Fragrance and Stench
In the banquet hall of Baldrova Castle, Ferda watched from above as the knights gathered.
“Disgusting things.”
Ruri, standing beside him and looking down into the hall, muttered the words.
“Your hatred of humans seems a little excessive.”
“It isn’t hatred of humans. Those things down there are simply disgusting.”
Unable to endure it any longer, Ruri pressed a handkerchief over her mouth and nose.
“When I heard they were wandering knights, I thought they’d be about as bad as field mice. How is it possible for them to be even worse?”
They had doused themselves thoroughly in perfume, layer upon layer. Yet the covering had been calculated only for human noses; it meant nothing to a Dragon Spawn like Ruri. She gagged.
“Do humans really walk around reeking of something this strange? Not perfume, not scent—just this filthy, garbage-like stench. What even is it?”
Ferda nodded as though he understood perfectly.
“When one is granted an audience with a king, that much is considered basic.”
“You mean not washing?”
Ruri stared at him as if asking whether he was serious. Ferda nodded again.
“It is one of a knight’s virtues. To wash away one’s odor is considered a disgrace to knighthood. Even if one arrives in haste, what matters is that one can still produce a fragrance.”
“You know this barbaric custom well.”
“I come from a knightly house, so it is only natural.”
Ferda himself had always regarded the custom as barbaric. Most knights probably thought the same. It endured for no reason other than tradition. And imperial knights were the sort of men who would stab even their own fathers if tradition demanded it.
“Will you do the same, Lord Ferda?”
“I am no knight. Why would I bother?”
Ferda preferred cleanliness. In the years he had lived in a bathroom, he had kept the place spotless, and that cleanliness had become a part of him he could never peel away.
“They seem to have almost all gathered. What will you do?”
“Hmm…”
Ferda studied the crowd once more with careful eyes.
As expected, he isn’t here.
He had lured the wandering knights with the promise of a territory in exchange for thirty monster corpses. The condition had been meant both to gather the corpses at once and to draw the knights themselves so he could look them over.
The walking fortress, Alberdo—nowhere to be seen.
A wandering knight who wore armor of material as hard and heavy as a tortoise’s shell, a greatsword in one hand and a massive shield in the other. Without horse or squire he walked the roads on his own two feet—a shabby yet noble knight.
I know he never cared for lands or loyalty, but I thought the Far East might have interested him.
He had sworn to fight everything that threatened humanity. The Far East was rife with such threats; Ferda had expected the walking fortress to want a place here.
“Are you looking for someone?”
Ruri asked quietly while he scanned the hall.
“If I am looking, then I am looking. If I am not, then I am not.”
“What does that mean?”
“It is like hoping to find a silver coin lying on the road while you walk. Enough idle talk. Let us go down.”
“Yes.”
Ruri’s index finger pointed at Ferda’s toes. She flicked her wrist. A pale white vortex began to turn silently beneath his feet. Ferda felt his body grow light.
Heaven Stair.
A third-circle spell that allowed one to descend from the air to the ground slowly and safely. Minor and of little real use, yet one of the magics nobles frequently employed to preserve their dignity.
Ferda stepped into the empty air. His body drifted downward on a gentle diagonal, carrying him toward the dais.
“Huh?”
Someone spotted him and cried out.
“Someone’s coming down.”
“Is that… the master of this castle?”
The less perceptive wandering knights simply stared blankly as he descended. Ferda clasped his hands behind his back and set foot upon the dais. He turned smoothly to look down upon them.
The lofty bearing of a great archmage, perfectly matched to the elegant magic. Even the dullest of the wandering knights fell silent.
“Greetings.”
He offered the salutation in a solemn voice.
Watching Ferda, Stefan found himself momentarily captivated by the uncommon presence.
That’s the kept man of Baldrova? The foolish boy drunk on power?
It was astonishing. He had heard that the Grand Duke’s fiancé was a youth barely of age, yet the man truly was young. Not a single wandering knight present was younger than he; even the youngest among them was five years older.
And yet the dignity pouring from him is like that of a family head who has held his seat for decades—charisma that matches them.
Even though he was more than five years their junior, no one dared think of pushing him with age.
This is no time to stand around!
Stefan, who had been lost in the sight of him, snapped back to himself. He was standing stiff-legged before a king!
A few of the quicker knights had already dropped to one knee. Stefan nudged Robellus in the side.
“Sir Knight.”
“Huh? Yeah? Yeah?”
“You need to kneel.”
“Huh? …Ah!”
Only then did Robellus understand and hurriedly sink to his knees. It was an ungainly, improper posture, but what did that matter? One after another the other knights recovered their wits and knelt as well.
Ferda continued.
“I am Ferda Valdrova, fiancé of the Grand Duke of Baldrova and currently serving as regent of the Grand Duchy.”
“We greet the Regent of the Grand Duchy!”
Someone roared the greeting in a powerful voice. The knights who had been staring blankly belatedly joined in and offered their respects.
A knight who had been waiting at the very front swept his hair back. He meant to introduce himself before anyone else.
“It is a true honor to set foot in the domain of the great Lord of Power. As for myself—”
“Ah. That will not be necessary.”
Ferda sealed the greasy knight’s mouth shut. Refusing to hear a knight’s introduction was a breach of royal etiquette.
Why block it deliberately?
There was no need to think deeply. From the beginning Ferda had no intention of observing etiquette.
“The wrapping paper you have all prepared is useless. Everything inside is trash. Why raise a man’s expectations only to disappoint him?”
“…Pardon?”
“Th-that… what…?”
Every wandering knight made a sound of confusion. Their plate armor clattered and rang.
Uwaaah! This is brutal—brutally cold!
Stefan’s head was already spinning from the perfume; now the atmosphere had turned vicious as well. The man who had hurled the insults simply flowed onward like a great calm river.
“Shall I make it simpler? It means every one of you is hollow inside. Empty wagons that make a great deal of noise, nothing more than hollow bread.”
Thud!
Someone slammed a gauntlet against the floor.
“Your words go too far, Regent! I beg you to retract that statement!”
A rough-faced knight spoke. His armor was covered in scars, giving the impression of a man who had crossed countless battlefields. He was the same man who had bought thirty monster corpses from Stefan himself.
Wow, the nerve.
While Stefan watched in disgust, Ferda gazed down at the knight steadily.
“Too far, you say…”
He nodded as though acknowledging the point.
“Very well. If I am wrong, I shall apologize to you all.”
Hands still clasped behind his back, Ferda walked along the edge of the dais. His gaze swept over every wandering knight.
“Is there anyone here who personally slew all thirty monsters himself?”
“Ugh…”
“Ahem…”
Some of the knights who had been about to swell with indignation at the insult cleared their throats and lowered their heads. Others among them, however, watched the reactions around them and wore faint, contemptuous smiles.
The rough-faced knight still held his head high. Ferda now addressed those who remained upright.
“Among you, is there anyone who took all thirty alone?”
“Mm…”
“Alone? How could anyone…”
They muttered, then fell silent under the weight of Ferda’s gaze. Another portion of them dropped their heads and made awkward sounds. Yet those still standing meant they had neither bought nor borrowed the monsters; they had brought them by their own pure strength as wandering knights.
There is no way such a man exists.
Any wandering knight strong enough to take thirty monsters alone would already be serving under someone. The fact that every one of them still held his head high simply meant every one of them was lying. They assumed Ferda could not possibly know their affairs, so they brazened it out.
No—unless the lord is a complete fool, he would never take that at face value.
Stefan watched Ferda’s reaction. Ferda met the eyes of those still looking up, then simply nodded.
“I see.”
And he accepted it. That easily?
“Then I shall apologize.”
Ferda approached a young page standing nearby and held out his hand. She drew from her skirts a single scroll sealed with vermilion wax.
“Do you know what this is?”
Ferda raised it so all could see. Even the slowest among them recognized it at once.
“This is the deed of ownership and title certificate for the territory formerly administered by Tessalos Wolcher. Once any of your names is written upon it, the effect takes hold.”
The prize every knight present coveted.
“In any case, you presented thirty monster corpses. A promise must be kept, must it not?”
He set the scroll upon the table on the dais and spoke.
“If you desire it…”
The words rang out like the signal that begins a war.
“Come and take it.”
Light exploded in the eyes of every wandering knight. Stefan instinctively flinched back. He had seen this scene to the point of exhaustion.
The aunties when a seventy-percent-off sign goes up for a stock-clearance sale!
Get caught between those wild-eyed aunties and your back is as good as broken. These were knights; the scuffle would be even rougher. Better not to look. He lowered his head.
Yet no one moved. Not even Robellus beside him.
Stefan cautiously lifted his gaze and asked, “Sir Knight, aren’t you going?”
“Urgh… uurrgh…”
He could not. Robellus was suffering. His eyes were stretched round as if they might pop from their sockets, fixed on a single point. Wondering what he was staring at, Stefan turned his head without thinking—
“H-huuh!”
He too made a choking sound.
A d-dragon?
Where the page had stood, a silver dragon now coiled, glaring with blazing eyes. Everyone was frozen solid under that gaze.
What is that? When did it get here? Or… have we been transported somewhere else?
Stefan wondered whether he had somehow arrived in another place entirely. The terror was so deep it interfered with coherent thought.
Even while every body remained locked, someone rose.
“Succeesss…”
The breath of a dying old man.
“Laaand…”
“Marriiage… escape…!”
Like dying old men they forced themselves toward the blank certificate, step by agonizing step. The race for the dais had begun when—
Grrrr…
The dragon’s form twisted. The still shape began to snarl as though angered by their approach. The wandering knights who had forced themselves into motion froze once more.
The silver dragon that had been coiled began to move.
GRAAAAH!!
It roared as if its reverse scale had been touched.
—What happens to the knights if you use Dragon Fear?
Before meeting the knights, Ferda had asked Ruri.
—Most of them run. They believe a dragon is chasing them.
—And if you use it lightly?
—Mm, their five senses become convinced a dragon is present, and they can no longer move.
—That should be sufficient. When I give the signal, can you release a little Dragon Fear?
—On the knights?
—Yes. If we are to decide the master of a territory, we at least do not want cowards, do we?
Ferda had spoken so, and Ruri had agreed to a degree.
I thought it would not matter who won…
Ruri’s thoughts had gradually changed. Imagination and reality always differed, yet the decisive factor shaking her heart was something else entirely.
That damned smell.
It was the smell. Under the Dragon Fear they broke out in cold sweat; their body temperatures rose. The resulting heat thickened the perfume they had sprayed and the stench of their bodies alike. Above them a foul cloud—what was commonly called “paoun”—had formed. Even Ferda could now detect the vile mixture drifting toward him.
For Ruri it was a private hell. The sweating men themselves would have no idea; they were too lost in her Dragon Fear. Some trembled with terror; others, soaked in greed, forced their feet to move.
“I-I’m finally… turning my life around…!”
“A d-d-dragon is n-nothing to be s-scared of!”
They even blurted out their filthy true feelings, completing a perfect trio that tested Ruri’s patience.
I want to throw them out this instant.
Yet Ruri did her duty to the utmost. She intended to watch them through to the end. Then her silver eyes finally saw it.
The man leading the pack, climbing onto the dais. Days without washing had baked a nauseating stench into him. Layer upon layer of sweat had run and dried and run again across his skin. A single drop of sweat slid down his cheek. As it passed, old grime peeled away and dissolved into the droplet. The sweat reached the tip of his chin and fell like a bead of water from a stalactite.
Plip—
Filthy, reeking sweat soaked into the precious floor of Baldrova’s residence.
Crack.
Something snapped inside Ruri’s mouth. In the instant every scrap of that information formed a coherent stream and registered in her mind, her reason slipped.
Dragon Fear erupted at full force and blanketed the entire banquet hall. It lasted only a fraction of a second, yet that was more than enough.
“Uwaaaah! I don’t want to die!!”
The knights who had been forcing themselves forward through fear were the first to whirl and flee. Terror spread like contagion.
“Out of the way! I’m just going home!”
“Uwaaaaaah! Mommy! Mommyyy!!”
Armor clattering, the knights began an ugly scramble. Without waiting for anyone else they raced for the entrance, and the banquet hall emptied in an instant.
“Hmm…”
Ferda, who had been watching, regarded the tattered main doors and spoke.
“I would have liked to observe a little longer. A pity.”
“…I apologize.”
“It is fine. There are plenty of rabble like that; we can simply recruit again.”
Ferda’s eyes drifted quietly elsewhere.
“And the sorting was not entirely incomplete.”
In the place that looked as though a whirlwind had swept through, one man still stood. He was no knight. His legs shook violently; a closer look showed he was desperately trying to keep them from bolting. Tears streamed from his eyes, snot from his nose—every orifice leaked bodily fluids. He looked ready to choke on sheer terror. And yet those eyes were fixed on Ferda.
Whoever he was, he was worth speaking with.
Baldrova Castle, reception room.
“What is your name?”
“S-S-Stefan Pascal.”
“Your name is S-Stefan?”
“I-I apologize. I s-stuttered my name. S! Te! Fan!”
“It is all right. I understand; I merely wished to be certain. Speak slowly. There is no need to force yourself.”
“Y-yes, yes! Hooo…”
Stefan had still not recovered from the aftereffects of Dragon Fear. He took deep breaths, yet a few breaths could never be enough to settle him.
His mental strength alone is extraordinary.
The mere fact that conversation was possible while his mouth still trembled proved it. Ferda swallowed the admiration and asked,
“If you are of the Pascal family, then you are connected to the Pascal Trading Company I know—correct?”
“Y-yes. I am the second son of H-Herman Pascal! At present I serve as branch manager of the imperial headquarters. No—branch! Manager!”
“I see. What business brings you here?”
“I-I was s-selling monster corpses to the knights and thought perhaps the Grand Duke might n-need monster corpses as well, so I came to speak of it once…”
A man who had arrived with a clear purpose. Because he could not abandon that purpose, he had suppressed the instinct to flee with pure reason.
Yet what bothers me is still…
The name Stefan Pascal itself.
I have never heard it before.
Herman Pascal was the most famous merchant not only within the Empire but across the entire continent; Ferda knew him well. After Herman’s death the succession struggle had grown fierce, and only two people formed its core: Merchit and Tilda.
Stefan is a lonely sailboat… is he?
On a windless day he would drift forever and die forgotten. He possessed the qualifications of an heir, yet lacked the popularity to survive, and so would perish in vain. There were more than enough reasons to dismiss him as worthless.
But if he is fated to collapse for lack of backing…
What if Ferda himself supplied that backing?
Merchit and Tilda have already built their factions solidly.
Even if Ferda sided with either, there would be no scraps left for him.
Insert Stefan as a new axis into the succession struggle.
If it succeeded, he would gain access to the trade network and intelligence of the trading company called the greatest in the Empire. That would be of enormous help to the development and technological revolution of the wild Far East.
“You.”
Having finished his judgment, Ferda spoke.
“While you are calming yourself, would you care to hear an outrageous proposal?”