The Guest (3)
Maria was in a good mood. She'd heard a rather delightful story today.
Then the clink of a teacup pulled her from her thoughts.
Tea time with the entire family gathered was always a special occasion in the Grand Duke's household — a distinctive custom of House Britzhart, headed by the Grand Duke himself, the absolute sovereign of the North.
"The situation on the Eastern Continent has grown quite grim of late."
"The Eastern Continent, you mean."
"Yes. The last remaining forces of the Blood Cult have been completely annihilated, and a handful of survivors have fled to the Western Continent."
Maria quietly set down her teacup and turned her gaze toward her father. War was underway on the Eastern Continent just as it was in the West. Unlike the Empire's campaigns of annexation, however, the conflict in the East had taken a somewhat different course.
"The Demonic War. Its end draws near, it would seem."
Roughly three years ago, the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult had declared a holy war to wipe out a heretical faction. Their target was the Blood Cult. Operating like a network of clandestine cells, they had managed to evade the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult's notice until now — but it seemed their end was finally at hand.
A young man who had been listening quietly to the Grand Duke shot to his feet.
"Father! Is it not a grave problem that remnants of the Blood Cult have fled to the Western Continent?"
He had a point. Unlike the Western Continent, where power was thoroughly concentrated at the center and held fast by the great nobles and the magic towers, the martial artists of the Eastern Continent were fractured into countless sects and clans. The scale of the chaos would be entirely different.
"Indeed. And that is why I intend to assign you a mission."
Every gaze in the room turned toward the Grand Duke.
"Disperse throughout the Grand Duchy and assist with the watch. Should any remnants of the Blood Cult be sighted, all of you — with the exception of Maria — are to send word to the capital at once."
What the Grand Duke wanted was simple. He meant to deploy House Britzhart's full strength to patrol and sentry duty, cutting off any possible influx of Blood Cult remnants at the source.
Maria's expression changed. Until that moment, she had been wearing her "pleasantly blank face." Now what sat upon her features was her "unpleasantly blank face." Fortunately, not a soul in the room could tell the difference.
Preparations for the journey to Helios proceeded without a hitch. I had next to nothing that could be called luggage, so that was a non-issue — and Lancelot had even finalized the contract on the mansion in a single day.
And now, a restaurant, where we were preparing to say goodbye.
"I'm glad. I was worried you two might settle down in Roben for the rest of your lives."
It was our first meal together since the battle in the slums, and Madam Armang spoke as the dishes clinked.
"The world is a wide place. I suppose I'm hardly one to talk, having spent my whole life in Roben — but I do hope you'll go and see more of it."
"...Mother. You're not disappointed?"
"Me? Not in the slightest. You have a reliable friend like Frey, don't you? If anything, I want to applaud. And besides..."
Madam Armang's eyes slid sideways. At the end of her gaze sat Ariel, who was chewing away and tilted her head in silent confusion.
"Hm?"
"What a fine young lady you are. Judging by the atmosphere, are you Frey's girlfriend?"
"Pfft—! A-ah, no?! I'm not his girlfriend. We've just been close friends since we were little."
Ariel's face flushed the color of a ruby as she shook her head vigorously. Sitting quietly beside her with a spoon in hand, I added a word of my own.
"She's a mage from a magic tower. Helios, the famous one."
"My! A mage? I see. Lancelot used to have a mage girlfriend of his own, you know..."
"M-Mother!"
Lancelot shot up from his seat, his face burning with embarrassment. Naturally, every eye at the table swung toward him.
A mage? A girlfriend? So Lancelot had that kind of history. This was starting to sound interesting.
"Was this story supposed to be a secret?"
"Well, the milk's already been spilled, hasn't it?"
"Nngh!"
Lancelot sank back into his seat and squeezed his eyes shut. Now that the secret he'd been hiding was out, he seemed to have concluded there was no justification left for stopping his mother's mouth.
"I received a letter from Lancelot once. He'd met a mage, he said, and she looked and acted just like him. And at the end of the letter, he wrote, 'Mother, is this love?'..."
"P-please stop! Frey! C-can we leave now?"
"Wow. This is great."
"Hey!"
"Alright, alright."
At the next round of shouting, I quietly rose from my seat. The meal had been winding down anyway. The contract for the mansion Madam Armang would live in, and for the servants who would manage it, had already been settled — there was nothing left for us in Roben.
"I'm done eating too!"
Seeing me stand, Ariel set down her fork with a clink.
"Go on, then. I'll have a cup of coffee here and head back. I don't want you seeing the foolish sight of a mother crying as she sends her son off."
"Mother..."
Seeing Madam Armang's faint smile, Lancelot's eyes grew wet. At that, I bowed my head to her — the only farewell I knew how to give.
"We'll be off. Don't worry about Lancelot. He's exceptionally skilled."
"Yes. Please take good care of him. And... the holy water. Truly, thank you."
Madam Armang had already turned her eyes to the menu. As if she couldn't bear to watch her son's departing back, she was putting on a show of strength.
"...Let's go."
Farewells done, we left the restaurant. Even without looking back, I knew her gaze was still on us.
After that, we arranged for a luxurious carriage and hired a coachman with an impressive résumé. Ariel covered the entire cost — as expected of someone from the Helios Magic Tower, she had money to spare.
"We're off, my lords!"
And so the carriage set out. Perhaps it was the money we'd spent, but the coachman's skill was considerable. The interior was so free of jolts it was almost luxurious — enough to send you straight to sleep.
...Doesn't look like I'll be coming back to Roben anytime soon.
Silence settled over the carriage. I opened the window, looked out at the passing scenery, and found myself smiling without meaning to. The precious memories, I'd bury here for a while. Now, a different story was about to unfold...
"STOOOOP!"
The carriage, which had been sailing along smoothly, screeched to a sudden, lurching halt.
"Wh-what the—?! An ambush?!"
"Ow..."
Lancelot jolted awake with a shout. Ariel, who had smashed her forehead into the inner wall, was making a strange noise as she rubbed her head.
"M-my lord! You'll need to step outside for a moment!"
"...?"
"A-a-a guest has arrived!"
The voice from outside did not sound promising. I slipped out of the carriage and immediately checked what lay ahead.
And what did I find? A man in a bizarre getup, glaring daggers in our direction. He was armed from head to toe in thick armor. Full plate, in a word — though, ridiculously, he wasn't wearing a helmet.
Unable to guess what this odd visitor wanted, I frowned and addressed him in a low voice.
"What is this?"
"I've come to settle a score."
"...A score?"
"Heh heh! Don't trouble yourself over it. All I want is your head."
...He wanted my head? My brow furrowed. That high-handed way of talking, that rough-hewn face — both of them felt distinctly off.
"Dupont sent you, then."
Lancelot, who had already climbed down from the carriage, spoke as if something had just occurred to him. The stranger's reaction was immediate — and ridiculous.
"Oho! And how did you know that? Tsk, tsk — the client's identity is supposed to be strictly confidential!"
"House Dupont? Lancelot. That pig's name was Guélard du Dupont, wasn't it?"
"That's right. Looks like he finally made his move."
Guélard of the Golden Lion Knights. So the Pig Knight had sent this one.
"This won't take long!"
Clank, clank. Muttering to himself, the stranger loosened his arms and came toward us. His weapon of choice: gauntlets. He looked like a martial artist, and he was wearing a pair of golden ones.
I drew my sword and locked eyes with the enemy. He was going to take my head? Unfortunate news for him — I had zero intention of giving it away as a freebie.
"What a prickly bunch you are to a guest!"
A low hum rolled out as the stranger gathered mana into both fists, a faint smile on his lips.
"That way of talking is genuinely pathetic."
"...Couldn't agree more."
It must have been that absurd. Even Lancelot, normally so solemn, had let out a remark that didn't suit him at all.
A rare sight — a martial artist. In the world of Silvering, the brawler class was widely regarded as an extremely dangerous profession.
And then there was the full plate armor. I'd concede that that magnificent steel, flashing silver in the sunlight, possessed a certain magic that stirred a man's soul. But if it had absolutely no practical value... then it wasn't magnificent armor. It was magnificent garbage. In a world that used mana to begin with, it was a worthless piece of junk against anything that wasn't goblin-level.
"Heh! Here I come!"
He kicked off the ground. So why was the brawler class so dangerous? If you fought enemies of the sword or polearm variety as a brawler, there was a very low chance of a horrific debuff triggering. The types varied, but the most common was Dominant Arm Severed. It meant exactly what it said: the right arm you'd been using as a weapon had been cut off. The only treatment was to pick up the severed arm, take it to a church, and pay an astronomical sum to have it reattached.
...And if you waited too long, even that wouldn't work. Character deletion was the only option left.
A fist sheathed in that golden gauntlet came flying at me. Whether it was some kind of martial form or not, his attack was fairly quick. Then the pitch-black mana I unleashed split the air. An assassin from House Dupont — I intended to go all-out from the very first exchange.
And then.
A wet slice. A thud.
"..."
"...?"
"...Wh-what was that just now?"
The carriage door creaked open, and Ariel poked her head out in a daze.
"GYAAAAAH!"
The stranger's splitting scream tore through the scene. On the ground, a pair of ownerless arms gleamed with golden light.