A Living Contradiction
Richard was smiling. His smile was strange, as though there was no reason for it at all. “Your Majesty?” Archbishop Clondel called to him. But Richard remained lost in thought and did not answer. Herbert watched Richard’s face while waiting for a reply. Richard resembled Leo in beauty, yet he was far more feminine than the prince. It was not only the long, thick lashes and the distinctly feminine curves of his features; the entire atmosphere about him was different. Prince Leo was beautiful, certainly, but his beauty belonged to a child. Richard was not the same. He was not only far more feminine—he was mature. Even that description fell short. Richard was alluring, and that allure was unmistakably sexual. Herbert had never encountered a being so full of contradictions as Richard.
‘If Her Majesty knew, it would be disastrous.’ Richard had once been a man and was now a woman. He was someone who did not wish to display sexual charm, yet unconsciously flaunted it. He had no idea how men perceived him, so he made no effort to guard himself, yet he was also strong enough that such precautions were unnecessary. At this moment, Richard was the very embodiment of living contradiction. Even the slightly loose gentleman’s attire he had borrowed from Leo reflected it. Overall the clothes hung loosely, but they clung where the curves of a woman’s body pressed against the fabric. Herbert imagined the lines hidden beneath those clothes, then merged that imagined figure with the image of a woman whose white, smooth nape was only half-hidden by golden hair tied in a single knot. In his mind, the woman before him was no longer Richard but Queen Richelle. She was the queen of Zylan, the radiance that cast heavenly glory upon the earth. She opened her arms shyly, inviting her lovers into her embrace. She welcomed them with bright, transparent laughter…
“Speak.”
Herbert had been so lost in his reverie that he failed to notice Richard addressing him. Only when Richard turned his gaze toward him did Herbert come back to himself. Chiding himself inwardly, he answered, “My apologies, Your Majesty. You seemed to be in good spirits, so I wondered… if I might ask what has pleased you so.”
“Hm?” Richard replied in a high voice. “I was in good spirits?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. You were smiling.”
“You must have seen wrong.”
Herbert had not seen wrong. He would swear it on the gods—Richard had been smiling at that moment, and smiling quite happily. But Herbert knew better than to argue the truth with this beautiful tyrant. His predecessors had lost their lives to swords or poisoned daggers whose senders could never be traced. He simply agreed. “As you say, Your Majesty.”
“How dull.”
Richard said nothing more and returned to the documents on his desk. Unlike before, he flipped through them quickly; he was merely re-examining matters he had already approved. After reviewing the considerable stack in reverse order and confirming there were no errors, he pushed the papers aside and spoke to Herbert. “The urgent matters requiring the sovereign’s authority are finished. Proceed with them as they stand.”
Richard’s deliberate choice of the word “sovereign” was obvious, but Herbert pretended not to notice and answered, “Understood, Your Majesty.”
“And? Are there any other matters left to handle?”
“What matters do you mean, Your Majesty?”
“Your successor.”
“Ah.” Herbert let out a small exclamation. Three days had already passed since the coronation, yet he had nearly forgotten the matter of his replacement. So many other momentous events had occurred that it had slipped his mind. He answered his queen with due respect. “If I may, I would like to request that I remain in service.”
“Why? What wind has changed your mind?”
“……” Herbert chose his words carefully—or tried to. But among the words that would not offend Richard, none could express what he truly felt. So he spoke plainly. “Because the reason I refused to serve Your Majesty has disappeared.”
“Hm?” Thinking it would have been better to say this from the start, Herbert continued, “……Your Majesty is the legitimate…… queen of this country.”
Zylan was a fine kingdom. It was a military power strong enough to defeat the combined forces of Derim and the Alliance, and its economy was developed enough to dominate North Sea trade. Contrary to what he had believed before his exile—that it was merely a land of barbarians—Zylan possessed laws and a government as advanced as those of his former homeland. His old country had taken its advanced laws lightly and rotted from within until it collapsed. He did not wish to see his new homeland, this beautiful Zylan, crumble into nothingness the way the Eastern Empire had. That was why, even after recognizing Richard’s qualities as a ruler, he had opposed his succession. He braced himself for the thunderbolt—or perhaps the sword—that would fall from Richard. But Richard only rested his cheek on his hand and stared at him intently. Herbert felt a brief relief at his queen’s unexpected reaction, then immediately reconsidered. Richard possessed a bold, masculine temperament. He was not the sort to harbor grudges and seek revenge later; the reason he never needed to was that he expressed his displeasure immediately, violently—sometimes even brutally. Herbert waited for Richard’s next words, hoping the anger would end with a single outburst.
“I understand.”
“Pardon?”
“I said I understand. I will not accept your resignation.”
Yet the words that left Richard’s mouth were nothing more than a deflating reply. Unable to believe it, Herbert—knowing it was rude—stared at Richard rummaging through his desk drawer and asked in a foolish voice, “Truly, Your Majesty?”
Herbert could not believe the words spoken by this lovely woman who housed a violent tyrant within. Richard waved a hand as though annoyed. “Yes, of course. Why? Did you think I would use this as an excuse to have you killed?”
“……” Herbert stiffened slightly, realizing his thoughts had been read. Richard, who had not expected him to truly believe that, frowned a little. But his queen showed no further sign of displeasure. Richard spoke lightly. “Do not worry. I do not kill my retainers in that manner.”
“Yes, Your Majesty……”
Even after saying this, Richard let out a hollow laugh. It was hardly a comforting statement. ‘That’ manner implied he acknowledged killing them in ‘other’ ways. Herbert’s inability to relax his stiff expression was only natural. Richard searched the drawer again and found what he wanted. He lit it with the candle on his desk and burned it. “There. Now then.” Richard rose from his chair as though springing up. “Anything else? Remaining work.” As he spoke, he picked up the two longswords that had been leaning against the desk. Herbert finally understood why Richard’s mood had seemed strangely good. “No, everything is finished, Your Majesty.” “Good.” Richard buckled one sword at his waist and carried the other in his remaining hand as he strode off somewhere, his steps light and nimble, as though wings had sprouted on his feet.
==========
Richard had not expected that going to meet Marion would bring him such joy. Until now, every encounter with Marion had brought only irritation or distress. Especially the events of two days ago—calling them the worst would still be an understatement. He stopped in front of Marion’s bedroom door. When the maid moved to announce his arrival, Richard stopped her. That was enough. He was certain Marion was inside, so he silently kicked the door open. “Marion! I have come!”
Marion started violently. Richard was smiling brightly, like a boy. Marion felt her heart pound—not only because of Richard’s smile or his appearance. She checked the sword at Richard’s waist and spoke in a trembling voice. “B-but, Your Majesty. My sword already broke yesterday……” “That is why I brought another.” Richard produced a second sword from behind his back and showed it to her. Richard smiled brightly; Marion frowned without letting it show. She searched for her next excuse. “……There is still some work left regarding the County of Zad.” “Then have Herbert handle it.” The smile on Richard’s face grew even brighter, and Marion’s expression now resembled rotten cabbage. She desperately blurted out another excuse. “……Um, Your Majesty?” “What is it?” Richard was striding toward her. Marion wanted to back away, but behind her there was only the wall and the window. As Richard drew closer, she offered her final excuse before it was too late. “My muscles are still sore from yesterday’s training…… Ack! Ack!” But she was too late. In an instant Richard was upon her, and despite her pleading he grinned and seized her wrist, then dashed toward the rear garden. “A man of Zylan should not whine about being weak!” “W-wait! Just a moment, Your Majesty! Ack! Slowly! Just a little slower!” But Richard paid no heed to Marion’s pain-filled pleas. That was the entire point of this exercise. He dragged her outside the castle and hurled her to the ground with all his strength. The throw was so forceful that Marion actually left the ground before crashing down shoulder-first. Richard tossed the longsword he had been carrying at the rolling Marion. It was still in its scabbard, so it would not kill her, but the guard struck her hip hard. Marion felt as though she might truly die. Yet no proper groan escaped her lips. She had always thought the chivalric romance descriptions of being ‘too pained to even moan’ were mere exaggeration, and now she regretted that thought. Of course, regretting it changed nothing. Richard had no intention of leaving her in pain. He intended to make her suffer even more. He drew the sword at his waist. The sound of cold steel leaving its scabbard sent a chill through Marion’s entire body. In terror that she might actually die, she rolled across the ground. Richard’s sword plunged into the spot where she had just been lying. “You had better draw that sword quickly,” Richard said with an angelic face and a smile that seemed to have crawled up from the depths of hell. “Otherwise, this will not be sword training but endurance training.”