Northward — 3
The culture of the North was a far more free-spirited thing than anywhere else in the Empire. A single mercenary company could sweep through a region and be granted recognition for it — set against the aristocratic society of the capital, it was a difference of heaven and earth.
If the balls of the central court were stages for socializing where every manner of veiled intrigue played out, the banquets of the North were something else entirely. They were small festivals held to bless the simple fact of a new bond formed — which is to say, one could empty one's head and do nothing but drink without the slightest fear of consequence.
Throwing on one of the garments hanging in my room, I stepped out — and a man of truly exceptional bulk caught my eye. No one could have mistaken him for an ordinary man; he looked, all by himself, twice the size of everyone around him. He was far too large to pass by pretending not to notice, so I drifted over and offered a greeting.
Startled that I had spoken to him at all, he took my hand in both of his and gave it a small shake. With a frame like his, the gesture was less a handshake than an attempt to fling me off my feet, but I moved with practiced ease and barely kept myself from toppling.
"You've got quite the grip."
"Oh... first time I've ever seen anyone hold against it."
"Robert Taylor. If you're headed for the banquet hall, shall we walk together?"
"Fine by me. Call me Bunta."
It was a name I already knew, of course, but he rolled his massive shoulders once and greeted me warmly all the same. He was, somewhat unusually, a half-blood with orc blood in his veins — a man destined for persecution had he gone to the capital, but one who had joined Adele's mercenary company, put that freakish strength of his to good use, and climbed all the way into her inner circle.
Of course, with his modest intellect, Adele and Lotos handled nearly everything administrative, which left Bunta's official duties amounting to little more than livening up the mood at banquets.
His occasional sidelong glances at me began to nag, and when I finally looked back at him, he smiled awkwardly and scratched his head.
...When a man acts like that, it usually means he's hiding something.
Judging by the reactions of Lotos and Bunta alike, it wasn't as if I had no guess as to what. They likely thought of me as someone close to Adele — and if their delusions had deepened enough, her destined lover.
I'd suspected as much ever since they'd furnished my room the way they had, but I couldn't fathom what they planned to do if Adele caught them at it. Knowing her temperament, she would crush such a misunderstanding with brutal decisiveness. Buried up to the neck and left in the dirt — I'd call that a lenient punishment.
And if it ever escalated to the point that Adele felt genuinely displeased, then I supposed I would have to take up my sword myself and handle them personally.
Still — Adele's destined lover, of all things. There had been a time before when her subordinates tried especially hard to tie me to her. I suppose they found it novel that an outsider like me had grown close to her. But getting close to Adele had never been a difficult thing. Especially once she took an interest of her own — after that, simply playing along in conversation was enough to keep the relationship alive.
When I'd once asked what was supposed to be so difficult about that, I still remembered the look of pure incredulity Lotos had given me. I figured I'd be treated to it at least once more today.
As for why I'd brought my sword — I had more or less anticipated what Adele would do today.
As it happened, my seat was directly beside Adele's. By this point it was fairly brazen, but Adele, whether she noticed or not, simply studied me with an air of fascination. Then again, I was a guest; she probably saw no problem in seating me at her side.
If there was a problem, it was that seats at this banquet were first come, first served. Adele would have claimed hers before anyone else — and yet the only empty seat in the hall was the one beside her.
Lotos, seated at my other side, offered his hand with a sly smile. That goatish beard of his was as luxuriant as ever, and it soured my mood for no good reason.
"We exchanged greetings earlier, but — Lotos. Your first time in the North?"
"It is. I did take the trouble to learn a few of the customs."
"More often than not, people arrive here knowing nothing at all, so it gladdens me that opinion of the North seems to be improving of late."
"It seems I'm not the only one who's come calling, though."
At that, Lotos smiled briefly, then gestured toward the northwest and went on.
"Her Highness the Princess honored us with a visit recently. She hasn't returned yet — she said she would inspect the Teranite mine in the northwest in person. It was all so sudden that it took us rather by surprise."
"...I see."
The northwest. What Mirajen was thinking was so transparent that a hollow laugh slipped out of me. I had told her to keep an eye on the northwest — I had not told her to travel there and conduct an inspection herself. Had she simply sat still, the results would have presented themselves around the new year without her lifting a finger. The fault was mine for overestimating her intelligence; I should have added that she was better off not going in person, that watching and waiting would serve her better.
From here, the northwest sat right at the ragged edge of Adele's domain. If I found the time, it might be worth heading that way myself — Adele's barbarian subjugation would likely push toward the northwest as well, and there was every chance the raiders might seize the mine outright. If no one warned her, she might well hole up in there for a very long while. By now she was probably pacing back and forth, fretting over when the Teranite ore would finally show itself.
At the small sigh I let out over Mirajen, Lotos gave me an odd look. Fair enough — he most likely knew nothing of any connection between us. Even if he knew of the official ties, he could hardly guess how far our private acquaintance ran.
"You know Her Highness the Princess?"
"Acquainted, in a manner of speaking. She's helped me here and there."
"Acquainted with the Princess as well, are you."
Adele's voice made me turn my head, and I found her watching me with an expression of considerable interest. Come to think of it, hadn't she worn that same look when I mentioned knowing the Saintess? It shaped itself into something like a soft smile, yet a faint chill lingered in her eyes.
Adele drank from the cup before her and quietly wet her lips.
"You know the Saintess, you know me, you know the Princess. Your connections run wide — wider than I'd been led to believe."
"A great many things have happened. Having declared I would become head of my house, I could hardly sit idle."
"I see. I suppose that's so. But those are your affairs — must I concern myself with them as well?"
Adele gazed absently at her empty cup, then jabbed a finger into my shoulder and went on.
"The only thing I concern myself with right now is you. Whether you're close to the Princess or the Saintess, the one I mean to keep in the North is you. Best not to speak of other people here."
"...You said keep me?"
"Yes. Wasn't that rather the point of this visit?"
As Adele went on drinking with perfect calm, a strange stillness drifted through the banquet hall. Her words just now certainly invited any number of misunderstandings, but the true problem was what she said next. Keep me — surely she didn't mean to keep me here in the North.
"Didn't I tell you before? That I like you. I'd been meaning to take you on as my adjutant — did you not know?"
"I believe I mentioned, just now, that I intend to become head of my house."
"When you get right down to it, I am a Grand Duchess. If you wanted it, there is nothing preventing me from keeping you as my adjutant."
Spoken in that earnest tone, her words sounded very near genuine. But she couldn't truly mean it — and yet I was a little taken aback by how lightly she tossed out talk of such weight. If anyone in this room carried it beyond these walls, it could swell into something enormous. Did that mean she trusted the people here that much?
"I trust you are not speaking in earnest."
"In earnest, hm."
She held my wary gaze for a long moment, then chuckled and reached for the bottle. Half a cup for herself, a full one for me — she raised her cup and spoke. The earnest air of moments ago had scattered in an instant, leaving behind only a smile laced with mischief.
"Of course, I was only saying it to see. I know full well what you came here wanting — I've no reason to stand in the way of that."
"Were you, now? I nearly took offense."
"...Just bring your cup over, and spare me the nonsense."
Clink — once the lightly touched cups were drained, Adele drew a slow breath. A flicker of something like regret passed across her, which struck me as odd, but her eyes soon returned to their usual state and settled on me.
"As for why you came here — isn't it a little scheme to pocket this and that while returning my handkerchief?"
"This and that, you say."
"My support, I'd imagine. Didn't you say it with your own mouth, Robert — that you'd become head of your house?"
So she had seen through me to a considerable degree after all. I hadn't expected to escape her notice entirely, but I was mildly surprised she'd caught on faster than I'd anticipated. Saying this meant she had been certain ever since the moment my letter arrived declaring I would come to the North. Word that the contest for head of House Taylor had begun would have reached here by now — she had simply drawn her own conclusions.
Since she wasn't wrong, I didn't bother denying it, and Adele let her gaze drift briefly to the sword at my hip as she continued.
"As for the debts between you and me, I consider them well and truly settled. I do regret cutting your throat, yes — but I closed the matter by never asking about the secret you spoke of."
"...Yes. I remember."
"I can't call it wrong, you seeking my support. But to obtain such a thing, a proper price must be paid. So I have a proposal for you — will you hear it?"
Her tone turned serious again. I studied her for a moment, then nodded. In truth, I had anticipated this conversation to some degree. Knowing Adele, she would eventually catch on to my true purpose — and there was a fair chance she would not look kindly upon it. If there was a chance she would attach conditions, and now, while her attention was fixed squarely on me, then only one thing remained for her to propose.
"While you remain in the North, serve as my adjutant. You will hear my orders and follow them, and in return I promise you treatment equal to my other adjutants. How you conduct yourself in that time will decide whether I grant you my support."
"As your adjutant, I take it I would be expected to take part in battle as well."
"Lacking confidence? You don't look the type to have such skill."
"It isn't that. I'm simply curious how long you've had this proposal ready."
At that, Adele answered with a small laugh. The words came quite naturally, as though she had known I would ask exactly that.
"From the moment I first laid eyes on you. Didn't I tell you? That I would make you my adjutant."
"That wasn't... a joke, then."
"Do too well and I won't let you go. So you had best behave — well enough that I can let you go, yet well enough to earn my support."
Wasn't that order a touch too difficult?
I laughed despite myself at the absurdity of it, and Adele, entirely unbothered, drained her cup. She meant it, in her own way. She would set her standard and declare that failing to clear it meant no support — and taking me as her adjutant meant she intended to drag me along on the coming barbarian subjugation.
The mood around us, however, had turned distinctly chilly. Her people followed Adele's decisions without question, yet the air around her adjutants said plainly that they could not bring themselves to accept me. From where they stood, I was nothing more than a stone that had rolled in from who knows where, and I could hardly fail to understand the reaction. What could a young master who had lived in luxury at the capital possibly do? Given that the rumors about me claimed I had never so much as held a sword in my life, some made no effort at all to hide their displeasure.
Bunta was the prime example — the man who had been laughing so heartily moments ago was now glaring at me, huffing breath through his nose. Lotos, having witnessed my sword aura, had grasped Adele's intent and kept his peace, but even he seemed to sense how sour the tempers around him had grown. He gave me a troubled look, heaved a deep sigh, and addressed Adele.
"Your Grace, I believe this decision will meet with no small objection."
"Is that so? And the remedy?"
"There's only one, isn't there? We do it our way."
Adele's gaze turned to me. She had known full well it would come to this the moment she declared she would take me as her adjutant, and now those eyes asked what I intended to do about it. I smiled bitterly. Last time, I had shown a single flash of sword aura and called it a secret. This time, it seemed, she meant to see my skill properly.
Every eye in the hall poured down on me. The clamorous banquet fell silent in an instant, and soon a suffocating hush closed over me. A crushing weight on my shoulders, looks of contempt, wary, guarded stances. Every time I had come to the North, I had been met with exactly these looks.
And yet the reason I had ended up so close to these people was a simple one. Because I had the skill.
I rose from my seat, looked at Bunta, and opened my mouth. Twitch — at my index finger wagging with impudent ease, Bunta blew a hot breath through his nostrils.
"So a single bout will settle it, then?"
"Fight — and win."
"Understood."
My bearing remained as composed as ever. Naturally so — it was hardly my first time in such a situation. Bunta the first time, Bunta the time after that. And Bunta again this time, was it? In truth, even if every soul in this hall came at me at once, I was confident I would walk away alive. If Adele joined in, it would be a stretch — but even then, I could manage to hold out somehow.
I wasn't even holding my sword. My mana was thin, and my body, measured against what it once was, was beyond pitiful — trash, frankly. And yet the one who had been called Sword Saint was me. With a sword in hand, defeating someone was never so difficult a thing. That is what it means to be the Sword Saint — could such a name be an empty one?
I smiled faintly. It was a far more relaxed smile than any I had worn in a long, long time.