To Kingsland, the Royal Territory (3)
In the end, Richard set out on the journey home without reconciling with Alicia.
Not long after, the escort procession left the territory of Iceland—where rain had already begun to fall—and entered Kingsland, a place so damp and humid it felt as though the sky might open at any moment.
They reached Borderster, the northernmost city of Kingsland.
For a place that had supposedly been surrounded by the undead, everything was already cleaned up by the time they arrived. There were no burning pits of undead corpses, no piles of bodies anywhere in sight.
Karem felt a strange wave of nostalgia. Unlike the year before, when he had first set foot in this foul-smelling city, he now stood far higher—in wealth and station—than he ever had in his previous life.
There was no time to linger in reminiscence, though.
Exactly one day after the procession arrived in Borderster, they processed the accumulated materials and byproducts, took only the essential supplies, and set out again in a hurry.
"Why are we moving so urgently?"
Sitting on the floor of the carriage—which was wider inside than it looked from the outside—Karem had just gotten the hang of peeling the thin inner skins and was adjusting his pace when he glanced out the window. Under the gloomy sky, Borderster was already receding into the distance.
"Normally after coming this far, you'd rest a good few days."
"That is the usual way, yes."
Catherine was looking over a new book and scrolls she had somehow pulled from the cart without anyone noticing.
"Besides, from about halfway to Borderster there were almost no cities or villages. Same as last year when we were heading up, though."
"Close the window. The moisture is coming in."
"Yes, ma'am. Spring here too—looks like rain's on the way."
"Since this isn't Iceland, instead of rain you might get a thick, damp fog that settles gloomily over everything."
Mary, hands folded demurely, neatly caught Karem's muttering. Her half-lidded eyes were fixed on the basket heaped with shells.
"Even in Seophon, where sunny days are rare year-round, the weather near Iceland is infamous for being especially foul."
"Kingsland's weather seemed pretty Seophon-like too."
Even back in Moston Village, days truly good for walking had been few and far between.
"As you head farther south, even on the island of Seophon, climates this humid—with that fishy dampness in the air—become less common. Though the gloomy sky that looks like it would depress you if you stared at it too long remains the same."
"Well, good weather's rare on this island anyway, isn't it?"
"It's not completely nonexistent."
Mary's gaze never left the basket of shells.
"In the case of Southcoast at the southernmost tip, perhaps because it's closer to the continent, gloomy days are actually rarer than clear ones."
"Then what about everywhere else...?"
"The climate grows milder the farther south you go, but cloudy days still outnumber the rest."
Catherine had been reading with their conversation as background noise until she twisted in her seat. Sitting still for so long was getting uncomfortable. After shifting through several positions she finally sighed and lowered her book.
"This simply won't do."
"What won't?"
"I still can't sit for long stretches the way those desk-bound types do."
Catherine looked down, gave Karem a few light pokes where he sat on the floor, and nodded toward the empty space beside her.
"Come up here."
"Huh? Yes."
He didn't know the reason, but she had told him to get up, so he would.
Karem transferred the baskets of walnut shells and kernels from the floor onto the table, then slid smoothly from his seated position into the empty seat.
Thud—
And flinched.
Catherine had leaned her head against his shoulder.
"Hmm. Yes, this is just right."
"Um... isn't this a little bold?"
"Quiet. Don't move. You'll ruin the position."
"Yes, ma'am."
Regardless of Karem's predicament, Catherine—head resting on his shoulder—moved only her arms to reopen the book and return her full attention to reading.
Karem, on the other hand, could not settle his flustered heart no matter how hard he tried.
Ever since the coming-of-age ceremony, whenever he thought the distance between them had stabilized, she would suddenly close it again. Just when he thought he had adapted, some new situation would throw him off balance once more.
As he always said, it was terrible for his heart.
The warmth and weight transmitted through his shoulder and arm, the strands of hair that slipped down and tickled his hand, and the situation itself—all of it was a problem.
Of course she sat on his lap now and then these days, but there was a vast difference between doing it openly and suddenly nestling in like this. The latter left no room for mental preparation.
Then, at the edge of his vision, Mary's finger twitched. It pointed straight at the empty shell basket on the table.
Their eyes met in awkward silence.
The meaning was obvious, but there was nothing he could do about it.
How am I supposed to peel shells in a situation like this?
At least the stretch when he hadn't been able to cook was over, so that was something.
Karem nodded in acceptance.
Looking thoroughly pleased, Mary pulled the basket toward herself and began peeling the inner skins.
Her speed was not much different from Karem's.
That was entirely deliberate; she was intentionally holding herself back.
The reason was plain enough.
It was the same reason Karem had once slowed down when he was bored.
Pace yourself... pace yourself...
With her ability, stripping the remaining half-basket of walnut kernels would have been nothing. She wouldn't even have needed magic.
But that would make the already scarce work vanish even faster. Mary had no intention of letting this opportunity slip away.
While she worked she stole a glance at the person who had handed the job over and at her contractor.
Unlike Karem, who was still visibly tense even if he had loosened up a little, Catherine—leaning against his shoulder and arm while slowly turning pages—looked completely at ease.
Or so it seemed. Looking closer, the ear peeking from under her hair was flushed red. Even the contractor herself was embarrassed.
Any ordinary person watching would have said there was no need for snacks; their mouths would have felt sweet without eating a thing, their eyes warmed through.
If I play this right, I might be able to snatch even more work than I have now.
For Mary, that was the more important matter.
It wasn't entirely impossible. There was precedent: when the mages had entered the Mage's Tower she had reclaimed some of her authority.
Of course his contract was as the exclusive chef of her contractor rather than of the tower, and she helped him every time he cooked—but if anyone wanted to complain about that, they simply lacked proper house-elf sensibility.
If I turn him into a kept man like this...
...would that mean even more work?
Mary was deep in thought about reclaiming and expanding her rights when a knock sounded against the window.
Knock-knock-knock—
"Kitty—! Alicia's here!"
"Open the window. You stay put."
When Catherine stopped Karem from rising, Mary opened the carriage window in his place.
"I'd like you to share some snacks for Fluffy Cloud!"
Alicia peeped only her head in, still mounted on the giant dungeon hamster Fluffy Cloud.
"Here you are, Lady Alicia."
"Oh! Thank you. Fluffy Cloud, no! You eat when we stop later. No!"
The savory smell must have reached it; the moment Fluffy Cloud turned its head, Alicia tapped it in scolding. The beast that still remembered a Sword Master's knuckle-rap startled and swung its snout forward again.
"It was collapsed on the cart like it was dead. Looks like it recovered?"
"Apparently it recovered earlier than that."
"What?"
"Fluffy Cloud was faking illness from midway on."
Alicia carefully accepted the basket and frowned at Karem's question. She had been so worried about Fluffy Cloud, and the creature had gone and faked sick without a care for her feelings.
"So it's gotten even fatter than before."
With a touch of resentment she stroked the fur even more vigorously. Through the window they could see the fur rippling in waves, though no difference was visible to the eye.
"You can tell just by looking?"
"If you stroke it yourself you'll know. Do you want to pet it too, Karem? Pet all you like."
"Thanks for the offer, but later. Right now it's a bit..."
"Hm?"
Alicia tilted her head, then thrust her head fully into the carriage through the window. Spotting Catherine leaning on Karem's shoulder, she nodded with a look of perfect understanding.
"You were being all lovey-dovey with Kitty!"
"I've told you any number of times it's Catherine. And Lady Alicia—riding is fine, but you should head inside soon."
"Hm? Ah! Rain!"
Plop— plop—
Droplets began to fall. The moment Alicia drove Fluffy Cloud away, Mary snapped the window shut. Immediately raindrops began drumming against the carriage roof.
They had left Borderster in a rush because of the schedule, but thanks to that the previously skewed timetable seemed to normalize; the procession did not skip past the villages and cities along the way.
For the towns and villages forced to host an armed host it was a bolt from the blue, yet Alfred tolerated no tyranny. They rested one day in small villages, a few days in cities, and then moved on at once.
In that fashion the procession repeated the cycle of travel and rest. The rain, too, stopped and started in turns, until the days of clear weather began to outnumber the wet ones.
And when the sky cleared brightly for the first time in a long while, Alfred specially halted the column even though they had reached neither city nor village, nor a proper time for rest or camp.
"What is all this?"
People who had each been gripping a weapon now had their cloaks spread out, armor loosened, and were thoroughly enjoying a sunbath.
"In the Seophon Kingdom there is a culture of prioritizing sunbathing whenever the weather turns fine."
"I never saw that in Iceland."
"Well, it's cold there even in midsummer. Here it's warm enough even in spring weather."
"We're only three days out, though?"
Wouldn't arriving even a little earlier be better for everyone?
"Well, this isn't Iceland, and the perimeter is thoroughly guarded, so you can relax."
"I wasn't particularly worried."
Catherine showed no interest in sunbathing herself, yet the fine weather must have agreed with her; she had a table set out and was enjoying snacks.
Mary sliced freshly baked dried sausage and offered it along with wine.
"Would you like a piece as well?"
"Yes, please."
"How about some wine?"
"Ugh, not wine."
Mary shrugged and took the wineglass back; Catherine laughed lightly.
"Still can't handle wine, I see. Your body's grown, yet you still won't. How about starting to get used to it?"
"Beer or fruit wine is fine, but wine's just not for me."
"You can't even enjoy this flavor and acidity."
"To me it's just bitter, sour, and astringent."
He had tried the occasional sip.
It still didn't suit him.
The bitterness, astringency, and sourness rolling across the tip of his tongue, the strange aroma rising from the back of his throat, the alcoholic force itself—he simply could not adapt to any of it.
"Hm? Wait a moment."
Suddenly a sweet chocolate scent drifted over.
Mary was sipping from her glass.
"Amadeus? Nutella? Didn't we finish both of those already?"
"Whenever I have a free moment I've been practicing roasting dried Alraune a little at a time. Practicing the blend as well."
Slurp— Mary took a pointed sip.
"Thanks to that I realized the aroma changes depending on the roasting and the spice blend. Adding sugar and cream makes it even more satisfying."
"When did you pick up a skill like that..."
"It started last year when we borrowed the Adventurer Guild kitchen."
"I really can't match your hand skills."
"A little spice and sugar while roasting, a bit of butter when brewing, a touch of cream—and you get this aroma."
Karem shook his head as he tore into a sausage.
Like the Felwinter family, she too seemed thoroughly taken with Amadeus.
"And you're drinking it alone right now without even showing your master?"
And here sat a genius beautiful girl of an archmage who, because of her constitution, could not eat Amadeus to her heart's content even if she liked it.
Catherine set her wineglass down on the table.
"...I'll bring another glass."
"Do."
"Ah, I'm curious too, so me as well."
"Understood."
They enjoyed the short rest, and once the sky began to turn gloomy again the procession resumed its march.
Three days later, the duke's escort procession arrived.
At the capital of the Seophon Kingdom, the very heart of Kingsland—the royal territory.
Pen Draig.