Gypsy and Bard (2)
Lawrence headed first to a clothing shop.
For the moment, he bought a new dark robe that would suit the Gutter. In contrast to the swamp, the cold weather was actually a blessing. He pulled on a thick, oversized robe and did his best to hide the sutan beneath it.
Next came the smithy.
Equipment was a mercenary’s life, after all. Now that he already had one grimoire, he didn’t spare the money he’d earned for exterminating the orcs. After looking over the armor at length, Lawrence chose a brigandine.
The cowhide brigandine was an armor of tightly arranged iron plates, and the metal on its inside had been shaped into scale-like segments, much like alligator hide. Despite the sheer number of plates, it didn’t feel awkward to move in at all. The parts over the curves of the body and the joints bent with ease, and compared to leather armor it was far sturdier—yet even with the sutan worn underneath, it didn’t feel uncomfortable.
He also bought a new crossbow, for the first time in a while.
At his waist, he hung a sword and a short spear, just for show.
Once he’d finished equipping himself, he looked every inch the mercenary.
Only, perhaps because of the sudden increase in baggage, his body felt heavy. It would probably take some time to grow used to it.
Still, Lawrence was satisfied.
This way, the rabble prowling the back alleys of the Gutter wouldn’t dare come after him. If he wanted to avoid trouble, he had to start with his appearance. Lawrence’s youthful face in particular was a liability. Put kindly, it might have been the sort of face that won people over. Put less kindly, it was the sort of face that made him look easy to push around.
That much had already been proven on the very first day he’d visited Rombamel.
Maybe he should fasten his hood somehow so it wouldn’t slip off.
When Lawrence returned to the inn, he went looking for Anne.
“Why’re you looking for me on such a busy day? Go play with a pretty gypsy instead.”
Her voice was as petulant as ever.
Honestly, he had no desire to indulge that temper.
“Here.”
Lawrence handed her the sheep’s milk he’d bought on the way back.
“Sheep’s milk!?”
“I was in the wrong last time. Let’s make up with this.”
“Make up? Since when were we even fighting?”
It was more effective than he’d expected. Cradling the sheep’s milk in both hands as though it were precious, she brought it to her mouth.
“The nobles in the royal capital must live on nothing but this, right? Ahhh, I’m so jealous.”
He didn’t need to ask whether it tasted good. The expression on her face, melting into bliss, said everything.
“Sorry to interrupt when you’re enjoying that, but I’ve got a question for you.”
“Mm-hm. Go ahead.”
“I need to have a serious talk with Bard Cedric. If possible, tell me when he’s least busy.”
“So you want a chance to talk to him alone?”
“Something like that.”
Anne looked up and glanced toward Cedric’s room.
“There’s basically no such thing. Lady after lady keeps going in and out of Cedric’s room. Still, if you insist on seeing him, I’d say it’s best to go before another woman shows up.”
“And when would that be?”
“Well… now?”
At Anne’s answer, Lawrence got to his feet at once.
Come to think of it, that made sense. The evening performance went on until late at night, and in the morning the man showed no sign whatsoever of getting up. In the end, the only real window was the afternoon—and even that could be swallowed up by some woman or another. If he wanted to get ahead of it, he had to move first.
Lawrence knocked on Cedric’s door.
Knock, knock.
No answer.
He knocked again.
Still nothing.
On the third knock, the door finally opened and Cedric came out.
“Welcome, Esmeralda. I’ve been wait—”
The rest of the sentence trailed off.
The smile that had been spread across Cedric’s face froze solid. He looked as though he’d never dreamed the person knocking might not be the one he’d been waiting for.
Behind him, the room was a complete disaster. Flowers, for starters, were everywhere, and something about the place had been dyed in a riot of colors.
“Um… who might you be?”
“I’m here on Elvira’s recommendation. My name is Lawrence.”
Cedric blinked, bewildered.
“Who?”
“The gypsy Elvira.”
“Ah, the one with the captivating black hair. Even I find myself spellbound watching Elvira dance. But why have you come to see me?”
“I’d like you to show me to your room first.”
This was not the sort of conversation to have standing in a doorway.
“Let’s speak another time. Right now, this is a little difficult. I have a prior engagement with a lady, and…”
The man’s endless talk of women was already more than Lawrence cared to hear.
Pushing Cedric aside, he stepped into the room.
“Ah! You!”
He took a seat at the table in the center of the room.
What in the world were all those vases for? The place reeked of flowers.
“If you keep doing that, I’ll have to call for someone.”
“Please, sit down. I may not speak for anyone else, but you, Cedric, have no right to say that to me.”
The feelings he’d been holding down all day surged up at once. He’d spent the entire day listening to nothing but women, women, women from that bard, and now the frustration he’d been swallowing finally rose in his throat.
He’d endured enough. Coming straight to the point in front of his face was already the height of courtesy.
When Cedric tried to usher him out, Lawrence held out a hand.
“Shadow.”
The shadow took shape.
It became the form of a sharp sword and aimed itself at the man.
“You don’t mean—”
Seeing it, Cedric’s eyes went wide.
“A shadow mage?”
“If you understand now, I suggest you sit down.”
Hastily closing the door behind him, Cedric took a seat across from Lawrence.
“I never imagined a shadow mage would come looking for me in person. There’s no need to pay me anything extra. I didn’t sing your exploits because I wanted money, after all.”
It seemed he was mistaken about something in a very serious way.
Cedric flashed his white teeth in a grin.
“One more smile and I’ll burn every last strand of that blond hair off your head.”
“Pardon?”
“I said one more smile, and I’ll burn it all off.”
“Ah—ah ha. I see you’ve a talent for jokes as well.”
“……”
“…You’re kidding, right?”
Fire bloomed in Lawrence’s hand.
At the sight of the flame leaping up, Cedric shut his mouth.
“Thanks to your so-called song, I’ve had to watch myself everywhere I go. There are plenty of people trying to strip me bare because of that ridiculous story. If I’d taken one wrong step, the one who would’ve come to see you would have been my naked corpse.”
“……”
Only then did Cedric seem to grasp the mood. His chair inched backward from the table.
“I… um… just a moment, I need to use the privy—”
“If I were you, I wouldn’t leave this room.”
The chair moved back to the table again.
“Would you like something to drink, then? I happen to have some fine liquor prepared.”
Trying to shift the atmosphere, Cedric forced a bright tone.
“I don’t drink. Surely you know I’m a pilgrim of the Order if you’ve been making up songs about me?”
Cedric couldn’t meet his eyes.
Of course he knew. In the songs Cedric sang, the shadow mage was only a mercenary; not once had he been called a pilgrim. That was, at least, something to be thankful for.
If Cedric had been singing about him being a pilgrim of the Order as well, Lawrence would have left Rombamel behind without the slightest hesitation.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what exactly?”
“For making and singing a song without your permission. For making things difficult for you. For all the inconvenience you’ve suffered because of me. I was short-sighted and caused you trouble that could have been avoided. I have no excuse, even if I had ten mouths.”
It was a clean apology, with not a single excuse tucked into it. He bowed his head low and admitted his fault without fuss.
Frankly, Lawrence was a little surprised.
That wasn’t the image of a libertine who loved women to death.
Lurizisa’s words came back to him. To confess and acknowledge one’s mistake was truly a difficult thing.
Had Lawrence misunderstood Cedric?
“I accept your apology. In exchange, I’d like you to stop singing about me from now on.”
“That—!”
“It doesn’t matter once I’ve left Rombamel. But for now, it does. And stop putting nonsense into it.”
“Adaptation is the most important ingredient in telling a story! Without it, you can’t capture an audience’s heart.”
At that desperate protest, a laugh escaped Lawrence before he could stop it.
If only Elvira had been the one saying it, he thought.
“Cedric.”
“Yes?”
“Have you ever actually watched a mage fight?”
“I’d say I’ve seen a fair number.”
He hadn’t expected Cedric to nod so readily.
Now that he thought about it, Cedric hadn’t seemed so much astonished by magic just now as he had been astonished by Lawrence himself, by the fact that he could manipulate shadows.
“Do you really think I can fight the way your songs make it sound? With not a single fellow mercenary at my side, and dozens—hundreds—of bugbears charging at me from every direction?”
“Of course. With your shadow magic, no matter how many bugbears there are, you’d blow them all away at once.”
Reason didn’t seem to be getting through.
He didn’t understand reality nearly enough.
This wasn’t a matter of dozens of bugbears. If a bugbear came at him in earnest, even one or two of them would be enough to leave him scrambling to stay alive.
“I don’t know what kind of mage you’ve seen up until now, Cedric, but at least for me, that’s impossible.”
“Impossible… Then what about the story that you defeated hundreds of alligators deep in the swamp?”
“I never did such a thing.”
“And that you rescued a mysterious lady and received a kiss in return?”
“A woman alone in the heart of the swamp? Unless she was some legendary witch, it’d be a miracle if she were even alive.”
“……”
Cedric looked as though the sky had fallen on his head.
“Then what about killing a bugbear with a single blow? Was that a lie too?”
“That part’s true.”
He snapped his head up.
“Th-then… could you explain the situation to me? In as much detail as possible. No, wait. I mean the circumstances before and after. Who was there. How you brought it down, all of it.”
In an instant, his words had become so fast they nearly tripped over one another. The sparkle in his eyes was oddly similar to that of someone else Lawrence had seen in the hall earlier.
“There’s nothing I can’t tell you.”
At Lawrence’s answer, Cedric straightened himself up. From somewhere, he even produced paper and a pen. But when he felt Lawrence’s steady gaze on him, he quickly regained his composure.
“You want something from me, don’t you? Is it the same matter that brought you to my room?”
“Quick on the uptake. Yes. There’s some information I want, and it’s the sort of thing that’s hard to get from anyone but you, Cedric.”
“So if I provide the information, you’ll tell me about what happened that day?”
“Do you dislike that? If so, let’s forget the whole thing.”
“No, no. Of course I’d love to.”
Afraid Lawrence might change his mind, Cedric hurried to reassure him.
“What information do you want to know?”
“It has to do with women you know.”
For now, he needed a woman from the Gutter. The people who knew the back alleys best were the people who lived in them. Whether the information was true was a secondary concern; it was worth investigating all the same.
But at those words, Cedric’s expression stiffened.
“I’m terribly sorry, but even if it’s the shadow mage asking, I can’t speak of a lady’s private affairs.”
“Are you sure you can say that?”
Lawrence silently raised his hand.
Cedric was not so foolish as to miss what that meant. He’d seen with his own eyes where the magic had come from just now, the magic that had been threatening him a moment ago.
“Even if I die, I can’t betray a lady’s secrets. That is my duty as a knight in service to a lady.”
Cedric’s answer didn’t change.
Rather, he spread his arms as if to say, kill me if you must.
“…If you insist, then there’s nothing to be done.”
In his heart, Lawrence upgraded Cedric from a damned bard to a bard with principles.
He might look debauched, but the feelings he had for women were genuine.
“Then I suppose your business here is finished?”
“Hardly. The information I want isn’t a woman’s secret, but eyewitness accounts of the holy land. Elvira told me that among the women you know, there’s one from the Gutter. I’d like you to ask whether any of them have heard rumors about the holy land.”
The answer came a beat late.
“So… you were testing me?”
“Yes. I can’t ask a man who talks only to women about this sort of thing.”
Cedric let out a dry laugh and wiped the cold sweat from his brow. Even so, his usual smile didn’t return right away.
“What do you say? Is this still too difficult?”
“You only need me to tell you about rumors concerning the holy land? And this won’t get out and put the ladies in danger, will it?”
“I swear it in the name of Goddess Belche. No harm will come to the woman who provides the information.”
“Even if you mean that, the Holy Cross Order is another matter, isn’t it? If the Order moves, the ladies could be in danger.”
He was a careful man.
He’d brought up a point Lawrence hadn’t even considered.
“This has nothing to do with the Order. I’m looking for the holy land entirely on my own. So long as neither you nor I go blabbing about it, there’s no way the Order will hear a word of this.”
“There’s no such thing as no way. The Order’s eyes and ears are everywhere in the kingdom.”
Still, Cedric cut himself off for a moment before speaking again.
“But I doubt the Order would go so far as to crack down on mere rumors. Very well. I’ll ask the ladies and tell you what I learn, shadow mage.”
“Thank you. Rumors alone will be enough.”
The deal was struck.
Lawrence extended a hand across the table.
“I’m Lawrence. Thanks to you, people keep calling me the shadow mage.”
After looking at him for a moment, Cedric took his hand.
“Cedric. I’m a bard, though my skills are hardly anything to boast about.”
His hand was rough with calluses, hard and workworn.
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