Vivian's Escort (1)
Two months had passed.
The broken bones in his leg had knitted together reasonably well. He still had to wear the splint, but walking no longer strained him. He only needed to be careful about running.
In that time, Vivian had lived as quietly as a dead mouse. For the month her leg was broken, she never showed her face except when she came to his sickroom to share meals. Even during the month he spent hobbling around the castle on crutches, she remained shut away in her room. He had no idea what she was doing in there, or what thoughts occupied her mind. She had even postponed Lady Linne’s lessons and refused visits from the vassals, living entirely that way.
In the past, he would have been anxious. He would have believed she was sinking into dark thoughts again, or that she had simply collapsed. A few of the vassals already seemed to think so. But after speaking with her, he chose to believe otherwise. Like a chrysalis preparing to become an adult, this was merely a moment of retreat into the cocoon. She was building some kind of plan for the future.
In the spacious hall, he and Vivian continued their lunch as usual. He still checked her food for her first. In the past she had insisted she could eat on her own now, that he no longer needed to watch over her… but during the fire, Baelor had said that if he died, Rondore would not be able to endure it. Using that fact, he had persuaded her.
No matter who it is, your enemies don’t want me dead. As long as I keep tasting first, they won’t even think of putting poison in.
She had nodded at those words. He wondered whether he could truly claim he had been free of selfish motives then. Part of him had stepped forward because without checking her food, there would no longer be moments of sharing meals with her the way they once had. Whatever the case, he did not regret that choice. Even now, time having passed, he still shared meals with her—and put into his mouth the kind of food fit for the head of Rondore, not the tasteless fare of the Disciplinary Unit.
He put a piece of bread in his mouth and studied Vivian’s condition. Today a different energy hung about her face. He could sense that the plan she had been preparing these two months was about to be set in motion.
“Kailo.”
Vivian called him. They addressed each other by name now. It was ambiguous whether that meant their relationship had improved, yet it was clearly different from the days when they had only hostility for each other.
“Yeah?”
She slowly set down her utensils, put strength into her eyes, and spoke.
“I need your help.”
He had known something was coming, but those words still surprised him. Had he ever imagined she would ask him for help? She had always been so proud.
That did not mean he disliked it. Hiding his true feelings, he needled her.
“You said you didn’t need me watching over you.”
“I’m not asking you to protect me. I’m asking you to help.”
“...Help how?”
Vivian wiped her mouth with a napkin and continued.
“Today I’m gathering all the vassals… and I’m going to issue an order that’s half threat.”
A faint flicker of fear crossed her face. But she looked at him and forced the terror down.
“When that happens, I want you standing beside me looking threatening.”
“...Me?”
“You’re Rondore’s executioner, aren’t you?”
That meant, whatever it was, she intended to make a choice tied to life and death. Vivian’s decision was enough to startle him again. The girl who once could not even stamp an execution warrant for a condemned prisoner was now speaking of possibly purging vassals.
Yet opposite that surprise, a quiet laugh slipped from his lips. Killing people would always feel unpleasant, but pressuring the bastards who had irritated him all this time sounded rather fun.
She looked at his smile in disbelief.
“...Do you like killing people?”
“I never said I liked it. Your change is just funny.”
Rather than getting angry, Vivian answered as if it were only natural.
“...I told you. I’m going to get stronger. Strong enough that the Allen family can never look down on me again.”
A sudden question rose in him, and he asked her.
“By the way—if you push too hard, won’t it just breed more resentment?”
Vivian answered coldly.
“They’re already resentful enough to target my life and refuse to protect me. There’s nowhere lower to fall.”
He nodded, then answered.
“All right. I’ll help.”
That day, Vivian gathered every vassal in the great corridor. The captain of the guard, the four knight-commanders, the stable master, the blacksmith Gulk, the falconer, the horse trainer, the treasurer Brinden, the spymaster Nesto, Scholar Crelin, Lady Linne… and more.
At the far end of the corridor stood a slightly raised dais with a single chair upon it. Vivian sat quietly on that chair like a king, and he stood beside her with both hands resting on the greatsword planted against the floor. At her request, he also had to wear the red bear-head helmet.
The assembled vassals stared at them with bewildered eyes. The changed atmosphere of Vivian, appearing after two months, played a part. An unfamiliar dignity clung to her, and confusion settled on the vassals’ faces.
Baelor broke the silence first.
“Lady Vivian, what is the meaning of—”
“—Hold your tongue, Sir Baelor. I have not given you leave to speak.”
Vivian cut him off shortly. Watching it, he felt a strange pleasure. A shiver ran down his spine. It was only a simple exchange, yet it was enough to reveal Vivian’s transformation. It was the attitude of someone who had grasped the power of words and learned how to dominate others.
He could not understand why he could not tear his eyes from her in that moment. His own expression changed of its own accord.
A brief flash of displeasure crossed Baelor’s face, but Vivian paid it no mind. She was melting into the coldly settled atmosphere. And Vivian, who had created this moment with her own hands, slowly opened her mouth.
“...I know there is someone here who wants me dead.”
When she admitted it so easily, the vassals grew flustered and each began offering excuses.
“I-I have done everything I can to serve Lady Vivian…”
“That wounds me, my lady!”
“Such a person may exist, but I have always…”
“Quiet.”
Vivian raised a hand firmly and stopped their words at once.
“Words do not matter. There are those who act as if they would stab with a blade yet still protect, and those who speak as if they will protect yet never prove it with action. There are plenty of the latter.”
Vivian no longer stammered the way she once had. That change, too, deepened the vassals’ shock. Her voice had always been soft, and the stammering habit had often buried it. Now that she spoke each word clearly and deliberately, a kind of dignity had entered her speech.
“I will give people like you an opportunity. A chance to prove loyalty through action rather than empty talk. Nesto.”
At her summons, Nesto stepped forward one pace.
“Yes. You called for me.”
“Nesto Rike, spymaster of Rondore. Your house has always devoted itself to Rondore.”
“...I consider it an honor.”
“Yet you yourself have done nothing for me of late.”
At that declaration Nesto’s body stiffened for a moment. Then his eyes rose uneasily to Vivian.
“You are the spymaster, yet you never discovered who was after my life, who put poison in my food, or even who started the fire.”
“Lady Vivian, that is…”
“I give you three months. Find the one who is after my life. If that is too difficult, find the person responsible for things having become this serious. If you cannot manage even that… I will dismiss you. I have no need of an incompetent vassal. There are plenty who can replace you.”
Nesto cried out in panic.
“Lady Vivian…! The Rike family has devoted itself to House Rondore for centuries. We have always—”
“—Treasurer Brinden.”
Vivian cut Nesto off without mercy. Instead she simply set the next vassal on the judgment seat. She clearly had no intention of listening to excuses.
The vassals’ gazes flinched and fixed on Brinden. Realizing the atmosphere was different from usual, Brinden lowered his posture far more and stepped forward. Cold sweat already beaded on his forehead.
“Do Count Corrad’s demand letters still arrive?”
“...Yes, they do.”
“How much tax have you collected from the people of the territory in the meantime, and why can you still not repay it?”
Brinden’s face went pale.
“Th-the people of the territory are also in difficult circumstances… taxes are not being collected as fully as before…”
“Are you certain?”
Subtle suspicion colored Vivian’s words. Brinden forced a nod, but his eyes were already wavering. Vivian narrowed her eyes and delivered a cold warning.
“...Brinden, I hope you never have to face Kailo Allen.”
At the threat that metaphorically invoked execution, the vassals drew in sharp breaths. Brinden’s eyelids trembled. He seemed unable to believe Vivian’s change.
Even so, she showed him no mercy.
“I entrust the restoration of the castle’s burned West Wing to you. Secure the labor and rebuild the castle. You will also keep meticulous ledgers and hand them over to me.”
“Y-yes… I understand.”
Everyone would have thought Vivian’s change was because of the fire. But he knew. He had been the starting point. Perhaps that was why. At first her change had pleased him, yet as the intensity rose he began to feel pity as well. Watching her grit her teeth simply to survive was not entirely comfortable.
He secretly observed Vivian. …Her hands were trembling faintly.
“Teacher… Lady Linne.”
Lady Linne stepped forward.
“Yes, Lady Vivian.”
“You advised me once, didn’t you? That I needed to increase the acquaintances—friends—who would support me.”
“Yes. I did.”
“Prepare it. I should begin social activities now as well.”
Lady Linne answered with a composed expression.
“Yes. It is surprising, but… since you no longer stammer, there is no further reason to hesitate. I will invite kind and clever young ladies to Rondore Castle.”
“Knight-commanders.”
Vivian set her next target. Baelor, Thoros, Mordein, and Burgor stepped forward. She rebuked them.
“You have only disappointed me.”
At that single sentence the corridor fell silent as if cold water had been poured over it.
“Not once have you shown yourselves as knights. You know full well that the one who saved me from the last fire was neither you, nor your knights, nor your squires… but Kailo Allen.”
Baelor and Thoros looked up at Vivian; Mordein and Burgor stared at the floor. Vivian pressed hard.
“...In the past Kailo Allen’s provocations were unpleasant, but now I find myself discovering truth in his words. Answer me. Is this why we lost the war against the Allen family?”
Baelor, who had clenched his fists, spoke in a voice that suppressed rage.
“...Lady Vivian, that is… a remark that even disrespects the late Duke Rondore and Lord Royce.”
Vivian answered coldly.
“No. I am disrespecting you. If the way you have shown yourselves until now was the way you fought in the war… then Father’s and my brother’s defeat was only natural.”
Baelor bit his lip and forced himself to swallow his words, yet deep anger and shame filled his eyes. He could not read expressions, but if he could, it would have said something like: What kind of humiliation is this because of two brats?
Vivian continued.
“If you dislike my words, I will likewise give you a chance to prove yourselves. Prepare to march within one month.”
Mordein voiced doubt.
“...March… all of us?”
“I mean every person capable of fighting.”
The knight-commanders glanced at one another. Vivian’s order to make preparations equivalent to war could not sound pleasant. Especially since it came from the Vivian who had once trembled in fear, it seemed all the more confusing. Receiving orders from a fourteen-year-old girl who knew nothing of war also appeared to be a source of their resistance.
Thoros asked.
“Are you saying we will go to war?”
“No. But we will undertake work equivalent to it. Rondore will go monster hunting.”
Burgor also looked up at them with a questioning expression.
“Not a subjugation…?”
“A hunt. You all know, of course, that at the eastern edge of the kingdom the Mester family hunts monsters and sells them for profit.”
Burgor trailed off, hesitating.
“...But monster hunting produces far more casualties than ordinary subjugation, and the efficiency is poor.”
“And sitting inside the castle eating free meals is efficient?”
“...”
He could feel it. The eyes that had first dismissed Vivian were gradually being devoured by her. The change that had erupted in an instant seized the vassals as effectively as a night ambush. So that was why it had taken so much time to prepare. He could clearly picture her alone in her room, stammering as she practiced harsh words.
“The knights of Rondore must act for the people of Loktana. Are knights not meant to protect the weak?”
He had never imagined he would hear here the words his father had drilled into him until his ears grew calluses. A pointless laugh escaped him.
“Prepare to march. We must earn wealth. Do you understand?”
Thoros, Mordein, and Burgor nodded. Only Baelor kept his head stiffly raised, wearing an unpleasant expression.
The Vivian of the past would never have been able to endure that look from Baelor. He watched her as well. Vivian looked at Baelor for a moment… then glanced at him… then looked back at Baelor and spoke.
“Baelor. Right now, I am most suspicious of your loyalty.”
“...Lady Vivian.”
“...When I give you a chance, seize it well.”
In that moment, Vivian had declared to the people of House Rondore that she regarded Baelor as a clear enemy. Baelor’s face flushed red and pale by turns. His pride was crumpled and anger filled him, yet he could no longer utter a single word. He slowly bowed his head.
Vivian then called the next person in a calmer tone.
“Scholar Crelin.”
“...Yes, Lady Vivian.”
She drew a brief breath, then quietly ordered.
“...Summon my uncle to Loktana.”
“Lord Robert Rondore, you mean?”
“Yes. I need help now.”
After the shocking meeting ended, he followed Vivian into her room.
—Thud.
The moment the door closed, Vivian’s tension seemed to snap and she sank straight down.
—Thump!
“Vivian.”
He started to catch her as she fell, then hesitated. There was still distance between them; they were not close enough for him to put his hands on her freely. He could only stand there awkwardly looking down at her.
“Haa… haa…”
Vivian gasped for breath, clutching her chest. The girl who had overwhelmed the vassals with strength in the corridor was gone without a trace. In her place sat a terrified girl whose cold sweat ran to her fingertips, not knowing what to do.
He did not know what to say to her. Just now she had desperately hidden herself inside fear and subdued the vassals. Only now was it clear how heavy a burden every one of those moments had been for her, how frightening. The resoluteness he had felt then had been, as he had known, nothing more than a shell. She had simply acted even while afraid.
After catching her breath for a while, Vivian quietly asked while avoiding his gaze. Her voice trembled somewhat, full of anxiety over her own decision.
“Kailo, I…”
Even without her finishing the sentence, he knew what she was asking. This was not simple confirmation. She wanted an answer as to whether the first step she had taken was truly all right, whether it had meaning. Having thrown down the gauntlet to the vassals, she desperately wanted a third party to confirm her for her.
He looked at her for a long time without speaking, then finally could not hold back the laugh that burst out and said,
“...It wasn’t bad.”