The Yoke (5)
Dionea accepted the proposal brought by Sir Rangvolt and Sir Ariad. She would swear fealty to Clarisa, heir to Count Tristan, and in exchange earn the chance to hold Longville.
That didn't mean the crisis was over, of course.
"However, it will take some time for Lady Clarisa's side to make their arrangements as well."
"……How long, exactly?"
"Five days at the shortest. Ten at the longest, I should think."
At Sir Ariad's explanation, Dionea gave a quiet hum. In her place, the scribe Beldin heaved a long sigh.
"Hoo, one way or another, we still have to hold out, don't we……"
Sir Ariad's wrinkled gaze turned toward Beldin as he grumbled on.
"Hold out, indeed. What a dramatic young fellow you are."
At the words of the old knight — famed as Prince Ulkar's confidant and strategist — Beldin snapped his mouth shut at once.
"It will take the Grand Chancellor in the capital well over three months to send down a reply and dispatch a proxy. But Lady Clarisa's reinforcements will likely arrive within a week or so. Which of the two would you call faster?"
"……I-I, that wasn't meant ill—"
"You have an enemy at your doorstep. Whatever your intent, mind your tongue." If Sir Ariad's words sounded like 'this matter is already settled, so quit your whining and keep quiet', perhaps that was a slight overstatement.
Still, from where I stood, that quiet reprimand seemed aimed not just at Beldin but at the whole hall.
Well. Whatever.
Drillmaster Chester opened his mouth with a hard-set face.
"If what Doyle said is true, more than a thousand soldiers will come at us. And they'll have Wreckers mixed in with them……. Holding out won't be easy."
The Wreckers were mages rooted in the imperial magic academy known as the 'Lindau of the Heights'. Sorcerers who dealt in pure force and barriers — battle-specialized bastards whose name, Wrecker, fit them perfectly.
Going by my experience playing the game, Wreckers, with their multiple powerful death lances, were a leading cause of sudden, unexpected deaths. Would reality be much the same?
"If we fortify from this moment, we can withstand the Wreckers' magic to a considerable degree."
"By what means, Sir?"
At Chester's dubious look, Sir Rangvolt stroked his mustache and answered.
"Dig trenches."
"……Trenches, you say?"
"Precisely. I'm well acquainted with situations like this, so leave the preparations to me."
With that, Sir Rangvolt looked back toward Sir Ariad and me.
"We're professionals, after all."
……Fine for Sir Ariad, maybe, but why me?
Ulkar's knights and personal soldiers joined the defensive preparations. Probably thanks to Prince Ulkar's name carrying weight, a small glimmer of hope began to spread through the otherwise utterly gloomy Longville.
How should I put it — the mood shifted from 'we're all screwed' to something more like 'well, we might just scrape by'.
Sir Rangvolt took charge of leading the soldiers in digging the trenches, while Sir Ariad supervised the overall defenses with Drillmaster Chester's help.
Utekwai and Amias's crew took on training the conscripted soldiers. With a few of the prince's personal troops joining them as well, there didn't seem to be any shortage of hands.
Thanks to this neat division of labor, I had nothing in particular to do.
Which meant my shallow knowledge of war and my thinner experience would have no chance to embarrass themselves. A fortunate thing.
Of course, if I applied what Phoinix had learned during his squire days, I might be useful somewhere……. No, probably not?
I mean, how much help could the knowledge of a twenty-year-old kid who'd never seen a war be, anyway?
And it wasn't as if Kim Seung-soo's knowledge was easy to use either. Sure, I'd done my military service, but what would a guy who never once put on sergeant's stripes know about tactics?
For running the conscripts, Amias or Cole would do a far better job than me. They'd actually served as soldiers.
For all these reasons, the task that ultimately fell to me was one that was terribly important and yet not important at all.
"Hup!"
Sweat-drenched, Dionea thrust her training sword at me. I drew my left foot back and, in the same motion, swung my own blade to knock hers aside.
Clang!
Gasping at the shock of steel striking steel, Dionea nonetheless refused to let go of her sword. She staggered and swept her blade in a great, wild arc, and I clicked my tongue inwardly.
"Rather than swinging it about so recklessly—"
The pair of training swords locked fast together.
"—step back and set your stance."
One shakily trembling blade snapped free and flew off sideways. Dionea's, naturally.
"Ah—"
Her flustered moment at losing her sword lasted only an instant; she immediately bent low and lunged at me, both hands outstretched, going for the wrists and elbows that gripped mine. A commendable instinct, truly.
But commendable as it was, Dionea's attack was hopeless.
"Hngh—"
She managed to grab hold of my arm somehow, but her own feet tangled beneath her, and she pitched forward.
"Oh dear."
I caught her quickly, and she sagged against me as though the strength had drained right out of her legs.
"Are you all right?"
"Y-yes—"
The way she panted like she might swallow her own breath at any moment, the way her wet hair clung to her pale face, the way her trembling legs dangled as she hung off my forearm — it was all painfully pitiable to watch.
"……That's enough for today."
"Yes. Haah— thank you—"
I seated her in a chair set at the edge of the back garden, and a maid hurried over. She was carrying a tray with two large cups of water balanced on it.
I took my cup and drained it in one go, and the young maid's gaze turned decidedly sour.
"……Good drink, was it."
"Give it here."
So saying, she took the cup from my hand with a courtesy that thinly masked her frostiness.
Well, the reason was plain enough. For three days running now, I'd been working her mistress to the bone, day and night.
"Phew— thank you, Julie."
Dionea let out a long breath and smoothed the maid's red hair. The young girl called Julie wore a dark, worried look.
"Are you all right, my lady? You have shadows under your eyes. You look as though you might collapse at any moment……"
"Collapse? I'm fine."
"Shall I help you to your chamber?"
"I said I'm fine. I just need to sit and rest a while."
When Julie still looked anxious, Dionea gave her a faint smile.
"You said you met Haramel this morning?"
"Oh, yes!"
Her pale green eyes sparkled as Julie clapped her hands together softly.
"He said he needed good timber for supports, so I gave him a few chairs we had no use for anyway."
"Well done. I'm sure he was glad to see you?"
"Glad? My lady, he sees me every day at home……. Well, not these past few days, I suppose."
As Julie murmured this and her spirits visibly drooped, Dionea hurriedly changed the subject.
"Right — how are the pumpkins? Growing well again this year?"
"Of course! Some of them are already this big!"
Julie stretched her arms out in front of her to show a full arm-span.
"Mama's happy too — she says they'll grow even bigger than last year's."
"Then your pumpkins will take first prize at the festival again this year, will they?"
"Naturally! And this time I get to fire Master Castrite's fireworks myself!"
"And did Haramel allow that?"
"He did. I got his permission days ago."
The smile on Julie's face — she'd been grinning, hehe — drained away in an instant.
……Mood swings? That's some frightening emotional whiplash.
"What's the matter all of a sudden?"
At Dionea's gentle touch on her cheek, the young maid hesitated a moment before speaking.
"This year too……"
"……Yes?"
"We're still holding the festival, aren't we, my lady?"
"Julie."
"Papa — he'll be all right, won't he?"
Dionea silently stroked her head, and Julie bowed her own and crumpled her apron in her fists.
"My papa hurt his knee two years ago, falling off the roof while fixing it. Ever since, the day after any hard work, he aches all over — even if he never says a word about it."
"And even though Papa seems gruff, he's a gentle soul. He's never once laid a hand on me. And once — he cried, saying he'd seen my dead uncle in a dream."
"Julie."
Dionea reached out and gathered the young maid into her arms. While those small shoulders shook, bit by bit, she said nothing at all.
For some while, Dionea wordlessly soothed the weeping girl. Then Julie gave a deep bow — 'I'm so sorry!' — and walked off with brisk, forced cheer, disappearing from view.
Even after the maid had gone, Dionea sat in silence in her chair for a long while.
The sun blazed overhead, and yet somehow the day felt cold.
I shifted half a step to the side. Partly to yield her the sunlight, partly to shield her from the wind.
Dionea, who had been staring down at her feet, suddenly spoke.
"She's fourteen already, you know."
"……Who, might I ask?"
"Julia. She was the first maid I took on after I came to Longville."
Julia? Ah — so Julie was a pet name.
"Everyone in Longville is unfailingly kind and good-hearted."
"Is that so?"
"Yes. From the day I arrived here, five years ago, they all welcomed me. For no reason other than that I was the baron's wife."
Sunlight and shadow fell across her face in equal measure as she murmured, eyes distant.
"Funny, isn't it. Lord Mallory himself never much cared for me."
"Why is that?"
"During the Thousand-Day War, my great-uncle refused to send reinforcements. The late Count Jesle."
Her blank gaze lifted toward me.
"Sir Phoinix."
"Yes."
"If I asked you to protect Longville — it would be no trouble for you, would it?"
"……As I said, our duty is to hold out at our best until Lady Clarisa's—"
"No. No, I don't mean that."
Dionea shook her head.
"I mean — for good. Always."
"……My lady."
"If I asked you to stay here — forever."
I closed my mouth.
That silence did not mean hesitation. It meant guilt.
She gave a faint, blurred smile.
"I'm joking."
"I was just — imagining things."
Her eyes, regaining their focus at some point, looked up at me.
"If a man like you stayed by my side."
"Even if you weren't brave. Even if you were a penniless wretch with no talents at all — if you loved me. If you kept watch at my side for the rest of my life."
The next words never came.
Dionea deliberately put on a lively face and rose, picking up the training sword.
"I — I feel a bit better now. Just once more before we go in—"
"We're done."
"Pardon?"
I shook my head at her, who had gone utterly still.
"The lessons end here."
"……Why?"
"What is your reason for learning the sword, my lady?"
At my counter-question, Dionea's lips parted, fluttered, and finally found the words.
"To protect my body, of course."
"Then you should practice running first."
"Running?"
"I think it would serve you better to build your stamina with running before you take up the sword. And if you ever face an enemy, your odds of surviving are far higher if you run than if you draw a blade."
"……There are situations where running away isn't an option."
"Then take care never to end up in one."
"Sir."
Dionea's expression was, for some reason, angry. I gave a wry smile.
"With your skill, you couldn't best a squire of Julie's age."
"If you ever wish to hold a real sword, abandon any thought of facing someone head-on — and go for their back. Do you see this?"
I twisted my upper body and pressed a hand to the left side of my lower back.
"If you only avoid the spine, you can drive a blade into the kidney with no resistance at all. A man stabbed in the kidney is too wracked with pain to fight back, so you can finish him with ease."
"That is all I can teach you at present. So put off the sword for a while."
Dionea bit her lower lip white. Fists trembling faintly, she stared up at me.
I'd never seen her wear such a face before.
She looked, at a glance, to be angry — but unfortunately, those downcast eyes and that teardrop mole turned it into the face of someone about to cry.
Something about it was both funny and pitiable, so I gave the tip of her nose a light pinch.
"Hnk. Sir, what—"
"There's no need to struggle so, my lady."
"……What do you mean?"
"Seeing everyone so busy, you find it hard to sit still, don't you?"
She, who had been on the verge of some outburst, pressed her lips shut at my question.
I patted her frail shoulders gently.
"You will be a good liege lady."
At the words from nowhere, Dionea stared up at me.
"Where did that come from?"
"It's just the feeling I have."
"……A feeling?"
Facing her, I gave a shrug.
"You know every single name of every person living in Longville."
"……Not all of them."
"Near enough all of them, from what I've seen. And with a character as soft as yours, there's no hope at all of your becoming a bad lord."
"And what could you possibly know about—"
"Well, about as much as I need to."
Her tightly pressed lips quivered minutely. As Dionea's eyes began to glisten, I broke into a wide smile.
"Shall I escort you to your chamber, my lady?"
She nodded before long.
Leaving the chamber behind Dionea, who slept as though she'd fainted, I sensed that presence once more.
In the instant I sharpened my senses to scan the surroundings, the sound of bold footsteps reached me — steps that carried not the slightest whiff of intent to hide.
"You."
Appearing at the far end of the corridor was Heila — Phoinix's cousin and fiancée.
"Hello."
"……What are you doing here?"
"I met with Grandmother Selma. On my way back now."
Grandmother Selma? There was someone of that sort living here?
"……Don't tell me you mean the housekeeper? That ill-tempered old woman?"
"Her temper isn't ill. But yes, the housekeeper."
"No, how are you even acquainted with that woman—"
Heila blinked slowly, as if to ask what the problem was.
Looking her over again: she wore a thin cotton slip under a loose, shapeless dress, a pale green gown draped over it all. On her feet were what looked like luxurious woolen slippers, and trailing behind her was, for some reason, a maid.
Is this even someone else's house? Why do you look so damn comfortable?
"Where did you even come from?"
"……I spoke briefly with the baron's lady."
"I see."
Heila was currently staying in the lord's manor while posing as my relative — well, no, she was my relative. In any case, as my kin.
Which meant she was concealing entirely her true standing — sister of a duke, the Procreator of House Valuin — presenting herself as nothing more than an ordinary table guest.
"Shall I withdraw for a time, my lady?"
"Mm. Go to the room."
"Yes, my lady."
The manner in which she received the maid's bow was utterly, seamlessly natural. Come to think of it, I suddenly recalled freckled Mira's assessment of her.
'She looks impossibly high-maintenance on the outside, but she's secretly pretty lenient. And strangely, people take to her so easily……'
As I stood there staring quietly, Heila stopped like a mannequin and simply met my gaze. She had the air of someone prepared to stand like that until the end of time if I didn't speak first.
Was she always this odd? It doesn't quite match Phoinix's memories.
……No. It's not that they differ.
The truth was that Phoinix, when it came to Heila, knew almost nothing beyond her name and sex.
Fiancée in name, a beauty rarely seen in this world — I couldn't fathom how he'd been so indifferent.
Her elder sister Aila, by contrast — he remembered every trivial thing about her. Her favorite foods. Her favorite walking routes. Even the little habit of scrunching up her nose.
Fiddling with the corner of my mouth for no real reason, I spoke.
"Planning to stay here for good?"
"Yes."
"……You have ears, so you've heard — Count Tristan's army is practically at our doorstep."
"Doesn't matter."
"Ha……. I see."
Noticing that I'd run out of things to say and was stalling, Heila opened her mouth with leisurely calm.
"Procreators are one flesh, by nature. It's only natural that we be together."
"……I-I've said this before, but I have no intention of becoming a Procreator?"
"It is our fate. It is the family's decision. You must accept it."
What I wanted to say was 'spare me — and get off my family register'…….
But if I did, I couldn't begin to guess what those two lunatic houses, Zahakar and Valuin, might pull, and so I hesitated.
This time it had ended with Heila and eight horsemen, but if I kept up my defiance, Akele — Phoinix's father — might just march an army over here. With fifty Blood Knights in tow, no less.
"If you've nothing to say, I'll be going."
"Huh? Ah — yes……"
"And, Phoi."
Heila's black eyes blinked shut, then open, and her bearing shifted in an instant.
"Be careful."
"……Of what?"
"It's true that Zahakar and Valuin are famous for holding their hands close — but you never know how the world will turn."
I stood there, facing her in silence.
"Ha."
Laughter escaped me, unbidden. An emotion rising from my chest, carried straight out through my mouth.
"And who are you to say?"
"Telling me to be careful. You show up out of nowhere spouting fate and family decisions, and you expected me to bow my head and marry you?"
Heila's eyelids flickered four or five times in rapid succession. That colorless, white face seemed, for a fleeting moment, to waver.
What is this. Even that change feels, somehow, repulsive to me…….
"If a Procreator is so damn important, you shouldn't have let Aila die."
"Even without me, there's no shortage of men fit to be the next Procreator, surely? How many men carry the name Zahakar?"
"No."
She opened her mouth. Was it because her face was trembling even now? Somehow, her words looked clumsy.
"I — have no intention of bearing children with such monsters."
"Is that so?"
I can feel it.
The corner of my mouth curling crookedly upward.
"Same here."
Leaving Heila frozen once more like a mannequin, I walked on.
Whoosh.
Had someone left a window open somewhere?
The candles that lined both sides of the corridor swayed violently in the draft.