The Grand Ducal Princess (3)
The path to the coastal cliffs was a simple one.
Beyond the western gate of Fortress City Roben stretched a vast forest. Foot traffic was sparse, but monsters and wild animals were equally scarce. All I had to do was follow the path, and the cliff would come into view through the undergrowth.
Good thing it isn't an uphill climb.
I walked the forest trail in silence. Now and then I passed a few locals gathering herbs, but they offered only indifferent glances and made no attempt at conversation.
"If memory serves, it should be around here..."
A rustle of leaves. Spotting a massive, ancient tree, I stopped and searched the surroundings. There should be a side path here, hidden by undergrowth to the left of the tree.
"...Ah."
Sure enough, it was just as I remembered. I cut through the brush with my sword, and a narrow path emerged — just wide enough for a single person to pass.
I followed the side path for perhaps five minutes. Then a salty tang filled the air, and a cool sea breeze brushed across my cheek.
The surf roared below.
The view from the clifftop was the very definition of spectacular. An endless horizon stretched away; seagulls soared through a blue sky. And at the cliff's edge, a single small tree had taken root.
"This place hasn't changed much either."
This space had a knack for drowning even the most rational person in sentiment. Looking at the waves shattering white against the rocks below, at the warm sunlight draping itself over everything, I thought that anyone's sharpened edges would go round and soft, faced with a sight like this.
There's no grave...
Once it sank in that the cemetery from the original story's Grave at the Coastal Cliff wasn't here, I started walking, slowly.
"...I should head back, for now."
Lancelot's mother was not dead. There was no grave on the coastal cliff, and no sword planted before it. What that meant was quite clear.
I'm not too late. Lancelot's mother is right there in Fortress City Roben.
And that meant the reward I could claim from Lancelot was sitting right in front of me.
...Not that I'd granted his request hoping for a reward in the first place.
My connection with Lancelot was barely a few days old, but I liked the guy. His personality was refreshingly straightforward, and that upright heart of his — the way he looked after the weak — would surely prove a great help in the days to come.
And then.
"...You've got to be kidding me."
Something strange appeared at the edge of my vision just as I was about to head straight back.
Footsteps whispered through the grass. Someone emerged along the side path. And the someone, to my astonishment, was Maria Theresia — the woman I'd seen at today's triumphal procession.
...What the hell is that crazy woman doing here?
Question marks flooded my mind.
Stay calm. That she'd looked at me during the parade was an undeniable fact. But to think this meeting was intentional? That was too absurd.
Right. Coincidence, plain and simple. She just happened to know about this scenic spot near Roben too.
"Hello."
Like a hiker greeting a fellow climber on the trail, I gave a natural little bow of my head and walked right past Maria.
Please just stay put. Don't look at me.
The moment I passed her, her head turned to follow me.
My heart, already hammering, showed no sign of settling. Hoping she wouldn't acknowledge me, I intended to get out of here as fast as I could.
"Stop."
I froze.
The heavens thoroughly ignored my wishes. At the same time, my legs — which had been driving forward with purpose — came to a halt. Because Maria Theresia, her face expressionless, had quietly spoken to my back.
Damn it.
Creak. My body turned like a broken doll. And immediately, the Grand Ducal Princess's radiant beauty filled my vision.
"Did you need something from me?"
The plan had gone sideways.
Well, I wasn't sure it even qualified as a plan. What I was sure of was that this woman was showing a considerable amount of interest in me. So I answered as naturally as I could.
"You. What is your name?"
"...Frey."
"Frey. A name I do not recall."
Maria stood where she was, resting her chin in thought. Her golden hair, soft as silk, stirred in the breeze — but I couldn't voice a single word of appreciation.
So this is... Maria Theresia.
I had the illusion that an intangible aura wrapped around her. Having surpassed what the Eastern Continent called the Transformation Realm, her very existence was a strategic weapon. The pressure I felt from nothing more than her breathing nearby was no illusion.
"A shame. Then I'll be going."
I bowed my head and hurriedly started walking. Facing the Mad Sword of the North in the future wouldn't be impossible, I figured.
But... I lacked the strength for it now. Thanks to my trait, I had talent that shone dazzlingly bright — but I hadn't properly honed that talent yet.
A whisper of movement.
"Why do you keep trying to run away?"
Once again, my steps were brought to a halt by Maria.
I didn't even have time to wonder when. In the space of a single blink, Maria — who had been behind me — was now blocking my path.
"You're hiding something, I presume. But you cannot escape my eyes."
Maria murmured the words quietly, then circled me once, her steps crunching through the grass. Incomprehensible. Hiding? Hiding what?
"Hiding? Is there something I've hidden?"
Maria answered at once.
"Of course there is."
Maria Theresia delivered the assessment with perfect calm and stepped closer. At the same time, a sweet fragrance washed over me.
"Truly. Is there not a single thing you have hidden from me."
Muttering so, Maria leaned her face in.
At a distance close enough to feel her breath, I gave a small nod.
"Yes."
"You are a truly interesting person."
Maria's lips curled into a smile as she stepped back a few paces. Then she continued, her voice full of amusement.
"Every soul in this world is desperate to exchange even a single word with me. And yet you, on the contrary, are avoiding conversation with me."
A dazzling gaze poured over me. Maria Theresia von Britzhardt. The North's strongest swordswoman, it seemed, was curious about that.
So saying, Maria slipped one of the rings from her fingers.
It was a silver ring so plain — colorless, unadorned — that the title of Grand Ducal Princess seemed almost mismatched to it. And yet the aura it gave off was anything but ordinary.
Her hand closed around my wrist.
"...?"
What she did next was even more shocking.
Maria reached out and seized my wrist. Then she worked her fingers to spread mine open and set the ring she'd been wearing onto them.
"Of course, without a corresponding gift, a senior's dignity would hardly hold, would it."
"...This is?"
"One of House Britzhardt's sacred treasures. When your name resounds across the continent, I shall reclaim the ring."
A sacred treasure of House Britzhardt... a silver ring?
I knew this item. Of course I did. Among Silvering's countless storylines, if you took the Northern Grand Duke route, this was something you could obtain at an extremely low probability.
"You're really giving this to me?"
"You must speak precisely. I am not giving it. I am lending it."
At the strangely emphatic tone, my mouth snapped shut.
Why on earth...?
This legendary-grade item, as a gift? What about me made her trust me enough to leave something this enormous in my hands?
"My eye for people is accurate. That I see no red or black light in you means you are a person who bears a mission of corresponding nobility."
Blue eyes filled with deep conviction turned toward me.
It was far too sudden a gift. I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel good about it.
Jackpot. A massive jackpot, even.
A psychopath who hunts down criminals and evildoers, chops off their limbs, and mounts their heads on display? A Skull Slayer who smashes in the heads of nobles who backed back-alley crime syndicates?
"...Thank you."
No. That's not right. Scum like that deserve a terrible end.
Maria Theresia von Britzhardt... she wasn't the North's crazy bitch. She was our big bro. No — our big sister.
"Where the hell have you been wandering? The sun's already down."
The moment I got back to the hotel, Lancelot's scolding came flying at me.
The words had a bit of an edge, but his voice was full of wounded feeling — spending half a day alone in Roben had apparently been quite boring.
"I ran into someone important."
"Someone important...?"
Lancelot tilted his head, looking like he couldn't make sense of it.
I didn't bother explaining what I'd been through. I knew perfectly well Lancelot wasn't the type to get jealous — I just thought, why bother?
"While you were gone, I walked the central district."
"Did you?"
Maybe he'd gotten restless sitting alone in the hotel room, because what Lancelot said next was unexpected.
"So, did you find them? Your mother, and Armang's smithy."
"No. Couldn't find them. There was no one living in a central district mansion under the Armang name."
This was a bit unexpected. Hadn't House Armance provided enormous support funds when they entered Lancelot — an illegitimate son — into the family register?
Doesn't seem like the type to blow money on gambling or anything of the sort.
As things unfolded this way, questions came first.
His mother, Madam Armang — where on earth was she living? The grave at the coastal cliff didn't even exist. Which meant she was still alive — not dead.
It was the following morning, in the early hours, that we came across a startling piece of information...