Rayvan der Elianos (2)
If one were to name those within the kingdom capable of reining in Rayvan’s madness, only two names would come to mind.
The first was his father, King Alfons Leoric von Elianos.
The second was Bernus Valentine—head of House Valentine and father of Milia.
He was the man who had hurled open insults straight into the face of the one known as the Blood Prince, a figure of terror to all who knew him.
Had King Alfons himself not stepped in to separate them that day, one of the two would surely have died or been left grievously wounded.
“It’s been a while, Count Valentine. First time since then, isn’t it?”
Rayvan clicked his tongue and posed the question toward Bernus.
They said madness was best subdued by greater madness.
Even for Rayvan, Bernus—who feared him not in the slightest—remained an uncomfortably thorny presence.
“Yes. Though I never expected to meet you in a place like this…”
Of course, even Bernus could not treat Rayvan with outright rudeness.
Past enmity or not, the man was royalty.
Back then, rage had clouded his judgment, offering some excuse for leniency. The situation now was entirely different.
Any discourtesy toward Rayvan before so many nobles would leave him with no defense against a charge of lese-majesty.
“Has my daughter or her attendant committed some offense?”
“Nothing of the sort. I was merely catching up with my little sister after so long.”
Rayvan answered Bernus’s cautious inquiry as though it were nothing, then turned his gaze upon Elis.
Paired with those blood-red eyes, the look was enough to send chills down the spine—yet Elis met it with a resolute face, refusing to yield.
Rayvan let out a soft snort of laughter at the sight, then turned on his heel and began to walk away.
Bernus bowed his head with formal courtesy. The nobles in Rayvan’s path parted like the Red Sea, clearing a way for him.
Once Rayvan’s figure had vanished from view, sighs of relief rose from every corner—and Bernus inclined his head toward Elis.
“I greet Her Highness the Princess.”
“Thank you, Count Valentine. Without you, things might have turned rather unpleasant.”
“I did nothing worthy of thanks.”
Bernus answered Elis and bowed once more.
In truth, everyone present knew the situation moments earlier had been a powder keg ready to explode.
But there was nothing to gain by broadcasting that fact.
Treating it as a mere passing incident was best for all concerned.
“So. Are you enjoying yourself?”
“You know perfectly well I hate these gatherings, and you still ask.”
Milia let out a short sigh at Bernus’s faintly smiling question.
Elis chuckled softly at the exchange, and Milia, catching her eye, laughed as well.
And so the atmosphere of the banquet gradually warmed and deepened.
That night.
“Haa… what a long day.”
Wrapped in a bathrobe, Milia emerged from the bath, declared her exhaustion, and collapsed onto the bed as though she might melt into it.
“My Lady, at least dry your hair before you lie down.”
Schwarz, comb in hand, spoke in a troubled voice at the sight.
If she fell asleep with wet hair and it dried that way, the resulting tangle would be inevitable.
Given how long her hair already was, untangling it afterward would take an eternity—something easily foreseen.
“I can’t move a muscle. Carry me.”
Milia pushed herself up just enough to face him and spread her arms wide.
The meaning was unmistakable: pick me up and move me.
“My Lady…”
“If you don’t, I’m going to sleep right here.”
“Ugh…”
Schwarz let out a short sigh. Milia answered by flopping back down onto the mattress.
Watching her, Schwarz released a low groan.
I’m still not used to this sort of thing…
Even now that they were lovers, his almost complete lack of experience with women left him flustered every time Milia threw a tantrum like this.
But what choice did he have?
If she wished it, he would do it.
From the moment he became her attendant, that had been the rule.
“All right.”
“Heehee.”
At last Schwarz surrendered and approached. Milia made a soft, expectant sound, face bright with anticipation.
He gathered her outstretched form into his arms and carried her carefully toward the mirror, wary of dropping her, then settled her gently onto the chair.
Comb in hand, he began to work through her hair with careful strokes. Milia hummed a little tune, swinging her legs as she savored the sensation.
“Breeze Wind.”
Schwarz murmured the incantation. His mana became a gentle, warm breeze that swept through Milia’s hair, whisking away the last of the moisture.
With the dampness gone and her head feeling lighter, she began to sway it from side to side as well.
“By the way, what did you think?”
“Of what, My Lady?”
Still humming, Milia suddenly asked. Schwarz tilted his head.
“What else? That absolute jerk of a crown prince, of course.”
“Ah… that bastard.”
Schwarz recalled the events in the banquet hall and let out a low hum.
What more needed saying?
Had the man not been royalty, he would already be lying in a hospital bed. With that thought, Schwarz answered her.
“Utterly discourteous. Not a shred of dignity, and the way he looked you over as if you were an object…”
“We’re of one mind on that. Anything else?”
“Anything else?”
Was she talking about physiognomy or something of the sort?
Schwarz asked, and Milia narrowed her eyes.
“Looks like you didn’t sense it after all.”
“Sense what?”
He was an attendant, not a fortune-teller.
He could speak of first impressions, but reading a person thoroughly from a single glance was beyond him.
“That man is dangerous… extremely so.”
“Hmm…”
Milia’s eye for people was sharper than his, so the words were almost certainly true.
But how, exactly, was he dangerous?
Schwarz looked at her, and she continued.
“Do you know the first place you should look when reading someone?”
“Um… I’m not sure.”
“The eyes.”
She said it to the head-shaking Schwarz and stared straight into his.
The sudden flush of embarrassment was no illusion.
When he turned his face away, cheeks faintly pink, she giggled, then grew serious once more.
“Look into a person’s eyes and you can tell what sort of character they have—and what kind of thoughts they’re capable of.”
“I think I understand what you mean…”
The so-called eye for people. Discernment.
Schwarz waited for her next words.
“In that man’s eyes I saw desire and obsession with no bottom to them.”
“Desire and obsession…”
At Milia’s thoroughly negative assessment, Schwarz drew a quiet breath.
“He’s the sort who would do anything for his own ends. In a way, those are the most terrifying people of all.”
“I see.”
Elis had said something similar once.
That he was a man who would sacrifice any number of his own people if it served him.
“Until we have no choice but to confront him head-on, it’s best not to get involved. You understand what I mean?”
“Of course.”
No good would come of stirring up unnecessary trouble; better to humor him as much as possible.
Schwarz nodded, grasping her meaning. Milia smiled in satisfaction and turned back toward the mirror.
He watched her for a moment, then resumed combing. A short while later—
“There. All done.”
“Then put me back on the bed.”
Schwarz set the comb on the side table as he spoke; Milia answered without missing a beat.
“My Lady…”
Did this young lady simply not know the meaning of shame?
The way she made such unreasonable demands with perfect composure made Schwarz’s head throb.
He was the one who turned into a stammering mess at the slightest forwardness from her—so where did she get this confidence?
At this point, his pride as a man was on the line.
“All right.”
“Eh?”
As he nodded and spoke, Milia let out a blank sound—just as Schwarz scooped her up into his arms.
“Kyaah!? W-wait a second!?”
“What’s wrong? You’re the one who asked to be laid on the bed, My Lady.”
Caught off guard by his unexpected response, Milia cried out in fluster. Schwarz only smiled faintly.
“A-ahem! That’s right!”
She nodded as if nothing were amiss, but Schwarz’s turn was far from over.
He carried her to the bed and laid her down with care…
“Is there anything else you need?”
“N-no. Thanks.”
Schwarz smiled at the way she tried to sound casual, then leaned his face closer to hers.
“W-what!? H-hold on!!”
“…”
Milia’s eyes flew wide in shock, but Schwarz gave no answer.
“Hwaaaaa…!!”
What wind had gotten into him?
This slightly different side of him made the world spin before her eyes.
“I-it’s still way too soon for that kind of thing!”
Watching him draw nearer, Milia squeezed her eyes shut and cried out.
And then—
Smack.
A soft sound, and she felt something warm press against her forehead.
Wait… her forehead?
Milia opened her eyes to find Schwarz gazing down at her with a gentle smile.
“…???”
For several long seconds she simply blinked, unable to process what had happened. Then—
“Y-you…!!”
“My own little revenge.”
Schwarz spoke to the red-faced, shouting Milia, reached out to ruffle her hair lightly, and rose to his feet.
“You said you needed nothing more, so I’ll return to my room. Good night, My Lady.”
“W-wait!!”
Milia called after him in a panicked voice, but Schwarz only offered her another faint smile, turned, and walked out of her chamber.
“…”
Silence filled the bedroom.
“Hwaaaaaaaa…!!”
The only sound was the muffled groan of Milia, face scarlet, as she yanked the covers all the way over her head.