9. Uninvited Guests (4)
The root of the whole affair, most likely, was Baron Mallory's resolve — the resolve to drive the Anupads off the mountain road they'd blocked and set his gold mine running again.
So he had wrung a loan out of his liege lord, Count Tristan, and on the strength of that money staged his grand hunt. And somewhere in the thick of it, Count Tristan himself — or else his second son, Doyle — must have begun to hunger for Longville. The lord of the place was ancient past all sense, with no heir to speak of; stealing the fief must have looked like child's play.
And I'd wager that somewhere along the way, they caught wind of the gold mine too. Baron Mallory, fearful of other nobles' eyes, had been digging his gold in secret — but secrets are made to crack, and rumors made to spread. Through the turncoat Sir Killian, or else down some other road, word had surely leaked.
They'd coveted the fief already — and then learned there was gold buried under it? Well. Their eyes would have rolled clean back into their skulls.
After that, the rest wrote itself. Buy off the mercenaries of the Nuden tribe, hunt for a way to talk Dionea round, tamper with the contracts, march an army out... and only once every piece was in place did they send their messengers.
Which meant the message Doyle's party, arriving in due course, delivered to Dionea was—
"Hand over everything if you'd rather not die." That, more or less...
A few heads nodded along at Baldy Steedman's muttering.
My brief account finished, I lifted my cup of water, wet my throat, and let my gaze drift around the room.
Utekwai sat perched on the bed, having his wounds rebandaged with Jenesser's help. The injuries 'Red Pushaka' had dealt him were knitting fast, now that the burning heat had been drawn out of them. Cole the archer leaned against the wall in the corner, keeping his customary silence, while freckled Mira propped her chin on the table, deep in thought about something.
Tap-tap-tap-tap. She was drumming the tabletop with absent fingers.
"Shut up."
"Huh?"
"I said, shut up."
"E-ah — s-sorry..."
She jumped out of her skin at the rebuke, went chalk-white, and shrank into herself. Ellen, for her part, sat in the chair by the window with her legs crossed, fiddling listlessly with a crystal orb and wearing a sullen face.
Squad leader Amias stole a careful glance at her, then spoke up. "...Mm. An army of over a thousand. They're coming at this in dead earnest."
"That's the part I've been chewing on. What trick did they pull to raise that many men?" At my grumble — or question, rather — Amias gave a shrug.
"Well, it's House Mulin, isn't it."
"...And what's House Mulin?"
"One of the great noble houses. Their domain is said to stretch on forever, and I hear they've a port somewhere besides. In the Thousand Day War they raised two thousand soldiers — a thousand would hardly trouble them."
Ah, right. Count Tristan, the present head of House Mulin, was one of the kingdom's foremost magnates...
Come to think of it, the Thousand Day War was the great nobles — Count Tristan among them — rising in revolt and getting smashed to pieces by Prince Ulkar. Which meant Prince Ulkar had fought seven nobles of Count Tristan's caliber and won. A madman, all over again. No wonder he's the idol of murderers — I mean, of knights.
"So."
It was Ellen who spoke up, abrupt.
"What exactly is there to discuss?"
"Well, that is..." As I let the words trail, she knitted her brow.
"You're not suggesting we stick our noses in, are you?"
"Well, Dionea's side is still in council, so nothing's decided yet."
"Yet? So when the time comes, you'll stick your nose in?"
"Can't say. Dionea might come to us with another commission. And—"
"Hold it right there."
...Had I seen that wrong? For an instant, something like sparks had flown in Ellen's eyes.
"Dionea this, Dionea that. Why do you keep calling her by name?"
"...Huh. Did I? Was I?"
"Yes. You were."
I slid my gaze aside. Steedman, who happened to meet my eyes, went "hm?" and gave a nod.
"You did, Lord Phoenix. Dionea — that's the Baroness's name, isn't it?"
"...Yeah. Right."
"Well, in fairness, the two of you did seem to have grown quite close."
Oblivious bastard.
I scowled and cleared my throat.
"Ahem. It's nothing like that."
"Eh — it isn't?"
A lewd grin spread over Steedman's ugly mug.
"From what I caught earlier, the way the Baroness was looking at you, Lord Phoenix — far from ordinary, that was. Honey dripping off her in globs. Brew that straight into liquor and, my, my—"
Amias jabbed a finger deep into the ribs of the gleefully snickering Steedman.
"Tch! What was that for?"
Poked in the side, Steedman followed Amias's glance — and the color drained from his face. Ellen's eyes were burning blue.
"So that was it?"
"...That — what?"
The man only smirked and shrugged.
"I was wondering why you were so desperate to butt into something dangerous that offers you nothing in return."
Ellen's savage stare raised a cold sweat on the back of my neck. Still, I kept my face easy and let out a dry chuckle.
"What — where's this coming from all of a sudden?"
"You're butting in because you're besotted with the Baroness. That's what."
"Besotted? Nobody's besotted here. And I've no intention of facing down an army, either." Before she could get another word out, I pressed on. "Dio — ahem. The Baroness may yet reach some decision of her own, but she hasn't asked us for anything, and charging in ahead of her would be plain silly."
"...And if she does ask?"
"Then I'll look at the terms and decide."
"Hmm."
Dodging her gaze, I turned to the rest of them.
"We're stuck in Longville a while yet regardless. The Anupads are still thick on the ground, and their leader's alive and well."
"Leader. Killed it."
Utekwai said it flatly, tying off a knot near his armpit.
"Biggest female of the lot. Dead now — rest will have scattered."
"That one wasn't the leader."
I called to mind the named Anupads we'd put down two nights past. 'General Ounshida,' 'Adjutant Suitug,' 'Red Pushaka,' 'Blue Pushaki'...
The one Utekwai meant had to be General Ounshida.
"Probably their second-in-command."
"How know that?"
"Heard it from the training master. The leader wears a crown of iron laurels, so they say."
"Hm. Is that so."
"Yeah. And besides which, there'll be better than two hundred minions left."
While Utekwai smacked his lips, Amias's face went grave.
"Still a great many, then."
"Aye. I'd meant to clean the rest of them out with Longville's soldiers, but that's off the table now. Whatever she decides, the Baroness won't be moving troops for some time."
"We don't need soldiers."
The flat, certain voice belonged to Ellen, the fire in her eyes banked a little.
"My mana's recovered. Give me a proper field to work with and I'll clear a thousand Anupads without breaking a sweat."
"No doubt you would. But there are too many variables."
Two days ago, we'd let 'Halfblood Juama' and 'Wholebone Kisita' slip through our fingers — and of the leader, 'Queen Ramashida,' and the curse-weaver 'Kalchaek and Ulio,' we hadn't so much as caught a glimpse.
"We have to go at this carefully. Get careless, and it could be us winding up wrecked."
"So what are you proposing, exactly?"
"We rest a day or two, get ourselves in order, then scout around the pass road. First we find out what the Anupad bastards are up to, and—"
"...And?"
Her stare was sharp enough to flay me where I sat, but I kept my face smooth as I added:
"And, while we're at it, we look for Baron Mallory. There's every chance he's still alive."
The blue flame blazed up again.
"There. See?"
"See what?"
"It all comes back to the Baroness. That's what."
I snorted at her flat verdict.
"Honestly, you and your wild theories again. Hey — say something that makes sense."
"What doesn't make sense? You're doing all this because you're sweet on the Baroness!"
"Hey, dummy. Use your head."
I frowned at her.
"If I were sweet on her, would I be stepping up to find her husband? I'd be sitting back to watch, going 'heh, what a steal.'"
"...Huh?"
"What 'huh'? Quit cooking up strange misunderstandings and tell me your own idea instead. Got a better plan?"
Ellen worked her mouth for a moment, then folded her arms.
"...Not really."
"Then we do it my way?"
"Mm. Fine."
With Ellen's concession, Utekwai nodded too. To mercenaries, caution was the highest of virtues, and Amias's squad likewise threw in behind my plan.
"Good. Then Amias — get word to Siren. No idle chatter; just that we move out in a day or two."
"Understood. Though..."
"Though what?"
Amias's eyes flicked to one side of the room. Looking again, it wasn't only Amias — the other mercenaries were all sneaking looks that way too.
"...What? What's with everyone?"
Lanky Buney, who'd been sitting quiet beside Utekwai, let out a wry chuckle as every eye gathered on him.
"Don't tell me you're fretting over me? My legs are perfectly sound. Nothing slows me down."
But even at his jest, the squad's faces stayed dark. They looked like men with no idea what to say to a comrade gone one-armed.
So I asked for them.
"You mean to come along?"
"Of course."
"You said you were going home."
"Well, the mountains have to be crossed first, don't they."
"Then wait here. Once I've scouted and the road is safe, I'll bring you through."
I put it firmly enough — but Buney shook his head.
"I'm coming with you, Lord Phoenix. I can't sit in the rear sucking my thumb."
"...Come along and you'll be sucking your thumb all the same, won't you?"
His good-humored face crumpled a little.
"What — what's that meant to mean, sir?"
"What's it meant to mean? You can't so much as fight in your state — what would you do tagging along?"
Buney's weapon had always been a long polehammer. A two-handed arm — and with his left shoulder gone, it was dead iron now.
"I can carry a blade."
"You can't use a blade."
"...Then I'll haul baggage. Or keep at Cole's side and hand him arrows — that'd be a help too, wouldn't it?"
I sighed and scratched at my brow.
"That's not you. Why the sudden mule streak? Tend that wound and rest properly. I'm not abandoning you — so rest easy."
Buney kept silent a while, then opened his mouth.
"I'm coming."
"...Why are you being so uselessly stubborn?"
"I..." He mumbled at his lips, hunting for words, then exhaled. "Haah. I've gone and become a cripple."
"And?"
"A man whose only trades were farming and fighting, turned out like this — I'll live the rest of my days a useless man."
"...Well. Maybe so."
At my cold reply, faces stiffened all around the room. Utekwai spoke with a trace of anger.
"Buney. I said before. No useless people, on the earth."
"Truly, thank you for the comfort. But I'm a dirt farmer who lived scraping muck off fields. That heart you speak of, Utekwai sir — that, I haven't got."
"Foolish talk!"
Buney screwed his eyes shut at the bellow, but his stubbornness wouldn't bend.
"Say what you will — nothing changes. Back home, I'll live out my days a useless man."
"Shak'tak! Your words — they make you truly useless!"
"Doesn't matter."
Clutching tight his one and only fist, Buney looked up at me.
"When I go home, I'll be a layabout spinning tales of adventure. I don't want to stitch a lie into the end of that story. Take me with you."
I met his eyes in silence for a long moment — then, in the end, shook my head.
"If I take you and you up and die, did you never think what that'd do to your friends? They're meant to shoulder that risk so you can sleep easy?"
"Lord Phoenix."
"Quit the nonsense and rest. And—"
But before I could finish, Baldy Steedman cut in.
"Take him, Lord Phoenix."
"...What?"
"Buney, here — wobbly as he looks, there's nothing wrong with his backbone. Porter's work — plenty good enough for that, no?"
I pressed at my temple and shot back.
"Legs fine, so walking's no trouble, is that it? His balance is shot — he couldn't porter properly to save his life."
"But Lord Phoenix."
This time it was Amias.
"This could weigh on Buney a lifetime. I'm asking you the same way — please, let him come."
I glanced around — the rest of them were wearing those same pleading eyes...
At this rate, I'd really be the villain here.
"A lifetime of debt, my ass."
I sighed and drew a rolled parchment from my breast.
"Here. Take this."
"...This is?"
Buney took the scroll and looked up at me, nonplussed.
"You're from Lavaltun, aren't you?"
"Yes, that I am."
"And you mean to go back there now?"
"...Yes."
Buney unrolled the parchment with Steedman's help — and still wore that lost look.
"What's this, then?"
"...When you get back, learn your letters first."
"What use are letters, if I'm setting up a ranch?"
"You think any fool can just run a ranch?"
"Huh?"
Facing that dumbstruck mug, I let out a long, long sigh.
"What ranch can you raise on a hundred paltry silver? Land to buy, a barn to build — and whatever's left wouldn't stretch to ten head of cattle."
"Ah, well, that much—"
"Small ranch, small income. And you, minus one arm — you mean to work it yourself?"
"...I could manage."
"Does that square with common sense? Mucking out every blessed day, hauling feed, patching the barn now and again — and come winter, wintering stores on top of that."
"Th-then I'd hire hands."
"Spend that much on wages — where's your savings? And a wife — what then?"
Buney's mouth shut. I sighed once more.
"That's a letter of appointment."
"An appointment? What appointment?"
"The appointment of the bailiff of Lavaltun. I drew it up with Beldin, so there'll be no quarrel over it."
"A bailiff? You mean a steward?"
"That's right."
The fool still wore that blank look.
"Stewards are appointed by the landlord, sir."
"That's me."
"Huh?"
"The landlord of Lavaltun. Me."
"...Huh? No — but how—"
Not Buney alone — the others' jaws had dropped open too. I sighed for what must have been the umpteenth time.
"Whose land is Southernshire?"
"...Er, Prince Ulkar's, so I've heard. Though he's never once set foot in it."
"And who was it granted me my knighthood?"
"...Prince Ulkar."
"Clear enough now?"
Steedman, who'd been standing there slack-jawed, shook his head a couple of times and raised a palm.
"Hold on — so — what you're saying is, Lord Phoenix here is the master of Lavaltun. That it?"
"Yep."
"And you've appointed this one — Buney — as steward? As in, steward over our own home village?"
"...Well, strictly speaking, two villages — and the lake besides."
"This is madness."
Steedman brought his palm down hard on the back of Buney's head.
Smack!
Buney, still dazedly rubbing at the vermillion seal on the parchment, yelped.
"Ow! Damn it, that hurts!"
"That little smack — what's there to hurt!"
Steedman roared with laughter.
"Just picturing you swanning about ordering folk around as some steward's got my sides splitting already!"
"...Unbelievable. Unbelievable!"
Even Jenesser — gentle Jenesser, who so rarely let a feeling show — was stamping her feet where she sat. Her friend made steward of their home soil: it seemed a marvel to her.
"Oh... this..."
Only then did Buney grasp it all, and he looked up at me, long and steady.
"I... uh... I, this—"
"'Thank you,' is it?"
"I..."
He fumbled at the words, then bowed his head low.
"Yes. Th-thank, thank you."
"Then quit your stubbornness and rest. Follow along anyway, and I'll take this back."
"...Yes. Thank—..."
Seeing Buney choke up, his comrades caught fire along with him. Utekwai was roaring with laughter, and Ellen's eyes had gone misty, her lips jutting in a pout.
Feeling awkward for no reason at all, I scratched at my brow.