Interlude
Interlude
Crowfield.
Despite the name, Crowfield County was not actually home to all that many crows. At the very least, it was not a place that had earned the name simply because crows were plentiful.
It did have a wide grassland. Before autumn arrived, it was a place of beautiful green. If asked whether it became ugly in the fall, the answer was no. The green simply turned to gold, never becoming a desolate ruin.
The town had been reasonably modernized compared to other domains. No tremendous plumes of soot rose from chimneys to blot out the sky, but in the distance there was a factory district with stacks that belched dark smoke.
The county itself was not overly large, so even with such an industrial zone, public order had not deteriorated.
Because of this, people who had felt an ominous chill from the county's name would often ask, after actually visiting and looking around:
Why had such a beautiful place been given the grim name of 'Crowfield'?
Crowfield had originally been territory of the Kingdom of Belbur. More precisely, it had been the border region between the Kingdom of Belbur and the Aetherna Empire at the time.
It was the site of the largest battle during the past war between the Empire and the Kingdom of Belbur. Countless people had died as the area was captured and recaptured several times. Imperial soldiers, kingdom soldiers, civilians massacred by the Imperial Army simply for being subjects of the kingdom, people killed during the Imperial occupation for allegedly having collaborated with the Empire... It was a place where bodies had piled up in heaps.
Corpses that had not even been properly recovered lay scattered everywhere across the grasslands, and bodies carelessly tossed into the forests rotted away.
And those corpses attracted vast numbers of crows. They bred continuously as they fed on the bodies no one would touch, and for a time, the sky over that place was said to have been filled with flocks of crows on the wing and their raucous cawing.
Before long, people passing through had taken to calling the region 'Crowfield.' The old name was scarcely uttered anymore. Those who had called the region home were by then almost all gone.
Yet despite all those deaths, the Empire did not stop its expansion, eventually establishing the borders as they stood today. Now, even Crowfield was no longer a 'border region.' Another small county was situated between Crowfield and the Kingdom of Belbur.
They had believed that bodies would never pile up in Crowfield again. They had believed it would simply continue to develop and enjoy that prosperity forever.
Until the Count died in a single explosion.
"...... Mia."
Some time after her father's funeral had ended, the Countess called for Mia.
After using her fingers to wipe Mia's tear-streaked face, her mother held her quietly, patting her back as she spoke.
"This was plotted by the Emperor."
"...... Pardon?"
The official announcement stated that a gas pipe beneath the carriage had exploded, sending the carriage carrying the Count and his escort flying. Since gas pipe explosions did happen from time to time, Mia had regarded her father's death as nothing more than a terrible misfortune. Until she heard her mother's words.
"The Emperor... it was the Emperor's doing. Or perhaps it was the work of his children."
It was not certain. But her mother seemed to believe it. For what reason, Mia could not tell.
"Mother?"
"Mia. My daughter."
Holding Mia tightly, her mother whispered into her ear.
"Never forget that fact. There is nothing we can do right now, but......"
So softly that no one else could hear, so that only her sole remaining blood relative's ears would catch it, her mother spoke.
"Someday, until the day the Imperial Family itself becomes 'Crowfield.'"
*
After the death of the Count of Crowfield, his wife steadily gathered information. Some of that information was accurate, some uncertain, but she did not much care. All of it was written into Crowfield's list of targets for revenge anyway.
Gathering information was merely a way to keep the hatred from fading. And so that, if possible, she might draw others in.
After all, for the sake of revenge, would it not be better for Crowfield to fight from a more advantageous position?
Mia, too, remembered that hatred. She constantly studied it, memorizing so that she would never forget.
Among the rumors, there was one like this.
'On the day a prominent Imperial figure dies, one of the Emperor's children who had been by his side goes missing.'
It was only a rumor, but the Imperial nobles seemed to believe it to be the truth. Among the information already circulating among the high nobility was a list of 'the child who vanished on the day an Imperial figure died.' It was strictly based on circumstantial evidence and only amounted to suspicion, but at the very least, there was overlap between a noble's cause of death and the specialty of the child who had vanished.
And the Emperor did not even bother to crack down on the rumor. If the list held any truth, then the Emperor would surely have known that the list was circulating.
That was precisely why Mia Crowfield hated the Emperor even more.
The Emperor, sitting high upon his throne and waiting quietly as if daring them to come. The Emperor, so composed after having killed her father.
The person who had vanished on the day the Count of Crowfield died was Sylvia Fangriffon, who was twelve years old at the time, the same age as Mia.
In fact, some nobles did not believe the list precisely because of that. The very idea that a twelve-year-old child could slip through heavy security, reach the Count's mansion, and plant a bomb on a carriage to assassinate the Count was absurd. Was it not simply a case of forcing facts to fit a conspiracy theory?
Even if the information had been obtained from maids and servants within the Imperial Palace, that did not make it accurate. Dates could be mistaken, and perhaps the imperial princess had simply not left her room or had been visiting elsewhere.
Moreover, the roster of nobles on the list even included some who had simply died of illness.
But.......
During the sparring on the first day of class, Sylvia Fangriffon had used a gunpowder weapon. Even in extreme close quarters, which was utterly disadvantageous for a firearm user, the Emperor's daughter had calmly evaded all of her opponent's attacks and subdued her.
They were not... movements from any manual.
They were movements possible only when one already knew the opponent's next action.
Would someone with such an ability truly find it difficult to infiltrate a county?
That was not the only strange thing.
When she received the student council's invitation and went to the student council room, the Sylvia Fangriffon she encountered there did not so much as twitch an eyebrow even under Mia's killing intent. Perhaps a mage's killing intent was simply too lacking, but even so, Alice Fangriffon and Princess Charlotte de Belbur, who were seated right beside her, had shown some signs of fluster.
It was killing intent displayed right in front of an Imperial Princess. The unnatural thing was not to be flustered, but......
Sylvia Fangriffon was utterly composed.
As if it were only natural.
*
She returned to her room and looked at the desk.
A small frame stood there. The black-and-white photograph inside showed three people.
Mia and her parents.
Nobles generally preferred portraits over photographs. Portraits were considered more 'refined' and 'noble.' The act of taking a photograph was something only done by those who lacked the time to wait for a portrait or the money to commission a painter.
And, fundamentally, one's face in a portrait was invariably more idealized than in a photograph.
Unlike a photograph, which captured reality exactly as it was, a portrait contained the artist's interpretation. And that interpretation was, in most cases, tailored to the tastes of the paying noble.
That was why Mia did not hang a family portrait in her room.
The father she remembered from her childhood.
He had sometimes been absent from home at night, always rushing about busily for the sake of the county's people. His impression had been somewhat gaunt, but Mia remembered that that was the face of a father who was always working hard.
Mia recalled the face of Sylvia Fangriffon, who had met her gaze squarely without flinching even once. That expression had seemed to hold not a shred of guilt.
Sylvia Fangriffon, calmly drinking tea with hands that clearly had blood on them.
"......I won't forgive you."
Mia murmured the words.
She renewed her hatred once more, deep in her heart.
Sylvia Fangriffon would die. She would pay for her sins with death.
Even if, for that purpose, Mia herself had to throw her own life away.
*
Perhaps because both were Fangriffons, Alice Fangriffon treated Sylvia Fangriffon with familiarity.
Of course, Sylvia Fangriffon's expression never changed during such conversations. No matter how long Alice Fangriffon's words became, Sylvia Fangriffon's replies were usually monosyllabic.
Despite that, an inexplicable warmth existed between the two. Even though neither Imperial Princess smiled readily, and both always wore stern expressions.
How could someone be so utterly impassive?
Perhaps, in Sylvia Fangriffon's eyes, Mia Crowfield had looked like a naive young lady who knew nothing of revenge?
"...... Ah."
But today was a little different.
Alice Fangriffon's expression clouded slightly when she looked at Mia. It was a different look than she had worn yesterday. Yesterday, she had merely been taken aback by the killing intent Mia had directed at Sylvia Fangriffon.
No, perhaps her expression today was clouded precisely because of that.
Without her staff, if Mia tried to challenge Alice Fangriffon, she would only end up subdued. The Imperial Princess was an excellent swordswoman, after all.
So, in truth, there was no way she could have been frightened by mere killing intent.
Was she perhaps feeling a pang of conscience?
"...... Mia Crowfield."
"...... Your Highness."
At the very least for today, Mia decided to hide her hatred a little. No matter how much she loathed her opponent, constantly radiating that sort of atmosphere would guarantee failure even in a task that might otherwise succeed.
Still, would she be able to succeed?
"......."
She could see Sylvia Fangriffon's face, watching her quietly.
From that chillingly expressionless face, she could feel nothing at all. As if the existence called Mia Crowfield before her had no value whatsoever and thus could elicit no feeling at all, it was merely cold—
"Hungry?"
Suddenly, Alice Fangriffon asked Sylvia Fangriffon.
The cold gaze that had been directed at Mia shifted toward Alice Fangriffon.
"......."
Sylvia Fangriffon said nothing.
"Then let's go quickly. You have to eat breakfast. You actually tend to eat quite a lot for breakfast, you know."
"......."
Sylvia Fangriffon still gave no answer.
Had Princess Alice deliberately drawn Sylvia Fangriffon's attention?
Why?
"Well then, we'll be going first. You can't move properly unless you eat three square meals a day."
"Ah, yes......."
At Alice Fangriffon's words, even Mia's own expression cracked a little.
But soon, the fire was rekindled inside her chest.
"......."
So, as expected, she did not even care.
Then she would simply have to show her that this righteous anger would become a terrible blade and strike home.
Standing fixed in place, Mia Crowfield glared at the retreating backs of the two figures.
*
No, how did she know?
Had my stomach actually growled? There shouldn't have been any grounds at all for Alice to make that judgment.
"It was written all over your face. Why?"
On my face?
"...... No, even looking at you now......."
When I stared plainly at Alice, she averted her gaze as if slightly embarrassed.
Could her eyesight be at a microscopic level, allowing her to discern minute tremors in my facial muscles that no one else would notice? Subtle movements that even I myself might not be aware of?
"...... And just because someone displays hatred toward you, you don't have to indulge it every time."
"I have no intention of simply indulging it."
As Alice offered the advice, I answered accordingly.
"I simply thought that the anger itself was justified."
Because I killed her father.
And besides, she did not even know the full truth. Considering what happened yesterday, even if I told her directly, she would not be able to accept it right away.
It would probably be better to give her hints so that she could investigate it herself.
"......."
Alice was studying me closely as I had those thoughts.
Her expression was not blank. But it was not an expression I could read, either. A face that seemed like a muddled swirl of various emotions.
...... It felt a little unfair that Alice could read my expressions, yet I could not read hers.