Arrival
The moment Elise returned to her estate, she spat out a curse.
"That goddamn son of a bitch."
She slammed the door shut the instant she stepped out of the car.
Bang!
Liana, who had come out to greet her, took one look at Elise's thunderous expression and asked carefully,
"My lady. I take it the engagement wasn't broken off smoothly."
Elise strode into the mansion as she answered.
"That's right. Those bastards think of me as nothing but a machine that brings in money. I should have known the second I heard the other party was a merchant house."
The plan had been to break off the engagement under the pretext of marrying the Empire's hero. But that very hero had fled north, and the whole scheme had fallen apart. On top of that, the hero had already been attacked once while staying inside her estate, so she had no grounds left to detain him.
Liana's face darkened.
"My lady……"
"I'm not hungry. I'm going to sleep."
Elise headed straight for her study. Her plan was to clear the backlog of official documents and then collapse into bed. She sat at her desk and worked through the papers until her hand suddenly stopped.
"Hm?"
It was a personnel order from above. Her expression twisted into pure disbelief, and she muttered under her breath.
"……Knight Order Cooperative Commander?"
Which meant her next post was the North—in other words, a demotion. Had sheltering Rodeban been the problem? She had never once set foot outside the capital.
"Hmm……"
Elise stared at the order a moment longer—then realized, rather unexpectedly, that she didn't feel all that bad about it. Come to think of it, Rodeban was in the North. He was retired; she could summon him whenever she got bored. And since the post was only a temporary demotion posting, there probably wouldn't be much work anyway. She decided to treat it as a vacation from life.
Without meaning to, the words slipped out of her mouth.
"Actually, this is perfect."
Inside the carriage, Rodeban looked over the contract and nodded.
"Thank you, my lady."
The terms were thoroughly satisfying. Recover the Magic Sword, receive the Holy Fluid.
Easy enough.
In all his dealings with nobles over the years, this was the first commission he had actually considered a net gain—which only made his mood better. Put another way, it meant he had spent his whole life taking losses. Anyway.
"It's nothing. What matters more is that you've set aside your suspicions, Sir Rodeban."
Was it just his imagination that she lingered so pointedly on the word suspicions?
Rodeban looked faintly awkward.
"……I apologize."
"It's fine. Being thorough isn't a bad thing."
Seria laid out the schedule.
"We should arrive at our destination, the Lepièrre Front, around evening. I'd like you to rest for the night and begin the recovery operation the next day."
"Understood."
Rodeban nodded. The important conversation seemed to be over. He turned his gaze to the window, where a snow-covered forest slid past. Beyond it stretched a broad range of white mountains, and looking at them cleared something in his chest. He hated the cold with a passion, but scenery like this wasn't half bad.
Then Seria's voice drifted over.
"Sir Rodeban, are you by any chance marr—"
At that exact moment, a wave of drowsiness hit him. He blinked a few times—and the position of the sun had changed. Moments ago it had hung in the center of the sky; now a red sunset was sinking toward the horizon. In short, he had fallen asleep with his eyes open.
Rodeban sighed inwardly.
Is my body worse off than I thought?
The day had slipped by far too fast. He turned his head—and found the duchess staring at him with an extraordinarily sullen expression.
……What? Did I do something wrong?
A genuinely terrifying situation. Come to think of it, she might have been saying something right before he dozed off. Rodeban immediately bowed his head.
"I-I'm sorry, my lady. Did I commit some discourtesy……?"
His voice barely worked after waking up mid-sleep. The duchess said nothing.
"……"
Just then the carriage came to a stop, and the coachman's voice called from up front.
"We've arrived, my lady."
A moment later the door opened on its own.
Creeeak—
A servant waiting outside had opened it for them. Seria stepped down from the carriage and offered a brief farewell.
"I'll see you tomorrow."
"Ah—yes. Until tomorrow, my lady."
Rodeban hurriedly bowed. He couldn't shake the feeling that what she had actually meant was don't let me see your face until tomorrow. The atmosphere was not good.
"……"
Once he confirmed her presence had faded into the distance, Rodeban slowly climbed out of the carriage. The waiting servant bowed.
"Sir Rodeban. It is an honor to receive you. Your guest room is this way."
He lifted his head and looked at the building in front of him—another lavish mansion. Not quite on Elise's level, but still.
Rich nobles and their damn money……
A man of colossal inferiority complex stepped into the estate. When they reached the guest room door, the servant guiding him suddenly hesitated with a grave look, then forced out a single, agonized request.
"S-Sir Rodeban. If you happen to have a moment later…… might I trouble you for an autograph……?"
He agreed without hesitation.
"Hm? I can do it right now."
"Th-thank you……!"
Inside the guest room, Rodeban stretched out on the bed. The mansion seemed to be a place the ducal house used when its people came out for inspections. Once again the room was spacious, clean, and quiet—vastly better than the commoner housing he'd lived in, at any rate.
—Rodeban……
Suddenly someone's voice reached him. He looked up and saw one corner of the ceiling rippling like water. A human face surfaced from it.
"You……"
Rodeban's brow furrowed. It was the officer he had run into at Elise's estate.
—Because of you, my comrades……
"……My madness is acting up again."
He slapped himself hard across the cheek.
Smack—!
It happened from time to time—one of the aftereffects of the Winterfelt battle. Today felt a little worse than usual.
—Sir Rodeban is here?
All at once the servants' voices came through with startling clarity. Without meaning to, his senses had spread through the entire mansion like a spiderweb.
—R-really? Think I could get an autograph somehow?
—Heh heh heh. I already got one.
—Whaaat? Then I want one too!
Every presence in the mansion poured into him. Trivial chatter, laughter, someone's gossip—every scrap of noise came flooding in.
—Hahaha! I'm coming with you!
—No, I've told you a dozen times, that's not how you fold those clothes……
There were a lot of people. Rodeban forced himself to take a deep breath.
Composure……
How do you make an unpeaceful mind peaceful? Then, suddenly, one voice snagged his attention.
—My lady. Shall I prepare a meal?
A conversation between Seria and one of her servants. Eavesdropping was a bad habit, he knew—and yet he wanted to hear what they said.
Seria's voice answered.
—Yes. Please do. But I'll eat separately.
—Why? You should eat together. Isn't this the visit from the hero you've been waiting and waiting for? You look especially down today.
—Sir Rodeban…… just kept sleeping the whole way. I think his body is in really bad shape.
The voice saying it was rather dark. The servant heaved a deep sigh.
—And that's why you look like you want to die of depression? You can't do that! You even wrote a fairy tale last time, remember? The girl rescued by the great hero!
—Sh-shut up, Claire.
—You did put on the underwear I recommended last time, right?
—Wh-what does underwear have to do with anything!
"Hmph."
Rodeban sat up on the bed. The moment he decided he'd heard enough, his senses retracted on their own.
"……Got help in a weird way."
He rolled his shoulders once and left the guest room. The servant had been right—he was hungry. And according to his personal healer, meals were a matter of critical importance. Rodeban was currently suffering from malnutrition.
The thought struck him unbidden.
A malnourished war hero, huh……
An absurd phrase. A hollow laugh slipped out of him as he stepped into the hallway.
"Man, I'm starving."
A servant was waiting by the door. She bowed when she saw him.
"Sir Rodeban. Shall I show you to the dining hall?"
"Yes. Please."
As they walked down the corridor, the servant ahead of him stammered out a question, tripping over every other word.
"Sir Rodeban. Th-the other maids would like autographs as well…… would that be all right……?"
Looking at her face, he recognized her as the one who had asked for a signature earlier. Rodeban nodded readily.
"Tell them all to come by after I finish eating."
"Th-thank you!"
When Rodeban entered the dining hall, a servant approached with a report.
"Sir Rodeban. The bounty for the capture of Veraoke the Red Axe has been issued. How would you like it delivered?"
"……Already?"
"The Knight Order headquarters is nearby."
……Was it? It's been so long since I was last up here that the geography's gone fuzzy.
Rodeban took the documents the servant held out. They stated that Veraoke's person had been transferred to Knight Order headquarters an hour earlier. Interrogation was still underway.
"Your meal is served."
"Ah—thank you."
The bounty came to one hundred imperial gold coins. Not a sum a commoner could casually lay hands on—but it wasn't a fortune either. He was turning over places to spend it when someone's voice brushed through his mind.
—Aren't you even curious how Luce is doing these days?
……Come to think of it, I need to pay her academy tuition.
It was already February; the new term would start soon. He hadn't sent her money in a while, so the timing was about right. He spoke to the servant.
"Would you send the entire bounty to the Imperial Academy? The recipient's name is Luce."
The servant's eyes widened slightly, and she asked again.
"All of it, sir?"
"Yes. All of it. Tuition's a bit expensive."
"Understood."
And so Rodeban finished his meal alone. Just as he'd overheard, Seria was eating in her own room—which meant he got to enjoy a rare, comfortable meal in peace.
"That was excellent. Thank you."
After dinner, when Rodeban returned to his guest room, a crowd of people had gathered outside. What on earth—
"I-I'm sorry, Sir Rodeban. There are so many servants who want an autograph……"
At the servant's words, Rodeban let out a dry laugh.
An autograph session?
It was thoroughly absurd. But he had no particular reason to refuse, so he signed for every last one of them.
"One at a time, please."
Moments like this made the claim that the people's support for him ran high feel real. The servants accepted their signatures quietly and left. Silence settled over the room that had been so noisy a moment before.
A sudden emptiness washed over him, and he opened the window.
Whoosh—
A cool night sky stretched out before him. The stars scattered across it looked little different from the night sky he'd known in the capital. Out of nowhere he wanted to go home—meaning, of course, the real world he'd originally come from, which made it a hopeless wish.
He shook his head hard and muttered,
"……Listen to me wallowing. Just go to sleep."
He closed the window again and threw himself onto the bed. If he was going to carry out the commission first thing in the morning, he needed to get some rest.
Of course, sleeping was one of the few things Rodeban was genuinely good at, so he wasn't particularly worried. He was already desperately tired. He lay down without a thought in his head……
……and it was morning.
His body was still heavy. The sensation of waking up with the fatigue completely unrelieved was genuinely awful.
Knock knock—
A servant's knock at the door. Rodeban forced himself upright, recalling what he had to do.
"……Magic Sword recovery."