Flailing (7)
Baron Mallory has returned alive?
Ha. What in the world was I supposed to make of a situation this absurd…….
By the time my hurried steps carried me to the lord's residence, the place was in utter chaos.
"……So you were disguised as merchants, and revealed your true identities at the gate."
"You arrived with mercenaries in tow, I hear."
"Why show yourself only now, of all times……"
I pushed past chattering soldiers and scurrying maids and came to a stop before the great doors of the hall, flung wide open. Unlike the pandemonium outside, the hall itself was steeped in a chill silence.
I walked forward slowly, letting my gaze drift across the interior.
Herald Tollery and steward Edita, along with the retainers of House Anig, had gathered on the left side of the hall. On the opposite side sat a pack of hardened mercenaries, heavily armed and rough-visaged.
Just as I lifted my eyes toward the high-backed seat of authority on the low dais, I heard movement behind me.
Glancing back, I found Sir Rangvolt and Sir Ariad had arrived.
"Three knights of Ulkar, in one place."
I turned my head toward the rasping voice.
Clouded, milky eyes and hair gone white as ash, a wrinkled face set in a irritable expression — an old man, no, a prematurely aged one. Baron Mallory.
He wore rough leather clothes, his right leg missing below the knee, and his left hand reduced to nothing but a thumb and forefinger. There was no doubt these were wounds taken in his battle against Anupad.
"Hm."
Supported by several attendants — why the fuss over him now — Baron Mallory lowered himself into the seat of honor.
Dionea, who had been occupying that place until now, stood a few steps withdrawn, her left cheek stained a furious red……. While I met her dark green eyes and forced my own heart to settle, the old knight Sir Ariad stepped forward.
"It is an honor to meet you, my lord."
"……A greying hound of a knight. We've met before, haven't we."
"Yes, my lord. Three years ago now, if you'll believe it."
Baron Mallory pressed his hand harder against the armrest and let out a cold sneer.
"Ah, yes. Back then too, Prince Ulkar stirred up trouble. I was a prisoner of war myself, but even I could feel the uproar in the capital down to my skin."
"……So it did happen."
Sir Ariad gave a rueful laugh and dipped his head slightly.
"My sincere congratulations on your return, my lord. Longville has reclaimed its true master — surely it is the grace of the Lord of Light watching over you."……
What the hell kind of spineless flattery is that?
I whipped my head around toward Sir Ariad, but the seasoned knight's expression hadn't shifted so much as a hair. He was still smiling.
Baron Mallory, his hunched back pressed into the chair, held his silence for a moment before his lips began to move.
"If your aim is to curry favor with a wagging tongue, stop right there. I already know full well that you people brought calamity down upon Longville."
"……My lord, what do you mean by—"
Sir Ariad's face stiffened as he realized the old, hoarse voice brimmed with open hostility. As he searched for his words, Sir Rangvolt spoke up, his face tinged with anger.
"We risked our lives fighting to protect your domain, my lord. How can you say such a thing?"
Baron Mallory answered, carving deep furrows into his brow.
"You of all people should remember, first knight of the Silver Prince."
His grey-faded eyes glinted with a sharp light.
"Ban and Wipston, Kandalosa. Every one of them an exemplary knight — and every one of them dead by your blade."
Sir Rangvolt tried to respond, but the Baron gave him not even a moment's opening, the words pouring out of him without pause.
"And you claim you risked your life to protect my domain? Ha!" His voice climbed steadily higher, until the man was all but screaming like a lunatic.
"Hundreds of my people died, dragged into a war you forced upon them! The magnificent gate my ancestors laid its foundations upon ages ago is nothing but a pile of rubble now!"
"Forced the fighting? That's absurd! We—"
"Had it not been for you, would my cowardly retainers have dared defy the High Lord? Would my foolish wife have attempted such madness? It was because of you that war, that calamity, descended upon Longville—!"
"That is a lie!"
As Sir Rangvolt, face flushed crimson with rage, stepped forward once more, the mercenaries guarding the dais laid their hands on their weapons, tension coiling through them.
"Had we not fought, this domain would already be in Doil's grasp!"
"Sir Rangvolt!"
Sir Ariad threw himself forward to restrain him, but Sir Rangvolt didn't budge an inch, driving on.
"Even if you had returned in the midst of all that, could you have reclaimed your seat, my lord? You'd have been lucky to escape with your life!"
"Insolence! Does a mere knight think to trample the dignity of his lord?!"
Baron Mallory slammed his fist against the armrest and hauled himself upright. He staggered on his missing leg for only an instant before steadying himself against the chair, jabbing a finger in our direction.
"Enough talk! There is no place in this hall for the likes of you, Ulkar's knigh—"
"Calm yourself, my lord! We—"
Cutting off Sir Ariad mid-sentence, the Baron spat out a scream like a man vomiting blood.
"As lord of Longville, I command you! Get the hell off my land — now!"
In that instant, the temperature of the hall plummeted. In the ringing silence, only Baron Mallory's ragged breathing persisted; not a single soul dared open their mouth.
How long did that silence stretch? Then a familiar voice came from behind me.
"Phoenix."
Turning, I found Utekwai leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed.
Looking again, I saw that a dozen-odd mercenaries stood outside the hall, their eyes cold as ice. They looked ready to charge in at any moment, but with Utekwai's massive frame blocking the doorway, they couldn't move so much as a muscle without his leave.
"Act with care."
At Utekwai's warning, I glanced down — and realized that at some point, my large, calloused hand had wrapped itself around Hrunting's hilt.
And what exactly was I planning to do?
Cut down every mercenary in this hall and then lop off the Baron's head while I was at it?
Ha. Absurd.
"……Did you not hear the Baron's command? Withdraw at once!"
The one who barked that order was a man in his prime. I remembered glimpsing his face here and there during the hunt. Edwin, was it? I had no memory of ever speaking with him, yet somehow his voice rang familiar. Looking at him now, he did vaguely resemble Baron Mallory…….
Under my unblinking stare, a single line of cold sweat traced down Edwin's jaw. His subordinates, likewise pinned by my gaze, swallowed dryly.
I quietly turned my head away.
Dionea stood abandoned near the dais, her face on the verge of shattering into tears. Her downcast eyes trembled mournfully, the hands clasped before her navel shook faintly, and her reddened left cheek had begun to swell slightly.
I took a step toward her. And in the same breath—
"Halt right there!"
Shing—!
Metal sang out on every side.
At Edwin's shout the mercenaries raised their weapons, and Sir Rangvolt, waiting for exactly that, drew his sword.
Mana rippled at Ellen's murmured incantation, and before anyone noticed, the crossbowmen had silently fallen back.
Through the window I could see the courtyard: the Amias faction stood in a tense standoff against Edwin's men.
"Sir Phoenix—"
My keen hearing caught the small, strangled cry swallowed inside her mouth. Dionea looked at me and gave a slow, gentle shake of her head.
I stood there a moment, dumb and unmoving, and then looked at Baron Mallory.
By the time his face had drained bone-white, I had already turned on my heel and walked out of the hall.
"There, good girl."
After a few soothing strokes along the neck of Patch, who was snorting and stamping, I saddled up. As I gathered the reins, Cole's voice came from beside me.
"Sir Phoenix."
Cole was holding the reins of the black warhorse Heila had ridden. Catching my gaze, he tipped his chin toward the entrance of the stable.
Dionea stood there.
Her hair bound as neatly as the day we first met, in a white cotte with wide sleeves, a pale green tunic layered over it.
I handed Patch's reins to Cole.
"Go on ahead."
"……Yes, my lord. I'll see to the baggage."
Once Cole led the two horses away from the stable, Dionea, who had been standing off to the side, approached slowly.
"Why did you come out? I doubt the Baron will take kindly to it."
At the worry threading her words, her face twisted into something strange and unresolved.
"Do you resent me?"
"……Resent you."
"Did you want me to reach out my hand to you, sir knight?"
When I said nothing, Dionea bit down hard on her lower lip.
"……I wanted to. I truly wanted to. But I couldn't."
"Dionea."
"I didn't want to see blood. I didn't want to watch you stain yourself with sin."
I forced a smile.
"I understand."
"……I suppose this was our fate from the very beginning. To bloom for a single season, like Daisy, and then be forsaken forever."
"Dionea. No."
The moment the words left my mouth, she flung herself into my chest. I wrapped my arms around her and pressed my lips to hers.
After a long moment, Dionea staggered backward, breaking away. Then she untied the reins of a horse tethered at the far end of the stable and held them out to me.
"……What's this?"
"Heoad. In the northern tongue, it means 'spring wind.'"
A brown-coated horse with a faint crimson sheen rippling beneath it — long legs, vibrant muscle, a thick flowing mane. A truly magnificent steed.
"I rode him when I left Northershire and came here. Please, take him with you."
"Dionea."
"I'm begging you."
Moisture welled in her dark green eyes. As I gazed quietly into that shimmering depth, a story I had once heard on Earth drifted back to me.
"I cannot."
I pressed Heoad's reins back into her hands. Dionea whispered, her face moments from crumbling entirely.
"Sir Phoenix."
"If I leave with this horse, Baron Mallory will fly into a frenzy. That's not something I want."
"Please. If not anything else, at least accept this."
"No. Give me something else instead."
"……Something, else?"
Just as the tall knight in that old story had done before the Red Widow, I drew a dagger from my belt.
Then I cut a small lock from the back of my own head and pressed it into Dionea's hand, and cut a small lock of hers and closed it in mine.
Clutching the black strands, Dionea stared up at me, dazed.
"……Sir Phoenix."
"This is enough."
Gathering the crimson-tinged strands of her hair into my breast pocket, I flashed her a smile.
"When the spring wind blows again, and the flowers bloom anew — I will come back for you."
Dionea wept, both hands clenched tight around my hair.
I wiped away the tears streaming down her cheek and gave her one last, brief kiss.
Crowds had gathered along both sides of the stone road stretching out from the lord's residence.
They knew the old lord had returned, and so they dared not cheer. They could only close their eyes in quiet prayer, or toss a few handfuls of flowers onto the road ahead of us.
Leaving behind that silent yet burning farewell, we departed Longville. It was the last day of September, just as autumn reached its ripening.