A Player Steps Back In
"Do you like the Young Master?"
Something dropped in Skadi's chest with a heavy thud.
The day the white sphere had appeared, and Hervena had embraced him afterward. From that day on, Hervena had begun to let her feelings for Blow show, and Skadi had cheered her on with all her heart. Strictly speaking, not the whole way through — until recently, she truly had. At some point she had started quietly dodging any talk of Hervena and Blow.
She could just say no. If she said no, then things could stay like this...
Stay...
Getting the words out felt strangely unbearable. As if a lock had been set on her mouth, she hesitated to answer, and the look on Hervena's face hardened as she watched.
"Lady Skadi?"
It was Jane, sitting there at a complete loss, who broke the silence. Only then did Skadi snap back to herself. She lifted the corners of her mouth and shook her head.
"Oh, come on — no!"
"You don't?"
"No, I don't. What would I even... he's just a good friend. Blow is! Ha — haha!"
"..."
I'm happy like this, aren't I? Do I really need anything to change?
One wrong step and she would drift from Hervena too, and Blow would only grow uncomfortable. Things were fine exactly as they were.
Having settled on that, Skadi turned to Hervena with her usual brazen ease.
"If it looked that way, I guess we've been stuck together too much lately!"
"..."
"If even you're saying it, everyone else is really going to get the wrong idea! Haha!"
Hervena, who had been gazing at her without a word, was forcing her expression under control, afraid that displeasure — or contempt — might show through.
You're wearing clothes the Young Master chose for you. Every time things get hard you run to him for comfort, you lean on him, and from the moment you went out to dance until just now you wore a face that happy — and you say you don't? You knew my heart better than anyone. Of all people, Skadi, you shouldn't be doing this. Either say it properly and stand by it, or stop hedging like that every single time.
"Hervena...? Hmm?"
The corners of Skadi's eyes drooped. She watched Hervena's mood and smiled like a fool. Hervena let out a thin sigh and leaned toward her.
"I understand, my lady."
"Haha, Hervena, you suddenly said something weird and made everything awkward..."
The barbed words froze Skadi where she sat. Hervena, finished, offered a faint smile and lifted the Ropert Rose in one hand.
"Jane."
"Huh?"
"Care for a drink?"
"I-if you pour it, I'll drink."
Only the sound of liquor filling glasses occupied the table. A long while passed with Skadi still silent. Then she raised her glass and held it out toward Hervena.
"I'll have one too!"
"..."
"What, you won't pour for me?"
Skadi's eyes had gone stiff, but she was smiling. Hervena hesitated a moment, then took up the bottle.
"...I'll pour."
A short while later every glass was full, and Skadi knocked hers back first. Into that awkward quiet, a welcome voice finally reached Jane.
"What's this? Why's the mood so dead?"
Blow Deblique, his gaze noticeably softened — he had already had a little to drink. The moment he arrived he took the seat beside Jane and looked from Skadi to Hervena and back. Before he could say anything more, Hervena spoke first.
"...We were just talking."
"About what?"
"About you, Young Master."
Jane's eyes and Skadi's snapped to him at once. Blow tilted his head.
"What, old stories about me?"
"Something like that."
"Is there anything worth telling?"
Jane, who had been on pins and needles, let out a sigh of relief. Skadi, catching her breath at last, was already filling Blow's glass.
"Not dancing anymore?"
"Nope. Thanks to you, I danced my fill today."
"I only got one song with you."
"Did you? It felt kind of long, somehow."
"...What?"
At that, Skadi's face brightened again. Mischief flickered in his eyes, and he added one more line.
"Maybe because you were my first?"
"That is not something you needed to say, Blow Deblique."
"Still, looked like you'd pick it up quick if you learned."
"Yeah? Then that's a relief..."
Skadi smiled, shy and pleased, and held out her glass. Blow filled it — and that was when Hervena slipped neatly between the two of them.
"If you're not going to dance, then drink with me from here on. Young Master."
"Sure. Earlier I saw you making the rounds of the other tables."
"Yes. Everyone was quite entertaining."
"Then why not keep going?"
"I went over to the cat-club people. They drained the life out of me a little."
"Fair enough. From Lady Rachel's table all the way here, I kept my eyes on this spot and nothing else, in case someone grabbed me."
With that, Blow raised his glass. A moment later a toast rang over their table loud enough to crack the crystal.
A few hours before the Black Bridge Gathering, at the Hetaya estate in the east of the continent.
In the family head's office, where the taxidermied head of a massive bear hung on the wall, Skadi's father, Bjorn Hetaya, sat with his back straight, gazing at the moon beyond the window. His adjutant, Radson, adjusted his monocle and wore a puzzled look.
"Lady Skadi wishes to invest?"
"So she says."
"What wind blew in all of a sudden. Ah — forgive me. It was simply so unexpected."
"Even to your eye. Isn't it?"
"Yes. The young lady has always kept such a quiet life at school. Might I ask when word arrived?"
"Last night."
"Last night? Then at this morning's meeting, as an item on the agenda—"
"Her mind could change within a day. And it isn't something to discuss with everyone present."
At that low voice, Radson cleared his throat before he answered.
"A most proper judgment, my lord. And have you by chance heard where the young lady means to place the investment?"
"A fellow called Blow Deblique, she said."
"Blow? Deblique — that would be Young Lord Blow of Blanya..."
When Radson's voice rose a little, Bjorn turned sharply to look at him.
"You know who he is?"
"Yes, of course. He causes a great deal of trouble at the school the young lady attends..."
"Causes trouble?"
As if a beast had begun to growl, killing intent flooded the office in an instant.
"Yes. As far as I know, he does."
"Tell me everything you know of the trouble he's been making."
"Talking back to the school instructors. Walking the magic school with a sword at his hip and dueling the knight cadets. Being drunk even during class—"
Radson's account went on for several minutes, and with every word Bjorn's eyes grew more murderous, his face hardening to stone.
"The last I heard of Young Lord Blow, though, was that he had collapsed and never regained consciousness."
"When was that?"
"Three months ago. A great many of the Deblique family's artworks came up at auction then. I understand the baron and baroness did everything they could to wake the young lord."
"So a scoundrel — and a frail one, at that — means to take Skadi's investment?"
"Still, I have heard his face is that of a handsome man—"
The moment the words landed, Bjorn's brow furrowed.
"That is hardly what matters now, Radson."
"Forgive me, my lord. For the present, what I have just told you is the whole of the information I possess."
"Haha. Unbelievable."
"My lord, shall I contact Yon in Caipol at once?"
Bjorn did not answer. He only burst out laughing.
"My daughter Skadi? Hahaha! Our youngest? Hahaha, Radson! He can't possibly be in his right mind, can he?"
"No, my lord. He does not seem to be in his right mind."
Bjorn threw his head back and laughed. Radson was breaking into a cold sweat. His lord never showed emotion. The moment the so-called Slaughterer of the East broke into laughter was the moment he was most terrifying, and so Radson kept his mouth shut and waited only for whatever came next.
"So this Blow Deblique — this sorry excuse of a man — sweet-talked our Skadi into it? Hahaha!"
"My lord, I'll look into it first—"
Then the laughter cut off clean. Moonlight caught Bjorn's eyes, and they flashed.
"Have a wyvern prepared."
"Sir?"
"Did you not hear me? Have a wyvern prepared."
"My lord, the negotiation with the elves tomorrow..."
"Postpone it."
One more word and he would be a dead man. Radson bent at the waist.
"I'll have it ready at once!"
"I leave immediately."
Bjorn took his own sword, Belgram, down from the wall. He swung the blade once, moonlight glinting along the steel, then let out a long sigh and stepped from the room with his adjutant.
At that same hour, the Black Bridge Gathering.
Yulia, Rebecca, and Rachel, having danced with several partners, had taken their seats at the table. Skadi, who had no way of knowing her father's state, had decided she would talk more with Hervena later. For now she was in conversation with Rebecca. It was a first in her life.
"Skadi, I take it you've no mind to dance any further?"
"No. My shoes gave out."
"Ah. How did that happen."
"I'm not sure."
"A shame."
"It's all right. I danced everything I meant to..."
With that, the two of them looked at each other and smiled, awkward. Not only they, but the rest of the table were carrying on conversations of their own — and through all of it, Jane Foresti could not focus on a single word. She was still turning over what Skadi and Hervena had said.
She had known all along that Skadi held Blow in her heart. One look at Skadi's face when she watched him was enough to tell. What surprised her, rather, was Hervena. Those things Hervena sometimes did toward Blow had not been a hunger for recognition after all.
Now and then there were cases like Cindy's, love that crossed station. Between a retainer and her master, though, such a thing was almost unheard of, as far as Jane knew. Word drifted around, now and then, of some master rotten to the core who had "taken" his retainer — but Blow was nothing like that. Even in his scoundrel days he had lived soaked in drink, and never once laid a hand on her or on Hervena. That was her master.
The look in Hervena's eyes when she had answered no to the question of whether she wanted to become a noble. However one looked at it, that answer had been a lie.
...Hervena really wants things to work out with the Young Master. She means to climb all the way up to the noble class if she has to. Wait — then could Hervena actually become my lady?
Good heavens.
The thought ran on, and a chill went down Jane's spine. While she was still chasing that frightening fancy, the closed doors of the ballroom opened.
Everyone who saw the person who came in could only start in surprise. There was Rosalyn, dressed entirely differently from before, entering with Bering and Elton.
Rachel tilted her head as if this were the last thing she had expected.
"Hm? That one isn't the sort to come back in."
"She isn't, is she? Hmm...?"
Even Yulia was watching Rosalyn with open curiosity. Rosalyn, taking every gaze in at a glance, made for the table nearest the entrance.
"Well. A change of heart, I suppose."
Blow said it brazenly, as if he had not brought the whole thing about himself. Jane snapped back to the present, and her mouth drew into a flat line.
...Looks like he's done something again.
While Jane carried the guess forward, Rosalyn approached their table.
"Good evening. Lady Rachel, Lady Yulia, and Lady Rebecca."
Rosalyn Ropert offered her courtesy to each of them in turn. Rachel, who had been studying her, laughed heartily and asked:
"Rosalyn, how's the drink treating you?"
"Better than I expected."
"Well, that's a relief. Will you take a glass?"
"I'll take one after I've danced."
"Fair enough. Only a few songs left, so you'd best dance while you can."
Rachel nodded as if that were only right, and filled Yulia's glass. All the while Blow, feeling that he ought not open his mouth, quietly drank. In that moment Rosalyn's gaze, which had been on Rachel, shifted to him.
"Young Lord Blow."
"Yes, Lady Rosalyn. You stepped out earlier — went to change your dress, I see? This one suits you much better."
Blow Deblique, slick as ever. Rosalyn looked at him and burst out laughing, as if she could not believe the nerve of him.
The words spread like a ripple. Everyone who heard them could only stare their way, mouths hanging open.