Prospective Daughter-in-Law Welcome Ceremony (3)
"Sss... haaah... sss... haaah..."
Beside me, my brother slept lightly, his breathing soft and shallow. If I so much as stirred, he would open his eyes at once.
The farthest memory I had of him was from when I was still frail and sickly—my brother, covered in deep blue bruises from Father's beatings, nursing me through the night. Back then the Kingdom of Cardain teetered on the edge of war, and Father drove him through merciless training, convinced that any day the tide might turn against them. Every day my brother endured pain that carved down to the bone; every day, the moment training ended, he came straight to me, wrapped me in his arms, and told me funny stories or tales of the world beyond these walls.
I had loved that so much.
Before his body had even finished growing, he left for the battlefield. Father and Mother fought him tooth and nail, but he defied them, enlisted as a common soldier, and walked out of the house. By then my illness had begun to ease, so I could at least hear news of him. Out there he racked up feats no ordinary soldier should have been capable of, and little by little people started calling him a hero.
It must have been then—after he earned a mere week's leave for some great deed—that he came home again. Father roared the moment he saw him. Mother only said it was all right, that she was glad he had returned safely.
The brother I met after so long was no longer the clean-faced boy I remembered. His face was a map of half-healed cuts; the skin that showed was seared and scarred. Yet the kindness still living in those blue eyes reminded me he was still my brother. So I waited in my room, certain he would come in and tell me stories of the outside world. He never did. Furious, I stormed into his room and found him thrashing and moaning through a nightmare. Little as I was, I didn't know what else to do, so I did what he used to do for me: I climbed into his arms and held him as tightly as I could. His trembling and his groans slowly quieted.
I think that was the moment we first truly felt each other alive—when we held on like that. I never imagined that from then on we would fall asleep in each other's arms every night, or that it would continue right up until the day my fiancé appeared.
That small happiness did not last. My brother returned from what is now called the most glorious battle of all—the Defense of Rellion—carrying wounds beyond description. From the scraps of information I pried out of Father, I learned that his blood always boiled hot enough to corrode his veins little by little, that he heard the voices of the dead, that some foreign force constantly tangled the flow of his own energy. He claimed he had contracted with a god and lessened a great deal of the pain... but contracts with gods are always equal exchange. He must have given up something precious.
Wanting him to live the rest of his life a little more easily, I threw myself into study like a madwoman. Politics, law, diplomacy, mathematics, military science—everything I thought he might need. Fortunately I had the talent to absorb it all. My brother seemed to believe I was simply writing letters to my fiancé.
The House of Darkus? Nothing more than a clan that had been openly corrupt even in the old Cardain days and somehow still limped along. Under my plan they would collapse soon enough.
Everything I am is for him.
So... he isn't allowed to run away from me, is he?
I'll overlook the acting head of House Lailia as a temporary diversion...
But in the end, my brother is mine.
I pressed myself tighter against his large frame and buried my face in his chest.
Mmm... Oppa...
"Young Master. It is time to rise."
"...Nnngh... Right."
The sky beyond the window was a dull gray; the sun had not yet shown itself. I had known I would need to get up early, but not this early.
"Mmm..."
Sylvia clung to me in deep sleep. I carefully peeled her arms away, rose from the bed, and pulled the blanket back over her. She would startle a little when she woke alone, but today was today—she would understand.
"Yaaawn... All right, let's go."
"Yes. First, into the bath and wash thoroughly. You may not wash half-heartedly the way you usually do."
"...When have I ever washed half-heartedly?"
"That is not something one should say when one always emerges from the bath in under ten minutes."
"Ahem..."
In my defense, on the battlefield you almost never wash. How are you supposed to strip off armor and bathe when the enemy might raid at any moment? Once every two or three days you made do with a towel soaked in hot water. After years of that, bathing simply became a chore. And for the record, ten minutes is plenty for me to get clean. Not that Darren ever accepted that argument.
"Here. I am leaving this clock. Do not even think of coming out until the alarm sounds."
"...Thirty whole minutes?"
"Hurry. Time is short."
"Haah... Fine."
Shaaa—
From the moment I stepped out of the bath, time flew. Makeup I never wore even for high-society events was brushed over every inch of me; a barber they had somehow summoned tamed the hair I usually just pushed aside; and I was stuffed into brand-new clothes so stiff they might as well have been armor.
"And last—perfume! Which scent do you prefer, Young Master? Something that grabs you by the throat, or something that drifts gently?"
"If I had my choice, none at all. It dulls the sense of smell."
"Ugh! You're not going to a battlefield, you're going to an engagement ceremony! Although... when you put it that way, maybe it is a battlefield..."
"Sigh... If I have to wear something, make it the subtle one."
"Yes, sir~!"
Pssh— pssh—
Pedelin, who had been overseeing my entire look, spritzed perfume on both wrists and lightly over the pulse points of my neck.
"Ugh... Headache..."
"Really? I think it smells wonderful."
On the battlefield, smell matters more often than people realize—when the enemy seeds poison into the air, or when you catch the scent of shaharin, the soy-cured meat stew the allied nations use as field rations. That particular smell is one of the ways scouts detect an approaching force. I enlisted as a common soldier and did more than my share of scouting, so my nose is unusually sharp. These days I can tell the household staff apart by scent alone with my eyes closed. Artificial fragrance, therefore, was pure irritation.
"How long does this stuff last?"
"Hmm? It's quite expensive, so probably the whole day."
"...Great."
Today I would simply have to give up on relying on my nose for anything. What could possibly go wrong, right?
"There... that's everything. Heehee... Young Master, you look so handsome. Shall I show you?"
"No need. What good does looking at my own face do? You people handled it fine."
"Mmm, excellent attitude. The acting head of House Lailia will arrive soon. Please go with the head butler and greet her at the main gate."
"Right. Thanks."
"Heehee, don't mention it. Give it your all today!"
Pedelin cheerfully thumped my back. She was so small that the casual familiarity almost felt improper, but she was a dragon quarter-blood—older than me, most likely. With that bloodline she could have walked into any top guild the moment she entered the Academy, yet for some reason she was obsessed with being a maid. Claimed it was her calling, or something like that.
"You have come out, Young Master."
"Yeah. Where's Violet?"
"She has not arrived yet, but she will be here shortly."
"Right."
"...Darren, I remember you and your wife being very close. Am I remembering that correctly?"
"Haha... Embarrassing as it is to admit, yes—my wife and I get along quite well."
Darren had fallen for a maid he worked with since childhood and married her. I didn't remember the wedding myself, but Father had officiated and Mother had sung the blessing. Even after leaving House Parcion they were still so sickeningly sweet that the whole estate gossiped about them. Surely the man had some advice worth hearing.
"Any... tips? Things that work, that sort of thing."
"Well... I could give you any number of those, but I believe what you need right now is something simpler."
"What?"
"It may sound trite, but the most important thing in a marriage is love."
"Come on... who doesn't know that? You could grab any kid off the street and get the same answer."
"Exactly, Young Master. Anyone you stop would give the same reply. And when everyone answers the same question the same way, that is how you know it truly matters."
"That... is true."
"Where there is love, consideration follows naturally. So does compromise—each of you taking a step back. And so does acceptance, the willingness to embrace each other's flaws. Therefore, more than anything else, love is what matters."
"Hmm... Got it."
Love... love, huh...
I had love enough for Father, for Sylvia, and for Mother who was gone now. Beyond them I had never loved anyone. I had never burned for someone the way Father burned for Mother, never pursued anyone with Sylvia's fierce devotion.
"Think I can do this right?"
A quiet anxiety rose from somewhere deep. Darren's snow-white brows lifted in mild surprise, then he let out a hearty laugh.
"If it is you, Young Master, you will do splendidly without question. Of all the people I have ever known, you are the kindest."
"...Well, that's a relief, then."
"Ah—here she comes."
A carriage painted entirely in violet, the crest of House Lailia blazoned at its center, glided smoothly through the estate gates and halted before the main entrance where Darren and I stood. The coachman made no move to open the door; clearly he was waiting for me. I stepped forward and swung it open myself.
Creeeak—!
"I trust you have been well, Violet."
Violet, one side of her beautiful violet hair braided and trailing long, was as lovely as ever. The difference this time was her attire: instead of a dress she wore a white blouse with ruffles at the chest, a soft lavender cloak, black garter belts, and short shorts.
"......"
"Violet?"
"Ah—yes. I have been well. Have you been well, Evan?"
"I have. I'm glad to hear the same of you."
I took her hand and helped her down from the carriage. The hand I held was more than warm—almost hot—but the heat felt pleasant against my skin. Under Darren's direction the empty carriage rolled away somewhere out of sight.
"By the way... no dress today? A shirt instead?"
"Yes. Does it look strange?"
"Not at all. It suits you remarkably well. I was only curious."
I meant it. Even with a knee-length purple coat draped over her shoulders to hide her figure, it was nowhere near enough to conceal her voluptuous curves.
"I'll explain on the way."
"All right. Shall we go, then?"