rapelon?”
No response from inside. Cautiously, she opened the door, but there was no trace of him.
“Where did he go?”
Did he have some urgent business first thing in the morning? As her comrades emerged one by one from their rooms, Emilia decided to have breakfast and wait.
*
“What the hell? Where the heck did he go? Has anyone seen him?”
Even as the sun climbed to midday, there was no word from Rapelon. Emilia asked around, but everyone just shook their heads. They'd already spent over an hour searching the village, so Daltan spoke with a hint of irritation.
“Hah, where the fuck did that bastard run off to? Without a word? What are we supposed to do if the porter ditches the luggage?”
Gleon glanced at the sun, gauging the time from their shadows.
“Hmm... we need to leave right now, don't we?”
They'd sent word yesterday that they'd arrive around three in the afternoon, so a grand ceremony was likely being prepared to match. With King Brikal waiting, they couldn't delay departure any longer.
“Hah, let's just go. Damn it, now I have to carry the crap myself.”
In the end, Daltan proposed they set off. No, it was more like an order. Ever since the return journey began, he'd been acting like the party leader for some odd reason.
Of course, Emilia refused.
“B-But let's search a little more. He might have collapsed somewhere.”
“Hah, and if we're late, you gonna take responsibility?”
“N-No, I don't mean responsibility. Finding a comrade we've shared a year of hardships with comes first...!”
“You're joking? It's just one lousy porter missing. He probably ran off!”
Emilia furrowed her brow at Daltan's outburst.
“Ran off? Why would Rapelon run away?”
At the time, she couldn't understand why the word “run” even came up, but Biela and Gleon shot Daltan glances.
Daltan cleared his throat awkwardly.
“W-Whatever. Just saying. That guy was never into fame or fortune anyway.”
“...I agree. He'd probably rather not waste time on a bothersome ceremony and just go his own way now. I'd say he's fulfilled his duty as porter.”
Biela stayed silent, but Gleon backed Daltan up, and public opinion tilted toward departure.
“S-Still...! He wouldn't leave without a word...!”
Emilia fretted alone for Rapelon, but with the three of them united, she couldn't win.
“Let's go already.”
“B-But...!”
“Hah, are you really that stupid? That naive? Enough already, Emilia.”
Daltan snapped irritably at her hesitation. There wasn't a speck of hero's honor in his sharpened crimson eyes. His nerves were on edge from the bloodbath looming ahead.
“...D-Daltan.”
“Hah... sorry. So let's go. If Rapelon left on his own, searching for him would just be a bother. Got it?”
“Y-Yeah, that makes sense, Emil. Let's hurry. We'll really be late. What if His Majesty gets mad?”
With even Biela chiming in, Emilia resolved to search for Rapelon after the ceremony and headed to the capital.
“Okay...”
Of course... she'd never find him after that day.
*
“Mila... did you see him?”
Left alone in her room, Isel sat by the window in the moonlight, speaking to Mila in her cage. Chirp chirp, as if saying yes, Mila tilted her head. Peace settled in the room after the storm.
Like entering the eye of the typhoon. Outside, the tempest of Daltan, Gleon, Brikal, and Yuria still raged, but this place was serene.
Had she adapted? To slave life? Isel rested her elbows on the table, chin on her wrist. It was hard to believe this was the girl trembling in fear moments ago—so relaxed now.
Her healing wounds no longer left deep scars of betrayal's terror. Maybe because it was Biela. She wasn't sure what would happen facing Daltan or Gleon.
—Knock knock.
A knock came then. A reflexive smile bloomed on Isel's lips. She could tell who it was just from the presence now.
Opening the door with a bright grin, there he was—her master, entering with a pleased smile.
“Master...!”
She threw herself into Rosel's arms like lovers reuniting after years apart, rubbing her cheek against his chest to savor his scent. Just his smell calmed her body and soul now. Rosel alone was immense comfort for her.
“...I... I did it alone. I told Biela. That I won't forgive her...”
Like a child seeking praise, Isel chattered in his embrace. Rosel gently stroked her hair. The dull, lifeless golden locks now gleamed with luster.
“I heard. Good girl.”
“You heard?”
“Of course. Didn't I promise to always be with you?”
“Ah, as expected... Master...!”
Isel looked up at Rosel with a moved expression, then burrowed back into his arms.
“You worked hard. Thank you for fighting well.”
“No... For you, Master, I won't collapse again.”
At her brave words, Rosel was the one moved this time.
“...Yes, let's fight together from now on.”
Rosel felt a lump in his chest melt, if only a little. Like a corner of the iceberg frozen by guilt thawing. Everything he'd done for Isel, and her recovery, brought him great solace too.
Releasing the hug, as always, he stroked her slender arm and gazed at her.
“Your flesh is filling out nicely now.”
Not just new skin under scabs. When she first arrived, she was skin and bones. But now? The hollows from fear and despair filled her sunken cheeks and under-eyes, restoring her original beauty.
“All... thanks to you, Master. Thank you. With you... I think I can dream again.”
“What kind of dreams?”
“...Hope.”
Knowing what hope she'd abandoned, Rosel managed a wistful smile. He couldn't be purely happy. Not until the iceberg of guilt fully melted beneath the surface.
Maybe it never would in his lifetime.
So he hid the wistfulness behind his smile.
“I have a gift for you.”
“A gift?”
“Don't be too shocked. I felt you had to see this today.”
Rapelon's reunion with Isel might poison Rosel. If she learned of events unfolding before her arrival, it'd confuse her greatly. He'd aligned stories with Rapelon, but lying to her—even for good intent—was a heavy decision for him.
Isel, the hero fallen by comrades' lies. Telling her another, even benevolent one, weighed on him.
But no choice. You can't make pure white with pigments; adding them only muddies it. Still, Rosel wanted to craft her happiness this way. Not eternal lies—he'd tell all in time.
So he stepped aside, and soon Isel faced Rapelon.
Rapelon raised a hand with a warm smile.
“Emilia. Long time no see.”
“...Ra-Rapelon?!”
The one she'd sought so desperately. The one she couldn't find. The guilt in her heart now smiled broadly at his appearance.
Her first beaming smile since the betrayal. One she'd flashed countless times in grand adventures, thought buried forever.
Rosel felt his chest tighten. Yes, a hard choice, but the right one.
“Rapelon...!”
Tears welled in her emerald eyes as Isel ran to hug him.
“Where were you...! How much I searched...!”
“...I had no choice. Sorry I couldn't fight with you, Emilia.”
Before answering where he'd been, long-held words spilled from Rapelon. When he heard she'd been branded a traitor and imprisoned upon return, the guilt had crushed him.
So he apologized. For failing to fight for the comrade who saw him as one, unavoidable as it was.
Releasing the hug, Isel finally burst into tears. How much she'd worried if her year-long life-and-death comrade lived or died.
Now free from that worry, as Rosel wished.
“Hic... No... I'm glad you weren't there.”
“...E-Emilia..”
Rapelon looked startled at her words. A comrade sorry for not fighting together, and one glad he hadn't.
Glad she'd borne all the pain and horror alone. At Isel's words, something surged in Rapelon. Her magnanimity, immeasurable as a goddess's, stirred his heart.
“E-Emilia...”
“Hic... I'm so glad you're alive... Glad you weren't there that day, so don't be sorry..”
“Ah... Emil...”
The gift seemed a success. Amid the touching old comrades' reunion, Rosel smiled proudly and stepped away.
“You must have much to discuss. Take your time.”
But as he turned to leave, Isel called.
“M-Master..!”
“Yes?”
“Thank you... so much...”
At her tearful gratitude, Rosel replied with a warm smile and closed the door.
Thus, the trio's heartfelt night deepened.