What Cannot Be Undone — 1
"There are things that cannot be undone."
When was it, I wonder — when had I heard those words? The memory had grown so distant that I could no longer place even the time, and yet the voice still rose in my mind, vivid as ever.
Staring at the object in Yuria's hand, I had denied it, insisting it wasn't mine. Why would I ever do such a thing, I'd said. There was no possible way. But the answer that came back was nothing but cold. All I could do was let myself be dragged along to receive my punishment — feet scraping the earth, heels worn raw, hauled the whole way like that.
"You have lost our trust, Robert."
I believe it happened not long after Mother passed. I denied the absurd charge that I had tried to sell off her keepsakes, but there was no one to take my side. Yuria was already the Young Matriarch by then, and I was nothing more than a boy who had lost his mother — yet not a single soul would say that I was telling the truth. Not one of them.
Even so, I had tried to keep trusting people. Mother always said that if I reached out first, they would change in time. Hadn't her last will said much the same? Never give up on family, on people, on those around you. There were a few more words besides, but of one thing I was certain: what I heard that day left a deep mark on me.
Trust. At that word, a laugh escaped me before I knew it. Had Yuria ever truly trusted me? If she knew me at all, she would have known I would never handle Mother's keepsakes so carelessly. Looking back now, I could see that I had, without realizing it, poured considerable effort into earning my place — though why I had labored so hard only to be shut out as the younger brother, I couldn't say. I understood it later: Yuria had never thought of me as a brother in the first place. Such was the creed of House Taylor — until one became Head of the family, everyone was a rival.
And so I had been waiting to see how she would react after what happened last time. How would Yuria respond to my declaration that I would become the Head of House Taylor? What surfaced alongside that question was my own terse verdict on the whole affair.
...There are things that cannot be undone. If I were to put a name to the relationship between Yuria and me, surely no phrase would fit it better.
My gaze, which had been staring blankly into the empty air, was suddenly veiled. I swept a hand down my face, heaved a heavy sigh, and rubbed my eyes. Perhaps because my head had grown so crowded with thoughts lately, the things I found myself agonizing over had multiplied out of nowhere. Before autumn, saving Arwen had been concern enough — but now I had a face-to-face with the Crown Prince to think about, and Yuria besides. And then there was the Evil Dragon. I had no leisure to take seriously a claim that was nothing more than Arwen's conjecture, yet the truth was it gnawed at me all the same.
I had never once considered the connection between the Evil Dragon and the Crown Prince. Naturally so — I had dismissed it as a tale far too absurd to entertain. But if the mural, the Temple of the Moon, and that creature were truly entwined... then the time had come to give the notion some earnest thought. It was fortunate, as it happened, that my journey to the South had already been arranged. Had I not been traveling with the Saintess, even going south would not have granted me so much as entry to the Temple of the Moon.
Setting that matter aside for the moment, the message I awaited from the Princess was, admittedly, running late. A full week had passed since my visit to Arwen, and beyond staying home and thoroughly committing to memory my investigation of the ducal mansion's servants, I had accomplished little else. I had gleaned a few further tidbits about the Crown Prince through Arwen, but in truth I already knew every one of them.
"I thought it would come soon."
Even the correspondence reviewed through Renald held nothing out of the ordinary. So I merely fiddled with the artifact at my chest — and even that stayed silent as ever, leaving me drained for no good reason. The Crown Prince could not possibly have failed to react to that map. I had assumed his appetite would be whetted the moment Mirajane made her announcement. Could my judgment have been wrong?
Just as I was weighing other approaches, a sharp vibration pulsed from the artifact clenched in my hand. A low hum — I fed the mana flowing through my palm into the artifact, and at length a voice issued from its slender end. Speak of the devil, as they say: it was Mirajane's voice, just as expected.
"Have you been well? I meant to reach you sooner, but I was delayed closing a deal with the Duke."
"You mean my father?"
"Yes. Fortunately, it seems matters are proceeding just as Young Lord Robert wished. And there is one more thing I should tell you — whether it counts as good news... you had best hear it and judge for yourself."
Mirajane had always been a touch awkward about the Crown Prince, so whatever she was about to say would surely concern him. She hesitated a moment, then continued — and what came from her lips was precisely what I had anticipated.
"His Highness the Crown Prince wishes to meet you. Um... could you come to the Imperial Palace right away?"
"So he intends to see me in person, then."
"If it's a burden, you needn't come. Sometimes he summons people like this and then forgets all about it."
"No, I'll leave at once."
"...So if I'm the one telling you to come, you'll come straight away?"
"If it is an order, I must go, mustn't I? If not, I'll have to give it some thought. As you know, I've been rather busy of late."
The Princess grumbled mournfully at that, but there was a fact far more important than her complaints: the Crown Prince had summoned me. A first in this life, perhaps — yet it was only the beginning. After all, my goal was to become the Crown Prince's most devoted servant.
Evening was drawing near, yet my father said nothing of my taking a carriage to the Imperial Palace. He apparently had no intention of restraining any action that touched upon the Imperial Family. That suited me fine. I needed to move about often, and constraints would only breed complications.
Though I passed through checkpoint after checkpoint on the way to the palace, no one barred my path. The guards, too, swung the gates open the instant they heard the name Taylor. It seemed the Crown Prince's summons was genuine after all. I had kept wary of the unforeseen, glancing at the sword stowed in the corner of the carriage before tearing my eyes away; even sensing for mana around me turned up nothing unusual. Well, at this stage Mirajane hardly seemed likely to play some strange prank on me — but staying alert to the unexpected cost nothing.
Stepping down from the carriage, I straightened my attire. This would be my first meeting with the Crown Prince — not a formal audience, merely a private one — but even so, it was best to leave a good impression.
"We will escort you."
As I walked toward the palace behind the approaching knights, a woman came into view in the distance. Her attire differed little from last time, and I knew her at once. Mirajane. Had she been waiting for me all this while? The moment our eyes met she strode straight over, waved off the knights, and looked at me askance.
"You seem to have dressed up with some care."
"You think so? I came out just as I always do."
With that she tossed her hair once, and the fragrance caught in it began to drift sweetly through the air. It was plain she had made a point of it. I couldn't say what exactly about me had pleased her in our last conversation, but this display made one thing certain: her interest had settled on me. Such occasions had come a few times before, so I was not flustered; I simply regarded Mirajane in silence.
By her own reckoning it was elaborate grooming, but to me it was little different from what I had always seen. Which is to say, it truly meant nothing to me. Perhaps my lukewarm response displeased her, for Mirajane flicked her hair a few more times, crossed her arms, and began staring me down.
I pondered the sight for a moment, then exhaled a small sigh and spoke.
"...It suits you very well. Lavender, is it?"
"Right? Mm, so you're not entirely without perception after all. I was wondering what I'd say if you hadn't mentioned it at all."
"Were you, now."
Mirajane's eyes widened slightly as she watched me, then narrowed into something unreadable. As though probing for something in my face, she studied it for a long moment — then gave a faint laugh and put some distance between us.
"I take it there's someone around you who's like me? Everyone who talks with me usually gets flustered, but you didn't seem surprised in the least."
"Someone like you..."
It seemed my composure was the problem. Mirajane's manner was a touch too lighthearted for an Imperial Princess, so most who grew close to her found her full of surprises. But I had watched her for a very, very long time. There might be things about her that even she herself did not know — and I did. That was why I hadn't been surprised.
I debated how to answer, then simply replied with a small smile.
"There was."
"...Oh. I... I'm sorry."
There had been a lover named Mirajane once, a very long time ago — but she existed no longer, did she? Yet Mirajane must have taken some misunderstanding from my answer, for she bit her lip and gently patted my shoulder. Her troubled air suggested she had read it in an entirely different direction. Should I correct her? But watching her apologize like this wasn't unpleasant, so I let it stand. Let her believe I was sulking over her failure to write. She had been quite on edge, wondering whether my message would ever arrive — so she deserved a taste of that feeling herself, fragmentary though it might be.
Declaring that she would escort me, Mirajane kept silence at my side for a while before speaking. She looked considerably better than she had while apologizing.
"That map you gave me — it wasn't anything ordinary, was it? His Highness's eyes went so wide the moment he saw it. Merely knowing where the non-human races dwell shouldn't change anything."
"Who can say? I'm on my way to hear precisely what His Highness saw. You don't know, Princess?"
"I don't know much about that sort of thing. Well, as you know, I'm not exactly famous."
A faint anguish settled into her playfully smiling face. For Mirajane at this stage, the perennial worry was the power never allotted to her in any great measure. Her elder brother would be Emperor, and as a princess of the blood there would be no stage left for her in the age to come — that was the problem.
In the previous cycle I had never met the Princess, but before that, I had extended Mirajane various forms of aid, judging that a growing faction of hers would serve my interests. And in this life? If I helped cultivate Mirajane's power... would it benefit me? I couldn't know how she would regard me once the Crown Prince was dead, but one thing was certain: the next Emperor had to be Mirajane. She carried the blood of the Moon, and any line of succession but hers could only sow chaos.
Lost in thought, I called out to Mirajane, who had wandered on ahead alone; she tilted her head at me.
"Is there something you wish to say?"
"I recommend you keep your attention fixed on the Northwestern Region. You have a development venture there at the moment, don't you?"
"Wh-How did you know? I am running one, but I'll likely be dropping it soon. So House Taylor had its eye on that, I see."
"My recommendation is that you don't give it up. It will most certainly prove useful to you."
The Northwest was riddled with mines yielding Terranite, the mineral used in crafting artifacts. Development had been suspended for now, since no results had yet emerged — but come next year, Terranite would come bursting from the rock. It was counsel born of knowing the future, yet I couldn't say how attentively she would heed it. Taken to heart, it would become the means of building her strength; ignored, she might well slide into a long decline.
Mirajane stared blankly as she listened, then at last looked me full in the face and murmured,
"Just now... you were worried about me, weren't you?"
"It wasn't worry. Since we had already joined hands, I merely offered a word of advice—"
Mirajane abruptly seized my hand and folded both of hers around it. Her eyes sparkled as if deeply moved, and I found it rather burdensome. I should have anticipated such a reaction. As I laughed hollowly at my own blunder, Mirajane pressed on.
"Next time, you must come see me. Understood?"
"As I mentioned, I have unfortunately been quite busy of late."
"It's an order, so just come. If that Northwestern venture truly takes off, I'll reward you. Understood?"
"...Very well. May I simply call on you once more, then?"
Watching her nod with fervor, I breathed a sigh. Had I said that for nothing? I had no wish to draw excessive attention from her. As I turned to make for the Crown Prince's side, Mirajane added yet again,
"You must come — you must. And don't forget I told you it's an order."
She remained as tiresome as ever. Then again, had she changed, that in itself would have been stranger still.