Chapter 3. A Certain Sob (6/7)

Taillach had gone smoothly from the very start. A festival that followed in the footsteps of Thalli, goddess of winter—and tracing the steps of that goddess, who had once swung her cruel spear to purge every last corruption from the world, they walked the snow-dusted promenade.

Diana, tucked into her fur hat, looked out the window. Snowflakes were drifting down, one, then two. The sky had already turned the color of ink.

"Aren't you cold?"

Diana asked Giscard, who stood beside her. She wore a costly scarlet fur hat; Giscard's dress looked shabby beside it—a fur-trimmed cloak and a quilted coat worn nearly through. Looking at clothes far too spare for an escort, Diana resolved to see him properly outfitted once they arrived.

"Giscard?"

Giscard did not answer. He was staring at Diana's face, and his gaze was cold as ice. Is he angry with me? Why?

A slave, at his master?

No—she mustn't think such things. And yet it truly was beyond understanding. Diana turned it over carefully in her mind, trying to fathom why Giscard was in such a mood.

"Don't tell me—did Emil strike you?!"

Diana reached out her hand. His came limply into hers. She pushed back his sleeve, but no bruise showed anywhere. Could there be marks hidden beneath...?

As though he knew exactly what she was thinking, Giscard wrapped his arms around himself.

"Nothing happened."

"……."

"I wish to be left in silence. Should you require conversation, give the order."

At the frosty words—a clear request not to be spoken to—Diana nodded. Even so, the uneasy feeling would not fade. She looked at Giscard and said,

"You'll be taking part in this monster hunt as well."

"……."

"Build up your merits. So that I need never be ashamed of you."

"As you wish."

Giscard said it coldly. Diana kept glancing his way all the same. Would Taillach truly be all right? she wondered.

The castle of the Brien duchy, seen again after so long, seemed larger than she remembered. The Duke, who had arrived ahead of them, came out in person to see his children. Having pulled Diana into a tight embrace, he clicked his tongue and said,

"A pity about Alexa."

"She's come down with a cold."

Emil said it as though he were terribly sorry. The Duke regarded him with cold eyes, then turned to Giscard standing behind Diana.

"And this slave...?"

"I've raised him as a swordsman. He serves as my escort now."

Diana said it with a smile. The Duke put on a look of surprise, then curled his lips upward.

"Yes, I've heard it said often enough—that a slave of yours handles a sword remarkably. You have a gift for making use of people, Anne."

"……."

"I'm quite satisfied. Well done. You've finally made him useful."

As he spoke, the Duke stroked Diana's hair. Her father's praise left a bitter taste—all the more so because he spoke of a person the way one might appraise an object.

"From what I've seen, he's truly remarkable."

"……."

"Quite capable of holding his own in this monster subjugation, in fact."

What had gotten into Emil? It was precisely what Diana had wished for—Giscard earning merit!

"That's right. Giscard can do it."

Diana said, looking at him. Giscard, I'm sorry. But this is your stage to show what you can do.

"I would like to take part as well."

"What nonsense is this!"

The Duke started.

"There's nothing a girl so young won't dare say."

At his stern words, Diana answered calmly.

"Father, when this winter festival is held in the house of Brien, how could the eldest daughter simply stand by?"

"……."

"I don't mean to march about swinging a sword like a knight. At the very least, I wish to watch how my knights and my brother fight."

"……."

"I'm only a girl who can do nothing, but I would lend strength through my slave, at least. I'll keep to the safest ground I can. Please, give me leave."

"……."

"Their Highnesses the Princes are to attend in person. And every powerful family has its eyes on us. I want to show them that Brien is no house of cowards."

When Diana looked to the Duke, he had fallen deep into thought—which meant she had already half-won him over.

"Exactly, Father. It isn't as though Anne herself will take the field—the slave will go in her place."

"Precisely."

"Giving him a chance seems a fine thing as well."

It was those final words from Emil that decided it; the Duke nodded. Diana glanced at Giscard. Did he dread the march? His eyes remained lowered, his expression cold as ever.

Diana's face lit up. The royal carriages had arrived—Philip's and Ferdinand's. With all the Taillach preparations, it had been an age since she'd last seen Philip, and she ran toward them.

"It has been some time, Lady Brien."

The first to alight was Ferdinand. He said it while sweeping his gaze over her. Diana smiled, one hand gathering the hem of her skirt.

"Your Highness."

She lifted her head and looked up at the boy gazing down at her. Ferdinand, with his sharply jutting cheekbones, was beginning to resemble the man of her former life. He looked volatile and high-strung, as though the slightest touch might set him off.

"You're past thirteen now, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"My, how pretty you've become. One more year, and all of society will have eyes only for you."

"You flatter me."

"Modest, too."

Ferdinand lifted Diana's hand and pressed his lips to it. She wanted to tear it away and shake it off on the spot, but alas, that was not permitted.

"I shall speak to my mother, so that we may meet often at the palace as well. It would hardly do, toward a lady who may one day be my bride."

"I am quite content as I am, Your Highness. The seat beside His Majesty is one all the world covets. For me alone to reach for it would be presumptuous."

And Diana meant it. Ferdinand was the worst fiancé imaginable.

"That composure of yours—it pleases me best of all."

He smiled into her face. And then—

"Anne!"

At the voice, Diana turned. Ferdinand's features twisted.

"Philip. What discourtesy is this toward the Lady, in public? Throwing pet names about!"

"And what of it? We're friends."

At that, Diana's face softened into a smile.

"Her Highness Princess Ionia's affairs brought us together time and again. And lest any negligence should mar Her care, I have consulted Your Highness on many an occasion."

"There now, my lady—I was not reproaching you. I was speaking of this fellow's rudeness."

Ferdinand turned his gaze on Philip. They paid their respects to Emil and the Duke, then followed Diana into the castle.

Giscard watched them go.

There was something he always realized whenever he watched Diana. For all her youth, she seemed utterly practiced at grand occasions like this. Not a flicker of nerves anywhere about her.

And the only person who ever made that girl tense up was him.

Him—who had done nothing at all to her. She watched him always, wary of his every move. And yet, for all that, she had said—

She said she couldn't free him. That it was right for him to remain a slave—why? Because his deeds were base? Because he'd been base-born from the start? Giscard could not understand Diana.

It seemed he had wanted to be praised.

That was why he had stood before that door. Because she seemed likely to rejoice in his achievements as though they were her own... Because if Barret praised him, perhaps she would be glad for him too.

"What's the matter with you, you insolent slave?"

Just then, Emil—who happened to be at home—came up to him. His silver-grey eyes were sunk in shadow, and a chill, devilish smile played on his lips. Just as Giscard moved to ignore him, Emil spoke.

"Hey. Ever thought about working under me?"

"……."

"Hm? I said I'd give you your freedom."

"……."

"The condition is..."

Giscard was looking at Diana.

The outskirts of the Abyss Forest looked no different from any common woodland. In a beast hunt, beaters drive the game toward the hunters' lines; here, one had only to sound the drums, and the monsters came pouring out from within—hungry to devour the humans waiting for them.

There had been casualties in years past, but no longer. A massive army and a great detachment of Mage Tower sorcerers had been committed in support. Besides, truly large monsters were rare to begin with. Perhaps that was why every knight assigned to guard Diana had plunged deep into the forest.

Giscard was left standing at the forest's edge, cutting down the small monsters that fled out. Diana watched the carcasses.

With her crimson fur hat pulled low, she looked to any observer less like a woman on campaign than like a lady out for a carefree stroll.

For an instant, a white snowflake settled on Diana's lashes. She rubbed it away at once, melting it against her palm. Watching, the boy remembered a conversation from before.

Then Giscard caught sight of white rabbits bounding toward him in frantic hops as they fled. The fluffy things looked almost as soft as her fur hat. They were not the long-eared rabbits he had imagined, but round as spheres—and there was not merely one of them...

Then a violent shove caught Giscard and knocked him off his feet. In the same breath, one of the rabbits stretched out long, its mouth splitting open in a savage gape—and Giscard saw it fastening itself onto Diana.

'Lepus!'

He had heard of monsters that disguised themselves as adorable baby rabbits. What made them dangerous was that, for all their cute and harmless looks, they always came in swarms.

It was absurd.

He could save her, or he could harm her. Those, Giscard had believed, were the only two choices he had.

But for this woman—for Diana Brien—to be the one to save him was a foul. He had never once imagined it.

Because her slave—a slave she wouldn't even set free—was in danger, she had shoved him clear and, without a heartbeat's hesitation, chosen the danger for herself.

"My lady!"

With a wet crunch, blood spattered. A blade of wind flashed into being and sheared off the head of the rabbit-monster Lepus. But Sylph was only one, and another Lepus, lunging for Diana's arm, sank its teeth into her shoulder instead.

Crunch! Blood sprayed. Diana clenched her teeth against the searing pain. Sylph made swift work of the rest, slicing through their throats.

"My lady!"

Giscard shouted, seizing Diana's hand. White lumps like balls of snow came rolling out of the underbrush. Cute to the eye, yet a sight that crawled over the skin like ice. A single one posed no great threat, but gathered into a swarm, they became a terror.

Diana knew it as well as anyone. She had seen these very monsters long ago, when she was dragged from Farnborough to the Kingdom of Lodbrok. How could anyone forget a horror like that?

Giscard ran, her hand locked in his. Watching his back, Diana thought: thank goodness. The notion that everything would be simpler if she simply let Giscard die drifted through her mind too late—her body had already moved. How absurd. Without an instant's hesitation, she had flung herself into saving him.

Not because it was the "right path" the prophecy spoke of, but simply because she hadn't wanted him hurt. Even so, it wasn't a bad thing. He was alive, for now.

Her arm throbbed, but she would manage. One misstep, and it would have gone straight for her throat and made prey of her. Diana set Sylph upon the pursuing monsters and cut them down one by one. She had never dreamed the necklace Shasha gave her would prove so handy.

Monsters, born of chance from the dregs of darkness God had made—and spirits, born of chance from the life gathered in the world God had made. They said the two existences were natural nemeses, and true to it, against monsters Sylph wielded far greater power than she ever showed against humans.

Diana and Giscard ran deeper into the forest, leaving the Lepuses behind. But at some point, the realization struck them both. They had not run toward the safety beyond the trees—they had run into the forest's heart. Those cunning Lepuses had herded the two of them straight into the monster-thronged depths.

They had become the hunted.

Gooseflesh rippled across her skin. But there was nothing Diana could do. If they stopped now, the ever-growing swarm would swallow them whole.

'Train hard, and you'll be summoning spirits of your own!'

Too busy, she had let her studies lapse. Diana bit her lip. Truthfully, even with books, summoning an intermediate spirit was no simple matter. Affinity was said to be everything, and she had no idea how to raise it.

"Ah—!"

Diana stepped on something slick and went down. Giscard turned and hauled her up. Diana looked back too, searching for where the Lepuses had gone.

The Lepuses were gone.

What? Had they tired of the chase and melted away? An unaccountable dread settled over her. Strangely, they had not come across a single soul.

Why was there no one here?

Diana stood rooted, thinking it through. First, they might have missed the others. Second, they might have strayed into a place no one ever came. Or third...

...everyone had already fled from the danger.

But why was the rock slick? From damp? The wetlands where dragons dwelled were far, far from here. Had the snow melted...?

Diana looked down at the thing she had slipped on. It gleamed in the sunlight piercing the fog that had thickened without her noticing. A scale.

The moment Diana jerked her head up in shock, she met a pair of yellow eyes staring back at her. Where the serpent's head should have been, a human's head sat instead. The face of a beautiful, beautiful girl.

Ah. Uh... a snake monster. A snake monster that enormous... Now she understood why the Lepuses had fled. They had been running from something like that.

Even to her, the thing radiated danger. Alarm bells clamored through her skull, but she was too stunned to move a muscle. Was she going to die here? Then again—there was no outrunning that thing, was there?

What a pointless struggle it had all been. She had tried so hard to live a different life, only to end as a monster's meal...

The thing smiled sweetly at Diana—then lunged, jaws spreading wide to swallow her whole. The beautiful girl's face warped into something hideous. It felt like standing in the very pit of hell. All Diana could wish was that it would make her death a quick and easy one.

"Get a hold of yourself!"

Giscard's shout snapped her back to her senses. He turned his blade against the serpent's charging head, then seized Diana's hand and pulled her along. Hollowed out, she let him drag her.

They had to run. But run how, where? This was unknown forest. The monster knew it far better than they ever would.

A soft, hissing voice rang out—so gentle, so warm, that it chilled her to the bone instead. The monster could speak human language, it seemed.

Tears welled in Diana's eyes. A terror incomparable to anything the Lepuses had inspired closed in around them.

Her breath jammed up in her throat. Didn't people say one found superhuman strength in a moment of crisis? The human body was frail beyond measure. Diana was a noblewoman who had never done a day's physical training—a girl of thirteen whose legs weren't even long.

It was a voice straight out of hell. But Giscard, gripping her hand, dove into somewhere. A cave.

He pushed Diana in first, then barely squeezed in after her. Diana gasped aloud, and Giscard hastily clamped a hand over her mouth.

The monster's voice faded into the distance. Diana fought to smother her ragged breathing. She felt she might suffocate where she sat. Clutching Giscard's collar, she shook and shook.

The serpent's voice drifted far, far away. When Giscard finally removed his hand, she gulped down air in great, heaving breaths. Tears fell from her eyes. The cave was roomy enough for sitting, but far too cramped to lie down in—or to put any distance between them.

"What is this place..."

"A cave."

"How did you know it was here?"

"As I ran, the path came back to me."

The path came back to him? This was the Abyss Forest. As though he had anticipated her question, Giscard said,

"I didn't even remember that I had ever been here."

How could Giscard have come to this forest?

"What do you mean, you came here? You, alone, to this place?"

"Naturally... I came here with my mother."

His mother—Herya? He had come to this forest with Herya? It made still less sense. Giscard looked out of the cave, at the forest.

"Giscard, then do you remember the way out?"

"Unfortunately, I only recovered these memories a short while ago as well. They are a child's memories. Nothing but fleeting fragments, one moment to the next."

Diana let out a long breath. They were cut off from the others, and it looked very much as though they were destined to become the serpent's dinner. What was she... what on earth was she to do?

"I have a question."

"Ask. I'll answer anything except the way out of here."

"Why on earth did you save me?"

Of all times, that was what mattered to him? Diana frowned at Giscard. Frowning back, he said,

"Am I not a slave brat? The slave brat you find so repulsive."

"What..."

"Why would someone of such noble blood go to the trouble of saving the likes of me?"

If anyone here had noble blood, surely it was Giscard, born of royalty... Not that it mattered.

"I just did."

"Just?"

The words were a dare to say more, and Diana said,

"Truly. I just..."

"Have you lost your mind? You can't be in your right mind! And this wound, too!"

"Giscard, you're too loud."

At that, he dropped his voice and glared at her.

"You hurt your arm—all for a slave who was, just now, weighing whether to betray his own master! What kind of lunacy is that!"

"Wait—weighing whether to betray me? What is that supposed to mean?"

"Do you consider yourself a good master?"

"What are you saying?"

Giscard's words left her bewildered. Giscard had thought of betraying her? Not betrayed her—only thought of it?

"Young Master Emil ordered me to put you in danger. To make you a cripple, or leave a scar on your face."

"...I'm sorry—what?"

"I was told to lure you into a dangerous situation. I did not obey. As you can see, none of this is what I wanted."

Diana thought of Emil. Emil, who had been so strangely affectionate these days. It couldn't be. But as Mirva's face superimposed itself over Emil's, the color drained from her own. Diana looked down at her scarlet hat and cloak.

Emil had bought them, saying this red would suit her perfectly. Because he'd brought them by way of apology, she had worn them gladly. With trembling hands, she raised the hat to her nose and breathed in. A sharp, pungent scent of herbs.

He had told her the Lepuses loved that pungent scent.

"D-don't lie."

"It's the truth."

At Giscard's curt reply, the rims of Diana's eyes went red. What even was this situation. Watching her confusion, Giscard said,

"In the first place, when a brother with a rotten nature turns kind out of nowhere, one ought at least to be suspicious."

"……."

"If he had truly 'wanted to help,' he could simply have sent me off to war alone. Why on earth would he need to come here in person?"

"……."

"Is that all? Even if those monsters had bitten me, I would not have died. A bite to the throat would have been perilous, but the restraint collar would have protected me—I would not have taken a mortal wound."

"Ah..."

"But then you went and foolishly shoved me aside to save one slave, and this is where it landed us."

There was not a word of it Giscard got wrong. Diana bit her lip. The face that was always calm and still had shattered long ago. She clutched the hat in a tight fist.

Emil's treachery could wait; first she had to think of a way out. But nothing came.

"W-what do we do?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Giscard, I was a fool."

"What are you saying, my lady?"

The Diana who might once have gathered her composure and argued back, or flared up in fury, instead simply absorbed his rebuke and sank into gloom.

"How do we get out of here? We're both as good as dead. It's truly hopeless."

"My lady."