House Aiperos (3)
I was momentarily at a loss for words when she said she'd follow me.
Harnie then clasped my hand tightly and explained her reasoning.
"Listening to it now, it does make sense. I'd rather stay out here than put up with the Marquis's nagging. So I've decided to come with you."
"Do you truly have nowhere else to stay?"
"I do, but... I can't go there right now."
"Pardon?"
"Just take my word for it. I have my reasons too."
"..."
It was an absurd thing to hear—that she had somewhere to stay but couldn't go there—but she claimed to have her circumstances. I could accept that much. The problem was her following me.
"I was simply planning to buy a few necessary items here and return to the territory... and you want to follow me to such a place?"
At that, Harnie set a hand on her hip and narrowed her eyes.
"Let me guess. You think that because I'm a noble lady, I can't sleep a wink unless I'm in a proper bed, and I won't be satisfied with anything less than lavish dishes served at a comfortable table. Is that it?"
"Hmm... Listening to you say it, I can't claim the thought never crossed my mind, though its weight is negligible at best."
"Then why not?"
"Because my destination is Rusmayer."
Rusmayer Territory was in no condition to receive guests at the moment.
Even though it had been a test, all they'd offered me was a single glass of milk.
There was next to nothing in that place, perched halfway up a mountain, that could be given to a visitor. At most, one spare room.
Wouldn't hosting a guest there be utterly out of the question?
"Perhaps it would have been possible if I were taking you to the ducal house, but I have no intention of setting foot there for the time being. That's why it's difficult to bring you along. I'll be living the life of a commoner, plain and simple."
"You really are a strange one. To think you worry about things like this."
"...Isn't that just common sense?"
The woman, who had been narrowing her eyes at me, soon burst into laughter.
"Not at all. Most people think the opposite. A noble would have said I belong in a grand mansion, dressed head to toe in expensive clothes dripping with jewels and accessories, pairing a glass of fine wine with a steak."
"Hm..."
I couldn't say she was entirely wrong.
Honestly, from her very first impression, she had radiated the air of a born aristocrat, the very picture of nobility.
But she raised three fingers and personally proved otherwise.
"You needn't worry about that. I've collapsed flat on my back from weeding, and I've fallen asleep on the floor instead of a bed or sofa. I was just so exhausted, that's how it happened. Besides, anything tastes delicious when you're starving, doesn't it?"
After that day, Harnie told me, she had experienced the commoners' way of life more deeply.
Once she'd actually lived it, she found it wasn't so different after all.
The stuffy etiquette of the nobility simply didn't exist among them.
Their free-spirited lives, brimming with warmth, had actually been enjoyable.
With every finger she folded down, Harnie poured out a mountain of her own experiences.
Just from listening, I could tell.
She hadn't been through this once or twice.
That she didn't look back on those experiences badly at all.
And that she was a true noble in the finest sense of the word—the kind who harmonized best with ordinary people.
"Thanks to that, I was able to grow closer to the commoners. Which is how I came to hold secrets the Marquisate knows nothing about. And even knowing that—do you still worry about me?"
"No. I'm beginning to think worrying about you is simply my lot in life."
"See?"
Truly, it was my fate to worry.
To the point where I wondered who could possibly look at this woman and see a noble.
"Very well. We'll go to Rusmayer together."
I'd assumed I would be heading back alone after stepping out of that carriage... Who would have thought I'd find someone to ride with me in such an unexpected place?
After leaving the merchant district, I headed toward the spot where I'd left my horse, intending to bring Harnie with me to Rusmayer.
By this point, I'd suggested it might be better to let go of my arm entirely, but—
"You never know. Someone with a sharp eye might be watching."
Harnie refused to release my arm, insisting that carelessness could be costly.
Then, whenever she spotted something we needed and moved to buy it—
"The one next to it is better. In terms of value for the price, what you picked is far too poor."
She would whisper in my ear like that, helping me either cut the expense or choose the better item.
Though I'd barely managed to buy the things I needed, the goods necessary for Rusmayer piled up neatly, one after another.
Then, suddenly, a bottle shattered somewhere deep inside a tavern.
"Kyaaaaagh!!"
Along with a woman's scream, harsh sounds began spilling out of the tavern and into the street.
"You rotten, festering bastard! Do you have any idea where you are?!"
"You were hiding what you really are...!"
"Get out of here this instant, you cur!"
Crash!
Shards of broken glass scattered across the ground and flew toward Harnie.
Instinctively, I drew my sword and cut down three of the fragments midair.
"Are you all right, Harnie?"
"Y-yes... thanks to you..."
Thankfully, Harnie seemed unharmed.
But I couldn't afford to relax.
This damned game just loves pulling stunts like this.
Small-scale events in the merchant district. If you happened to pass by a tavern, a commotion like this would occasionally break out, whittling down Karsein's health or inflicting status ailments.
I had no idea why the game bothered with details this granular, but Karsein inevitably found himself tangled up in places like this.
And with a companion in tow now, no less—there was no helping it.
"We should take a detour. A brawl could break out in there, and another bottle might come flying our way."
That was how I tried to persuade her, but Harnie instead strode deliberately toward the front of the tavern.
"Harnie?"
"...Wait here just a moment. There's something I need to confirm."
"Then we'll go together."
"Pardon?"
"It'll be dangerous. I'll lead the way, so follow behind me."
"All right."
With her permission secured, we headed toward the tavern. No more bottles came flying our way.
The tavern, however, only grew louder.
The closer we got, the more we could hear things shattering and smashing—and it was plain to see what state the interior must be in.
Even so.
With who-knew-where the next bottle might come sailing from, Harnie insisted on setting foot inside the tavern.
"Just as I thought...!"
The moment she took in the scene inside, Harnie clapped a hand over her mouth.
"You rotten, festering Yarik!"
"What gall you have, wandering around the Empire like this!"
"Your gall has grown clean out of proportion! Take your beating and get lost!"
I couldn't say I liked the situation much either.
Several men were ganging up to fight one.
But what truly irritated me was this:
The man wasn't dodging their attacks. He was simply taking them.
Why? That man isn't weak by any measure.
I could feel it instinctively.
That man's body wasn't something forged casually.
His grotesque, deeply carved scars made it plainly visible—skin damaged in every manner imaginable, again and again, only for fresh flesh to rise in its place, over and over.
The calluses on my own hands were adorable by comparison.
Blisters on my feet? Those hardly count as wounds at all.
The injuries born from hammering away at a sword? How could they even compare to that?
Countless real battles.
Forged through endless, ceaseless fighting.
These weren't the marks of someone swinging practice blades and wooden swords like a greenhorn. They were the traces of a man who had gripped real steel and fought monsters.
Three drunkards were provoking the man, jabbing and prodding at him—but if he rose from that seat right now and showed what he could do, he would subdue the entire tavern with ease.
And yet.
With all that power at his command.
The man did not move from his seat.
"...Karsein. I know it's an unreasonable request. But will you grant me just this one thing?"
Gripping my arm tightly, she asked it of me, her voice heavy with pity.
"That Yarik... Can you help him?"
Save the man being beaten down by the drunkards inside that tavern.
That was Harnie's request.
Truthfully, I had anticipated it to some degree.
The moment that bottle shattered, Harnie's expression had begun to harden—and hadn't she been the one to suggest we go to the tavern?
She'd carried herself as if she knew exactly what words were being exchanged inside.
It was an inefficient move, to be sure.
If word spread that the adopted son of House Bagrand had swung a sword in a tavern, my reputation with the ducal family would surely drop, and my standing at the Training Grounds would fall with it. To say nothing of my affinity ratings.
And yet.
"Hold this for me."
I handed my sword to Harnie and stepped forward.
When the hood concealing his face was torn away, Pollux let out a faint sigh.
The people already inside the tavern had immediately begun hurling bottles and drinking cups.
"Damn Yarik dogs!"
"You couldn't even defend the Empire properly—what gives you the right to call yourselves imperial subjects?!"
"You haven't changed a bit since then, you savages!"
He had heard these words from the Empire's people until they were worn into his bones.
His face had been exposed—of course voices like these would rise.
Just as he'd thought. A quiet drink today was out of the question.
The imperial men then crowded around Pollux in a pack and began pummeling him with their fists.
Alongside jeers about how he'd sold out his country, they started driving their boots into him.
They cursed not only his family but the entire Yarik people.
They spat that his kind were no imperial subjects at all, and as the discriminatory words flew, a bottle came hurtling at his head.
Even so.
Pollux did not react.
Because he could not.
Bringing up the name of House Aiperos to those men is pointless—so long as we remain in their eyes, we are nothing but lowly Yariks, Pollux!
He had been through this many times before.
Having come all the way down here, it was an encounter bound to happen the moment he crossed paths with imperials.
All he had to do was endure it.
And so, even as the group violence rained down on him, Pollux closed his eyes and offered no resistance.
But then.
Strange sounds began reaching his ears.
Something going thud! as it collided with flesh.
Someone crumpling to the floor, and then something heavy embedding itself in the wall.
And then—
"K-keugh! What... what did we even do wrong—"
The man who had been tormenting him until moments ago spoke those words, and shortly after, the breath went out of him.
Sensing something amiss, Pollux opened his eyes—and there he was.
"That's most of it settled... hm? So you're awake."
A black-haired boy was looking down at him.
The boy's hand reached toward him.
Was this boy about to strike him too? For one fleeting instant, that was the thought that crossed his mind.
But then—
"What are you staring at it for? It's a hand to grab so you can get up."
The boy was extending not a fist, but a true helping hand.