The Face Beneath the Mask
I knocked lightly on the door of Masker's office. Hearing a voice telling me to enter, I stepped inside. Upon realizing that the visitor was me, Masker stood up in a flurry of panic.
"Princess Sera? W-what brings you here? If you had business with me, I would have come to find you..."
"I've always quite enjoyed taking walks. Besides, I was cooped up in that stuffy room for so long."
"Is that so..."
Perhaps deciding there was no chair in his office fit for a princess, Masker tried to offer me his own seat. I politely declined and pulled up a plain wooden chair to sit on.
"It hasn't even been a week since you took office. Are you starting to adjust to the work?"
It was a slightly mischievous question. As Wilter, he was already thoroughly experienced in the duties of a commander. Yet, Masker answered with utmost gravity.
"Yes. I consider this the final opportunity Your Highness has granted me, and I am putting my absolute best into everything I do."
I couldn't detect much of his former bluster in his response. Had he truly turned over a new leaf? My purpose in coming here today was to gauge his true intentions.
"From what I've heard, there seem to be some issues with commanding the knights. Particularly with those from the Royal Guard."
It was something I had just witnessed with my own eyes. Two units that used to clash swords in annual rivalries had suddenly been merged into one. It would be stranger if there weren't any friction.
"It is entirely due to my own shortcomings. I will do everything in my power to make up for the disgraceful display burned into everyone's memories."
Another safe answer. It was certainly a desirable attitude, but his words were entirely devoid of ego.
"May I ask a favor of you, Masker?"
"Yes, of course. Anything."
"That mask—please take it off for a moment."
A heavy silence fell over the room. After a brief pause, he spoke.
"My... mask, you mean?"
"Yes."
Though he didn't say it aloud, he was clearly in a state of extreme panic. Even though it was called a mask, it only covered his eyes and a portion of his nose. Anyone who knew Wilter would easily recognize him. Yet, Wilter hesitated desperately to strip away this meaningless disguise. But I had absolutely no intention of withdrawing my request. I maintained a gentle smile, pressing him in a way he could never refuse.
"I... understand..."
Masker reached up to his face and slowly pulled the mask away. As he lowered his hand, his bare face was revealed. He couldn't bring himself to meet my eyes. Perhaps because his gaze was anxiously cast downward, his face looked incredibly fragile compared to before. As I stared at him, his body began to tremble.
"Ugh... ah, uuuugh..."
"Masker?"
"Aaaah!"
Like a frightened child, he crawled under the commander's desk. It was a pathetic sight—utterly unbecoming of the man appointed to lead the Obsidian Knights, the pride of the Rustier Kingdom.
"You may put the mask back on, Masker."
After taking a moment to catch his breath, he reemerged from beneath the desk, mask once again in place. Even with the metal covering his features, his composure remained thoroughly shattered.
"I-I am terribly sorry, Princess... For showing you such a pathetic display... I offer you my deepest, most sincere apologies..."
I recalled hearing that Wilter had shut himself away in his room after the Festival of the Sword. The gap between his past self—revered as a prodigy of swordsmanship—and his present self, who had fled so disgracefully, seemed to terrorize him. The face beneath the mask was Wilter's face. Exposing it apparently dragged back the unbearable dread of his failure. That flimsy piece of metal was nothing more than a sanctuary he had desperately clung to.
I spoke gently to the trembling man.
"There is no need to apologize. But please remember this: the only reason I permitted your return is because Filgret believed in you so strongly. Please, do not disappoint him—or me."
"...I will keep that engraved in my heart..."
To be frank, he was highly unreliable. For the commander of the direct unit and the leader of the entire knight order—someone who ought to possess an unshakeable resolve—to be in such a fragile state of mind was concerning. Still, I intended to trust Filgret's judgment. Though, of course, I would have to conduct my own evaluations in due time.
I smiled brightly and said,
"Now, shall we move on to the main topic?"
"Pardon? Ah, yes...!"
"Have you ever heard of an organization called the Black Sanyanghoe?"
"The Black Sanyanghoe... No, this is the first I've heard of them."
"We suspect they are a heretical cult comprised of northern tribes. Their base is likely in the far north... but they may have a history of operating within the kingdom. It seems they use a twisted mistletoe of this shape as their symbol."
I pulled out a notebook containing a sketch of Mistylia and showed it to him. He examined it closely, but nothing seemed to ring a bell.
"Investigate this Black Sanyanghoe. The knight order's archives must be piled high with subjugation records, yes? If you find any suspicious entries, look into them—including field investigations if necessary."
This was just the right level of task to entrust to Masker. He was still too questionable in both ability and loyalty to be given anything related to Lorencia. With this, I wouldn't have to worry about betrayal.
"Yes, I shall obey your command."
"And one more thing. Keep this investigation an absolute secret from everyone."
"By everyone... do you mean Commander Filgret as well...?"
"No, I will speak to him directly, so he is fine. But, for example... keep it a secret from Queen Carmel."
Honestly, it wouldn't matter even if she found out. Carmel could easily anticipate that I would use Filgret to investigate the Black Sanyanghoe anyway. However, I deliberately spoke with heavy emphasis, as if this were a matter of grave importance. It was a test—to see if Masker could serve me, rather than the royal family as a whole.
Masker nodded firmly, asking no questions.
"I will ensure it is kept strictly confidential, Princess."
"Good. I look forward to your results, Masker."
That should be enough groundwork laid. Having concluded our business, I prepared to leave the room. Just then, a knock sounded at the door, followed by a voice.
"U-um, C-Commander Masker...? Are you in...? It's... it's Sophia..."
It was a voice that sounded as though she had squeezed out every last drop of courage from the depths of her soul. I glanced back at Masker, but his face showed he had absolutely no idea what was going on. I had a feeling this was going to be entertaining. Pointing at the door, I gestured for him to tell her to enter.
"E-enter."
The door creaked open cautiously, and Sophia stepped inside. Her voice spilled out like an automatic recording, clearly rehearsed multiple times.
"T-thank you for saving me earlier... I-it's not much, but as a token of my gratitude... H-HIEEEEE?!"
Sophia, who had been speaking with her eyes glued to the floor, caught sight of a pair of unfamiliar female feet. She looked up, only to see Princess Sera smiling and waving at her. The sight nearly made her faint on the spot. I stepped aside to clear her path and spoke.
"Ah, my business here is finished, so please carry on, Sophia. What did you bring as a token of gratitude?"
"U-wha... that is... h-heee..."
Looking closely, Sophia was holding a small basket adorned with flowers. It was the kind with a lid, typically used for picnics. Inside, there was likely some food she had prepared with all her heart. I gave the utterly panicked Sophia a gentle nudge on the back and slipped out of the room. A knight commander and a maid—I mused that it was a sweet, yet somehow tragic, combination.
The Forest Path Brothel was as quiet as ever. Upon seeing me for the first time in a while, the proprietor merely bowed his head. I had already sent word of my visit in advance, as today's task would require a bit of preparation.
I handed him a gold coin. The proprietor gathered a few burly men who worked at the establishment and headed upstairs. All that was left was to wait. Sipping the tea provided, I listened to the creaking sounds echoing from the floor above.
Before long, the proprietor returned. Hearing that everything was ready, I took the Hypnotic Incense stored here and climbed the stairs, heading toward the room where Rika was confined.
The door was unlocked. Naturally, since the men had just left.
Rika was laid out on the bed. She wore nothing but the skimpy, erotic lingerie provided by the brothel, her limbs securely bound to the bedposts. A blindfold covered her eyes, and a gag was stuffed tightly into her mouth. She was utterly defenseless.
"Mmph, mmph!"
Muffled sounds escaped from behind the gag. Sensing my presence as I drew near, Rika seemed to grow anxious. And with good reason—burly men had suddenly burst into her room and roughly bound her. Rika surely had an inkling of what kind of establishment this was. It wasn't hard to imagine how she was interpreting her current situation. Perhaps because of that, her body was trembling violently. Watching her with deep satisfaction, I lit the Hypnotic Incense.