What Is a Festival? (2)
“So this is where you slipped off to. Working on your craft again, I see.”
He wasn't in armor but plain civilian clothes, yet his sheer build made him look stubbornly solid all the same. A common linen shirt above, unremarkable brown trousers below—and still, something like dignity lingered about him.
“Captain! You're here!”
“Ah, who sneaks in without a word?!”
“So the Saintess is really that good, huh! It was her chest that won you over, wasn't it!”
Luke's face twisted. “Where do you get off drinking and heckling like that! Shut your mouths and empty your cups, you bastards!”
Kahahaahaha!
Luke swatted at their jeering with all the irritation he could muster, but the soldiers paid him no mind whatsoever.
Alesia's expression was quite a sight too.
“What? So it's true? You fell for me?”
“Don't even dream of it.”
“Then it was my chest you fell for?”
“Th—that—haa. Forget it, just pour yourself another drink, will you? And why are you dragging an exhausted man around to torment him?”
“Torment?! Accusations have limits too! Ruel! Ruel! Have I been bullying you? Hm? Has your big sister been bullying you?!”
“…Not particularly.”
“See? See!”
“Threaten someone with that frame of yours and of course they'll answer like that. Kindly factor your own physique into your threats, ma'am.”
“You?! Did you just call me manly as an insult?! If I dressed right, I'd be quite the catch up north, you brat! Big and sturdy! Prime bride material! I've had more than ten marriage proposals, you know!”
“Then go back north—why come all the way down south? Right when the weather's turning hot, no less.”
“Because it's cold up there! Body and heart both! And the kids are far too feral!”
Hahahahah!
What a way with words she has.
…An absolute madhouse, plain and simple.
Despite circumstances that should have called for solemnity, they laughed and bantered, sobered up to curse each other out, then burst into fresh howls of laughter, dancing and singing. A madhouse, through and through.
“Hey! Sleep with me tonight! I'll tuck you in real nice—and while we're at it, I'll show you heaven. Hm? Hm? Nuzzle into my chest and drift off. How about it? Wouldn't that feel nice?”
“You—you! Can't you read the room, you man?! This is the part where he makes his move! This!”
The drunkard beside them, driven beyond patience by frustration, curled her index finger and thumb together and slipped the fingers of her other hand through the hole, in and out.
“……Ah.”
By that point, even Cariel couldn't fail to catch on.
“Sir! Have you lost your mind?! What are you teaching our innocent Ruel!”
“Bah! Aren't you a Saintess?! What's a Saintess seducing and devouring some snot-nosed boy if not perfectly pious behavior?!”
“Gather a hundred drunkards like you and not one could lay a finger on our Ruel before dropping flat!”
“What?! You don't know that! Do you?! Have you seen it?!”
“Don't need to see it to know! One look at you and it's crystal clear—no stamina at night, so you'd just get drunk and shout loudly to cover for it!”
“Are you done?! You call yourself a Saintess?! Looking at you again, you're nothing but a lust-crazed harlot! A harlot!”
“You're one to talk—finished with your own mouth yet?!”
Uh-oh. Are they about to actually fight?
He watched them with anxious eyes for a moment—
“Bwahahahah!”
“That's why I tell you to lay off the booze!”
Why….
Why are they dancing with their arms around each other's shoulders?
“The kid'll love these! Big and soft!”
“You think it's just kids?! Every man alive drinks himself stupid over these!”
“Oooohhh!”
“Saintess! I love you!”
“Hug me too!”
“Get lost, you ugly hawk-nosed bastard!”
Pwahahahaha—!
“Isn't mocking someone's looks going a bit far?!”
“My chest is heavier than your heart, you shameless wretch! Hands off a woman's lovely body!”
“Keheheh! Kehk! Khk! Can't—breathe! Booze! Someone get me booze!”
…Lewd talk, appearance-slandering, and every manner of verbal abuse besides.
Even as the degenerating content piled ever higher, the soldiers and the patrons around them clapped and reveled in it all—it was a festival in miniature, no less.
“What? Never experienced an atmosphere like this? Some noble young master who's never known rough-and-ready warmth like this?”
Luke, having dragged a chair over from somewhere, settled down beside Cariel and asked. Even amid the chaos, Cariel answered with perfect composure.
“I was, for the most part, raised to practice abstinence.”
“Who wasn't? When you're young, the people above you are always saying do this, don't do that. More so if you were set on knighthood, I'd wager.”
“…Is it that obvious I was a knight aspirant?”
Not that I chose it of my own will.
“The clothes you wear, the gear you carry—it's nothing a common household could scrape together, even a wealthy one. And moneyed folk have their own particular air about them. You carry nobility in your bearing, and etiquette bleeds out of you without your even trying. The very fact that a place like this discomforts you is proof enough, written across your whole body.”
“Is that so?”
“You're just young. Go through enough and it all becomes familiar. But your skill is the real thing, and that's the only reason you're still in one piece. Otherwise, short of running away from home, who in their right mind would send their precious, worldly-naive child off on a solo journey? So take pride in that much, at least.”
“……Yes.”
Nobles, all of them—yet for that very reason, circumstances that could never be the same.
More than that, it seemed he had invited misunderstanding of an entirely different kind.
Luke spoke again. “I've already cleared it with my family, so don't go wasting money or owing anyone favors—come stay at our house.”
“By 'house,' you mean the lord's manor?”
“That's right. It's never been crowded with people anyway, so it works out—not lonely at all, and no one looking over your shoulder.”
“……”
Cariel deliberated for a long while before asking, “Would that not be an imposition? It's not as though I lack for money, so…”
“This isn't the end of your journey, is it? There are folk here and there who could teach you things if you ask, and for a noble, building connections is the whole game—can't hurt to know a few more people. Ah, and I've someone I'd like to introduce you to. We owe you a debt of gratitude, and skimping on a guest's welcome would be a disgrace on our house. We couldn't possibly.”
“……”
This might be… a little troublesome.
And yet, refusing here would stir suspicion of another kind entirely. There was no mistaking that this kindness came without hidden agenda. But as a noble, politics entangled itself into one's life as naturally as breathing. He could inadvertently cause harm, or invite ulterior motives—so the sensible course was to decline here, and yet…
“Then give up a room! I'm sleeping with Ruel!”
“…You really are something.”
At the Saintess's proclamation, the soldiers roared Ooooh! and sent up cheers and encouragement.
“Come on, come on! We've drunk our fill, so let's go! The sun's about to set, isn't it? Let's hurry back and sleep!”
“I only just arrived, though?”
“Then go sleep and drink there!”
“That's called being tactless, ma'am! I haven't even acquired a taste for wine yet!”
“That just means you don't know good wine. Or is it that you've only ever gulped down the cheap swill?”
“No, my taste runs to pouring it down my throat until it burns, so wine is…”
“Then drink it that way too. You earn plenty of money—what's with all the excuses?”
“Do you have any idea what wine costs?!”
“Then take a keg of beer back with you! And stop making excuses on my behalf!”
Er… perhaps you could hear me out first…?
But somehow, an atmosphere had formed in which refusing had become all but impossible.
And so—
“Whooo!”
“……”
Clamped around the waist by Alesia, Cariel was hauled out of the tavern.
There's… absolutely no gap to escape through.
Drunk as she was, the moment he tried to slip even slightly away, she latched onto him like a ghost.
“Heheheheh!”
“……”
The smell of liquor, and that distinctively feminine scent, pricked sharply at his senses. His mind felt half-hazed. It was, what—like being swept up in the mood and growing drunk alongside her?
In every possible way, this is unbearably awkward.
And then—
Keep pressing that… that, what do you call it… that side of your chest against my face. That's… a little much.
A long while of walking passed, dragged out of the tavern and into the soft night breeze. With a casual tour of the streets folded in, the stroll turned out reasonably interesting. The plaza with its central fountain, already being cleared for the festival preparations, seemed to be in the full swing of a scramble for the best spots.
Luke proved fairly popular; acquaintances greeted him at every turn. Folding introductions of Cariel and Alesia into each exchange came as a bonus.
Perhaps he's making sure we're known faces ahead of time, so we don't run into trouble roaming the city later, Cariel roughly surmised.
Once dusk began to fall, shadow settled over the streets in an instant. Even the Imperial Capital's nightlife carried an eerie desolation, but here—beyond the crowded districts—even footfall grew scarce, and that loneliness struck far more deeply.
Here and there, small groups of soldiers on combined night patrol drifted naturally past. The lord's manor stood some distance from the city center, so the farther they walked, the thinner both the crowds and the density of buildings became.
Through wooded paths, between closely planted trees—
At the crest of a long, open hillroad, the lord's manor finally came into view.
As at the front gate, a small flag hung from the manor's face: a white sword drawn inverted and set in the upper left corner against a field of blue.
The crest of House Baronens.
In scale and refinement, the manor was smaller than his parents' residence in the Imperial Capital—but judged purely as an estate, it was easily twice as spacious. Within its low, plastered wall lay a modest garden arranged to face the manor, complete with a small fountain and minimal landscaping. To the right stood what appeared to be a stable, plus a storehouse doubling as an outdoor training ground.
In size, it was by no means lacking.
“Father and my elder brother are away to receive guests from the Edenlevan Coalition, so you can pay your greetings tomorrow morning.”
At Luke's words, Alesia answered with what sounded, surprisingly, like relief. “That's a mercy. Meeting anyone face-to-face in this state, even I'd feel a little awkward.”
“I'd have thought you wouldn't care in the slightest. How unexpected.”
“Church folk, I couldn't give a damn about—but outsiders would find it awfully hard to understand.”
“Wouldn't the Church scold you even harder for looking like that?”
“If they're going to say anything, they'd better be holier than me first.”
“……”
True enough, but something about that feels off.
“So long as I look devout at a glance—pious in conduct and reverent in manner—I'll see to my own readiness. Don't trouble yourself over it.”
And so, entering the lord's residence as though it were her own home, Alesia—still monopolizing Cariel's arm—ordered Luke to show them to their rooms.
“Haaah.”
Following the young steward's guidance, Alesia and Cariel entered their room. The horses were to be seen to by staff at the stable, so that much was no concern. Aside from the important luggage—which, they said, had all been sent ahead by servants—everything had already arrived.
“Efficient. I like it.”
Though most of it was Alesia's luggage.
The room was decently sized, with a table and three chairs—but the presence of only one bed made the intent fairly clear. Not that any of it would be a serious problem.
“Cariel. No wandering thoughts tonight—just rest properly.”
“……”
When Cariel fixed her with a guarded stare as she reached to snuff the lamp—
“All that grabbing and pouncing and whatnot back there—those were just drunk idiots talking. Did you really take me for someone that loose?”
“……”
“Th—that is. It's not that I lack the… appetite. But I'm… I'm a woman who's never even kissed a man, you see? So that, um… that look of yours is a little…”
Those eyes, glimmering like gold. So vivid even in this darkness.
Exquisitely beautiful.
And yet—
Something that seems, beyond that beauty, ready to wither away into nothing—so why does my chest tighten without my willing it?
‘Don't go stirring me up for nothing.’
Alesia swallowed hard, then forced an awkward cough to paper over the tension and said, “Ruel. When was the last time you slept properly?”
“…I'm not sure.”
Whatever let him close his eyes, he supposed?
A life without sleep had long since become his ordinary. Fatigue forever dragging down his eyelids, a haze clouding his mind—
He was thoroughly accustomed to it all.
So.
It's only a little hard. That's all.
“I get it, so come here.”
“……”
Alesia thought he looked like a rabbit startle-frozen in fear. Or a fox kit. Or a wolf pup. Whatever the comparison—a fragile little beast that had taken fright.
And yet, so afraid that even his wariness frightened him—that was what he was.
“I told you already. I'm not so oblivious that I'd push anything on you in a mood like this.”
“……”
Cariel, left with no other recourse—
“That top has to come off, at least. You're not sleeping in it, are you?”
“……”
That one, I'd have to think about.
“…Fine, fine. Understood. Just come here. Come on.”
And so—
They were lying down, yes, but somehow Cariel ended up settled into her embrace. Not facing her, but against her back—held from behind. The difference in their builds was decisive, so from any angle it looked like a younger brother of few years being enfolded by an older sister from behind.
“When it's hard to fall asleep alone, just having someone beside you like this helps more than you'd think. The children at the monastery loved it—said it was as good as the lullabies I sang them.”
“The monastery?”
“…Well. There were times like that, is all.”
Her broad embrace was rather cozy, and that generous weight cradling his face from above and below was… how to put it. Even through the barrier of cloth, the substantial warmth of it came through with vivid clarity.
…And the strangely soft something buried within was so perfectly, dangerously comfortable that his heart began pounding entirely of its own accord.
“I can't make believers weep rivers of tears the way the other Saintesses do with just a touch of the hand… but this much, I can do. So don't be anxious. Sleep deep.”
With those words, she said nothing more. Only the quiet rhythm of her gentle breathing filled the long hours that followed.
He could feel her lungs swell and empty behind his head, and if that gave him some small comfort—
…Is that a strange thing?
“……”
Cariel found himself thinking, suddenly:
When, before tonight, had anyone last held him like this—front and back, wrapped in warmth like this—
How long had it been?