Secret Friends

Ample time had passed since I blew the Duke away to the sanctuary protected by Amica's grace. Once more, I pictured a figure I must have imagined over a hundred times: a tall young man with black hair and golden eyes. By now, Duke Fidus might have already run into him—the protagonist of this novel, the black-haired Ratel. He was currently being raised and protected by the followers of Amica, hidden away from the eyes of the Imperial Family.

If the timeline of that place had been pulled forward like it had in the Empire, Duke Fidus would likely return to the Empire alongside the protagonist. In the original novel, the Duke miraculously survived his fall from the cliff, lived as a vagrant, and only crossed paths with Ratel after Ratel ventured out of Amica's Space. This time, however, I had forced their meeting from the very beginning, so things might progress much faster. If the world outside the Empire was still flowing according to the original plot, the Duke would spend about six months living in that sanctuary before returning. I was a little worried, but it shouldn't be a bad choice for either the protagonist or the Duke.

And if the timeline inside Amica's Space had also been accelerated, causing Ratel to arrive in the capital much sooner...

I paused my train of thought and looked around. The high sky, the crisp air, the lush green leaves and moss. It meant the days I had left to enjoy this scenery were numbered. Perhaps people naturally grow sentimental when they feel the end approaching. The thought that I might soon have to bid farewell to this place—the only part of the Imperial Palace I actually liked—made me linger over things I used to pass by without a second glance.

Or maybe I just had some peace of mind today because that squeaking little creature wasn't around. The squirrel, which used to follow me into the forest every single day, hadn't pulled any of its usual stunts—like sneaking into my bag—ever since the day I fainted. So even that thing knows fear. It was a relief.

"Grrr."

I watched a bear twice the size of a wolf slowly lumbering toward me, snorting roughly, and thought: If it had tagged along today, it really might have met a sudden, gruesome death on the spot.

"As you may know, sir, this is a sanctuary where those who serve Lord Amica live in hiding. Thanks to His grace, we are able to preserve our humble lives and carry on our noble mission."

Agoni—or "Jing," as he was called here—stared blankly at the man introducing him to this strange land. The speaker was one of the younger members among those clad in robes. Introducing himself as Ren, he was currently showing Jing around this small world known as Amica's Space, acting under the orders of that sly, snake-like old man.

Ultimately, Jing had been granted a degree of freedom in his daily life, albeit under their surveillance. Still, to go so far as to give him a guided tour... Just letting him out of his cell was an act of kindness so immense that Jing almost worried these people were being far too deferential to the old man's whims. He understood why they couldn't kill him, but letting him roam like this seemed incredibly risky for a community living in hiding. What if he truly was a spy sent by the Imperial Family? Even if they believed he might be a messenger sent by Amica, showing him every nook and cranny of their geography felt like overreaching. Or perhaps they wanted something from him. After all, there had to be a reason why the Elder, who had previously left him rotting in a cell, had suddenly come to see him. They must have reached a point where they could no longer afford to just test the waters.

"Am I walking too fast?"

When Jing lagged behind, lost in suspicion over their sudden about-face, the man leading the way glanced back at Jing's splinted right leg and asked.

"Ah," Jing murmured. Worried he might look like he was mapping out the area too meticulously, Jing shook his head. "No. I was just taking in the scenery. It is quite beautiful."

At his reply, the young man furrowed his brow slightly before turning forward again. He hadn't hidden his displeasure at letting Jing roam free, yet here he was, dutifully playing tour guide on the old man's orders. Was he the type who obeyed his superiors blindly?

"I tend to walk quickly, so let me know immediately if you feel any pain. It will only complicate things if you collapse on the way."

Watching the young man's back as he threw out the cold words without even looking, Jing tilted his head. ...Or is he just soft-hearted underneath? He certainly hadn't expected that, given how ill-tempered the old man seemed. Hiding his amusement, Jing followed the man, whose pace had noticeably slowed.

To call it a village was an understatement; the scale of this place was vast, and the population seemed quite large. Above all, it was beautiful. His excuse about lingering because of the scenery hadn't been entirely a lie. Set against a vast, sweeping plain, low white buildings—ancient yet pristine—clustered together to form a settlement. The residents seemed to go about their daily lives quietly and diligently. Everything was peaceful. The high, blue sky stretched out so wide above him that it felt as though it might swallow him whole. This nameless country existed under a sky entirely separate from Abaran's.

The god Amica. A forgotten deity whose very visage had been lost to time. Little was known about those who worshipped Amica. Only the elderly whispered tales of Amica's followers as if they were ancient folklore from before Duke Agoni Fidus was even born. Agoni Fidus, too, had grown up hearing those stories. And around the time he formally began his training as the family heir, he had easily caught wind of the news that the last remaining remnants of the cult had been rounded up and captured. He had heard it from his father. Though the memory was faint now, back then, he had felt proud that his father had wiped out those "savages." He had been proud that the Fides Duchy had stood at the forefront of the empire to vanquish the heretics. That they had finally defeated those dangerous, violent heretics.

...Or so he had been taught.

After completing their circuit, Ren and Jing returned to the temple, which stood apart from the residential area.

"Master Ren."

A black-haired youth walked out from the entrance, as if he had been waiting for them. It was the one who had dragged Jing here in the first place. His name was Ratel, if he recalled correctly.

"The Elder is waiting inside."

Ren nodded, gestured to Jing, and led the way into the temple, with Jing in the middle and the youth, Ratel, following close behind. The path leading into the depths of the temple—which was considerably larger than the other buildings—was long. Both of his guides had been silent during the tour outside. The addition of another quiet youth wasn't about to spark a warm, friendly conversation among the three of them. Jing saw no need to speak first either, so he simply followed.

Tap. Tap. Clack. Clack.

In the heavy silence, the sound of Ren's boots and the rhythmic clinking of the sword hanging from Ratel's waist fell into a steady cadence. Seeing the two of them moving with identical strides and paces almost made Jing smile.

"Are you two father and son?"

The question slipped out on an uncharacteristic impulse. It was born of curiosity at how the two, despite looking completely different, exuded a strangely similar aura. And perhaps, it was born of a sudden yearning for the son he had left behind in the Empire.

"No. I have no parents."

At the flat, calm reply from directly behind him, Jing had to actively restrain himself from slapping his own mouth.

"Ah, forgive me. An old man's foolish tongue speaking nonsense."

"..."

Ratel offered no reply, and a silence far heavier than before settled over the trio. Jing dragged his heavy feet forward, silently resolving that if Ratel ever decided to bind his limbs again, he would let him do it without a single protest.

"They want to delay the construction again?"

Tollin muttered to himself, trying his best to suppress his irritation. But his mounting frustration got the better of him, and he quietly flung the gold-embossed letter across the room.

His aide, Pale, watched in sheer horror. Lest anyone see, he hurriedly retrieved the flying letter and placed it neatly back on the desk.

"I-it seems there was a slight issue in procuring the timber required by the Imperial Family," Pale stammered. Even though he knew his words would do nothing to cool Tollin's temper, he spoke up in a desperate bid to say something. "I am terribly sorry," he apologized immediately.

This was the Imperial Court—a place where, if ordered to bring a flying lion by tomorrow, dozens of people would invent miraculous alchemy ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠just to present one. Tollin, Pale, and even a passing beggar knew that there was no way they couldn't procure mere timber, even if it meant felling trees made of solid gold.

"Leave me."

"Yes, sir."

Pale bowed and quietly slipped out of the room. Through the narrowing crack of the closing door, he saw Tollin bury his face in his hands.

Sigh.

Pale let out the breath he had been holding as he walked away from Tollin's office. Ever since the Noble Council had been convened, the Imperial Family had repeatedly rejected the Duchy's requests. Or rather, if it had been an outright rejection, they could have just gone ahead with the construction on their own. The real problem was that the court kept delaying it, citing all sorts of excuses. The excuses were so half-hearted that this timber issue actually seemed logical by comparison. Tollin looked as if his head would split from trying to figure out what the Imperial Family truly wanted. Watching him suffer, Pale felt himself wasting away day by day as well.

"Has something happened to Tollin?"

"Gah!"

Startled by the sudden, clear voice, Pale let out an unsightly gasp and stumbled backward. The young heir of the Fides family, who had run into him at the corner of the hallway, blinked his large eyes in surprise at Pale's dramatic reaction.

"M-my apologies, Young Duke! I was lost in thought..."

"No, no, it's fine. It was my fault for speaking to you so suddenly," the boy replied politely, waving his hand to reassure the profusely apologizing aide. "Tell me, is Tollin in his office?"

"Yes, sir. I shall go inform him immediately that you are looking for—"

"No, don't. He seems busy." The Young Duke shook his head again. "It's nothing major, so you can just answer me. Has the construction been delayed again?"

Pale wanted to treat this small child with the respect due to a future Duke, but at the same time, he didn't want to burden one so young with such heavy worries. Struggling to find the right words, he settled on a compromise. "Yes, sir. But it is nothing for you to worry about. It has merely been postponed slightly due to some matters within the Imperial Court."

At those words, the Young Duke's face fell slightly. However, Pale had never been around children enough to read such subtle shifts in expression. Moreover, the Young Duke was remarkably mature for his age and quickly masked his disappointment, preventing Pale from noticing his unease.

"I see. That is a relief, then. Keep up the good work."

The Young Duke parted ways with Pale and slowly walked back toward his room. He was an intelligent child—smart enough to realize that a massive shift was occurring within the Fidus family, and that Tollin and the other adults were bearing the brunt of it. Yet, he was still too young to understand why his heart felt so heavy when everyone was trying so hard to protect him. Those who loved him did ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠everything they could to keep him from sadness, which had helped him accept his father's passing. But on some days, like today, an inexplicable anxiety would wash over him.

Sighing softly, the Young Duke opened the door to his room.

Caw—

He spotted a crow sitting quietly on the windowsill, letting out a soft cry.

"Kamang!"

He rushed over to it, his face lighting up. With the practiced ease of someone who had known the bird for a long time, he coaxed the crow onto his shoulder. "Where have you been all this time? I read that some crows migrate for the winter, and I was so worried you had left without saying goodbye."

The boy gently stroked the crow's glossy feathers. "Huh? What's this fur?"

Noticing a stray patch of brown fur caught near the tip of its wing, the Young Duke tilted his head in curiosity. "Did you go make a new ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠friend?"

The crow offered no answer, quietly preening its feathers. Since he hadn't really expected a reply anyway, the Young Duke simply brushed the stray fur off his hand—never imagining for a second that it belonged to a giant bear dwelling deep within the Imperial Forest.