Death Goes Bison Watching!
Eliza and Bielka climbed down from the carriage as well. Bielka's face still bore the traces of her carriage sickness.
"My lord Baron, to tell you the truth, the reason I've come today is that I wish to purchase horses from your ranch, you see. Word has it that your ranch is the finest in the entire Grand Duchy."
The small flattery lit the Baron's face right up.
"Her Grace the Grand Duke's daughter has an excellent eye indeed! The bloodlines at our ranch are counted among the finest in the whole North. Allow me to escort you at once."
The Baron hurried ahead of us, his every step brimming with pride.
He truly believes I came to buy horses, so there's no helping it.
The Baron led us straight to the ranch grounds within his territory. A green pasture spread out before us, beautiful horses cantering freely across it. It was a landscape straight out of a painting.
"This way, if you please. Here we keep the gentle northern steeds that are the pride of our ranch."
Baron Trofimov poured every ounce of pride into his voice as he stepped into the paddock.
"This is 'Silver Wind,' the flagship stud of our ranch. He is the direct descendant of 'Blue Wind,' a warhorse that distinguished itself on the battlefield during the northern campaign — the very campaign the Grand Duke himself took part in."
A slender horse with a rippling silver mane approached us. Silver Wind was a proud stallion, tall and powerfully muscled, striking for his vivid gray coat and long, flowing mane.
"Hm, what a truly lovely horse it is, you see."
Granted, the Mountain King — that enormous bison — certainly carried an intimidating presence, but for a delicate young noblewoman to ride, this horse suited far better.
And yet... how should I put it. Even if my modern sensibilities insisted that common sense says riding a horse is the better choice, the romance of this Death-and-young-lady pairing would only retort, 'isn't a bison even bigger than a horse far more magnificent?!'
It irritated me a little, but I found I couldn't deny the Death-lady romanticism — the kind of dream only boys are supposed to have.
After all, the northern bison, while nearly the same height at the shoulder as a horse, was far bulkier in build — and the Mountain King was a full one and a half times larger than even those. He could fairly be called the heavyweight champion among bison. And what a magnificent sight he would make, armored in barding on top of all that?
Meanwhile, the Baron nodded at my praise and grew only more enthusiastic.
"Would you care to see the mares over there as well? All of purebred stock — the foals they bear will inherit splendid qualities."
While the Baron carried on, I nodded along with an expression of appropriate interest.
Before long, however, boredom began creeping up on me. Eliza caught my expression and raised an eyebrow ever so slightly, while Bielka's eyes had gone wide and round, wholly absorbed in gazing at the magnificent horses.
"Baron, these are truly splendid horses."
I answered the Baron's explanations while gazing at the stallions.
"It's about time Bielka received riding lessons as well, you see. Horses as fine as these would be just the thing."
Bielka looked at me in astonishment. Her round eyes grew even wider, and her mouth fell slightly open.
"My lady, I..."
"No need to worry, you see. A noble lady's maid — and especially my maid — ought to have at least basic riding skills."
I turned to Eliza and continued.
"Eliza can teach her, I trust?"
Eliza nodded with a smile.
"Of course. The important thing will be choosing a horse gentle enough for Bielka to ride safely."
At our conversation, Baron Trofimov's eyes suddenly lit up. He had caught the scent of business.
"If Her Grace so wishes, I shall select the gentlest, most dignified mare on our ranch. Even for a maid — a member of the Grand Duke's daughter's retinue deserves nothing less than the very best."
"For now, I'd like to look over all the horses, you see. I'm also curious how your ranch is run, my lord."
"An honor! Our ranch boasts one of the largest operations in the entire Grand Duchy. This way, and you shall see even wider pastures and a greater variety of breeds."
His voice rising slightly with excitement, the Baron guided us along. We walked across the broad meadow, spotting horses of all sorts grazing leisurely. The sunlight was warm, and a faint sweetness of grass drifted up from the field.
Bielka's expression grew brighter by the moment. Being a farm girl, perhaps, livestock were nothing unfamiliar to her — though these impeccably managed purebreds seemed to be a first.
Time to steer the conversation, I think.
"By the way, my lord Baron."
After we had made a full circuit of the ranch, I asked, casually, as though in passing.
"I heard you recently purchased a bison, you see. A truly enormous northern bison."
The Baron's face stiffened in an instant. The pleasure drained from his eyes, and the smile at the corners of his mouth froze solid.
"Ah, you mean that creature..."
Barely concealed displeasure soaked his voice. The Baron deliberately turned his gaze aside and sighed.
"Yes, we did purchase a giant northern bison. And I can say without exaggeration that it has been the worst investment in the history of Trofimov Ranch."
A memory surfaced unbidden in my mind. The incident where I knocked out the Mountain King with a single punch must have become rumor and spread throughout the Grand Duchy. By now, everyone knew it as half-established fact.
'The Grand Duke's daughter felled a house-sized bison with one fist.'
'They say she toppled a beast that outweighs a hundred soldiers in a single blow.'
'There can be no doubt — the blood of the thunder god runs in the Grand Duke's daughter's veins.'
Here especially, in the Grand Duke's personal domain, the stories circulated with particular vividness. Baron Trofimov had surely heard them too.
Perhaps that's one reason he's so uncomfortable whenever the Mountain King comes up. A lifelong rancher, and it was a young noblewoman who subdued the beast he couldn't tame.
"Is the creature really such a handful?"
At my feigned curiosity, the Baron heaved a deep sigh.
"You may not have heard, my lady, but that bison is known as the Mountain King."
He studied my face for a moment — checking, perhaps, whether I recognized the name.
"At the time I bought him at auction, I hoped that sheer size and strength would create a new bloodline for my ranch, but..."
He pointed toward a half-collapsed stable at the far end of the ranch.
"That beast has destroyed his stable three times over. Twenty of my drovers have been injured — three of them seriously, at that..."
Bielka drew in a small breath. The damage was worse than I'd imagined.
"There was simply no taming him. Even my finest handlers gave up. The costs sunk into that brute since I bought him at auction must exceed triple the purchase price."
The Baron furrowed his brow.
"At first I tried to sell him to another ranch, but... it didn't come to anything. In the end, I've decided to slaughter him tomorrow. If we can just strip his hide properly, at least it will fetch something."
The word slaughter landed somewhere uncomfortably close to my chest. Whether it was Katerina's instincts or a modern person's sensibilities, I couldn't say.
"Then might I see this Mountain King with my own eyes, you see? I'm curious how you're keeping such a troublesome beast contained."
"Of... of course, I can show you."
The Baron's eyes narrowed briefly with suspicion, then softened again. However personal his feelings about the Mountain King, he could hardly refuse an inquisitive request from the Grand Duke's daughter.
He bowed his head.
"But I must say this in advance: he is a genuinely dangerous beast. For your safety, you must observe from a considerable distance."
"Worry not, you see. I shall be most careful about safety."
Safety. Frankly, just hearing the word made me want to laugh.
Even if every able-bodied man on this ranch took up arms and came at me to kill me, I was confident I could crush them all... so said Katerina's instincts. No precise reasoning behind it, of course.
The Baron nodded and led us onward. Tension was written into his every step.
As Baron Trofimov guided us along, I studied his back. His shoulders were rigid with strain, and a subtle awkwardness clung to his gait.
When we reached the edge of the ranch, we came upon a fence entirely separate from the other enclosures.
It was no ordinary fence, but a massive barrier built of thick logs. The gaps between the pillars were barely wide enough to slip a hand through, and the height looked to be at least twice that of a normal wall. One had to climb a small rise some distance away just to glimpse the interior.
"There he is — the Mountain King."
The Baron pointed inside the enclosure. At first, all I could see was a huge black mass. But looking closer, its true form emerged.
The creature was, indeed, a gigantic northern bison — the Mountain King. Bound in layer upon layer of heavy iron chains: chains wrapped around his torso, chains binding his legs, and even a mechanism to restrain his horns.
"Ordinary chains couldn't hold him, so I commissioned these from the forges in Count Volkov's county."
The Baron explained with a touch of pride, then suddenly dropped his voice low.
"...Though as of now, all of it has been nothing but expense."
The Mountain King's rough breathing echoed in my ears. It was like steam rising from a volcano. Each time that immense body drew breath, the muscles across his back rippled like waves.
"Even bound this tightly, he's difficult to control. Slaughter is the only solution."
"Slaughtering him seems such a waste, doesn't it, you see? There is the option of me purchasing him, after all."
I asked the sighing Baron — but his face twisted. For a long moment, he stared hard at mine.