Time Alone Together - 2

"...I suppose that's to be expected. I'm the one who used it, after all."

It was Adrian's words that had prompted me to request a fresh investigation into the Moonstone. Was it truly possible for someone to uncover the truth of my regressions? If I could learn whether the Moonstone caused a regression or something else entirely, I might find a new angle from which to consider the whole matter.

I hadn't often troubled myself with thoughts of the regression itself. No one had ever so much as mentioned my previous cycles, and no one had ever apologized to me for them the way Adrian had, so I had simply lived on assuming that was only natural. This regression was a thing that I alone remembered—there had never been any evidence to suggest it could touch anyone else.

"The possibility that Adrian could see it precisely because she is who she is... that much is worth considering."

What Adrian had described were, without question, my own memories. My deaths, and the lives that led to them. How could she know such things in such detail? I might have chalked it up to the power of a Saintess, but another speculation had surfaced instead—that this, too, might be tangled up with the Moonstone.

Time was far too tight to unravel anything just now. There was more than one or two things awaiting me in the South, and I had precious little of it to spare for the mystery lurking behind my regression.

Today was the day we departed for the South. Which meant that traveling down with Adrian and paying our first visit to the Temple of the Moon came before all else. I would have to carve out time to act alone somewhere in between. I didn't imagine that would be difficult. If it was Berod, he would sooner prefer that Adrian and I keep our distance from one another.

The North, the South—the places I had set out for in pursuit of my goals. In the North, everything had resolved itself with remarkable simplicity. Strength was prized above all else, so I had broken Bunta in a duel and dragged in the barbarians' chieftain single-handedly, impressing upon everyone that I was rather more than merely competent. Their assumption about the nature of my relationship with Adele was no bad thing, either. If they chose to believe it, then at least none of her adjutants would think poorly of me. Hadn't it been the same before? On that much, I could rely with certainty.

During my week here, I had worked to improve my standing with the Moon Tower's paladins, if only a little. Far too many of them still saw me as a 'good-for-nothing,' after all. Adrian, realizing how poor my reputation was, had helped me in every way she could, and so the naked stares of the past no longer followed me. I had trained alongside the paladins whenever they drilled, planting in them the conviction that I was at least not the talentless oaf the rumors made me out to be. My body was a frail thing next to theirs, but in pure technique, I could claim to be Berod's equal. When they asked where on earth I had honed such skill... I answered with nothing but a smile. Would it not have been a touch strange to admit I'd learned it by taking beatings from Berod himself?

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Adrian fell asleep in my arms, and just like that, another week slipped by. The gains from those short days were nothing to scoff at. To be seen no longer as a stranger but as the Saintess's friend and guest was worth the trouble on its own.

"It should be just about time."

I tucked Arwen's letter into my breast pocket and slowly emptied the thoughts that had crowded my head. I watched the clock tick along for a moment, then picked up the luggage I had packed in advance and moved for the door.

Knock, knock—

Just as my hand closed on the handle, a knock sounded from the other side. I opened the door to find Adrian waiting beyond it. My worry that things might turn awkward between us after that night had been mine alone. If anything, we had grown closer, and now Adrian, taking ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠my arm with easy familiarity, spoke up.

"Are you all ready?"

"I am. Where might Sir Berod be?"

"I sent him on ahead. The carriage is for the two of us, after all."

"That is true."

Berod would surely sulk at being arranged out of the picture, but Adrian herself looked forward to this journey south a great deal. Hadn't she said it was her first time traveling this far? We carried a heavy objective, yes, but with the Temple of the Moon as our base, the first several days would amount to something close to sightseeing. Hadn't I resolved to keep my own heart light for the time being? Unless I crossed paths with Theresia, I didn't expect many encounters before we strayed far from the Temple of the Moon. If she had any sense, she wouldn't come anywhere near it. And if anything were to happen that put Adrian in danger as well—well, whoever was responsible would not be granted a gentle death.

"Robert?"

"...I'd forgotten something for a moment. It's fine now."

Perhaps my long silence had struck her as strange, because Adrian wrapped her arms around mine and asked. Theresia occupied my thoughts from every angle. I would have been content to leave her be, yet she kept stepping forward and cooking up one scheme after another. It was time to see this through to the end. The thread binding Theresia and Robert Taylor had to be severed in the South.

I handed Adrian up into the carriage, and as I moved to take the seat across from her, she caught my sleeve.

"Sit beside me. I don't mind."

"I suspect Sir Berod will mind very much, but I suppose that can't be helped."

He would hardly dare object to something the Saintess herself had sanctioned. My eyes met Berod's—he was to serve as our coachman—and I smothered a smirk. He had frightened me at first, but these days he looked like nothing so much as a doting fool who regarded Adrian as his own daughter. Or perhaps more accurately, a grandfather left utterly helpless the moment Adrian raised her voice.

"If Berod gets upset, just tell me. Robert is my friend, after all."

"For that, I am always grateful."

"It's nothing. I just... still feel guilty, that's all."

Adrian still felt considerable remorse over the 'dream.' No matter how many times I told her it was nothing, she insisted that she was not fine, and kept looking out for my comfort because of it. I found it a touch burdensome, and yet in some ways I couldn't call it a bad thing at all.

And so I settled in beside her. Surrendering myself to the carriage as it began to roll, I turned my gaze to the window.

"Robert, have you been in contact with Mirajen?"

Her voice reached me a short while later. I smiled at the way she tugged gently at my sleeve—and then remembered that I had not contacted Mirajen even once. I had meant to, but with everything surrounding Adrian, the intention seemed to have slipped away from me.

"I haven't, but it appears I should."

"Not even once? Staying in the very room Mirajen used, I thought you would have called her at least the one time."

"I couldn't, on your account, Adrian."

"...Pardon?"

"You were on my mind all day. I couldn't stop thinking about how you cried in front of me."

It was my own roundabout excuse for failing to write to Mirajen, but at those words Adrian let go of my sleeve and released a flustered little cough. When I caught the faint flush creeping across her cheeks, I realized I had said something rather careless. Easy words to misread—all the more so between a man and a woman.

"...I-is that so."

Red to the very tips of her ears, Adrian pressed herself against the far side of the carriage and stared fixedly at nothing at all. I chuckled at the sight for a moment before realizing that any attempt at conversation would only make matters worse. Better to contact Mirajen instead.

I drew out the artifact and fed a thread of mana into it. A signal tone followed.

Beep—

Then a second, shorter tone, and a voice came through from the other side. A rather curt voice. Sulky enough that I could all but see her lips jutting into a pout without looking, and I smiled quietly.

—What. Why did you call?

"I was curious what you were up to."

—You forget me for a whole week, and now you're suddenly curious how I spend my days?

"I hadn't forgotten. I'm staying in the room Your Highness once used, so I did think of you now and then."

—...Oh? You've been staying at the Moon Tower?

When I confirmed it, Mirajen marveled, however briefly, that any paladin had actually allowed such a thing. The Moon Tower's reputation as ground forbidden to men—their vigilance must have been doing its job well. If even Mirajen reacted this way, then my mere presence inside meant Adrian had bent a great many rules on my behalf.

"I had Adrian's help. We are friends, after all."

—Friends. A ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠convenient excuse, I'd call it. I'd love to know what you've done to poor, naive Adrian, but I'm busy at the moment, so I can't linger on the line.

"I take it things went well in the Northwest?"

By now the Teranite vein should have more than paid out its ore. At my question, Mirajen, quiet for a beat, drew a sigh and spoke.

—I do think this sometimes: you're a rather uncanny man, Lord Taylor. I never breathed a word of it—how did you know?

"A simple guess. If there was a reason for Your Highness to be so busy, that would be the only one."

—The Teranite vein struck rich. I'd like to say it was thanks to you, but... strangely enough, thinking of the Northwest leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. I only feel sorry. Your wounds—they've all healed by now, haven't they?

Her voice had dimmed somewhat, so I answered with a deliberately bright smile. As for wounds—my body was in far better condition than before. Perhaps because Adrian had poured divine power into me, my flesh had been strengthened beyond what it once was.

—Thank goodness, Mirajen murmured at my assurance, and then went on. —But don't push yourself so hard next time. However much danger I may be in, you have a habit of treating your own life far too cheaply.

"I will be careful."

—Careful isn't the issue. I heard you're bound for the South this time as well. I don't say this sort of thing lightly. Please—if you think of me at all.

Hesitating, Mirajen then added in a whisper. A faint tremor ran beneath her voice—worry for me, tenderness, and sympathy all mingled together and spread quietly through it. It was softer than usual, so unlike her, that all I could do was listen in silence.

—Come back safe and sound. Say that you will.

"...I understand."

—I can't quite bring myself to believe you, even now. Next time you call, let me hear Adrian's voice. She's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠with you right now, isn't she?

"She is, but I'm afraid she's in no state to speak at the moment."

—Talking to yourself, are you? Fine. Then we'll speak later—I'm quite busy, you know. Take care of yourself!

I glanced at Adrian, still gazing blankly into the air, then gave my assent to Mirajen, who was taking unusual pains to emphasize how very busy she had become. Whether I could keep my promise not to be hurt this time, I couldn't say. It would be nice if I could—but the South had never been a forgiving land.

With a soft click, the connection severed, and I gazed quietly down at the artifact. Keeping in touch like this now and then didn't seem a bad thing at all. Whenever my thoughts grew tangled, wasn't she the sort of woman whose voice alone could set them right again? The complicated musings over my regression and the Moonstone had already melted away somewhere.

I slipped the artifact into my breast pocket and edged closer to Adrian, who had by now recovered her composure.

"R-Robert? Is your call finished?"

"Yes, it ended some time ago. But why so startled? I only moved a little closer."

"Your arm touched mine..."

She claimed to be anxious, yet hadn't she held my hand readily enough before? Her reaction now wrung an involuntary laugh out of me. Though the journey south carried tangled meanings for me, for this one moment at least I could forget every one of them. Adele, Adrian, Mirajen—in this life, couldn't I call each of them exactly that kind of presence?

Leaving Adrian's freshly reddened face behind, we sat close together and quietly watched the world beyond the window. The scenery unfurled swiftly, carried on the rhythm of the horses' hooves. The closer we drew to the South, the denser the forests grew—trees stretching skyward one after another until their canopy swallowed the sun and shadows pooled below. Sunlight broke faintly against every branch and shattered into darkness, and it was in that darkness that I first truly felt the South drawing near.

The dim forest shadows devoured the road, until only the carriage's lantern remained to reveal the way ahead. This gloom, I thought, was the South's warning to us. Dark and turbid. This chaotic, savage land—was it not once the domain of the dragon that sought to steal the very sun?

Clatter, clatter—

Only the clamor of horseshoes cut through that silence. And so we pressed on. Toward where the forest shadows deepened still further. Or, to put it precisely—toward the South.