Elis Nella Elianos (2)
A cold silence hung over the room.
Yet that silence did not last long.
"I am sorry."
"I am sorry."
Without the slightest discrepancy, the two of them spoke as one.
"Pardon…?"
Elis answered in a voice thick with bewilderment.
To her—a princess of the kingdom and second in line to the throne—the word refusal was something wholly unfamiliar.
"Even if it is Your Highness's request, that is the one thing we cannot grant."
"My answer is the same."
"…"
At the sight of them bowing their heads so courteously, Elis seemed too stunned to form any reply.
"May I ask the reason?"
But she, too, was a princess who had weathered countless storms. After a brief, quiet cough she composed her features, and when she looked at them again her face was as calm as if nothing had happened.
"Schwarz is my personal servant."
"My only master is My Lady."
And to her question the two of them answered almost in the same breath.
"…"
Had it been her usual self, she would have flared up at once and demanded whether they dared mock her. Yet when she saw the expressions that accompanied those words, she could not bring herself to do so.
Bond and trust. She could feel, between them, a connection that nothing in the world could sever.
"…"
I envy them.
Watching the two of them, Elis found the thought rising unbidden. If only she had possessed a bond like theirs at her side, might her own life have been a little different…?
"Haa…"
She shook her head with a short sigh, casting the question aside. In the present situation such doubts were useless. She had come here for a purpose, and she would see it through.
With that resolve she lifted her gaze and spoke to Milia.
"You are aware, I trust, that your house is not on good terms with my elder brother?"
"…!!"
Milia flinched and stared at her.
There was only one person in the entire kingdom whom Elis would call "elder brother."
The king's firstborn son and first in line to the throne—Rayvan der Elianos.
The world had given him a nickname of his own.
The Blood Prince.
It was a title earned by a nature so cruel that he felt no hesitation at the sight of blood. In the past he had mercilessly crushed the barbarian tribes that invaded the kingdom, caring nothing for the losses his own forces suffered, and under the pretext of retaliation he had raided their villages and slaughtered thousands, earning the dread of many.
"And yet do you know whose grace has kept your house from suffering any harm until now?"
Noting Milia's reaction, Elis continued with a faint smile.
"It is thanks to none other than my father, His Majesty the King."
"That is…"
"Twenty years ago—had His Majesty not restrained the two of them—what do you suppose would have become of your house?"
Roughly twenty years earlier, during the campaign to repel a barbarian invasion of unprecedented scale, the First Prince—obsessed with military glory—had forced a reckless operation. The unit that suffered the heaviest losses was that of Count Valentine.
Not only the count's soldiers but many of the aides he cherished had fallen, and the count himself had been wounded so severely that he required months of recovery. After the war the enraged Count Valentine had publicly hurled insults at the First Prince; the prince had drawn his sword in turn, and the situation had teetered on the brink of disaster—until the king himself intervened and brought the matter to a close. That was the day as Milia knew it.
Had the king not stepped in so firmly to mediate, the aftermath would have been all too easy to predict. Even a house as ancient and powerful as the Valentines, whose prestige rivaled that of a duke, could not have survived open enmity with the royal family.
"In the distant future, when His Majesty has passed and my elder brother ascends the throne—what do you think will become of your house then?"
"…"
Milia could find no answer.
There was no need to speak it aloud; the truth was self-evident. That countless houses which had fallen from the First Prince's favor had later collapsed for reasons no one could name was an open secret.
"I possess the possibility of preventing that. And for that, I need strength."
There was a Third Prince beneath her, but the boy was not yet ten years old—scarcely even a variable. What could a child of barely ten hope to accomplish? In the end the struggle for the throne would be a contest between the First Prince, Rayvan, and the Second Princess, Elis.
"And still you refuse my request?"
"…"
Though her tone remained polite, the words were little short of a threat.
Die together, or hand over Schwarz.
Milia felt a cold sweat break out as she desperately turned the problem over in her mind, searching for any way out of the corner.
House or servant.
Reason dictated that the house must come first. Yet her heart utterly refused to accept that judgment.
What do I do?
While she still floundered, unable to decide what to say, a quiet voice spoke beside her.
"May I be permitted a word?"
Schwarz, who had been watching her, opened his mouth with careful courtesy.
"Schwarz…?"
Milia looked at him in surprise. Her thoughts were in such turmoil that she could scarcely grasp what was happening.
"You may."
"Thank you, Your Highness."
At his unexpected request Elis inclined her head, and Schwarz bowed to her with perfect formality. Then, without the least hesitation, he spoke.
"No matter how many times Your Highness may ask, my answer remains the same. I am My Lady's servant alone."
"…!!"
"What…!?"
At those words Milia caught her breath. Elis, too, made no effort to hide her astonishment as she stared at him.
"Do you understand what that answer means!?"
"My duty is to serve My Lady."
"Even if it leads both you and House Valentine to ruin?"
"To me, My Lady is the reason I live. Without her, I have no reason to live at all."
Milia was everything to him. A world without her was a world without any value whatsoever.
A silence as cold as a tomb filled the room. How long it lasted, none of them could have said.
"Pfft…"
"Your Highness…?"
Elis gave a low laugh and sank into her seat. Milia and Schwarz both regarded her with puzzled expressions.
"I truly envy you, Milia Valentine."
"…"
Elis spoke with a faint smile, and Milia answered by bowing her head lightly.
"It seems my thinking was too short-sighted. Please forget the request I made a moment ago."
Even as she said it, a deep shadow lay across her face—so different from the ruthless figure of only moments before.
Then—
"Your Highness."
Milia rose from her seat and stepped toward Elis.
"My Lady?"
"…?"
Schwarz looked on in confusion; Elis, too, watched her with an expression that said she had no idea what was happening.
And in the next instant—
"I, Milia Valentine, cannot hand Schwarz over to Your Highness. But if ever Your Highness has need of me, I will come running, no matter the time or place."
"My Lady!?"
"W-what is this…"
As Milia dropped to one knee, Schwarz cried out in alarm and Elis blinked as though she could not comprehend the scene before her.
Yet only for a moment.
"Did I mishear you just now?"
"You heard correctly."
Milia lifted her head as she answered the princess's incredulous question. Elis could only stare at her in silence, at a loss for words.
"What do you think?"
"If that is My Lady's will, then I shall follow it."
When Milia turned to Schwarz, he simply nodded. If she wished it, he would follow her even to the ends of hell. That was the vow he had sworn the day he became her servant.
"You two…"
Elis could not finish the sentence. She wanted to shout for joy then and there, yet as a princess of the realm she was bound to maintain her dignity. Barely holding back the emotions that threatened to burst free, she spoke carefully to the pair before her.
"Then… would you do me the honor of becoming my friends? Milia Valentine. And Schwarz."
"It would be our honor, Your Highness."
Milia answered with a gentle smile.