Changes (4)
"Jackal! Oh, merciful gods! Thank you, thank you so much!"
"Mother, one moment—!"
"What do you mean, one moment!"
Duke Burrow turned his head toward the commotion drifting in from outside, a fond smile spreading across his face. There, seated in the room, was the gracious soul who had brought Jackal all this way.
"Karia. Allow me to thank you once more."
"How many times do I have to tell you it's fine? All I did was haul him over here, so quit making a fuss about it."
"Haha. Well, you are the only one I have left to thank, so what would you have me do?"
It was an insolence utterly improper for anyone addressing a duke, but Duke Burrow didn't spare it a shred of attention. The woman before him had once fought beside him on the same front lines, and before that, she had wielded power enough to stand toe-to-toe with a duke himself.
"Truly astonishing, all of it. That an Apostle of the Evil God tried to swallow this territory whole. That we were delivered from that crisis. That my son returned alive when I thought I'd lost him forever. And that the one who saved him was you—of all people, whom I'd believed dead."
Karia. The Shadow of the Kingdom. The one who had once led the king's own direct intelligence agency. A monster who maintained her absolute secrecy even now, with her identity more or less laid bare.
"What, does it bother you that I came back from the dead?"
"Hmm. Not exactly. Though I'll admit your existence is rather... awkward."
"Don't worry. As you can see, I'm practically washed up. Can't move around like I used to."
"So you have grown old after all."
The instant age came up, one of Karia's eyebrows twitched, and the duke couldn't hold back the laughter that escaped him.
"Pwahaha! So you really are a woman! Sensitive about your age, of all things!"
"...People keep giving me grief about that lately, and it's getting old. Could you not join in, Your Grace?"
"All the more reason to laugh it off with grace, old timer. Wasn't that always your advice?"
"Keep it up and I'll start calling you grandpa!"
"Doesn't bother me. Wouldn't exactly be a lie."
Duke Burrow chuckled as if it were nothing, then carefully fingered the necklace at his throat.
"A warrior so diminished he'd fall hook, line, and sinker for an Apostle of the Evil God's trickery. A decrepit old man who ought to be shut away in a back room—that's what I deserve to be treated as."
The incident had left a deep scar on Duke Burrow. He'd known he was aging, felt himself slowing down—but to be played for a fool without even sensing the Evil God's machinations at work.
My own incompetence dragged the entire territory to the brink of ruin. Had someone else not come to the rescue, this land would have been offered up to the Evil God as it stood.
"Were you about to take your leave?"
"No. My boy still needs quite a while before he'll amount to anything, so I can't exactly do that."
"Then?"
"I mean to take back what I lost."
More than ten years ago, Duke Burrow had watched his firstborn son die, sunk into despair, and let go of everything. Losing the boy he had loved and devoted his life to had wounded him so deeply that he'd thrown out anything that might summon the boy's face to memory.
Every last keepsake of his son, given away. The spear he'd carried all his life, traded for a sword. And his remaining son, kept at arm's length—for he feared that if he loved something again, losing it once more would break him entirely. That was how he had lived, ever since his eldest died.
"I intend to take up the spear again."
What had changed his mind was the person he'd met somewhere that even now he couldn't say was dream or reality. Someone who carried a warmth like the sun itself, whose beauty seemed fashioned by the hands of a god, whose voice rang out clear and lovely—someone holy. Her rebuke still lingered in the duke's heart.
"When I remember the words of the one who placed this necklace in my hand, passion stirs in my chest of its own accord. I felt I had to change."
"...Huh. Well, good for you."
Watching the duke speak with such visible emotion as he gazed at the necklace, Karia found herself, for a moment, at a loss for words.
There is zero question that the person who handed him that necklace was our employer. And if it was something our employer said, then it was definitely 'loser' this and 'scrub' that. How does a brain twist that into something so moving?!
If I could ever meet that person, I would bow my head before them a hundred times over.
Absolute rule: never tell him the truth. Never let him know his savior was our employer. Some illusions are only beautiful as long as they stay illusions.
"Karia. That reminds me—there are a few things I'd like to ask."
"Like what?"
"Do you know anything about the one who gave me this necklace?"
There are uses for this while the illusion is still an illusion.
"Yeah. I do. The one who saved your boy in the first place was our employer."
"Someone from the Art Sect?"
"Don't ask questions you already know the answer to. You know what I'm like."
It was well known that Karia could read a person's inner workings from nothing more than their gestures, their eyes, their manner of speech. It was precisely that talent which had made her the king's constant companion at every negotiation table.
"Has that ability of yours dulled? How inconvenient for me."
"Ahaha. What can I say? It's a talent I was born with."
"Hah. Fine. I know. Right now the territory is treating the Art Sect as its saviors, but I suspect the one who truly saved this land was a servant of the Chief God. From the lingering traces of divinity, one can make an educated guess."
"Correct."
"And that person credited the Art Sect because the current Church of the Main God makes for... awkward company."
"Also correct."
"Nor would I welcome it if I were made to cooperate with the Church."
"Dukes really are great to talk to—no wasted words."
"And wasn't it you who forced me to talk this quickly?"
"Let's forget the small stuff. Ancient history, that."
At Karia's nonchalant shrug, the duke let out a dry laugh. She used to be far less human. She's softened at least a little, hasn't she.
"Is that person your current master, then?"
"Employer. A bit different from a master."
"Regardless, the fact remains that you work for them. Please convey my gratitude. And tell them this wretched old man is prepared to stake everything he has in repayment."
The one who had saved his people's lives. Saved his house. Saved those the duke held dear. Even granted him enlightenment. With things left worth protecting he could not offer up his life, but if he did everything within his power, surely he could brush against the edges of that debt.
"Understood, Your Grace. I'll pass it along to our employer."
With that, Karia rose from her seat.
"Leaving already?"
"Can't very well interrupt a family reunion any longer than I have."
"True enough. Well then. Travel safely."
Escorted to the door by the duke, Karia abruptly stopped in her tracks.
"Oh, right. Your Grace."
When she turned back, her face had changed entirely from moments before—now it wore the expression of a pleasantly cute, country-town girl brimming with neighborly warmth.
"...What now?"
"I might borrow your boy for a little while later."
"...What is that supposed to mean?"
"Our employer says she wants to try raising him."
The duke, who until moments ago had been ready to give her anything, managed only an ambiguous smile at the mention of his son.
"If the boy himself wishes it, then I would gladly consent."
"So if he wants it himself, it's fine?"
"That is what I said."
"Good enough for me. Thanks for the answer, Your Grace."
After Karia slipped out, the duke leaned back in his chair, let out a long sigh, and stared up at the ceiling.
Softened a touch, perhaps, but the old personality is alive and well. Honestly, there was no need for her to warn me like that—as if she could be watching from anywhere, at any time.
"It's not as though I would ever dream of doing anything to harm that person."
Is this, too, proof that she's become a little more human?
*
After sending Jackal back to his territory, the very first thing I did was get my uniform altered.
It wasn't like I couldn't wear my old one, but moving around in it, I'd noticed plenty of places that chafed. So I asked Alsaetin for the best uniform tailor near the Academy and paid them a visit. I planned to drop everything off today and have Karl pick it up tomorrow morning.
"You'd like it fitted to your current measurements, then?"
But right now, I was regretting that choice just a little. Being subjected to the shop owner's unblinking stare was doing a number on my peace of mind.
It was like the pressure of walking into a clothing store with three sales clerks glued to my side.
What kind of rampage did she go on here, of all places?
'I never did any such—! ...thing. Probably.'
I had no idea when or where or how thoroughly the old Lucy had wrecked shop, so I couldn't exactly swear to it. Could this woman be another victim of past Lucy? Is that why she's glaring at me with such seething resentment!?
"Very well, my lady. Please come back tomorrow."
'Um. About my measurements and everything...'
"You decrepit old granny. I know the place is ancient, but shouldn't you at least use a measuring tape?"
"No need. It's all in these eyes."
...Okay. I'll just have to trust her, right? Alsaetin introduced her, so her skill has to be legit. And if something goes wrong, I can always tattle to Karia and have her torment Alsaetin for me.
After a brief hesitation, I handed over the uniforms I'd brought, and the old shopkeeper answered with a firm voice.
"Give me the one you're wearing as well."
'Huh? No, wait, then I'd...'
"Then what am I supposed to wear home? You didn't even think of that?"
"Don't worry, my lady. One piece won't take long at all."
With that, the old woman handed me a change of clothes. Hmm. Well, she's this confident, so maybe I'll stick around and watch? Might as well see how good she really is.
My verdict, after watching her mend the clothes beside me: I almost got hypnotized just watching that needle move.
She clearly wasn't doing anything special, yet with every pass of her hands the garment transformed before my eyes. This is no longer human skill. This is magic! Actual magic!
"Would you care to try it on? There may be adjustments still needed."
Just as I was busy marveling at the old woman's craft, the alterations were somehow already finished. Whooaa. That's insanely good.
She'd only given me a rough once-over—how could it possibly fit this perfectly?! Does this woman have a body-measurement program installed in her eyeballs!?
"Excellent. I'll have everything finished by the time you return tomorrow."
'Yes ma'am! Looking forward to it!'
"Hmph. Not a bad cut, for all those pointless frills. I'll make sure it's done properly, to suit a cutie like you."
Flushed with excitement at having discovered a hidden gem that hadn't even existed in the game, I strolled through Academy Street on light feet. I'd been working myself to the bone these past few weeks, after all. Why not treat today as a rest day and do some sightseeing?
I'd wander the street from corner to corner, soaking in the old memories. Yes. That was the plan...
Wait. Is that Joy sitting outside that shop? It is. Joy and Arthur, and Frey too. And judging by Arthur's sighing, Frey must have caused some kind of trouble again.
Curiosity got the better of me, and I quickened my pace toward them.
'Hello there.'
"Hey, losers. Wasting more time out here, are we?"
I greeted them like always, but my friends' reactions were anything but. These were people who should've waved back with smiles—instead they sat frozen, mouths agape, just staring at my face.
'...What's wrong with you all?'
"You're already dumb enough—are you trying to look even dumber on purpose?"
Only after I spoke a second time did Frey find her voice.
"...Lucy?"
'Yes. That's me.'
"Did your brain get so stuffed with information your memories fell out, dummy swordswoman? You can see it's me, can't you?"
"Lucy. You've changed so much it startled me."
"It's true! Did something happen over the weekend? You'd become so beautiful I nearly didn't recognize you!"
'Oh, did I?'
"It's not that our scatterbrain's eyesight is too lousy to recognize me, is it?"
"My eyes are perfectly fine, thank you very much!"
With Frey and then Joy snapping back to their senses, the table burst into chaos—and through it all, Arthur stayed frozen, still staring at my face.
What's with him? Is he sick or something?
'Arthur?'
"Pitiful Prince? Have you forgotten how to speak?"
When I tilted my head and asked, Arthur shot up from his seat like a spring had gone off beneath him.
"...Ah. Um. Well. Lucy Aln."
'Yes?'
"Why do you ask?"
"I—I've just remembered some business I must attend to. Excuse me."
What is wrong with this guy? Why's he acting so weird all of a sudden?
...Don't tell me.
While I was busy preparing to face Tariki and the surveillance on him slackened—did he fail to do what I told him?! And now he's running off because he's scared he'll be made to suffer even worse once it comes out?!
Arthur. Hate to break it to you, but you're right in the palm of my hand.
I'm going to work you over nice and slow, piece by piece, and find out exactly whether you've been slacking off or not. Just you wait!