The Snake That Swallows Gold Coins (5)
The Arvenia Ducal House.
Before Osman Arvenia, master of the house, a knight spoke with his head bowed.
"As ordered, I have escorted Lady Dieta to the villa. Reliable knights have been posted to guard it, so there should be no cause for concern."
"Is that so."
Osman rested his chin on his hand.
"Have the instructions been delivered to the knights and the servants?"
"That, too, has been done as ordered."
"Well done, Sir Griffin."
"However—may I ask a question?"
The knight who had kept his head lowered, Griffin, raised it. He looked to be in his early to mid-thirties, but Osman knew he was older than himself. Griffin had been the knight at his side since he was a boy.
Knight Commander of the Arvenia Ducal Family.
Sword Seeker, Griffin.
He put a question to his master.
"I wish to know the true intent behind such an order."
A question that could, depending on how one looked at it, be called rude.
Had an ordinary knight asked it, Osman would have laughed it off or simply not answered—but Griffin was the knight he trusted most, a presence closer to a friend of many years. And so Osman answered willingly.
"Well. Because she is dangerous."
Osman smiled.
"Griffin. Do you remember when I was young?"
"I do."
Osman, the third son of the house.
A man who had fallen behind in the succession struggle, someone no one bothered to watch. And yet the one who finally sat as master of the ducal house was Osman Arvenia.
Eliminate whatever stands in the way. Pull down those who climb high, and once they are down, break and ruin them so thoroughly they can never rise again.
When that fierce succession struggle neared its end, the only one still standing on two feet was Osman. The rest had become wrecks, lost their will, or fled somewhere.
Griffin had watched that process closer than anyone. Recalling it, he nodded.
"So you mean..."
"Dieta. That child has the makings of a power broker. Talent equal to mine—or greater. I do not deny it."
Osman kept his chin on his hand.
"Agesio and the other children are not without talent, but set beside Dieta they fall woefully short. A pity. That the one who inherited my blood most strongly should happen to be that child."
Osman Arvenia looked at his own eyes reflected in the teacup. Bright yellow. Those eyes that measured value were what he cherished most.
"What that child said was correct. Her worth is too high to sell off in a short-term venture like this. Give her five more years? Her trading company would grow larger still. It would reach a scale even the ducal house could not easily touch. Surely it would."
"Then..."
"That is precisely why, Sir Griffin."
Osman narrowed his eyes.
His bright yellow pupils glittered like a snake's.
"That child's value is high."
He tapped the teacup.
"But it is not something I can swallow. The larger she grows, the more she becomes the snake that swallows me."
A child who resembled him more than anyone.
Those eyes were like his own—the eyes of the man who had eliminated every rival and seized the seat of the house. Someday that child would sink her fangs into his throat and devour the family whole.
That was both conviction and trust.
Just as Dieta regarded Osman as her own kind, Osman regarded Dieta as a being like himself.
"So should I not swallow her while I still can?"
I have no hobby of raising a beast that will one day tear out my throat, Osman said, and laughed aloud.
If one means to raise a wild beast, one pulls out its claws and fangs, and beats it each time it tries to climb so that it learns who stands above. And Osman knew that method very well.
Petals not yet fully bloomed.
A beast not yet fully grown.
Osman Arvenia was a man who had risen to this seat by trampling and destroying such people again and again.
"Trample her thoroughly. Break her so she can never climb up again. Well—you know this already, don't you?"
Osman muttered, indifferent.
"People break more easily than one might think."
Especially a girl of that age.
"Lady Dieta has fallen into a trap."
Kneeling in the mud, Pasion spoke.
Najin listened quietly. What came from Pasion's mouth concerned the inner affairs of the Arvenia Ducal Family and the situation Dieta now faced.
At the end of the explanation, Pasion delivered his conclusion.
"The goal was never to swallow the trading company. The company is merely a bonus. Duke Osman's purpose is to crush Lady Dieta."
Having overheard the duke's orders, Pasion could be certain. The duke was not underestimating Dieta. Quite the opposite.
He regarded her as a threat, and so meant to trample her and smash her flat.
Which meant that Dieta, relocated to the villa, was in danger. She would be drawing longer-term plans and watching for an opening—but if things proceeded according to the duke's design, that opening would never come.
"This has to be conveyed to her. And she needs someone to serve as her hands and feet."
Dieta, isolated.
What she needed now was someone who could come and go from the villa and act as a messenger. But Pasion, who should have filled that role, was under surveillance, and finding a capable person trustworthy enough for such work was no easy matter.
Someone who would stand on Dieta's side—and who possessed at least the skill of a Sword Expert or higher.
Those who met the second condition could be found readily enough if one looked. Those who met the first were hard to come by. All the more so in this city packed with adventurers chasing gold. There was no reason anyone would take on a job that might mark them as an enemy of the ducal house.
"I know this is an unreasonable request."
An unreasonable request, and a dangerous one.
The gains from completing it were small; the risks to bear were far too great. Pasion did not hide that. Kneeling and pleading as he was, he knew that giving the man before him the truth was only proper.
"Sneaking into the villa while avoiding the knights' watch and establishing contact is a difficult task. Of course I will provide maps of the villa and the locations of the hidden passages—but the benefit you would gain by taking this commission..."
And so the explanation grew thin.
Adventurers weighed gain against risk. Pasion knew no one would accept a commission like this. He bowed his head a little lower.
"...I cannot guarantee anything for the moment."
If things went well and Dieta returned to the trading company, there would be many benefits he could guarantee. But how things would turn out, Pasion could not know. In the worst case, he was even considering fleeing with her.
He clenched his jaw until his teeth ground.
What he could put on the scales now was not any visible gain. The only thing he could offer at present was one.
"There is one reward I can guarantee."
Pasion unfastened the sword at his hip and set it down.
"My personal honor, and everything I am."
What he offered as collateral was his life.
"Regardless of the success or failure of the matter, if you should be pursued by the ducal house, all the blame will be mine—"
"So."
Najin cut him off.
He was staking his honor and everything he had.
Having heard that much, there was no need to hear the rest. Meeting the gaze of Pasion, who slowly raised his head, Najin went on.
"Where is it? That villa."
"...What?"
"I asked where. The location of the villa."
Najin held out his hand to Pasion—held it out as if to help him up. Looking at that hand, Pasion took on a dazed expression, then grasped it and rose.
"...You mean to accept the commission?"
"Not a commission. Let's call it taking a request."
The knight's sword lying in the mud.
Picking it up, Najin said,
"I've received a knight's oath and a request. That's enough. The rest... well, we'll figure it out somehow."
"As the one making the request I have no right to say this, but a commission that could put you at odds with the ducal house..."
"As long as I don't get caught, right?"
Infiltration is one of my specialties.
Muttering that, Najin soon let out a short laugh. He had remembered his own master—the man who had been ready to make an enemy of the entire world for the sake of keeping a single oath.
"And besides."
He brushed the mud from Pasion's sword, then handed it back.
"I have a promise I need to keep as well."
A debt to repay.
Najin had promised Dieta he would repay that debt. He still remembered the promise.
So you're going to do it?
"That's the plan."
Infiltration routes, the layout of the villa, and its location—having received every detail, Najin was sorting the information in his head. He would need at least some kind of plan before he set out.
Infiltrating the ducal house. You know that's insane, right?
"It's not the ducal manor. It's a villa, they said."
Villa, annex, or the ducal stables—it's still something that could put you at odds with the house. You know that, don't you?
"I know."
How great the ducal house's renown was, Najin did not know. But how far they would go once they put a cause in front of them—that he did know. If they set their minds to it, cutting down some wandering adventurer would be nothing at all.
The gulf between an adventurer and a ducal house.
It was no different from the gulf between the residents of the subterranean city and the ordinary people who lived above.
And yet you're still going to do it?
"Yes."
Why?
"I told you. Because I made a promise."
Merlin's reaction said she did not quite understand. At that, Najin let out a long breath.
"You know too, Merlin. I'm not the type to obsess over justice, or the type to risk my life trying to set wrongs right."
Najin had lived in the subterranean city.
To survive he had killed countless people, and when necessary he had not hesitated to commit evil deeds. Drawing Excalibur and escaping the subterranean city did not erase any of that.
He had no intention of packaging himself. No intention of crying out for justice while acting inconsistently, and no intention of preaching his values to anyone.
Whether people commit evil or not is none of my business. I have no intention of correcting it. If they have not done me harm, by what right would I punish them and force justice upon them?
I myself am not such a clean person.
But. But—
"There's just one thing I can't tolerate."
Najin stroked his sword.
"Knights."
Those who keep honor and pride.
And the stars he had seen in the subterranean city.
"I can't stand seeing people who wear the title of knight acting like that. I don't like them defiling the name of knight, and I don't like them taking knights lightly either."
Because it felt as if his dream were being soiled.
Because the stars and the knights he had dreamed of in the subterranean city had not looked like that. This was perhaps the stubbornness of a boy who, even if he let everything else go, could not let go of his dream.
"Keep the words you put in your mouth. Do not take oaths and promises lightly. Do what you believe is right."
The knight's code.
The knight Najin wanted to become.
"I just wanted to see that upheld. So I intend to keep the promise I made. Besides—I'm not particularly fond of that Arvenia Ducal Family either."
Does that explanation work for you?
So he said. When no answer came back from Merlin, Najin smiled bitterly.
It must look foolish.
For a fellow without even a knighthood to act this way trying to uphold a knight's code was a ridiculous thing. Even among knights themselves, those who kept the code were called fools, were they not?
You cling to things of no value.
Merlin, who had been listening to his monologue, spoke.
You try to keep what you need not keep. Even when keeping it gains you nothing, you try to keep it at the risk of your life. Yes—as you say, that is a foolish thing.
Merlin went on.
But do you know?
She laughed.
The king I served was the most foolish man in the world. The one who hung a star in the highest place in that sky was a man called the Fool—a foolish knight.
What I wanted to confirm was not whether your actions were right or wrong.
"Then what?"
Whether you chose that path knowing full well. Whether, knowing the danger, you still mean to carry your conviction through. That was it. I've confirmed it, so that's enough.
A short breath exhaled.
Then, in a satisfied voice, Merlin whispered.
Do as you wish.
Walking the path is your part. Preparing for the worst is the guide's role.
Najin let out a short laugh. Wrapping himself in the robe Pasion had given him and covering his face, he set off.
The way to break a person is simple.
Dieta was feeling that fact deep in her bones.
She stared blankly at her ankle. Recalling what the knights had done to her the moment she was brought into the villa, she could no longer even manage a smile.
From the instant she entered the villa, they had changed.
With a creak, the moment the villa door closed, the knights seized her arms and legs. They forced her to her knees, stuffed a cloth into her mouth, and with a blade that had drawn out its aura they cut her ankle. They had severed the tendon.
An injury that could be healed readily enough with potions and a priest. But it was an injury Dieta could never recover from on her own. Until she left this prison-like villa, she would not even be able to walk without someone's help.
They would go this far. This far.
"Ah—ha..."
Dieta's lips twitched.
She had thought she had donned a mask and armored herself with an iron will—yet the moment her ankle was cut she had let out an ugly scream. She had no resistance to pain.
From that point, she had no choice but to realize.
That this place was thoroughly meant to trample her and break her. That it was a birdcage meant to snap a bird's wings. In this place, Dieta had to doubt everything.
Sleep disturbed by the throbbing ankle. Food laced with who-knew-what. The servants' harassment, and windows nailed shut so that not even sunlight could enter. The empty room slowly gnawed at her mind.
...Breaking a person is an easy thing.
No matter how strong her will, Dieta was merely a girl who had only just become an adult. She was not a knight who had undergone training to prepare for countless tortures, nor did she have high resistance to pain.
If one set one's mind to it, breaking her was nothing.
Osman's sneering laugh seemed to linger by her ear. Her mask was wavering. The means available to her had dwindled. She knew she needed to seek new ones, but her head would not turn properly.
Grit.
Dieta clenched her teeth.
In a solitary cell where she could not even tell how much time had passed, she was merely clinging to the mask that threatened to peel away.
And so she did not know.
That flames had risen in the small forest right behind the villa. That the servants were rushing out to extinguish the sudden blaze. And that amid the commotion, a single adventurer was on the move...
She did not know.