The Silver-Haired Young Master
Kanne spoke to her as if he had never uttered a single threat, despite having all but dragged her here by force.
“There were an unusual number of locals. Is the alcohol that good? I mean at the Pearl Oyster tavern.”
“The taste is nothing special… but it is cheap.”
“What about it as a place to stay? Though I’ve already unpacked quite a while ago. Do you know an inn called The Captain’s Anchor? That’s where we’re staying. But there are thieves crawling around both day and night. Is that just how it is in a neighborhood like this during times like these?”
To the man who tossed out scattered questions and complaints, Tichite replied in her neat, even voice.
“The Captain’s Anchor has always only done business with transients.”
“What? Really?”
“It’s already famous among sailors. Unless it’s their first time in town, no one stays there twice.”
“Damn it, I knew it. I told you a place that quiet had to have something suspicious about it.”
Kanne’s disappointed tone overflowed with breezy cheer.
“Now that I think about it, how old are you, Langlang?”
“…Twenty-six.”
“Twenty-six?”
He asked her age, then exaggerated his surprise the moment he heard the answer.
“You’re older than I thought. I swear I can never guess the age of Tilamin girls. I would’ve believed you if you said sixteen.”
The man added the kind of assessment she had heard so often it nearly bored her, putting on an innocent act. He probably meant it as a compliment, but to the person in question it sounded backhanded. In other words, it meant she looked weak and easy to push around. For a short foreign woman, looking younger than her years brought far more harm than good in daily life.
Still, she didn’t show it. She displayed neither dislike nor pleasure. She knew he wasn’t truly curious about her; he simply hated silence and was forcing the conversation to continue. The knight was young, handsome, and sociable. Tichite kept her mouth shut as much as possible, afraid that tension might make her slip up.
The two of them passed through the cloister and entered the stone tower, climbing the spiral staircase higher and higher until they reached the guest quarters. Servants lived on the first floor, the lord’s family occupied the third, and rooms for honored guests began on the fourth. Beneath a ceiling tall enough to encompass two full stories, Tichite finally lifted her head. She was overwhelmed by the grandeur of the plastered ceiling that completely concealed its beams. The ornate tracery of the large windows drew moonlight in beautifully.
While Tichite was lost in admiration, the guard spoke to another security soldier and asked him to let them into the receiving room. A moment later the door opened, and the soldier ushered Kanne and Tichite inside.
The room had a ceiling as high as the corridor. A massive tapestry hung over wooden panels that hid the cold stone walls. It depicted a crescent moon shaped like a fingernail, a deer, and a wide field of grass embroidered with silver thread. Beneath a slender crescent moon at the very center sat a man.
“Welcome, Kanne.”
A voice warm with welcome greeted them. Tichite realized this was the very person who had turned the city upside down searching for her. She had imagined a middle-aged man troubled by health issues, so she was quite startled to meet a surprisingly young and beautiful youth instead.
The young man possessed the same beautiful silver hair as the Guarding Knight who had tragically passed away that afternoon. In the flickering candlelight it was hard to pinpoint the exact color, but his eyes showed a clear separation between iris and pupil. He was the very ideal of the appearance Bigland people preferred.
He looked around the same age as Tichite. Perhaps even younger. Despite being a young man, he sat in a chair with a high wooden back and sturdy armrests, like an elderly person who had difficulty walking. He greeted them as if reuniting with a close friend after many years, yet showed no intention of rising from his seat.
“I’ve waited a long time.”
“We came as quickly as we could.”
“This is, well…”
“The apothecary you mentioned.”
When the man looked at Kanne with eyes that clearly wanted an explanation, he answered.
Tichite felt a pressure that told her she must introduce herself.
“My name is Tichite Ranlam.”
She did not forget to politely grasp the hem of her long skirt.
“Ral-lam.”
The man pronounced her name with the best accent she had heard all day and commanded,
“Come closer. I have waited a long time.”
He used a polite yet authoritative way of speaking. The courteous tone was nothing more than formality. He remained glued to his chair as if honey had been smeared on his backside, and Tichite had to swallow hard and take several more steps toward him. At a distance where she could almost touch him if she leaned forward, she finally had the chance to study his face.
The man was extraordinarily beautiful. His skin was clear, the tip of his nose high, his chin elegantly tapered, and his eyelashes so thick and long that the eyes hidden behind them looked deep and gentle, like those of a herbivore.
First Zylas, then Kanne, and now this nameless beautiful noble youth. Tichite felt as if she were encountering all the handsome men she would meet in her lifetime in a single day. Kanne was certainly a striking young man, but he could not compare to the one before her. The two belonged to completely different categories of beauty.
In truth, Kanne’s charm came far more from his height than his face, so comparing them might have been absurd to begin with. This stranger was so lovely in every feature that simply calling him handsome felt insufficient; he was beautiful enough to make even a woman feel intimidated.
“You must have been startled, being summoned so suddenly. Kanne, did you explain the situation? How much does she know?”
When the man asked, Kanne answered with his arms crossed, his tone playful.
“She heard everything from Madam Mentos, so I told her to come along quietly.”
“Ah, so that’s why she’s trembling like a mouse caught in a trap.”
“No. It’s probably because she thinks of me as a debt collector.”
“Debt collector?”
“Her older brother had gambling debts. I paid them off in his place. How much was it again?”
“…Two thousand karso.”
“Right, two thousand karso. I’ll put this service fee on the Duke’s account.”
Kanne winked and snapped his fingers. The amount seemed so large one might easily forget it, yet the man spoke as if he fully intended to collect the money.
At the title “Duke,” Tichite’s ears perked up. No matter how she thought about it, the only person an Iron Horse Knight would call “Duke” was that very Duke.
Then this man was…?
Tichite looked at him with puzzled eyes. It was hard to believe he was the same person as that terrifying knight in iron armor. Where in that slender body could such power have come from?
Even at this late hour, the man was dressed in refined and uncomfortable clothing. Luxurious fabric gathered neatly over his legs and knees, flowing all the way to the floor. His sophisticated features, upright posture, and the atmosphere created by his splendid attire and bearing were all elegant. He was unmistakably aristocratic at first glance, so Tichite could not help tensing up.
‘It’s late, but should I throw myself flat on the floor now?’
While she was debating, Tichite’s eyes caught a strange detail. The chair the man sat in had very small wheels attached. That was the source of the subtle sense of wrongness she had felt.
A man stood a step away, ready to attend him at any moment, and the chair was built so it could not move unless someone pushed it. The man standing there like a silent shadow in the dark probably spent most of his time moving that chair.
Once she understood the purpose of the strange chair, the man’s body looked different. A thick blanket covered his lap, but it could not hide the emptiness beneath. The point where his knees should bend looked unnaturally sunken, and where his calves should have been, long fabric simply fell straight down.
Tichite quickly averted her eyes without acknowledging what she had seen.
‘He has no legs.’
The youth’s legs seemed to end below the knee, or perhaps even higher.
He was an impossibly beautiful man, yet crippled.
Did their goddess only feel satisfied after taking something from beautiful men? It had been his life, and now his legs—things that were by no means trivial.
As her misunderstanding, questions, and curiosity deepened, the man belatedly introduced himself.
“My introduction is late. My name is Desidero. I am the guardian of Lichfield and a loyal servant to Duke Paeroa. I wished to meet you not with any ill intent, but simply to ask for your help.”