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FELIX ARGYLE’S CURSE

1

The royal guard were the idols of every knight in the kingdom, the cream of their crop. Only the most elite of the two thousand knights of the realm were permitted to join, and the members of the royal guard were sworn to protect the king and the royal family—essentially, they were the sword and shield that safeguarded the heart of the kingdom. It was said that in former times, family status and personal backing had played a major role in who joined the guard, but today that was not the case. They represented the strongest spirits among the kingdom’s knights.

“Don’t mew think it’s a bit much, asking Ferri to join such a remeowned group?”

Ferris stretched out across the table, pouting.

It was noon, and the mess hall at the knights’ garrison was crowded. Most of them were, in fact, knights, which made the place quite a spectacle.

Those who served the kingdom, rather than working independently, were distinguished by the color of their capes. There were four armies, which wore red, blue, green, and black, respectively. Clusters of the same color moved together, mostly; there seemed to be great camaraderie among men belonging to the same army.

There also seemed to be an unspoken understanding about the seating in the mess hall, with the first army sitting closest to the entrance and the fourth sitting farthest away. Generally speaking, the seats farthest from the doorway were yielded to the knights of the highest stature. And, also according to custom, the farthest seats of all were given to those who had been permitted to prepare to don the white mantle of the royal guard—in other words, Ferris and his companions.

Someone suddenly spoke up from in front of Ferris as he looked disinterestedly around the mess hall. “It won’t serve you to look quite so bored, my friend.”

“Hmm?”

The speaker sat down across from him, studying Ferris through squinted, almond-shaped eyes. His hair was a light purple, and his face bespoke careful cultivation of refinement and masculinity. It couldn’t compare to the face Ferris loved most in the world, but it was certainly handsome.

“Julius Juukulius…right?”

“I’m honored that you know me. And I’ve heard of you, too, Felix Argyle. Your…unorthodox promotion has fueled many a rumor.”

“Huh…?”

The hint of a smile floated on the young Julius’s face. He was looking at the cat ears on Ferris’s head. Ferris didn’t let his emotions reach his yellow eyes; he was used to being gawked at.

Prejudice against demi-humans was common in the Kingdom of Lugunica, so the promotion of a conspicuous demi-human to the royal guard, the elite of the elite, was bound to set the malcontents whispering, even if they were mistaken about his background.

Perhaps Ferris’s feelings had crept into his gaze, because Julius furrowed his brow, coughed, and then gave him a polite nod.

“My apologies. I didn’t mean to stare. I’d heard the talk, but I couldn’t quite believe it without seeing it for myself.”

“Maybe I’ll forgive mew if mew tell me what kind of talk you’ve heard. Let me guess. A monster with bulging muscles and fur all over? It’d be very disappointing if people were spreading rumors like that about cute lil’ Ferri!”

“The captain told me they were a reflection of the demi-human blood of your ancestors. And they are fine ears. I can see why you might try to take a bite out of anyone over them.”

“…Are you trying to pick a fight with Ferri?”

It was a rare person who spoke of Ferris’s ears with anything other than open disdain. And Julius had evidently even heard the details of Ferris’s background from his commander. Perhaps this was his baptism into the ways of the privileged class—Ferris had left his status as the heir to a noble family too early to learn them.

Unlike Ferris, Julius was a knight who was obviously accomplished in swordsmanship. If this went on and things really did come to blows, the cat-boy had no hope of winning.

“But don’t think you’ll get off without a scratch! Ferri is cute, but not that cute!”

“I hate to interrupt you when you’re doing such a fine job of working yourself up, but I think we may have a misunderstanding on our hands. Perhaps we could talk about it?”

“Meowhat?”

Julius didn’t pick up the gauntlet, and his reaction was so unexpected that Ferris could only blink in surprise. At that moment, someone pulled out the chair immediately beside him.

“Didn’t I tell you, Julius? Let me start the conversation, I said. You’re too prone to miscommunications, I said. Especially with people you’ve just met.”

“And I appreciate your concern. But I don’t believe my judgment was wrong. I don’t think we could have avoided a certain amount of confusion no matter who spoke first. Look at him now.”

The young man who had spoken so easily to Julius turned his gaze to Ferris. He had blue eyes, and hair so red it might have been a burning flame. Ferris unconsciously stiffened.

“Might you be…Reinhard van Astrea?”

His appearance was too distinctive for it to be anyone else. At Ferris’s question, the red-haired young man gave an affable smile and said, “Ah, I see I needn’t introduce myself. That is indeed my name. To elaborate, I, like you, am a member of the royal guard. As is Julius there.”

“Since you are new, it’s natural to have some reservations about what you hear from your fellow knights,” Julius said. “But we have our captain’s word to go on. I’m willing to accept his evaluation as is.”

“Um, I’m afraid I’m not sure what mew mean.”

Reinhard and Julius appeared to be friends, and there was an unfettered intimacy to their conversation. Even so, Julius seemed to be holding something back. Not that Ferris, totally left out, cared in the least.

More important to him was the question of why these two were paying any attention to him at all. Especially the Sword Saint, Reinhard. From what he had heard of Reinhard’s personality, Ferris wanted to believe he was not the type to drive out a newcomer.

“What do you want with Ferri that would make you go out of your way to come here? You’re not here to…to bully me, are you?”

“Oh, hardly. Could we wear the white of the royal guard while taking part in such nefarious activities? We’re just carrying out our captain’s orders.”

“You mean Captain Marcus?” Julius’s roundabout words made Ferris think of the captain, a man with a face like a boulder. What could the two of them have come to do to him on that man’s orders?

“Well, to be brief,” Reinhard said, “we want to be sure that what you were afraid of doesn’t happen to you. Julius and I are about your age, and we thought you might be able to turn to us for advice, since we’ve been in the royal guard for quite a while.”

“Oh, I see,” Ferris said, resting his chin on his hands. The captain had charged the two knights with looking after him. The boy had a volatile mixture of factors in his background: his cat ears, his less-than-stellar ability with the sword, and the fact that he had entered the guard through his connections. No doubt it had weighed on the captain to be entrusted with such a knight.

 

 

 

 

 

He would only be there for a year, and there was a probationary period attached—but all the same, it was a tremendous burden.

“Judging by your reaction, it looks like you understand the position you’re in,” Julius said.

“If it were happening to someone else it would all seem like a joke, but it’s a lot more trouble when it’s happening to me,” Ferris said. “By the way, what exactly did the captain tell you two about Ferri?”

This caused Reinhard and Julius to go wide-eyed, then they looked at each other and lapsed into thought for a moment.

“That you’re a favorite of the fourth prince,” Julius said, “and that you got into the guard because he forced the issue.”

“I also heard that you got a very strong recommendation from the healers at the royal castle, as well as the royal academy of healing,” Reinhard added. “I simply hope your abilities haven’t been exaggerated to justify the captain’s accepting your unusual promotion.”

Their answers told Ferris, to his disappointment, that the reputation that had preceded him was more or less as he had expected.

At the same time, he was sure he could feel more eyes than before fixed on their little group from all around the mess hall. He didn’t seem to be the only reason people were looking their way. Even the Sword Saint Reinhard didn’t account for all the looks. There must have been something about Julius as well.

“Surely the captain isn’t just trying to keep all his biggest problems in one place…?” Ferris muttered. But he couldn’t shake a bad feeling as his thoughts turned to the probationary period with the royal guard that was about to begin.

2

There was, of course, a complicated story behind how Ferris had come to join the royal guard, and with an evaluation period attached, no less.

Ferris was now eighteen, and he would have been more than happy to live out his life under his mistress, Crusch. She herself had indicated her approval of this, and the two of them were so close that they often shared nearly the same thoughts. The real problem, however, was one of their other customs.

Ferris—his real name was Felix Argyle—typically wore women’s clothing, but he was biologically male. As such, if he was going to serve Crusch, it would be more socially appropriate for him to do so as a knight than as a servant or aide.

It so happened that, due to a particular series of events, Ferris had been appointed Crusch’s knight, and she had accepted him as such. All he really lacked was practical experience of knighthood.

Of course, if his mistress recognized Ferris as her knight and performed the ceremony of investiture, there was no formal problem. But Crusch, Duchess of Karsten and head of the family, was of too high a station to take on a knight with no history. Crusch was a woman, and a woman whose behavior in the past had led many to look down on her. If, on top of that, she were to accept a knight with no proven skills or actual ability and based solely on the length of their acquaintance, even more unfavorable rumors were bound to circulate.

In order to avoid that, Ferris would need to establish himself as a knight whose résumé would not be an embarrassment to his mistress. The fourth prince of the nation, Fourier Lugunica, gave them some help in resolving this problem.

“Your becoming Crusch’s knight is important to me as well. I should hardly even need to exert myself to get you in with the knights. I’ll just… Ahem! Perhaps I can simply speak to Marcus or someone. You just relax and wait!”

Fourier had graced Ferris with a heartfelt laugh and then rushed out of the room before anyone could stop him. Shortly thereafter, Ferris’s appointment to the royal guard had been decided, and he embarked on the year of service that would allow him to gild his legend.

Which was not to say everything had gone entirely smoothly.

Around the time of Ferris’s entry into the unit, Captain Marcus had addressed him with a stern look and said, “You are here at the urging of His Highness Fourier, as well as a number of other strong recommendations. The Duchess of Karsten has also recommended you to me. In light of all this, I’m willing to grant you entry to the royal guard…but not without conditions.”

As they spoke there in his office at the garrison, the captain proposed the probationary period—in effect, a time during which Ferris could experience the life of the royal guard, but then throw in the towel and run back home if he wanted to.

“If, during that time, I decide you won’t be of any use to me, then you’re not staying in my unit. However, if you get kicked out during the probationary period, I’ll ensure that it’s done in a way that doesn’t leave a blot on your record. I can’t speak for the feelings of the prince or your other backers, but it would be better than having to spend the whole time being publicly regarded as a stain on the guard. I trust you accept my proposal?”

Marcus had been blunt and did not try to hide the fact that he had been put in a rather delicate position. Ferris liked him immediately. It was a tremendous relief to see the truth in someone’s eyes and not have to worry about politely beating around the bush.

“May I ask just one thing?”

“What?”

“Once the probationary period is over, it’ll be considered part of my twelve months of service, won’t it? To be honest, I can’t stand to be away from Lady Crusch even a month longer than I have to be.”

“—”

Marcus was left dumbfounded by Ferris’s declaration, if only for a moment. There was an instant when he looked tired, but then his face was once again that of a ferocious soldier.

“I like your nerve. You’ve got a lot of guts for such a small boy—you might surprise us yet,” he had said roughly.

“So I was kind of scared at first…but being a knight has turned out to be sort of more boring than I expected.”

“You’ve only been here a few days. It’s a little early to think you’ve seen everything knighthood has to offer,” Julius said. “It’s true the royal guard doesn’t take the field as often as some of the other units, but we must devote ourselves fully to whatever we’re given to do. We have to be ready at all times.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re tough, I know.”

Ferris waved a hand, trying to soothe Julius. He had only brought up the topic to pass the time, but when they were on the job, Julius always and only thought about the task at hand. It had been about ten days since Julius had started keeping an eye on him, but even what Ferris had seen to that point suggested how difficult things could be.

Although…

“Nobody would be upset if mew relaxed just a little more,” Ferris said.

“When I hold the sword I am naturally relaxed,” Julius said. “But when I set it aside, then I must be a knight. You could do with a bit more of that yourself, Ferris.”

“Bleh! Mew’re so uptight!”

Ferris made a face, and Julius sighed. But soon they were both smiling again. They were already close enough to exchange banter like this. Julius could be rather unbending while he was performing his professional duties, but when he wasn’t working he could be quite interesting to talk to. His somewhat overwrought fixation on his position as a knight felt like a manifestation of a certain unbecoming childishness. But all this was why Ferris liked him. He had much more trouble with…

“Ah, there you both are. I’m glad I didn’t miss you.”

“Meowhat?”

Reinhard squeezed in where Ferris and Julius were chatting at their usual place in the mess hall. He gave Ferris a pat on the shoulder with an easy motion and smiled at Julius. Ferris’s ears went flat against his head.

“Grr, ambushed again. Reinhard, you really just come out of nowhere. Ferri’s senses aren’t used to being tricked so easily. Are you sure you’re human? It’s kind of scary…”

Ferris’s demi-human ancestors had given him more than his looks; he also had exceptional sensory organs. His cat ears in particular could detect tiny changes in his surroundings, so much so that he could practically tell when someone had turned to look at him. Yet Reinhard was the exception to end all exceptions. Ferris had never once heard him coming.

“It’s the way I was born, my dear Ferris. I’m afraid we’ll both just have to live with it. More importantly, you have a summons. His Highness Fourier is asking for you. Since you seem to have some time to kill, you should go see him. Show him how well you do your duty as one of the Knights of the Royal Guard.”

“…Were you listening?”

“Certainly not intentionally.”

Reinhard at least had the good grace to look embarrassed. Ferris felt a touch of annoyance. The mess hall was a little emptier now than on some days, but there was still plenty of chatter. Ferris and Julius were seated at the far end; not even Ferris’s ears could have picked up a conversation at that distance.

“If His Highness has asked for you personally, it would be best to hurry,” Julius said. “You don’t mind if I accompany you, do you, Ferris?”

“…Oh, sure. Umm…what about you, Reinhard?”

“I’m delighted by your invitation, but I have other plans,” Reinhard said apologetically. “I’ll be taking a little trip to our border with the Empire. I’ve been asked to have a look.”

“Wow. It’s not often they send mew out, Reinhard.” Ferris gave the other boy a perplexed look. Julius, rising from his seat, gave Reinhard a knowing nod.

“Don’t worry, I can keep an eye on Ferris by myself. You see to your own mission.”

“Mission makes it sound awfully serious…”

“He simply means I should approach it with that mind-set. All right. I’ll leave everything to you.” Reinhard nodded at Julius, who waved as the Sword Saint left the mess hall.

A summons from Fourier meant they would be headed to the prince’s rooms at the royal residence. They strode boldly along the road that went straight to the castle, as was the well-known privilege of the royal guard.

“His Highness asks for you often. You two must be pretty close.”

“Well, we’ve known each other a long time. It’s going on…eight years meow? It gives Ferri a lot of power, you know…” He gave Julius a nasty smirk as they walked the road between the garrison and the castle. But Julius only smiled ruefully.

“You don’t have to pretend. I don’t sense anything calculating in your relationship with His Highness. We’ve known each other for a brief time, and even I can tell that. Both you and the prince seem to value each other greatly.”

“…It’s kind of embarrassing to hear someone say it. Anyway, mew say there’s nothing calculating, but I got into the royal guard because of His Highness, didn’t I? You don’t think that’s taking advantage of his position?”

“I apologize for saying such a rude thing to you at our first meeting. But within a week after you joined…I don’t think there were any of us left who doubted you were capable enough to be part of the guard.”

Julius bowed his head in apology, to which Ferris responded by giving him a karate chop. Gently, of course. As Julius looked up again, Ferris smiled. “Well, I’m glad you guys think so. If Ferri had screwed up, it wouldn’t just be embarrassing for Ferri, meow. All the people who backed me would look bad, too…”

“I think you’ve done more than enough to justify your recommendations by now. Happily, you even had a chance to show off what you’re really good at—I guess none of us are a match for the captain yet.”

“Guess not,” Ferris said lightly, but inside he was nodding furiously.

Lacking skill with the sword, the only way Ferris could prove himself to the other guardsmen was to show that he had some talent in something else. In his case, that would certainly be healing magic, and luckily for him, he’d had plenty of opportunities to show what he could do that week. That was because at the practice field, Captain Marcus had decided to personally train his subordinates. As he healed each of the carefully calculated injuries, Ferris was grateful for the captain’s rather unorthodox way of showing kindness. As a result, everyone recognized Ferris’s abilities, and while it wasn’t possible to silence what people said behind closed doors, public objections to his entry into the guard ceased.

“That made my life a lot easier. Meowbe I should thank the captain.”

“Of course, he’d just dodge you if you said anything.”

“Yeah, he’s evasive that way. For such a hard worker, he sure has odd quirks. What a pain.”

He could just picture the artless Captain Marcus pretending not to understand what he was being thanked for. It was a disappointing scene. Beside Ferris, Julius was nodding as though he understood exactly what was going through the cat-boy’s mind.

“Even so,” Julius said, “to go back to our original subject, you said you’ve been friends with His Highness for eight years now. I’m very curious what the two of you were like as children. Would you mind my asking?”

“No, but I don’t think the stories are meowy interesting. Eight years ago, Ferri was just cute lil’ Ferri, and His Highness was His Highness… We were exactly the same, really.” Ferris put a hand to his mouth and laughed. He was remembering bits and pieces from the whole span of their friendship. Fourier had grown into a strapping young man, but deep down, he was the same as he’d ever been. “Y’know, I think I respect that about His Highness.”

“If Prince Fourier’s virtues haven’t changed, that’s what counts. Eight years… Once childhood ends, not everyone is able to remain the same.” In contrast to Ferris’s suppressed laughter, Julius looked somehow melancholy. Ferris noticed this and gave him a questioning look.

“Come to think of it, I haven’t heard much about you, Julius.”

“That’s because, unfortunately, my life has not been rich enough to warrant any stories. It has been perfectly ordinary, boring as a bedtime tale.”

“Bleh. If you really don’t want to talk about it, I won’t ask… Have you known Reinhard a long time, though? You seem closer to him than most of us.” At the Sword Saint’s name, all the sadness vanished from Julius’s face.

“Reinhard? He and I have a long history, much like you and your prince.” He brushed his bangs aside and looked into the distance as if thinking back. “It’s almost ten years since we first met. But it was only after we both became knights that we grew to be friends. We aren’t blessed with quite as many good memories as you and His Highness.”

“You mean you just knew each other in passing, as fellow nobles?”

“Maybe, maybe not. I knew who he was, but I’m not sure he knew who I was. Because he was so special to me, I was particularly happy to be able to become friends with him.”

“Special, huh…?”

There was nothing deeper in the friendship between Julius and Reinhard. And yet, neither was it quite possible to declare it mere friendship. But Ferris was not yet close enough to Julius to ask about such things. Ferris was very eager to avoid accidentally alienating him by saying the wrong thing—that was how much he valued Julius Juukulius.

The two of them found they had chatted all the way to the castle. They greeted the guards and the officials on duty, and then they came to the staircase that led to the castle’s upper levels, where Fourier and the other members of the royal family lived. They told the men guarding the staircase who they were and where they were going and were quickly allowed in.

They ascended the stairs that led to the royal chambers and proceeded down a carpeted hallway. Ferris found the room they wanted and used the door knocker.

“Your Highness!” he said in a singsong tone. “Just as you asked, your dear Ferri has arrived!”

The greeting caused Julius to put his palm to his forehead.

“Ferris, however close you may be, that’s… Well, I suppose it’s too late now.”

He shrugged, and at the same instant, the door opened.

“Are you going to let him off that easy? That means trouble for me! If that’s all you’re going to do, why even have you keeping an eye on him?”

Bounding out of the room came a young man with golden hair and clear scarlet eyes: Fourier Lugunica, fourth prince of the kingdom. He looked from Ferris to Julius, then laughed, showing his teeth.

“Ahh, never mind! Welcome, both of you. Are you both in good health?”

“I have been most well, my lord. Your consideration humbles me.”

“…says Julius,” Ferris remarked. “But we just saw you two days ago, didn’t we? We’ve hardly had long enough to get sick!”

“I see, maybe so. But if you’re well, that’s all that matters. Anyway, there’s much to talk about, but let’s not do it out here. Come in, both of you.” Fourier gestured them into his room. He was equally generous with both the deferential Julius and the happily impertinent Ferris.

Fourier’s room was so sparse it was hard to believe it belonged to a member of royalty. Not that Ferris had been in a lot of other royal chambers for reference—but Fourier’s quarters were almost as simple as Crusch’s. Perhaps her distaste for excess had affected him.

“You seem kind of antsy, Your Highness,” Ferris said, sitting on the sofa in the reception area. “What’s going on?”

“You get straight to it! And on what basis do you say I seem antsy?”

“You can’t trick Ferri’s ears. There’s a tremble in your voice, your pulse is faster than usual, and you’ve swallowed several times trying to calm them both down.”

“Goodness! Your ears can even hear my heartbeat?”

“Nuh-uh. Just bluffing,” Ferris said innocently. Fourier slumped into a chair. His reaction was proof enough that he was keeping something from them. Julius shot Ferris a stern look for being disrespectful to such an august person as Fourier, but Ferris simply ignored him.

“All right, I know you’re doing everything you can to hold out on us, but really, what’s going on? The way mew’ve chased out all the maids and servants so you and Ferri and Julius can talk alone gives me a meowy bad feeling.”

“Yes, well noticed. I should have expected as much of you, Ferris. Before that, though, there’s one thing I want to be sure of. You, Julius.” Fourier’s gaze settled on the knight. For a moment, Julius raised an eyebrow in surprise, but the respectful deference soon came back into his face. He answered with a nod.

“Yes, Your Highness. Ask me anything you wish.”

“A good answer—Can you look me in the eye and tell me that you are Ferris’s friend? If so, you may stay for this discussion, but if not… Well, I will need to ask you to leave the room.”

“Your Highness is quite direct…”

Fourier was incapable of trickery or artifice. It could be irritating at times, but it was unquestionably one of his good traits. Julius responded to the question by placing a hand to his chest, assuming a formal expression.

“I have known Ferris for but a few days, and our fellowship is not deep enough for me to unabashedly call him a friend. However, I sincerely hope that as time goes on, we will only become closer. Does this answer please Your Highness?”

“Yikes,” Ferris said, “talk about direct…”

Julius had perhaps not been as frank as the prince, but it was clear that he spoke from his heart. That meant he was deliberately entering into a potentially risky situation—pretty overbearing for a brand-new friend. He was overbearing, likely to go against the tide—but Ferris liked that just fine.

Fourier seemed to feel the same way, because he nodded repeatedly and then gave Ferris a happy smile. “Looks like you’ve found a good companion, Ferris! I see it was worth my while to recommend you for the royal guard. You mustn’t turn up your nose at Julius’s friendship!”

“Your Highneeess, it sounds like I just joined the guards to make friends when you put it that way and it’s not very flattering…”

“Yes, yes, dear,” Fourier said with a smile at Ferris’s rapid attempt to hide his embarrassment. But then his expression tightened. “—Now, to business.”

Ferris’s ears picked up an immediate change in the air. The source of it was none other than Fourier.

“Your Highness…?” He let the words slip out in an attempt to make sure this was still Fourier, that the young man who sat before him looking impossibly grim was still the friend he knew.

Fourier didn’t respond to Ferris’s prompting but slowly began to speak in a quiet voice.

“First of all, I am telling you both about this on my own prerogative. Crusch told me not to speak of it, so I really shouldn’t be telling anyone…”

“Lady Crusch told you…?” When his mistress’s name came up, Ferris grew even more uncomfortable. For her to tell Fourier not to speak of something didn’t bode well, especially if she couldn’t even confide it to Ferris.

“Ill rumors have been circulating about a particular place in the Karsten domain. Private investigations have been ongoing, but I’ve received word that Crusch has gone to inspect the place herself.”

“…Is that it?” Ferris had been so worried by Fourier’s opening that when he heard what was actually going on, he was almost disappointed. Crusch knew how to handle herself. There was no need to worry about her, even if she ran into a little trouble on her tour.

“And if they were already investigating it,” Ferris went on, “then I don’t think Lady Crusch could be caught off guard. She’s more than a match for any ordinary opponent. Your Highness should know that better than anyone.”

“Mm…I can’t imagine her losing to anyone but me, and yet…” This was apparently the best answer Fourier could muster.

To judge by what had been said so far, Ferris could not understand the source of Fourier’s concern. But even when the things the prince said seemed baseless, they often turned out to be much more than idle speculation. Perhaps this was another one of his unpleasant premonitions…

“Your Highness, if I may?” As the two of them sat there silently, Julius broke in.

“Mm. Go ahead.”

“I haven’t met the Duchess of Karsten personally, so I can offer no judgment there, but…since you’ve called Ferris here, may I presume you have something in mind?”

“Julius, you should know that His Highness often does things for no real reason…”

“No, not this time. This time I have a basis for my actions. For my…worries,” Fourier said, not quite able to look up.

This caught Ferris by surprise. But, to be fair, he had not been paying full attention. Perhaps because he hadn’t wanted to believe that Crusch could be in danger. And if Fourier’s last words had been a surprise, his next words were an absolute shock.

“The place all these rumors are about? It’s your home, Ferris. House of Argyle.”

3

—There were dark things afoot at the House of Argyle.

Word had first reached Crusch at the beginning of that year, almost two months earlier. The first thing she thought of when she heard the name Argyle was none other than Ferris. Her meeting with her beloved servant could never have come about without the House of Argyle, where he had been born.

But that did not mean Crusch was grateful to the Argyles. She was thankful they had brought the person named Felix Argyle into the world, but what they had then done to him during his youth was difficult to forgive.

As a result, ever since she had rescued Ferris from his family and taken him under her wing, Crusch had endeavored to have as little contact as possible with the Argyle family. Ferris didn’t raise the issue, either; they were effectively on the same page on this matter. So when she received a report about the House of Argyle for the first time in nearly a decade, Crusch found herself uncharacteristically troubled.

“Something untoward is happening at the House of Argyle…?”

“For the time being, milady, we’re trying to keep Ferris from hearing about it, but…what shall we do?”

They were in her office. Crusch’s arms were crossed. The official reporting to her had a pained look on his face. He was one of the phalanx of retainers she had inherited from her father, Meckart, along with the duchy. He had known Crusch since she was a baby, and Ferris since he had come to the House of Karsten. Someone who had been so close to them and the family for so long naturally shared Crusch’s concerns.

“You’re right, I’d rather Ferris not find out,” Crusch said. “But it depends on what exactly is going on. There may be a natural need to tell him.”

“That’s true, milady. According to the report, Bean Argyle—Ferris’s father—has been inviting a suspicious character into his home over these past several months. He may be a slaver.”

“A slaver…?”

Crusch’s brow furrowed slightly at the word. Officially, the Kingdom of Lugunica didn’t have slaves. Anyone who worked was to be compensated; the relationship between nobles and their servants was one of employer and employee. Perhaps some people were treated no better than slaves—but on paper, slavery did not exist under the laws of the kingdom.

By the same token, then, the slave trade could not be allowed to go on within Lugunica’s borders, either.

“And yet there is no end of people who want to sully their hands with that kind of business… Is the claim that the House of Argyle is working with the slaver to sell off the people of our domain to other kingdoms? That would mean…”

That would mean they were traitors. And responsibility for the problem fell to Crusch, who ruled this area. An immediate investigation would bring the facts to light. If the charges were true, the head of the household would be punished, and the House of Argyle itself would most likely cease to exist. If that happened, it would be difficult for Ferris to avoid repercussions.

“‘What the parents sow, the children reap.’ This is no joke. What are the Argyles thinking?” In her mind, Crusch found herself reliving the day she had first met Ferris.

He had been nothing but skin and bones, nearly black with dirt and grime, a boy so weak he could barely talk. Was it not enough for the Argyles that they had squandered the first half of Ferris’s life? Crusch found herself filled with such roiling anger that she bit her lip to hold it back, a most unusual gesture from her.

But the official met her rage by saying, “Please wait, milady. There is more to the report. Don’t make your decision until you’ve heard the whole thing.”

“…I’m sorry. I got a bit agitated.”

“Completely understandable. You and I are both affected by anything that concerns Ferris. Regardless, as far as the House of Argyle goes, it appears to be more than simple slave trading.”

“More?”

“Yes. The details aren’t certain yet, but it appears that rather than selling slaves to the trader, the Argyles are buying every slave they can get their hands on.”

“Buying them?”

She gave the man a look of incomprehension. Because slavery didn’t officially exist in Lugunica, people engaging in the slave trade in the kingdom could not, in principle, have any other objective but selling slaves to other nations. To buy slaves as laborers would hardly appear different from hiring them normally and wouldn’t arouse any ugly rumors.

“The question is whether the House of Argyle is up to anything that would move them to purchase slaves,” the official said, voicing the same question Crusch had been entertaining.

The decline of the House of Argyle had begun nine years ago, when the House of Karsten had become aware of Ferris, and had subsequently meted out its wrath upon his family for their transgressions. Bean Argyle was a noble without court rank, the overseer of a collection of towns and villages within the Karsten domain, and he was valued for his work. But that changed after the incident with Ferris, and ultimately the House of Argyle lost any and all trust.

Bean had made a number of attempts to recover after that, but all ended in failure, and now the only assets the family had left were their house and a parcel of uncultivated land. They had had to let all their servants go, and the last anyone had heard of them, Ferris’s mother and father were living at best a modest existence.

“In that state, what could the House of Argyle be doing that would require slaves…?”

It would have been much easier to believe that they were selling people to the brigands. Of course, had they been doing so, there would have been no consideration of extenuating circumstances in handing down their punishment, but at least she could have understood their motivation.

“Whatever the case, the moment they entered into the slave trade, the House of Argyle violated the laws of our kingdom. And a slaver operating boldly in my lands is no better. We will have to arrest both parties and deal with them.”

“In that case, milady, will you be moving to apprehend them immediately?”

“Yes, I… No, wait.” It would be easy enough to send her soldiers to capture Bean Argyle. But such a decision would be too hasty. They needed to get more than Bean. “If we move too precipitously, the slaver himself might escape.”

“A real possibility. These past months, the frequency of his visits to the House of Argyle has been once every month or two.”

“When did this report come in?”

“Two days ago. That would mean leaving them a window of two months…” The official seemed to guess what Crusch had in mind. She considered for a long moment and then shook her head, seeing that she had no other choice.

“Make sure the House of Argyle is watched at all times. The next time the slave trader comes to their door, we grab them both at once. Any objections?”

“Just one—You aren’t doing this for Ferris, are you?”

“Hardly. Of course I bear him in mind, but my responsibility as duchess is more important than my personal feelings. And Ferris wouldn’t want me to put him ahead of my duty.”

The official nodded in satisfaction. “Then, as you command, milady.”

He withdrew, leaving Crusch alone in her rooms. She slumped into her chair. She leaned into her seat, looking out the window at the sky. Wisps of white clouds drifted through clear blue, an unmistakable sign that the wind that day was strong.

I don’t believe I gave Ferris undue consideration simply because this matter involves his family.

However, during the ensuing two months, during which nothing changed at the Argyle household, the appointed time came for Ferris to join the royal guard. And it was true that, secretly, she was glad.

4

“Foul things afoot at the House of Argyle. Hmm, I see…”

Fourier nodded. Crusch had called him to share tea and speak face-to-face. They were in the parlor of the Karsten manor, and the guest list for this tea party included only the two of them. Fourier’s custom of visiting the household had continued even after Crusch became duchess, although with less frequency than before.

“I just happened to have business in the area, you understand!” he would say. “I thought I might drop in to see if you were in good health.” It was strange that Fourier “just happened” to show up primarily on days when Crusch would not be too busy to see him. These odd coincidences had gone on for the better part of ten years now, but Crusch had chosen not to question them.

“Just happened, you understand! Sheer chance! Don’t go getting the wrong idea!”

“Certainly not, Your Highness.”

“Yes, a fine answer! A fine answer indeed, but…you could afford to get just slightly the wrong idea…”

Crusch Karsten possessed a divine blessing, the ability to see the wind. This blessing of wind reading allowed her to see the invisible and read its flow. With it, she could even tell the true state of people’s hearts. It was a minor point of pride for her that she was rarely deceived.

For all this blessing and power, though, there were two people who could lie to her and get away with it. One was Ferris, who knew Crusch’s heart better than any other and therefore knew how to keep things from her. The other was Fourier, whose bald-faced lies Crusch had no desire to call out.

“And although it’s chance that I came by, it seems it was a good one, yes?”

A wind of untruth blew every time Fourier spoke the word chance. It was not chance but certainty; Fourier had come deliberately to visit. Crusch was honestly very happy that he felt such friendship toward her and Ferris. That was why she felt no need to reveal his lie. And now, she had been letting him hide his true intentions for ten years.

“At any rate, Crusch, I know all about it, of course. Of course I know. But just to be sure we’re on the same page, let me ask you—where is the House of Argyle, exactly?”

Crusch had put a great deal of thought into this, but the first thing Fourier said turned the conversation on its head. He tried to find out what was going on while simultaneously pretending to already know. Crusch made a half smile at this very Fourier-esque attitude, and said, “Pardon me.” She bowed her head. “Sometimes the magnitude of my friendship with you causes me to forget myself. My apologies.”

“Not at all, there’s no need for you to say you’re sorry! I assure you, I remember everything in great detail. I simply…want to make sure we remember the same thing! Don’t hesitate to speak.”

“Yes, Your Highness. The House of Argyle is Ferris’s family. His real name, as you’ll recall, is Felix Argyle, and he was the family’s eldest son.”

“Ahh, Ferris’s family, are they? And you say he used to be called Felix Argyle? What an interesting fact—that, uh, I of course knew already!”

The wind of untruth gusted again, but Crusch said nothing. From Fourier’s flustered reaction, however, it appeared that he had been totally ignorant of the connection between Ferris and the Argyles. She’d expected Ferris might have shared his personal history with the prince, but apparently not. If Ferris wanted to keep this quiet, then it wasn’t for Crusch to talk about, and yet…

“You look unhappy, Crusch. Whatever you wanted to talk about, is it really such awful business as to darken your face so? And on Ferris’s behalf, no less.”

“Your Highness…”

“You’re wondering how I know? Surely you needn’t ask. I’ve seen your face all these years, just as I promised I would in the flower garden. Clarity and calmness suit you best. This anxiousness is most unusual in you. Tell me what’s happened.”

When Fourier spoke like this, it shook Crusch to her very heart. She thought back to their first meeting. Ever since then, even to this very moment, Fourier had sometimes appeared to see more clearly than Crusch, who supposedly had the gift of wind reading. And Crusch knew from experience how the words he spoke could have the power to break an impasse.

“If he finds out that I told you, Ferris will be angry at me.”

“Oh, just tell him I forced it out of you. I held you down, said I would never forgive you if you didn’t tell me. Yes! That’s what you should say.”

“You jest. You could never hold me down, Your Highness… Your Highness? Are you all right? You fell to your knees very suddenly…”

“Y-yes, I’m fine… I’m perfectly fine. Please, continue.”

Fourier had these moments sometimes, some kind of attack or reaction. Crusch frowned, but she told the prince about Ferris’s history and the dark dealings going on at the House of Argyle.

—Crusch and Ferris had met nine years earlier. The reason for that meeting had been the same as for this one: Crusch had accompanied her father, Meckart, who was investigating rumors of inharmonious goings-on at the House of Argyle.

Ferris’s parents had both been perfectly human, yet he had been born with cat ears. He and his ears might raise suspicions that the House of Argyle carried impure blood, so for nearly ten years after he was born, Ferris was locked in the basement of the house day and night. Later, the House of Karsten took him in under the pretense of adoption, and that was how Ferris and Crusch met. Thus, they had spent their days as attendant and mistress.

“—”

As Crusch related all this to Fourier, she left out the unnecessary parts, deliberately made her telling ambiguous where she could, but ultimately told him most of the facts. Fourier listened to everything with an almost unsettling quiet and focus.

“…Unforgivable.”

The word slipped out, carrying with it an anger that could not be concealed. Fourier had closed his eyes, but now he opened them, their scarlet color shining like a flame.

“Such behavior is unforgivable! To think that my own friend Ferris was so inhumanly treated by his mother and father! And still they scheme and plot! I shall certainly show them no mercy. Even without Ferris’s knowledge, I swear I will—hrk! Cough! C-cough!” The rush of anger sent Fourier into a coughing fit.

“Your Highness, don’t get so agitated. Here, drink some tea.” She held out a cup to him, and Fourier downed its contents in a single gulp and slammed it back onto the table.

“—not forhib hem!” The hot tea turned his face red and mangled the words he tried to speak. But the emotion they contained, the feelings of friendship for Ferris, were unmistakable. “Crusch, you must apprehend these scoundrels, and you must do it immediately. Luckily, Ferris is at the capital for his training at the moment. We may not be able to keep everything from him, but at least we can shield him from having to see the ugliest parts of it.”

“I understand, my lord. But we’re dealing with a slave trader operating within our own borders. If we want to find out where he’s coming from, we can’t act too impulsively. I beg your understanding on this matter.”

“Hrr… Grr… In that case, why did you tell me about this? If you’re not going to act right away, then things are at a standstill. And if you’ve thought so far ahead, what do you need from me?”

“I wish to request Your Highness’s help with Ferris,” Crusch said. Judging by his outburst, it seemed Fourier didn’t understand what she was really driving at. His eyes went wide as Crusch placed a hand to her chest and continued: “Your Highness, Ferris will spend the next year at the royal castle, as one of the Knights of the Royal Guard. This year could all but determine his future—such is the importance of knighthood to Ferris. Therefore, I wish to see it pass without incident.”

“And you’re asking me to see that it does? Just so you know, Marcus, the man who oversees the royal guard, is stubborn but fair. He’s not the type to dole out undue favors. I could ask him to give Ferris special treatment, but I guarantee it would fall on deaf ears. And I have no intention of giving Ferris that kind of help, anyway. It could only hurt him—he may dress like a woman, but he has the pride of a man!”

Not once in the ten years they’d known each other had Crusch ever seen Fourier take advantage of his position or otherwise make any unwarranted demands. Of course, people often deferred to him because of his rank, but he was not the kind to ask for such consideration himself.

“If you expect such things of me,” he went on, “you’re making a mistake. Crusch, I know how much you care for Ferris, but in this case it’s led you astray. He isn’t as weak as you fear, nor so soft as to want protection from you and me.”

“—”

Then Fourier crossed his arms and coughed again briefly. His face was red. Crusch was silently thankful for his words. There were some who might see Ferris’s abilities and value him for them. But there was no one other than Fourier who would so thoroughly trust and defend Ferris’s heart.

“Your Highness, I must apologize. I seem to have given you the wrong impression. What I wish to ask from you is not that you get any breaks for Ferris in his unit.”

“Oh? It isn’t?” Fourier was startled to find that his passionate outburst had been misdirected. Crusch didn’t press the point but assumed an attitude of imploring respect.

“Your Highness, I understand I’m asking a great deal, and I’m prepared for you to reprimand me. But if it is possible, should you see Ferris at the royal castle, I ask that you would speak with him.”

“…That I speak with him? That’s all?”

“Yes. You understand Ferris’s position. He isn’t likely to be welcomed.”

Ferris’s cat ears, which made people suspect him of being a demi-human, made his admission to the royal guard exceptional. His preference for women’s dress and inexperience with the sword would be no more likely to win him any friends. But Ferris was apt to act perfectly according to his nature, no matter how hostile people were to him. No matter how much it hurt.

“I don’t doubt his strength of spirit. But everyone has their limits. Even he may not realize how emotionally fatigued he’s become. If he could have a kind word from you before that happens…”

“You think a familiar face will ease his mind…? Is that it?”

“Yes.” Crusch let out a breath, glad that she had gotten her point across. Then she smiled and stretched her neck gently. “However much I may care for Ferris, I am not quite so overprotective as to rely on your rank for favors.”

Ferris would not appreciate it if they were constantly holding out a hand so he would not fall, or giving him a push on the back so he would not stop, or shielding him so he would not get hurt. But a moment’s respite they could offer. That was what she asked of Fourier.

Now that Fourier understood what she really wanted, he frowned and looked askance at her. “But even so, Crusch—”

“What is it, my lord?”

“I think you’re quite overprotective just the same. Better you admit it to yourself.”

She had by no means expected Fourier to make such an allegation, and it left her dumbfounded. Her reaction caused Fourier to burst out laughing, slapping his knees in amusement.

“Excellent! I shall let your most unusual reaction just now persuade me. Anyway, the royal guard has quite a bit of free time when they’re not on duty. And the newcomer isn’t likely to be assigned to accompany my father or elder brothers on one of their trips. They won’t mind if I ask for Ferris’s company.”

Fourier seemed to be quite enjoying himself as he announced that he would accede to Crusch’s request. “But,” he added, winking uncharacteristically, “if that was all you were going to ask, why tell me about the goings-on at the House of Argyle?”

“It’s simply that if matters with the family become public, Ferris is bound to hear of them. If that happens, I want someone close to him who knows what’s going on. I couldn’t rely on anyone but you, Your Highness.”

“Um! Indeed! Because I am a most reliable man! I should like you to repeat yourself.”

“—? I couldn’t rely on anyone but you, Your Highness.”

“I see, I see. At the end of your rope, are you? Then I have no choice—you can count on me! Cough! Cough! Hrrk!” Fourier pounded his chest—a bit too hard, resulting in another coughing fit. It just seemed to be the way things were going that day. It was enough to raise concerns about the prince’s health.

“Not to worry. I’ve been suffering a bit of heartburn lately. My older brother has been coughing, too. Perhaps he’s caught a cold.”

“It’s not my place to make yet another request of you, Your Highness, but I do hope you’ll look after yourself. Your health matters to more people than just you. If you’re feeling unwell, you needn’t come all the way here…”

“Ah, but it’s when I’m feeling my weakest that I most want to see y—Um, never mind! More importantly, have you any plan for how you’ll deal with the Argyles?” Fourier changed the subject, blushing at Crusch’s words.

“Once we confirm that the slaver really is going to the House of Argyle, I’ll go and confront them myself. Then we’ll find out the truth of the matter.”

Fourier waited a moment before responding. Then he asked: “Do you really need to confront them yourself? I should think it would be dangerous.”

“I’d like to handle things internally, without matters getting out of hand… And there’s Ferris to think about.”

If it were simply a matter of arresting them, she could send the army. But if the House of Argyle had committed a major crime, Ferris could be inadvertently placed in a questionable situation as well. In the worst-case scenario, the House of Karsten might be forced to formally adopt Ferris before dealing with the Argyles.

“Your Highness, I humbly ask that you keep this from Ferris. I’ll make every effort to deal with this personally, as a local matter.”

“While I keep an eye on him in the capital—very well. This is between you and me. I’ll keep it to myself. But should the wind change and things turn sour, I can’t promise I’ll stay quiet about it. All right?” Fourier nodded, despite his continued misgivings about Crusch’s plan.

He had deliberately used the metaphor of changing winds to the young woman blessed with the ability to read the air itself. Crusch saw herself reflected in his scarlet eyes. A slight chill passed down her spine.

“I understand, Your Highness. If that moment comes, I trust your judgment.” She glanced toward the door—specifically, toward the crest of the House of Karsten emblazoned over it. For an instant, she saw Fourier’s image overlap with the crest of the lion baring its fangs.

—A week later, it was determined that the slaver was indeed going to the House of Argyle.

5

Bean Argyle proved surprisingly willing to invite Crusch to his home. His eagerness made her suspect a trap at first, but when she arrived, he showed her inside, and her concern gradually eased.

The house was still; there was no sense that an armed party was hiding anywhere within. In fact, there was hardly any sign anyone else was around at all.

“I heard rumors you had to release your servants,” Crusch said. “It seems they were true.”

“Yes, they were. I’m simply not in a position to indulge in any kind of excess anymore. The only people here now are myself, my wife, and one maid who stayed with us out of personal affection.” He led her down the hall. Bean Argyle was Ferris’s father, and the man at the center of the doubts about the House of Argyle. The fact that Bean himself, and not the maid, had greeted Crusch at the door lent credibility to his claims of being shorthanded.

“I’m sorry that my wife is unable to greet you. She’s sick in bed. And my maid is attending to another visitor, so I’m left to compound my rudeness by welcoming you by myself.”

“I don’t mind. It’s my fault for showing up so suddenly. But this visit had to be abrupt, and for that, I have no intention of apologizing.”

“Oh-ho…”

Bean stopped and looked back at this spontaneous remark. Crusch was tall for a woman, but he was a head taller than her. The most distinctive feature of his face was the lines that creased it, nothing like Ferris’s sweetness. Perhaps the son had inherited his girlish face from his mother. Crusch only dimly recalled what Bean’s wife looked like, but it seemed logical to her.

“Bean Argyle… You’ve grown thin. You look smaller than when I saw you last.”

“When a man has as many troubles as I do…”

It was only when she went back to her memories that Crusch realized how much the man in front of her had changed. Bean had once had a fine beard and had seemed a good man, but now there was no trace of resemblance to his former bearing. His expression was dark, and patches of white hair stood out on his head and chin. The last nine years had not been kind to him.

“How is Felix? Is he well?”

“—”

Crusch was quietly taken aback to hear him bring up Ferris. Bean had considered the child as evidence of his wife’s infidelity, and that had ultimately led to the downfall of the House of Argyle. He might well be expected to resent the boy for that even now.

Bean smirked at the dumbfounded Crusch.

“So even you can be caught off guard, Duchess…”

“I admit, I wasn’t expecting it. I was sure you wouldn’t think much of Ferris… I mean, Felix.”

“What parent does not treasure his child? Or if not treasure, what parent wishes to leave his child to die somewhere? Especially when he knows the boy is his own blood.”

Bean’s voice was subdued, with scant inflection. It was hard to tell what he was really thinking. But Crusch wasn’t listening to his voice. She was focused on the wind, and there she found unmistakable regret and grief. Bean at least seemed to be upset by the inhuman acts he had perpetrated against Ferris, whom he now acknowledged as his real son. If he had taken Ferris as his own from the start and loved him like any other father, things would have been very different. Would they have been better? It was not a question Crusch could easily answer.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stop. As our receiving room is occupied, perhaps our parlor… But you have come for something else today, I presume.”

Bean resumed walking just as Crusch began to think she couldn’t take any more. Crusch blinked once, dispelling her own grief, and replied, “Yes. And I have business with your other visitor. I know I’m imposing myself, but things will go quickest if you simply take me to your reception room. For both of us.”

“I see. This way, then, please.”

Bean made no effort to resist, but led her to the reception room as though he had been expecting this. They walked through a dim hallway—it seemed the light was deliberately kept low—and up a narrow staircase to the receiving room on the second floor.

Bean knocked. A woman’s voice answered, and the door opened. A woman of middle age appeared. To judge by her clothing, this was the household’s last maid.

The woman’s face stiffened when she saw Crusch. The duchess only gave her a silent nod.

“Master? Why is the honored duchess…?”

“Don’t you remember? I told you I was going to have her join us here. Make tea for her.” At Bean’s clipped instruction, the maid bowed to Crusch and squeezed out through the door. Crusch, in turn, walked into the room. A voice greeted her as she came in.

“Well, well, quite a lovely young thing we have here.” The owner of the voice was an unpleasant-looking man. His whole body was wrapped in a white robe; he had short gray hair and a ratlike face. Crusch was not superficial enough to judge people by their appearance, but an affinity for violence seemed to lay thick about him.

“I must ask your indulgence; her visit was quite sudden. Allow me to introduce Duchess Crusch of Karsten, the ruler of this area. Milady, if I may…?” Standing beside Crusch, Bean announced her, then attempted to move on to the subject of the other visitor. Crusch gave the slightest of nods, and Bean gestured at the ratlike man. “This is Miles. He deals in the antiques I so favor. He goes from country to country, trading in the most unusual things… Perhaps nothing quite so strange as a metia, but many interesting objects just the same.”

“Miles, milady. And must I say, you’re the most beautiful duchess I’ve encountered in all my travels. I certainly didn’t expect to meet you here. What a great pleasure,” the rat-faced man said, picking up smoothly from Bean. His words were perfectly polite, but there was a hint of toadying about them.

Crusch ignored most of what he said. She only murmured, “An antiques dealer…?”

“Does milady have a taste for the old and intriguing? I’ll have to visit your honored residence at another time…”

“I appreciate it, but that won’t be necessary. I’m still too young to feel the weight of history very keenly. There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

She shook her head at Miles’s invitation and tried to draw Bean into the conversation. Her suspicions about him had lessened somewhat during their talk in the hallway, but since meeting Miles, she had begun to doubt again. Unfortunately, it was very hard to believe the man’s claim to be an antiques dealer. There was an eight or nine out of ten chance that he was the slave trader she was looking for.

Bean gestured for her to sit on the sofa. He and Miles sat across from her. Crusch rested her hands on her knees, never letting her guard down. Because she had only come to talk, Crusch wasn’t carrying a sword. However, she was quite capable of dealing with an enemy in hand-to-hand combat if it came to that. But she wouldn’t do anything reckless.

“Now then, Lady Crusch, what is it you wish to talk about?”

“Ahem. Truth be told, my visit today was motivated by a report received by one of my subordinates. Word is that an unsavory character has been visiting the House of Argyle recently.”

“Could you be speaking of me?” Miles said, chiming in. “If so, I must sincerely apologize for giving the duchess herself cause to come all the way out here.” He had the same servile tone as before, but his eyes took Crusch in quite openly. His gaze was frankly unsettling. No one wants to be looked at like an object being appraised.

“Setting aside the question of exactly who it is, my subordinate was told that this person is a slave trader. I’ve come to hear Bean Argyle’s side of the story.”

Miles frowned at this open statement of Crusch’s suspicions, but there was no change in Bean’s attitude. He drummed on the table with his fingers, looking as dour as ever.

“I understand you have your concerns,” Bean said. “But we have very few callers at this house anymore. The only person who comes and goes with any frequency would be Miles here.”

“So you’re saying the rumors of slave trade are just that?”

Bean nodded firmly. She sensed no wind indicating he was trying to deceive her. In fact, the eddies of his emotions were exceptionally weak, as if he were disengaged. Far from reassuring Crusch, this left her with an indistinct mistrust of Bean.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the maid, who returned to the room.

“—The tea is ready,” she said, and placed a silver tea set on the table and quietly poured the drink. A sweet aroma rose from the warm liquid. Crusch caught a hint of anxiousness and uncertainty from the maid.

“Please, Lady Crusch,” Miles said. “It will be easier to talk if you wet your lips…”

“It’s all right…”

The maid had retreated, but Crusch remembered her nervousness. Combined with Miles’s inquisitive eyes, Crusch hesitated to take the cup. Bean and Miles paid her no mind, sipping from their own cups.

Crusch’s perceptions were sounding a noisy warning bell. Even the tea she’d been offered put her on edge.

“If you wish to dispel any suspicions, the first step will be to show me the goods Miles has allegedly brought with him. Then you will allow people in to inspect this house. If they find the rumors are baseless, then I will apologize for doubting you and offer some form of compensation. But—”

“—Compensation, you say?”

 

 

 

 

 

It was hard to believe the whispered voice belonged to the same man who had seemed so detached just seconds before. These few words were rife with a tumult of emotions. Dry, and yet saturated, an unfocused emotional torrent. The only thing she could understand, if anything at all, was that he was fixated on something…

“Compensation,” Bean said softly. “Yes, very well. If you’re prepared to do that, things will indeed go quickly between us.” Now she felt something fearful rolling off him, but it was too late.

“—ngh. Whad’re you talging ab…?” Crusch found her lips couldn’t form the words to her reply, and then a wave of dizziness struck her. Her hand slipped off the armrest of the sofa and she fell to the floor. Her eyes spun; her consciousness wavered.

By the time she realized she had been drugged, it was too late. But she hadn’t put anything in her mouth…

“Ha-ha!” Miles cackled. “The bigger they think they are, the better they fall for this trick! Don’t even want a drink? You should accept your host’s hospitality, milady. It helps wash out the bad air that gets inside…” He clapped tauntingly, and all decorum had vanished from his tone. His face contorted into a vile expression, and he ran a hand along Crusch’s cheek. “Ahh, I do love to see a strong woman crawl. Ha-ha! You’ll make a fine gift for me to take home.”

The words certainly sounded like those of a slaver, but what he was saying was mad. Crusch was a duchess of the Kingdom of Lugunica. Anyone in their right mind would know that to take her as a slave was suicide. Which could only mean he had something besides enslavement in mind.

Bean knelt down and looked into Crusch’s eyes. “I thank you for your cooperation, Duchess. Without you, I could never have achieved my goal.”

“…”

His face was expressionless, like a mask, but his eyes were passionate. Anger raged in them, and a terrible pity.

“Wh…a…t… go…al…?”

“You can still talk? I’m surprised. It was supposed to put you out immediately.” Bean sounded impressed. Crusch was biting her tongue, clinging desperately to consciousness.

Bean grabbed her by the hair, pulled her head up, and said, “Isn’t it obvious?—I want back the child you stole from me. I need that boy.”

6

“You let Lady Crusch go alone?! How could you ever—? How do you plan to take responsibility if anything’s happened to her?”

The voice, almost a scream, echoed around the Karsten office. The owner of the shouting voice and the hand that slammed down on the black desk was Ferris. He wore the uniform of the royal guard, and he had returned to the mansion much sooner than expected. The place was in an uproar.

—Had he really given up on being a knight after just ten days?

No one dared to venture to make such a joke as Ferris stalked down the hallway with an expression of anger they had never seen before clear on his face. Everyone got out of his way until he arrived at the secretarial office, where he laid into the head official.

“H-hold on a moment, Ferris. I know you’re upset. And I understand, but this was Lady Crusch’s decision. There were circumstances to consider…”

“Circumstances?! You mean what might happen to me? I know what might happen! And I don’t care! If it meant keeping Lady Crusch out of danger, I would gladly have given my heart and my body and my name!” His voice had risen an octave. For all his anger, his thinking was rational enough. At the castle, Fourier had explained what Crusch was up to. And while Ferris understood that she was doing it for him, Crusch putting herself in danger for his sake defeated the purpose of his service as her knight.

The House of Argyle was so steeped in villainy that the people there didn’t think of other people as human beings.

“And yet none of you put Lady Crusch first…!”

“You must calm yourself, Ferris. You’ll only terrify everyone around you, and then we won’t be able to talk to them.”

“But…!” Ferris’s eyes began to fill with tears. Someone wrapped an arm around his shoulder, the same someone who had just spoken in such a powerful voice. A young man with golden hair. The official Ferris had been upbraiding caught his breath at the sight of the man.

“Your Highness Fourier! I didn’t know you would be with Ferris…”

“Yes, because it was I who revealed the matter to him, even though I’d been asked not to speak of it. And Crusch did tell me beforehand that if things went badly, I was to use my judgment. I have no proof, but…I do have a bad feeling that won’t go away. It swirls within me.” Fourier placed a hand to his chest. If the prince had willed all this, then the official certainly couldn’t be upset with Ferris for it.

“Whatever is happening, the royal castle is too far away for me to deal with it effectively. So it only makes sense that I would move closer to the center of the action. And it only makes further sense that a member of the royal guard would accompany me.”

“Does it make sense, Your Highness? I shudder to think what the captain will say when we get back…” Fourier was happily playing out his little trick, but Julius, who had gotten caught up in the whole affair, slumped his shoulders. He didn’t seem specifically upset to have been dragged along, however. “If Your Highness would be so magnanimous as to speak on our behalf…” he added.

“Since this was all my own doing, you can leave that to me! Um, well…not that I’m sure my excuses will have much sway with Marcus, but at the very least, you two will not be alone when he reprimands you. If you must get a piece of his mind, I will, too.”

“Reassuring words, Your Highness—Now then, what about the Duchess of Karsten…?”

As a semblance of calm returned to the room, Julius guided them back to the question at hand. This led the official, now out of ways to distract his visitors, to slump a bit and look uncomfortably at Ferris. “It’s true Lady Crusch went alone to inspect the House of Argyle,” he said. “But Bardok has the area of the mansion surrounded with nearly fifty soldiers. The Argyles lack the resources to hire mercenaries at this time. Even if they armed their slaves and sent them out, it would be easy to subdue them.”

“But what if they took Lady Crusch hostage…?”

“I admit they might feel so cornered as to resort to violence, but they would be facing Lady Crusch. She once cut down a Giant Rabbit with a single swipe of her sword. I doubt they could best her. And she has done all she can to prepare in advance.”

The official offered all the reasons he could for peace of mind, hoping to placate Ferris. True, objectively speaking, it didn’t seem there was any way Crusch could be at a disadvantage. Ferris would have trusted her diligence had the involvement of the House of Argyle not thrown his emotions into confusion. Yet an unease remained within him. Was it simply an illusion born of his own difficulties with his blood family?

“…Wait, Ferris. None of that would lay my lingering anxiety to rest.”

“Your Highness?” Fourier had spoken just as Ferris was beginning to calm down and resolve to trust Crusch.

Fourier looked like a different person. Ferris, looking into his eyes, had the sense that he could see the prince’s very soul. Everyone in the room caught the change in Fourier.

Fourier looked around the room, which was holding their collective breath, and put a hand on his chest before continuing. “A worry, I cannot explain what, churns within me. It isn’t good for you and Crusch to continue to be apart. Indeed, we must go as soon as possible—cough, c-cough!”

“Your Highness?!”

Fourier’s words dissolved into a spate of red-faced coughing. Ferris rushed to take his shoulders, focusing his attention on the flow of mana throughout the prince’s body. The Royal Academy of Healing had recognized Ferris as its most accomplished pupil. If he wanted to, he could bring someone back from the brink of death to perfect health. So when someone complained to him of feeling poorly, he had a habit of assessing them as soon as he laid hands on them.

“What…?”

Fourier immediately moved away from Ferris’s hands. Before his fingers and the mana flowing through them could do their work, the prince stood up, still sweating and breathing hard.

“Are you all right, Your Highness?!” Julius asked.

Fourier tried to act as if nothing had happened. “It’s nothing major. My apologies for startling you. I’m feeling much better now, thanks to Ferris.” This seemed to satisfy everyone else, but Ferris couldn’t let go of his shock.

“Um, Your Highness, Ferri—I mean, I didn’t…”

Worry pierced him as he watched Fourier wipe away sweat even as he tried to claim everything was fine. But Ferris’s small, hesitant voice was suddenly overwhelmed by a shout from outside the office.

“It’s terrible! Lady Crusch hasn’t come out of the Argyle manor, and a battle’s started around the mansion! The soldiers—they claim they’re fighting living corpses!”

7

The first thing Crusch noticed when she came to was a terrible odor.

“Nnhn…” she groaned. Her throat was dry. She leaned up off the floor. And then the smell filled her nose, a stench so awful that it was almost physically painful. It was like animal waste mixed with something rotting; the moment she caught a whiff of it, Crusch knew she was in no place good.

She was somehow able to sit up, but her hands were manacled. So were her feet, and on top of that, she was blindfolded. It was a small blessing that her eyes had simply been covered rather than put out, but Crusch wasn’t thinking of such things at that moment.

“I don’t seem to have any major injuries. Is that so they have room to bargain with me…?”

She remembered the moments just before she had lost consciousness. Bean and Miles had used some kind of concoction to put her to sleep. There had been something in the tea—but it was antidote, not toxin. The drug was in the room itself, and only Crusch, who had been too suspicious to drink, had succumbed. But it bothered her that there seemed to be so many potential holes in the plan.

“If I had been careless and drunk the tea, it wouldn’t have worked.”

“…If you’d done that, we would’ve done something much more terrifying.”

She hadn’t been expecting an answer, but one came. The unforgettable voice belonged to none other than Bean. She’d sensed someone nearby, but she never would have guessed it was the perpetrator himself. Crusch didn’t let her shock show on her face. Instead, she let out an incongruous laugh.

“You never cease to surprise me. That, at least, makes me think you’re related to Felix.”

“You don’t know how grateful I am to hear that from someone who’s closer to that boy than any other. It gives me confidence that he and I really do share a blood connection.”

“You seem awfully interested in the son you gave up nearly ten years ago.” She couldn’t see Bean, but his tone was calm—yet this only spoke to the depth of his madness. Crusch considered it more dangerous than if he had been hysterical.

“I told you. I need him. And you are going to bring him to me.”

“You’re right that when Felix finds out what’s happened to me, he’s likely to come running. But you’ll have another problem to deal with first. My subordinates know I’m here, and it won’t be long before they notice I haven’t returned and come down on this place like an avalanche.”

The contest would be between a duchess and a subsidiary noble with no station. The difference in military strength was unquestionable. The outcome was a foregone conclusion.

Flight would be similarly futile. If they wanted to, Bean and Miles could take Crusch’s head, but this would only doubly sign their death warrants.

“I won’t try to convince you to surrender. But what are you planning? I can’t understand what you have to gain by putting me in this position.”

“I see being blindfolded and chained hasn’t made you any more meek. I guess the ducal family really is made of sterner stuff than the rest of us. Well, that only makes things easier for me.”

“I take it you don’t intend to answer me?”

To this question Bean did not spare any reply at all; Crusch heard his footsteps growing distant. There was the sound of some wet glop dirtying the soles of his shoes. Apparently there was something unsanitary here besides just the bad smell.

“Oh, yes,” Bean called back to Crusch, as though he had just remembered something. “This is where Felix used to spend his days, those many years ago. The room that moved you to take him away from us. Perhaps you’ll understand him even more intimately now.”

“…Is that so? How thoughtful of you,” she answered, her voice thick with sarcasm. “I’ll make sure to put this experience to good use.” Bean only gave an angry snort. This time the footsteps receded until she could no longer hear them, and the blindfolded Crusch was left alone.

“So this was Ferris’s room…” she murmured to herself.

Crusch thought back to when she had met Ferris. If Bean was telling the truth, then she was underground. The room where the cat-boy had been confined as a child was beneath the house.

The manacles on her hands and legs were made of metal, not easily removed. Bean’s attitude suggested he had a plan in mind for dealing with the guards accompanying Crusch. She saw now: She was in a desperate situation. But nothing more.

“This isn’t quite what I was expecting, but it’s a bit too early to just give up.”

Being drugged and kidnapped had certainly not been part of her plan. But if it gave her a way to uncover the secrets of the house, then it might have been worth it. She had only one real concern…

“I guess it was asking too much to think I could finish this before Ferris or His Highness got worried.”

Both of them would no doubt be tremendously anxious when they heard what had happened to her. That thought tormented her far more than any question of her own safety.

8

There was a secret spell called the Sacrament of the Immortal King.

It was one of the exceptional magics, supposedly created by a witch who held the world in thrall before the knowledge was lost. Put briefly, it allowed the user to control corpses according to their will. The witch who invented the spell had been said to be able to bring the dead back looking exactly as they had in life, but that part of the spell had not been passed down.

Most of the ritual had faded from living memory; it was impossible to replicate any of the spell’s effects except animating corpses. And even that most basic manifestation was all but impossible to achieve without a caster who had a natural affinity for the spell.

It was a very rare affinity—no one had been known to possess it in more than a hundred years.

“I’m impressed we were able to come so far in replicating the effects.” Miles gave a happy shrug as he watched the corpse wander around, a revolting scent drifting from it.

A dark smile came over his face. He felt no distaste for the walking body. The dead were a familiar sight to him. It was simply that those who were usually asleep had now awoken.

“Awfully intimidating name for such a useful power,” he went on. “Such fine workers the dead make. I can’t believe we’ve forgotten this ability.”

“Normal people wouldn’t think to put the dead to manual labor.”

“Ah, master, welcome back.”

From amid the dead came a man who was living, yet whose face was no different from the zombies’. A living dead man who controlled the deceased through secret magic, while Miles was the villain who worked with him. It was a place awash in a never-ending tide of sin.

“I long ago lost the good sense to be concerned about such things, anyway. And how is our little princess doing in her underground room?”

“Still defiant. The ones who are born to nobility really are a different breed.”

“Fine. That makes it all the better when I finally break her. You haven’t…done anything to her, have you?”

“I have no interest in such things. She’s only bait, to bring my son here.” The question hadn’t really been necessary, but Bean answered it dispassionately just the same. “How do things look outside?”

“Oh, very busy. Her Ladyship’s vaunted soldiers seem to be quite beside themselves at the sight of our undead fighters. I suppose it would be less human not to be scared by those rotting faces.”

From the second floor of the mansion, it was possible to view the tumult outside. The soldiers Crusch had brought along with her were in a pitched battle with the crazed undead. No sooner were the zombies killed than they would rise back up, again and again. It was enough to give the bravest hero pause.

“We gave them our demands. What is their response? Have you seen my son?”

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you. I don’t even know what he looks like. I saw some land dragons leaving, so I assume their headquarters has been informed, but I don’t see any demi-humans.”

“…Don’t speak of that boy as though he were some animal. That’s my son, who shares my blood.”

Miles had spoken the forbidden word; Bean gave him a sharp look. He seemed not entirely sane, so Miles raised his hands and scuttled backward.


The word son was so often on Bean’s lips. He seemed fixated on it. Perhaps it only made sense, since he was hardly calling the child back out of love. Even Miles felt a certain sympathy for the boy. To have one’s life wasted because of the fervent but mistaken convictions of one’s father was the stuff of nightmares.

“Well, not that it means I’ll hold back or show any mercy.”

Bean looked down over the battlefield with glittering eyes, awaiting his son’s homecoming. Behind him, Miles sat on a sofa that hadn’t been dirtied by the corpses and waited for the right moment. The house overflowed with ill intent and the fetor of rotting flesh. But he only had to wait until the time was ripe.

9

Ferris and the others arrived at the Argyle estate to find the place had become a battleground. They had run their dragon carriage as hard as possible, and it had still taken several hours. The place was hell on earth by the time they got there.

“So this is what they meant by undead warriors…” Ferris murmured. A man tottered forward with the point of a spear lodged in his head. What flowed from the wound was not vital red blood but yellow pus. The man collapsed on the ground. Yet, despite what was obviously a mortal wound, he flailed his body, working the spear out, and then, apparently unbothered by his shattered skull, stretched out his arms and attempted to attach himself to the next soldier he saw.

“A dark spell that makes the dead live. So this is the Sacrament of the Immortal King.” Julius had been watching, too, and now he spoke in a voice heavy with fury at the awful scene. Julius was typically quiet, but given to intense emotion. He was full of righteous indignation on behalf of those whose lives had been blasphemed by this magic. His hand was on the hilt of his sword, and he looked as if he might rush in at any moment.

“—Don’t do it, Julius. I shan’t let you go ahead of me.” The voice that held Julius back was that of Fourier, who observed the situation from inside the carriage. The prince’s stern words caused the tension to go out of Julius’s shoulders, as if he were embarrassed at his own impetuousness.

“My apologies. The sight is simply too terrible, and it raised my ire.”

“I understand your feelings. This isn’t a situation we can overlook. But if we make the wrong choice, it could result in needless sacrifices. We must avoid that.”

Next Fourier turned to Ferris, who found himself quailing slightly under the intensity of his friend’s gaze. Fourier was in the grip of the sharp-edged, commanding air he had shown at the castle and the manor. It had happened before, but this was of a different magnitude. Normally Fourier didn’t seem like royalty—in the best sense—but now his heritage was abundantly evident.

“According to Bardok, it will take three hours to gather enough strength to ensure we can destroy the enemy. We have to buy them time so that the worst doesn’t happen before then.” Fourier took in the battlefield. “Of course, we want to protect any innocents from getting hurt. Both of you understand?” Ferris and Julius nodded.

The undead warriors were ranged against Crusch’s soldiers, who surrounded the Argyle house. There appeared to be at least two hundred of them, four times the friendly strength.

But while the undead had the advantage of being difficult to destroy, their ability to think and strategize was gone. The fact that the cordon hadn’t been broken despite being vastly outnumbered was proof of this.

At the moment, Bardok, the ranking military official Crusch had brought with her, was trying to gather the military strength to overcome the disparity in numbers. Once they had the forces, it would be a simple matter to overpower the undead warriors.

“But that means Lady Crusch might…”

“If we don’t rescue Crusch, then we could have a million men and it would mean nothing. What’s more, it looks like the mastermind, Bean Argyle, is asking after a Felix Argyle.”

No sooner had they finished with the urgent message about the appearance of the undead warriors than they received word that Crusch had been taken hostage at the Argyle house. A letter signed by Bean himself had demanded that they hand over Ferris in exchange for Crusch’s safety.

Of course, they weren’t stupid enough to fall for it.

“But we can’t simply dismiss his demand, either,” Fourier said. “Until we see the Duchess, we have to prioritize her safety, and that may mean going to the negotiating table.”

“Yeah, a table they built. It’s about the worst possible way to negotiate…” Ferris said, not trying to hide his frustration. He glared down at the Argyle mansion.

Normally, it might be nostalgic to see one’s birthplace again, but Ferris felt nothing so pleasant for this house. He had never seen the place from outside like this. In his memory, it existed only as the darkness of that basement room.

“What are you going to do?” Fourier asked. “Bean’s letter said that you and you alone would be allowed past the undead. Do you think we can trust him?”

The warriors leaped without mercy at anything nearby. They never came to attacking one another, but they didn’t seem like they had the ability to do any more than distinguish between the living and the dead. But that was no reason to hesitate.

“I’ll go. Lady Crusch will be in danger if I don’t.”

To Ferris, Crusch’s life was more important than his own, worth more than the whole world. He would give anything at all to get her back. Certainly including himself.

“Ferris…”

“You can’t stop me, Your Highness. You were the one who brought me here.”

“I won’t try to stop you. I know you would go even if I did. Because you are Crusch’s knight. I have no doubt you’ll protect her.”

Ferris was already on his way, and Fourier answered him without hesitation.

With those words, Ferris felt as if he had a thousand armies behind him. After all, Fourier’s words were part of what had fired Ferris’s ambitions to knighthood, part of the reason he was who he was. The pride buoyed him up. But Fourier went on.

“But you should not do it at the cost of your life. I want you and Crusch both back safely. Because you are my life. If you’re a true member of the royal guard, you’ll follow my orders.”

“—”

“You must come back. I won’t lose a friend to something like this.”

Ferris didn’t even have a name for the emotion that welled up in his heart. Fourier had called Ferris his friend many times before, and each time he did, Ferris was just as shocked as the first time it had happened, just as lost for words.

“Yes, Your Highness!”

And then he set out, his friend watching him go with a familiar, audacious look on his face.

Ahead of Ferris was the awful place of his birth, the mistress he cherished, and the family he had left behind.

“You look upset, Julius.”

Fourier spoke to Julius as they watched Ferris grow smaller in the distance. Julius was clenching his fists.

Apparently Bean had been telling the truth in his letter, because the undead warriors completely overlooked Ferris as he approached the house. The same could not be said for the other human soldiers, at whom the zombies threw themselves without mercy.

Julius was at least relieved to see Ferris go safely through, but he couldn’t help being frustrated by his own powerlessness.

“I feel pathetic—to accompany him here and yet be unable to do anything! Why be a knight at all if I cannot help my friend in his hour of need?”

“Don’t get so worked up,” Fourier replied. “There will be many times to come when your strength will be needed. The vexation of this moment is not a sign of your impotence.”

“Er—thank you.” Julius had not expected such words from Fourier, but his surprise was overwhelmed by respect. The fourth prince, Fourier Lugunica, was not known to have a gift for flattery. Indeed, the whole royal family was quite convivial; in this way, they were unsuited to statesmanship. The administration of Lugunica was thus left to the higher nobles and the Council of Elders.

Or so everyone in the nation believed, and Julius himself could not deny that he had assumed as much until this moment. But when he saw Fourier now, he had to wonder if the prince was really just personable. He gradually found himself unable to believe the gossip that ran like wildfire through the royal castle.

“You’re thinking I seem very little like what you’ve heard.”

“—!”

“Take it easy, no need for shock. I could hardly be ignorant of the rumors about me in the royal castle. Not that I normally pay much attention to them. But I’m feeling unusually clearheaded today. At least enough to plumb the heart of a retainer sincerely concerned for our nation.”

A fresh burst of awe came over Julius, who felt that Fourier had seen through his indiscretion. The sage who sighed mournfully beside him in the carriage was not a man who could be measured by rumors. Still, though that wise man’s eyes saw all, he also exuded congeniality.

“Ferris is going to challenge his birth family. It is his friends’ duty to support what is lacking.”

“Is Ferris…? Does Your Highness consider him a friend?”

“Of course. And if you do as well, then we are in the same position.” Julius found it a dizzying position to be in. Fourier looked thoughtfully toward the mansion. His scarlet eyes played over the house and the undead soldiers fighting outside.

“If Crusch is on the upper floor, then Ferris might be able to manage something… But if not, we’ll have to rely on you, Julius. Take that to heart and wait for your moment.” Julius respectfully accepted Fourier’s words. The knight found himself painfully aware of his own pride. Lately there had been many chances for him to correct his unconscious assumptions, regarding both Ferris and other things. He had no right to take others lightly in anything, nor any reason to be taken lightly by others.

“I see I still have much to reflect on.”

Julius set his hand on the hilt of his sword and waited for the moment when he would be called upon to draw it. It was he, as a Knight of the Royal Guard, who had been entrusted with Fourier. His true worth as a member of the guard would be tested on the battlefield today.

10

“Welcome home, Master Felix.”

Ferris felt out of place as the maid came out to greet him. He couldn’t quite tell if he remembered the middle-aged woman or not. But she seemed to recognize him. He was especially struck by the way she squinted her eyes as if she were trying to remember something.

None of this gave him any affection for a person who aligned herself with the Argyles.

“Spare me the small talk. Where’s Lady Crusch?”

“—The master is waiting. If you’ll follow me…”

For an instant, the maid looked as if she were holding something back before she answered. She hadn’t answered his question, but when she turned and entered the house, he followed her, knowing he had no other choice.

A rotten stench drifted through the dim hallway. Undead warriors were posted inside the mansion as well; they produced a variety of scratching sounds. With no one to attack—Ferris and the maid were not their targets—they stood stupidly or slumped down against the wall, giving no real sense of being alive.

Ferris’s eyes roved here and there as they moved through the house.

“Feeling nostalgic?” the maid asked him. She seemed to have misunderstood what he was looking for.

With no small irony he replied, “Not especially,” and shrugged. “I don’t remember this place well enough to feel nostalgic for it. And even if I did, there weren’t any corpses walking around the last time I was here.”

As he spoke, Ferris gave an experimental poke to the shoulder of one of the zombies that stood motionless in the hallway. He half expected it wouldn’t respond no matter what he did, but when it realized he had touched it, its eyes turned toward him.

“I’m amazed you can bring yourself to touch them,” the maid said.

“Dead bodies are nothing new to me. I’ve seen plenty of the heavily wounded, too. But I didn’t come here to chat.”

“—”

The maid gave no response. Ferris had replied to her because he didn’t want to simply ignore the woman, but he was not in the mood to talk. He had felt a twisting in the top of his stomach from the moment he entered this house. He recognized it for the psychological phenomenon it was, a testament to how deeply he despised this place.

After Ferris pointedly broke off their conversation, the maid led him in silence to the second floor. She knocked on the door of the reception room, calling out, “Sir, I’ve brought him.”

A man replied quietly from within. Ferris didn’t remember the voice, but it sent chills down his spine. Neither his mind nor his body recognized it, but his soul did.

“—You made it back, Felix.”

When Ferris entered the room, he was confronted with a large, bearded man. Ferris looked up at the man’s face, and finally something flickered in his memory. The man had the same chestnut-colored hair and yellow eyes as Ferris—those were almost the only things that marked them out as parent and child, but he grew more and more sure that it was the same face that had loomed even higher above him nine years before.

“Yeah…I guess that is what he looked like,” Ferris whispered as he finally managed to line up his memories with the face of his father, Bean Argyle. Emotionless words for a reunion with his own father. The maid, overhearing them, furrowed her brow, but her reaction was overshadowed by Bean’s much more grandiose one.

He took Ferris by the shoulders with his large hands and said, “I’d like to ask how you’ve been…but first I have to ask what in the world you’re wearing. You’re so thin—and you’re in women’s clothes? I hope the Duchess of Karsten’s perverse views on gender haven’t rubbed off on you.”

“—”

“Your complexion is good enough, but your arms and legs are so slim… What a terribly cruel sight!” Bean contorted his face in grief, raising a cry over his grown son. Ferris watched him expressionlessly, though with a tremendous chill in his eye.

This outfit is a sign of my bond with Crusch, and I’m thin because of almost ten years of abuse in this house. It’s cruel, all right, but whose cruelty is it?

“But very well! Let us set this aside! You’ve come home. As your father, that brings me joy.” Seemingly oblivious to Ferris’s chilly expression, Bean broke into a smile and tried to give his son a hug. Ferris nimbly avoided his embrace, sliding to one side as Bean stumbled forward.

Ferris quickly scanned the room, but he let out a breath when he could find no sign of Crusch.

“Enough talk,” he said. “Give back Lady Crusch. Then I hope you and this house just disappear.”

“What a way to greet your father! Don’t mistake me, Felix. I’m overjoyed that you’re safe, but I’m not so generous as to indulge your impertinence. If you think you’re on equal footing with me because of what happened in the past, you’re wrong.”

“—! As if I would think that!” He met Bean’s angry outburst with one of his own. What had been done to Ferris in this household, he would never take so lightly as to use it for leverage.

Ferris had possessed his animal ears from birth, and almost immediately after he came into the world, he was locked in that basement room. His mother and father had been regular humans, so the presence of his cat ears was taken to imply infidelity on the part of his mother.

Although confined in the dark underground chamber, Ferris had been afforded a minimal education. But once out of infancy, his treatment grew worse and worse. After the age of five, he was forced into another underground room even smaller than the first, and he spent five years there doing nothing but waking and sleeping. He spent his life in darkness with no reason to be alive nor any meaning to the life he had.

It was Crusch who had brought him out from that place—Crusch, who had been gallant since childhood. She led Ferris out into the sun, and he became human.

It was thanks to Crusch that Ferris gained humanity for the first time.

“Without Lady Crusch, I wouldn’t be who I am! So give her back to me—now! I don’t care about mistaking you! I don’t care about fathers! I’m not joking around!”

Ferris’s sweet face was twisted with rage; he bared his teeth and stamped the floor. He brandished his own arms at Bean.

“Look at these skinny arms! I can’t wield a sword! Can’t hold a shield! I’m her knight, and these worthless arms can’t even fight for her! And my legs are no better! I can’t run fast or jump high… I can’t do anything! All I want is to protect her, and I can’t even do that!”

Once Crusch had taken him out of this house, and he had been given his role as her attendant, Ferris had done everything he could to be an asset to her. He had tried to take up the sword and be a knight. But he had been left without the body to make good on that duty.

“You stole it from me! You stole it from me and left me empty… Lady Crusch gave me my way of life, my way of being!”

He had been left with nothing, but Crusch had encouraged him to live the way he did now. He had been derided as a hopeless case, ridiculed for having “strange proclivities,” but the only thing that meant anything to Ferris was what Crusch had asked of him. And, here of all places, would he turn away from that?

“And after all you’ve done, you still want to keep taking from me! Will you steal from me again, something I value more than my own life?! You won’t, damn you…! Damn you!!”

If he could have, Ferris would have cut down the devil that called itself his father then and there. If he could have, he would have burned him up with magic and thrown the ashes in a river.

But Ferris couldn’t do either of these things. He didn’t have the power.

“—”

Bean stood silently as Ferris lambasted him. The boy’s emotions washed over him, and he regarded his child with a masklike, emotionless face. His eyes weren’t quite human; they didn’t seem to be focused anywhere.

“…Have you said all you have to say?” he asked finally.

“H-huh?”

“If you have something to say, then let it out. I’m your father. I can overlook a childish tantrum. There must be a good deal to get off your chest after all these years apart.”

“—”

Ferris was shocked into silence.

He had bared his heart and soul—and Bean considered it nothing more than a fit of temper?

But at the same time, he understood. It made all too much sense to him.

There was nothing to be gained by seeking a dialogue with this man. He should have known that from the start.

—Should have known that he had left nothing at this house.

He let out a breath. It wasn’t despair or even disappointment he felt. He had simply realized how things were.

“Could you stop calling yourself my father? It’s making me sick.”

“I’ll even forgive your defiant attitude. A father and son need not stand on ceremony at their reunion.”

Ferris saw that Bean had no intention of actually listening to him. He couldn’t recall ever having conversed with his father before—and it nearly made him laugh to realize this was the man Bean was. His own father was more deeply flawed than he could ever have imagined.

“Or is this rebelliousness a sign that you want to be treated as a man? I could be moved to entertain the idea. If we’re both equal adults, then there’s another way to handle this discussion.”

“…And what’s that?”

“Working out our respective views in order to get what we want.”

Bean ran a hand along his beard importantly as he circled around to the far side of the sofa. He set his hands on the backrest, leaned forward, and looked at Ferris.

“I’ve called you here because I have business with you.”

“You could have just sent a letter. Although I would’ve torn it up.”

“I’ll admit this was a roundabout way of doing things. But it was necessary. I had to test the Sacrament of the Immortal King—and your powers!” He was practically spitting by the time he finished.

“So that’s it…” Ferris finally grasped why he had been summoned. Bean wasn’t interested in Ferris’s physical capabilities. “You needed my magic…”

“Exactly. But don’t be disappointed. The aptitude for water magic that lies dormant within you—it is the greatest proof that you and I are connected by blood. A proficiency with water magic has been passed down through generations of Argyles. No illegitimate child could possess it!”

“Well. Aren’t you lucky. Congratulations.” Ferris gave a slow clap. Bean could prove all the familial connections he wanted. Ferris was far too alienated to care.

But Bean drew closer to Ferris, as if this were the most important thing of all. “Here’s where our conversation as equal adults starts. If you want something from someone, you must be prepared to offer something of similar value in return. Yes?”

“—”

“But what do you know of that? Nothing. So I’ve taken the liberty of figuring out the price for you. If you give me what I want, I’ll return your precious duchess to you. That’s the deal.”

“You don’t think that’s all kind of illogical?”

“The logic is flawless. There’s nothing strange about it.”

So Bean had gone to these ridiculous lengths just to play the tyrant. He had taken Crusch hostage not to get Ferris to listen to him but merely to bargain with him.

“It’s so stupid that it breaks through the other side and becomes logical again, I guess… So, what is it you want me to do? Want me to call you Daddy?”

“What I want is simple. And with your abilities, it should be quite easy—You!” Bean ignored the jab with a triumphant look and shouted at the maid, who had been standing quietly in the corner.

She nodded at him. “Shall I take him? Or would you like to accompany us?”

“Hmm… Very well. Show us both there. It’s been so long since Felix last took a little walk with his father. I’m sure he would like it. Wouldn’t you?”

“Ha-ha-ha. You’re funny.” It was a fine joke. Ferris and his father had never taken a walk together.

At this point, Ferris recognized that Bean was mentally unstable. It was only natural that his conversation didn’t quite seem to make sense. If Ferris pushed back, Bean would probably just destroy him. Better to play along and wait for his chance.

But he was still worried about Crusch’s safety. With Bean the way he was, there were no guarantees Crusch was all right, even if he claimed she was.

“…At the very least, your friend hasn’t been harmed.”

“Huh?”

The whisper came like an answer to his very thoughts. The maid, who had spoken the words, made no further reply but headed out of the room to show them the way. Bean hurried her along from behind, and Ferris, the last to exit the reception room, was left puzzled.

He was sure that maid was in league with Bean. She had no reason to spare him any help or hope. But neither did she appear to be insane.

—Strangest of all, her words gave him a genuine sense of relief.

“…Weird.” Ferris set the disturbing feeling aside, thinking it odd. Beside him, Bean continued in an upbeat tone. Ferris nodded and grunted but otherwise ignored everything the man said.

At last, the mismatched trio arrived at the innermost room on the third floor.

Bean stood at the door. “Do you know where we are?” Obviously, Ferris had no actual memory of the place, but this was the innermost room on the uppermost floor of a noble’s mansion. He had a pretty good idea.

“The master bedroom?”

“A precocious child. You happen to be correct.” Bean offered emotionless words of praise and then pushed open the door. An overwhelming stench of death rushed out. It was similar to the smell that pervaded the entire house, but here it was an order of magnitude worse. This was no fresh corpse.

The source of the smell was just inside the room.

“—My wife,” Bean said. “Do you understand, Felix?”

Lying on the bed was the corpse of a woman, suffering still evident on her face. She had flaxen hair, and her face had been made up in death. For her grave clothes she wore a beautiful dress. She looked as if she had fallen asleep, never to wake.

Bean had introduced her as his wife. Meaning that to Ferris, she was…

“My…my mother…?”

He couldn’t ignore the ache he felt in his heart as he realized who the corpse must be.

11

“With my magical abilities, I can only incompletely invoke the Sacrament of the Immortal King. Moving corpses are the best I can manage. But you, Felix, are different!” Ferris stood staring at the corpse of his mother as Bean pleaded. The man came up to the bed and stroked the sleeping face of his wife. “You have a special talent. Power enough to bring a girl back from the brink of death without so much as intoning a chant! With such powers, surely you can complete the sacrament! You can bring your mother back to life!”

Ferris looked at Bean’s bloodshot eyes and realized what the man really wanted. He sought to bring his wife back from the dead through the Sacrament of the Immortal King. He had been gathering dead bodies to experiment and practice on them with his dark magic. He had probably been relying on the slave trader to help him collect the bodies. And the result of his work seemed to be the undead warriors who swarmed outside—how many corpses had he desecrated?

And for all that, Bean still had not achieved what he really wanted and had been forced to recognize that he lacked the power. Then he’d remembered—he’d remembered the existence of a spell caster who shared his blood and was far more powerful than he.

“You have true power! You are capable of this. You can restore my wife to me. I… I alone know! I am your father, and I grasp the brilliance of your abilities better than anyone!”

Bean scratched his own cheeks so hard that blood ran down them like tears. Immediately, a faint light emanated from the wounds, which disappeared. He had harmed himself and then healed himself. It was the most unsettling use of healing magic Ferris had ever seen.

“This is beyond me,” Bean said. “But it’s not beyond you. You are a genius! There is no parent who doesn’t take joy in the abilities of his child! You are the best son!”

Bean was transported with joy, with wholehearted praise, and with expectation for the abilities of his boy. Ferris felt a wave of vertigo, followed by nausea.

Was this—was this how profoundly twisted his family had become?

“Look at this! This is a text describing the Sacrament of the Immortal King that has been passed down in our house. The description is incomplete, but I was able to use it. You, I’m sure, can discover what I’ve missed and perform the entire ritual!” Bean dug in his bag and pulled out a worn book.

The book had been read so many times that it appeared to be covered not just in fingerprints but even in blood. It had been so thoroughly used that it seemed the slightest touch might cause it to crumble to dust.

“Now, bring back my wife—bring back your mother! If you can do that, I’ll give you back your mistress. This is the deal I offer you as your equal, as a man!”

Bean thrust the book into Ferris’s chest. The cat-boy took hold of it unsteadily. The cover was blotted with dried blood, and it felt heavy, as though it had absorbed the souls of the dead.

The Sacrament of the Immortal King, a ritual with the power to resurrect the dead. Healer that he was, it would be untrue to say Ferris had no interest in such things. But whatever he may have felt as a healer, his sanity and basic humanity revolted against the idea.

But if he didn’t look at the book and perform the spell, Crusch’s life might be in danger. And the woman lying in front of him—he had no more familial feeling for her than he did for Bean, but it was still the corpse of his mother, and that was not entirely lost on him. At least, if there really was a spell that could bring her back, he wanted to do it.

“—”

Ferris swallowed. He decided to put off the decision; instead, he turned the pages of the spell book. Some passages were obscure, and several pages were covered with fingerprints. Handling everything as carefully as he could, Ferris pored over his family heirloom, trying to get the spell into his head.

And then…

“…Should I go ahead and use the sacrament on this woman as soon as I can?” He deliberately avoided using the word mother, talking about her as though she were a stranger in order to maintain his equilibrium.

Bean’s face lit up. “Yes, yes!” He nodded enthusiastically. “That’s right, as soon as you can. Bring back my wife. And then the three of us can share a joyous reunion as a family!”

Ferris didn’t respond to this but walked closer to the body on the bed. He reached out to the woman, who looked just as if she were sleeping, and let mana run into the lifeless body.

“When did she die? It looks like she’s been here a while.”

“More than two years ago. I’ve been periodically using magic to prevent the body’s decay… The smell is the only thing I haven’t been able to do anything about. But if you can bring her back, then there’s no problem. She’s not like the other corpses around here with their rotting flesh. The body itself is exactly as it was when she died.”

Two years ago. That would have been the year of the birthday celebration for Crusch that Ferris remembered so vividly. That year had been a turning point for him, and apparently it had been for his parents, as well.

He let his mana run through every inch of the body, and found that Bean had been telling the truth. Other than the lack of functions necessary for life, his mother was so well preserved one would never have thought she was dead.

She truly was just as she had been at the moment of her passing…

“Felix. There is much I want to talk about, but I will restrain myself. For now, concentrate everything on what’s before you. Is your mistress not precious to you? Don’t fail her now. Or else—”

“Can I ask just one more thing?” Ferris broke in, touching his dead mother’s forehead. He looked back at Bean, who had swallowed the rest of what he had been about to say. Ferris fixed him with a keen gaze.

“—Who was it who stabbed my mother to death?”

12

Crusch focused her attention as scratching footsteps came down into the basement. Her gaze found the cruel-faced slaver, eliciting a rasp from him.

“The poison should’ve worn off by now, hmm? Let’s have a chat, my little princess.” Miles smirked at Crusch where she was chained to the wall.

She sighed at his lascivious stare. “Not a very polite look you have.”

“I can’t stand arrogance. Many men enjoy seeing a prideful woman slowly brought to heel—myself among them.”

“Not a very polite hobby you have, either.” Her words gave no sign of weakness, but Miles seemed downright pleased.

It had been hours since Bean had left her in the underground room. By Crusch’s estimation, Bardok, her military adviser, should already have the mansion surrounded. But she couldn’t sense any such thing happening. Something seemed to have gone wrong.

“The Sacrament of the Immortal King—unbelievable. What better way to flout the kingdom’s laws?”

“Heh! That’s the duchess for you. Not many know about the sacrament.”

“It’s a secret spell that’s largely kept out of public view, but there are records of its use during the demi-human war… I doubt you’re the one who used it. It must have been Bean Argyle.”

“Goodness gracious me. How do you think so keenly in this reeking chamber?” He scrunched up his face at the stench that drifted through the room, but nonetheless, this confirmed her suspicions. Crusch, of course, had only the awful smell in the underground room to go on; she had no idea whether the sacrament had actually been used. The hint came with Miles: He had brought undead warriors with him, as if to display them to her.

“If you’re trying to intimidate me, then I’m sorry to disappoint you,” Crusch said.

“Shouldn’t a girl who sees a walking corpse just give a sweet little scream? Frankly, even I feel my blood run cold when I look at them.”

“I’m afraid I left my girlishness behind long ago,” Crusch said with the suggestion of a smile. Miles, accompanied by several of the zombies, looked at her in exasperation. But his expression soon changed, and he pointed to the ceiling above the bound Crusch.

“Well, my little princess, since you’re ignorant of what’s going on outside, let me bring you the news. A knight has arrived to save the captured princess. Though he hardly looked like one.”

“—”

Miles was probably talking about Ferris. He was supposed to be in the capital—but for her sake, he had come back to the Karsten lands after just a short time. And Fourier was involved in it, she was almost certain. She pictured herself telling him that he could use his judgment if things went badly.

“I just can’t outdo His Highness…” Her own ineptness had produced this situation. She hated her foolishness, but she was also overjoyed that the two of them would go to such lengths to ensure her safety. She heaved a sigh.

Miles continued his gloating. “Bean had some demand for that knight. I don’t know what he might do if the boy actually gives him what he wants, but I know it’s nothing I agreed to.”

“Oh, isn’t it?”

“Think about it. Only people of a very specific bloodline can use this spell to raise the dead. Do you think I would let it slip through my fingers so easily? The moment people die, they become laborers with unlimited endurance.”

“I see now. You were never in league with Bean philosophically. It was always about the slave trade for you. In fact…it’s not even slave trading anymore, is it? You’ve stooped to simple grave robbing.”

Miles only laughed, appearing unmoved by Crusch’s barb.

So they had been wrong to suspect the House of Argyle of slaving. What Miles had been bringing them over the months were not slaves but a vast number of corpses. His role had been to procure the bodies that would be used to test the Sacrament of the Immortal King.

“Incidentally, the kingdom has no laws against the selling of dead bodies. It may not be the most reputable business in the world, but it’s not a crime. You understand?” Miles said mockingly.

At first blush, it seemed like a good excuse. But for it to work, the country would have to close its eyes to one crucial thing.

“You’re right,” Crusch said, “we can’t get you on charges of slave trading. But how do you expect to explain away what you’ve done to me? Kidnapping and imprisoning a duchess, not to mention the use of forbidden magic. Those are crimes. Far more serious ones than slaving.”

“Yes, we do have a problem there. If I were to be arrested, I doubt I’d avoid the most terrible punishment they could pass down on me. So I have a request of you, my princess. I thought perhaps you and your knight could help see me safely back to my home country.”

Miles looked like he might lick his chops as he made this suggestion. Crusch could sense confidence in his words, a strong wind that said this was not a bluff. That meant he believed he had some way out of this net.

“Frankly, it’s not easy to take your word. You think you can get Ferris and me out through that battlefield?”

“Not easily, if you don’t agree to cooperate. I won’t do anything bad to you. Once I’m safely back in Volakia, you and your attendant can spend the rest of your days together. I’ll negotiate it, don’t you worry. I confess I fell for you at first sight, Princess.”

“A hobby that’s in very poor taste.” She didn’t believe his profession of love, but he was certainly looking at her with plenty of lust. She thought she could just glimpse a shadowy figure behind Miles’s forceful actions. If she could only get him to tell her who was pulling his strings…

“If you won’t do as I ask, I’ll have to resort to less pleasant methods to get you to come along. But I don’t enjoy hurting women, so I’ll have to find someone else… Yes, I think your little friend will do nicely.”

“—”

“That always works best with your type. Rather than hurting you, it’s best to hurt someone you care about. When I get a good, clear scream out of him, I’m sure you’ll—”

“Fool.”

“Hah?”

Miles had brought Ferris up as his last resort, but now Crusch spoke over him. Miles frowned as Crusch stood up. He looked at her feet, where she should have been chained to the ground.

“Wait! How can you stand? You’re supposed to be bound hand and foot—”

“Looks like you got distracted. Are you surprised? You should have been suspicious the moment you noticed my clear vision!”

“Feh! Damn. So it’s straight to plan B, is it, Princess?” As Crusch shook her head, he sucked his teeth and set one of his undead warriors on her.

Crusch dodged the arms of the advancing creature. The last vestiges of the poison made her slightly unsteady, but her burgeoning anger made her forget her infirmity.

“There are still some questions I want to ask you, but my patience has its limits. I will overlook your incivility to me and even your violence. But threatening Ferris—my knight—that I will not forgive.”

“Oh, won’t you? And what exactly will you do with your thin, womanly arms and your hands chained?” Miles glared at Crusch, who he had backed up against the wall, and gave a hideous smile, seeing that he once again had the upper hand.

But as he spoke, Crusch raised her hands. The cuffs fell away with a click.

“Wha?!”

“It would have been no more of a problem for me if they had remained bound—But regardless, let me show you what I will do.”

Although her hands and feet were free, Crusch had no weapons—but she took up a fighting stance anyway. The underground room was dark and thick with stench. But to Crusch’s eyes, everything shone clearly through that fetid air. She didn’t miss the slightest gust of wind. She entrusted her swordsman’s spirit—her mana—to that breeze, and she lashed out with her vision.

“—”

She spoke no words, but the body of the undead warrior advancing toward her suddenly buckled. And not only the one approaching her; the same thing happened to all the zombies in the room. The same wound appeared on all of them, as though a massive sword had sliced across them, and their briefly resumed lives succumbed once more to death.

This was what had allowed her to deal so easily with the Giant Rabbits, the technique that had earned Duchess Crusch Karsten the nickname “the Valkyrie.” The technique One Blow, One Hundred Felled. After her exceptionally high-level attack, Crusch clenched her hand to dissipate the blade of wind she held and looked around the basement.

“That’s…the end for Miles, I believe.” Most of the corpses had already been dead when she used the technique, but she spotted Miles among them. He was soaked in blood and not so much as twitching. In an undefended moment, he had taken Crusch’s blow and shared the same fate as his zombies. Crusch closed her eyes, acknowledging her own inexperience and her failure to take him alive.

“When he mentioned Ferris, I lost my cool…” Remembering what had brought this on, she shook her head. But soon she recentered herself. She had to find Ferris; no doubt he was only a short distance away upstairs.

“—Duchess of Karsten, are you here?!”

She heard footsteps on the stairs, and a long shadow stretched into the basement room. It was followed by a man in the uniform of the royal guard, who blinked with astonishment and relief when he saw her. The moment she looked at him, she knew whose orders he must have come on.

“I’m fine. You’re a servant of His Highness Fourier, aren’t you? Good work finding this underground room.”

“Thank goodness you’re safe. I’m Julius Juukulius of the royal guard. His Highness told me of this room… He thought you might be confined down here.”

“I see. I shouldn’t have worried him so.” It was relief, more than surprise, that Crusch felt at Julius’s words. She smiled gently, and a look of empathy came over Julius’s face, but he quickly shook his head.

“I don’t mean to rush you when you must be exhausted, but getting you out of this mansion is my priority. We must hurry.”

“You seem impatient. Is there trouble above us?” She detected a whiff of fretfulness from him, and it suggested that all was not well. In response, Julius looked at the ceiling.

“—The building is on fire. We have to get out before it comes down on our heads.”

13

“—Who was it who stabbed my mother to death?”

Bean was visibly shaken by Ferris’s question. He had held himself in check as he descended into his world of madness. Nothing Ferris had said had made any impression on him, but this question drew out an obvious reaction.

“S-stabbed her? What are you…?”

“There’s no point trying to hide it. You’re actually pretty good at preserving dead bodies. Everything looks just like it did the day she passed…including the cause of death.”

It was impossible to defy the laws of healing magic. The basic principle of Ferris’s discipline was to encourage the body’s natural healing abilities, helping the body to become more capable of helping itself. But of course, a dead body had no natural healing capacity, which was why it was technically not possible to heal the wounds of a corpse—although there were exceptions.

“My mother was stabbed—repeatedly. Over and over, so many times. This… Even I feel bad for her.”

His heart hurt. Although Ferris felt nothing for her as his mother, no one deserved to die in such a cruel way. But another thought accompanied this one: Such a homicidal rage was unlikely to be the work of a passerby, a stranger. If there was anyone in the past several years who had hated his mother enough to kill her, it was…

“What’s that expression? …What a way to look at your father. What—what are you saying I did?!”

“I’m not saying anything at all.”

“You are! Your eyes say it! Do you think it was wrong of me? Do you, too, think I was mistaken? Looking at me with those critical eyes every day—! Who could blame me, knowing I’d been betrayed by the one I loved?! I swear it was not my fault!”

Ferris didn’t have to try to pry the truth out of his father. Bean confessed it practically of his own free will.

Ferris didn’t know what had happened in the Argyle household since the Karstens had taken him away. But clearly, his parents had had some kind of falling out. And things had been done which could never be undone. His mother’s corpse was proof of that.

“Is it guilt that makes you want to bring her back? Because you want to apologize?”

“Do you mock me?! I want the one I love to live, to live and live! Doesn’t everyone?!” Bean was frothing at the mouth. He tore at his head, ruining his carefully styled hair. “When you lose something precious to you, you’ll understand! No, your mother is dead! Do you feel nothing?! You must want her back…! Don’t you want her back? Can any child abandon the love of his parents? Quickly, now! Return her to life! Or—or don’t you care what happens to your beloved mistress? Do you need her to die before you understand—understand how I feel?!”

“—”

In the face of Bean’s onslaught, Ferris realized talk would do no good. A faint blue light shimmered around his hands, and he quietly transferred it to his mother’s corpse. Somehow, the moment looked almost sacred. And then the corpse’s eyes drifted open.

“H—Hannah! Oh! Hannah!” Bean was ecstatic as the body shifted, sat itself up. He nearly shoved Ferris out of the way as he took up a place at the bedside. Ferris watched as his parents shared a reunion, even though one of them had been dead only moments before.

“Hannah! I’ve been waiting for this moment! For us to be like this again—”

“—”

With tears in his eyes, Bean supported his wife as she sat up, but she said nothing. She stared into the face of her husband. She gently raised her hands and placed them on Bean’s cheeks. He smiled at the feeling of them, and Hannah, too, smiled faintly. It was a reaction that would not have been possible for a mere moving corpse, like one of the undead warriors.

And then…

“H-Han…nah…?”

Suddenly she was wringing the surprised rasp out of Bean. Her hands were around his neck, which creaked under a strength that the dead woman’s thin arms should not have had.

“Whh—at is-s…? Feeli—x…!” He looked to his son, his eyes begging for help.

“Go see the person you love, wherever she is. That’s what I’m going to do,” Ferris responded quietly. Bean’s face went rigid with shock, but Ferris showed not a hint of a reaction. “I won’t let anyone take her from me. Especially the people who stole everything from me. She gave me something, and you’ll never have it from me. I’ll never give you any of the things I got when I became a person.”

“Hrk… Hrrk…”

“Laying a finger on Lady Crusch was your first mistake—If you hadn’t, I…”

He had his hand to his chest, but he couldn’t bring himself to finish his sentence. He closed his mouth.

Even if he could have said the words, Bean wouldn’t have heard them. The strength had already left his arms and legs, the light was gone from his eyes and the soul from his body. This was death, the absolute separation about which even Ferris could do nothing.

“…You should’ve just sent a letter.”

Ferris spoke into the limitless emptiness, and it was the truest thing he said. Maybe he would have torn it up. Maybe he never would have accepted it. But just maybe, he wouldn’t have done either. Just maybe, they would have had a chance to talk to each other.

With a gentle sigh, Ferris looked at Hannah. She looked back at him, still holding the limp form of the husband she had strangled, and smiled again.

Then her smile fell—literally—as she crumbled into a pile of powdery dust. A moment later, all that remained was a mound of his mother’s ashes, the corpse of his father buried among them.

As Ferris looked at his father, dead, and his mother, vanished, a voice devoid of emotion spoke to him.

“—Master Felix. Is this what you wanted for them both?”

It was the maid, who had remained with them throughout everything and kept silent until the very end.

Ferris shook his head. “…It’s not just that the spell book is incomplete. It was never a question of power as a spell caster. Using an awful spell like that—forcing a body that’s stopped to start again—of course it was going to break down right away.”

Surely Bean had known that. He was perfectly aware of the problem with the spell itself; that was why he hadn’t brought his wife back on his own. Why had he wanted Ferris to do it? Had he really hoped for something more? Or did he just want to pass off responsibility for what would come of it? Now, Ferris would never know.

“So what caused the Lady to…strangle the master?”

“I can’t say. All I did was bring her back to life using a flawed spell. Maybe it was lingering hatred from before her death that made the corpse do what it did.”

She had been stabbed to death, after all. The soul didn’t actually reside in the resurrected corpse, but perhaps the pain of it remained. Another thing Ferris didn’t understand.

“…Maybe the lady simply couldn’t bear to see the master live on in disgrace. She really did love him, you know.” Against Ferris’s gloomy assessment, the maid had another interpretation. It was perhaps too pretty an explanation for what had just happened.

“Come to think of it, what about you? Who are you, exactly?” There was one more thing Ferris didn’t know, but it was an answer he might be able to get.

He had no idea what position the maid was in. Had she been in league with Bean? But she hadn’t done anything to stop his death. And she didn’t seem hostile to Ferris now.

As Ferris stood frowning, the maid smiled at him for the first time. It was a terribly lonely smile.

“I’m just a servant. I owe much to the master and his lady… I even held you in my arms many times, Master Felix.”

“…Huh…”

The story didn’t quite click with him. He couldn’t imagine such a familial scene had ever taken place in this house.

“But never mind. I have to help Lady Crusch. Is she really all right?”

“You’ve no need to worry about that. I unlocked her chains. I think she’s quite capable of getting away on her own.” Then the maid gestured down the stairs, and Ferris immediately understood where Crusch had been held. She had been shut up in that hideous basement room.

“That place again…!”

“Indeed. The master was rather set in his ways.”

Ferris burned with anger, but the maid, for her part, continued to smile, still as lonesome as before. The expression didn’t leave her face as she slowly approached the bed and the two corpses.

“I’m going down there,” Ferris said. “You won’t try to stop me?”

“Please, do exactly as you wish. I shall see the master and his lady on their way.”

After all this, Ferris found he didn’t have the slightest idea what the maid was thinking. But when it came to giving funeral rites to his mother and father, he thought it was more appropriate that this servant do it, rather than a boy who felt nothing for the people who called themselves his parents.

“I’ll let you handle it, then. And I’ll speak to Lady Crusch about you.” There was no chance the maid would go unpunished, but perhaps he could gain her some clemency. With that thought in mind, he hurried out of the bedroom. As he rushed down the hallway, he heard something behind him.

“—Good-bye, my dear Felix.”

“Huh?”

Then there was the sound of a door closing and a click as it locked. Ferris stopped in his tracks; that click gave him a bad feeling. He had no good reason for it, but his intuition said the sound marked something from which there was no turning back.

“Wait! Why’d you lock the door? What are you going to do?!” He went back and pounded desperately on the door, but there was no answer. Eventually, though, a response came from the far side that was more matter-of-fact than any reply could be.

“—That’s hot!” The burning sensation made his hand jump off the doorknob. At the same moment, he caught another smell mingling with the stench of rot in the house: something burning. Fire. A fire had been set in the room he had just left, by the maid who had locked herself inside.

“What do you think you’re doing?!”

But still there was no answer. Only immense heat told him what the maid intended.

He was aghast at how quickly the fire spread. It dawned on him that the plan all along had been for the entire household to die together. He kicked the door viciously.

“I hate this place! And everyone in it! All of it, all of it! I hate you—!!”

He should never have come back. He wished he had never seen his father or his mother, or that maid.

He dashed through the hallway, shoving aside undead warriors who stood dumbly, making for the stairs. The fire would take the whole house, and the remaining undead warriors would be cremated along with it. But so would Crusch, in the basement room.

Ferris went down the stairs, heading for that vile room underground. He was on the first floor. Where should he go to get to the room? He was in his own house, but he didn’t know. He knew nothing. It was infuriating, so infuriating.

“Why does this place keep tormenting me…!”

He hated his legs for not being able to run any faster. He hated his memory for its failure to help him find the basement room. He hated his parents, who had never spared him a second thought. He hated the maid who had chosen to accompany his parents into death. It was as if everything here, all of it, every inch of this house, existed only to cause him suffering.

“Ferris!”

But just as he was about to burst into tears, he heard a voice from downstairs. His soul resonated with the sharp, resounding timbre instantly.

“Lady Crusch—!”

Even framed by leaping crimson flames, even in a place thick with the smell of rot, Crusch was beautiful. Ferris found her in the great room, rushed to her, and clung to her without a second’s hesitation. She held him tight in her arms.

“Thank goodness you’re safe,” she said.

“Th-that’s my l-line…” he said.

“I guess it is. I’m sorry for worrying you. But I’m all right, thanks to His Highness’s plan.”

Ferris looked and saw Julius, presumably there at Fourier’s behest, standing beside Crusch. So he was the one who had saved her. But there was no time for Ferris to express his gratitude now.

Crusch looked up, narrowing her eyes as she confirmed that the source of the fire was above them.

“Ferris, are your parents…?”

“Get—! Get me out…now…!”

“Ferris?”

“Get me out of here! Take me away, just like before…! There’s nothing here! If I stay here, I won’t be me anymore…! Make me…human… Keep me by your side. With you, Lady Crusch, and His Highness…!” he begged her, stumbling over his words.

Emotions ran through Ferris that seemed alien even to him. Julius’s face clouded with confusion, and he looked to Crusch as if for guidance.

She, in turn, answered, “—All right. Let’s put an end to this time of injustice you’ve endured.” She held him close, patting him comfortingly on the back. Ferris was surprised how relieved the gesture made him feel. “Julius, take the lead. I’ll bring Ferris.”

Julius nodded and set off in front of them. He easily pushed aside the undead warriors who stood mindlessly in their way, while others were swallowed by the flames. In the burning corpses, Ferris saw himself in this house. Burning, burning to the ground.

The terrible memories were swathed in fire, the origin he had so long suppressed turning to ash in a mantle of red.

“Lady Crusch, you’re all right—!”

Almost before he knew what had happened, they were out of the mansion. A military official was rushing up to Crusch, who still held fast to Ferris’s shoulders. They said something to each other, and Crusch kept Ferris’s hand in hers the whole time.

“Look, the undead warriors—!” someone called out.

All the zombies had begun to move at once. Moments earlier, they had been attacking anything that got close. Now they all shuffled toward the mansion. They filed into the burning house, and one by one were reduced to motes of soot and dust.

Only the spell caster, or someone given authority by the spell caster, could control the zombies. With Bean dead, the warriors were merely awaiting their end.

“Perhaps even corpses don’t wish to defile themselves after death,” Julius said. His uniform was soiled with pus, and he watched the undead warriors march to their own destruction. There was no reply. All they could do was watch until the unstoppable conflagration consumed the house and all the undead had returned to ash.

14

“Damn her! Damn that woman…! This is serious. She’ll pay for this!”

Miles spat and cursed as he tried to staunch the blood flowing out of him. The wound ran from his right shoulder to his back, and he couldn’t treat it by himself. He had crudely wound some clothes around it, managing to stop the bleeding enough to cling to consciousness.

—Miles had survived the blow that cut down the zombies.

He’d always had a sixth sense for when his life was in danger. It had saved him today, but things couldn’t get any worse. Not only had Crusch escaped, but Miles hadn’t even been able to spirit away the spell caster who had used the Sacrament of the Immortal King.

In the distance, he could see the Argyle mansion wreathed in flame. The remaining undead warriors were incinerating themselves. Their suicide was a little distraction Miles had cooked up to buy himself time to escape. Bean was supposed to have overall command of the zombies, but since nothing was stopping them from carrying out Miles’s orders to destroy themselves, he surmised that Bean must be dead. Puppets and puppeteer alike were completely useless.

“All that work, and my only reward is a copy of his spell book… Blasted! These are my just desserts? What am I even going to tell them back in Volakia, returning like this…?”

“—Oh, you won’t have to worry about that. If you land quietly.”

No sooner had he let out his angry mutter than Miles was startled by a reply. It was only natural, considering where he was: up in the sky, far above the ground. So high up he could look down on the clouds. No one should have been able to speak to him there. And yet the owner of the voice continued calmly.

“I never expected a dragon rider. I nearly missed you. You’re quite the capable spy—which is why I recommend you land quietly.”

The red-haired youth who casually rode upon the winged dragon seemed to be doing his best to press Miles’s buttons. The boy had the sun at his back, making it impossible to see his face, and that left Miles to imagine the worst.

The flying dragon was something Miles had brought from Volakia to give him a means of escape if necessary. He had a tunnel from the basement room in the mansion to the outside, and he had intended to bring Crusch and the spell caster with him, using the dragon to escape the net of undead around them. It was humiliating to flee home alone, his plan in tatters.

“There aren’t supposed to be any dragon riders in Lugunica!” Miles yelped.

Unlike water and land dragons, flying dragons were proud and would not readily submit to human control. Even in the Volakia Empire the knowledge was hard to come by; beyond the Empire’s borders, it shouldn’t have been known at all. And that Lugunica, a nation that called itself the Dragonfriend Kingdom, should try to tame and train them—it would be a terrifying task. The skies were supposed to belong to the Volakia Empire alone.

“Surely they haven’t broken that unwritten law—?”

“No, you’re quite right. Lugunica has no dragon riders. I just stowed away.”

Miles gasped. “Im—impossible!” His anger at finding someone trespassing on his domain so high up in the sky was intensified by the young man’s nonchalant answer.

The slaver, his eyes bloodshot, ordered the dragon to make a quick about-face. They were flying almost level with the clouds; who could simply “stow away” at that altitude? In this world of fearsome winds, Miles and the dragon were one. It was his pride as a dragon rider, as well as the bond of trust forged with the creature since they had both been young, that made such flight possible. If they could throw the boy off in an unguarded moment, it would be over.

“I’ll warn you again,” the young man said. “Just bring the dragon to the ground. I can’t permit you to leave the country.”

“That’s enough out of you! You’ll die before I land this dragon!”

“…A shame.”

Miles, on the ragged edge of consciousness from blood loss, caused the dragon to slow down very suddenly. He gritted his teeth against the ensuing force, which slammed into all his wounds at once and made his bones creak.

The boy, however, had no chance. With nothing to hold on to, he went tumbling from the dragon’s back and fell even as Miles watched.

That was it. He would be reduced to bits of quivering flesh when he hit the ground, and good riddance to him.

“Wh-what the hell was that boy, anyway…? It doesn’t matter. Right now, I have to…”

Miles was lucky not to be spitting blood at this point. He gripped the reins tightly. His injuries had begun to bleed again. If he didn’t rest soon, he couldn’t be sure he would survive.

“—!”

No sooner had he had this thought than he felt his intuition prickle. It was the same feeling he’d gotten before Crusch attacked, the one that said he was in mortal danger.

It was born of an instinct deeper than thought, one that sought to preserve life and limb above all else. It had saved him more than once. But this time, in this instant, Miles found his arms and legs unwilling to move. And why not? After all, there was no point in trying to run from the overwhelming sense of death rising up from beneath him.

“…Ah.”

Miles hardly had time to speak before he was engulfed in light. The dragon and its rider vanished into the sky, leaving no trace.

And then there was nothing.

15

“We had someone on the inside. We made contact with that maid during the two months we were watching for the slaver. I believed we had to do more than just watch if we wanted things to work out in our favor.”

As they stared at the smoldering remains of the Argyle mansion, Crusch explained to Ferris what had happened in his absence.

She gazed at the debris. “When I was poisoned, I started to worry that her cooperation with us might have been a sham. But she did away with any doubts when she snuck away from our two criminals to unlock my manacles in the basement.”

“Why would she go out of her way to get involved?” Ferris said. “It seems so dangerous…”

“During our investigation, I started to have questions about the slave trader who was visiting the house. I would have liked to take him alive—that’s my fault. Personally, I think he may have been an agent of the Volakia Empire… But I’m sure if we asked them about it, they would play innocent.”

Crusch seemed to have a good grasp of the players involved in this plot. The only thing she didn’t appear to have figured out was what Bean had hoped to achieve with the Sacrament of the Immortal King and why he had needed Ferris. Really, only a peek into Bean’s mind could have answered those questions.

“I…I just got in the way, didn’t I? I overstepped myself, in a lot of ways…”

Even if Ferris hadn’t come back, Crusch would have gotten herself out of her prison and stopped Bean’s plan. Perhaps the house wouldn’t have burned down, leaving everything a pile of ash.

“…If we focus on the hypothetical, our lives will be nothing but regrets. Perhaps without you, I would be dead underground by now. If you and His Highness hadn’t come, I might not be standing here safe.”

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“It’s true, I am. But regretting your actions on the basis of what might have been is worse. It can only exhaust you.” While Ferris stared disconsolately at the ashes, Crusch crossed her arms and spoke firmly. “You were worried about me, and with no concern for your own safety you came back to a place you had tried to avoid your entire life. When I heard that, locked up in that underground room, I cursed my own incompetence. But I was also…happy.”

“Happy, Lady Crusch?”

“It must have been extremely painful for you to come back here. What was done to you in your youth hardly bears speaking of. I couldn’t blame you for being unable to think about it or unwilling to approach. And despite that, you came here to rescue me—You must forgive me, but I was overjoyed.”

Crusch knelt so that she could look Ferris in the face where he was crouched down, hugging his knees. Her amber eyes pierced him, cutting through the dark clouds that clung to his heart.

Why, how, did this person always make such warmth well up in his chest?

“Was I…able to help you, Lady Crusch? Will you allow me, even as I am…to stay by your side, and dedicate my life to you?”

“I stand by my answer.”

“…Tell me again. With the words you used…back then.”

She felt his emotions roiling—tremendous regret, and at the same time a yearning for happiness. If only he could break through all those things, if only he could find the strength to stand.

“—Raise your head and look forward. Don’t let those dark clouds gather in your eyes. It may be difficult at first, but I’ll help you. For now, just trust me.”

He wanted her to save him, with the words she had used to lead him out of the darkness and show him the world for the first time.

“—”

Wordlessly, Ferris looked at Crusch, and then he looked again at the burned remains of the mansion. For some reason, he felt tears on his cheeks. And then he found he couldn’t stop them.

Embraced by a pair of strong, slim arms, Ferris wept like a child.

16

—As she held the crying Ferris, Crusch thought back to what had happened in the basement room.

The maid had slipped away from Bean and Miles and come down to Crusch. She unfastened the restraints and manacles and removed Crusch’s blindfold. Before the maid left, however, Crusch called out and questioned her.

“Whose side are you on? You poisoned me—but now you’re abiding by our agreement and helping me escape. Your actions don’t make sense.”

“I apologize if you find me confusing. But I have my own goals in mind.”

“Oh, do you? Is that the reason you continue to serve the House of Argyle?”

One of the reports to Crusch had stated that Bean and this maid had known each other for much of their lives. The relationship had apparently been long and quite close, much like that between Crusch and Ferris. And Crusch knew that if she were to go mad, Ferris would almost certainly stay with her rather than abandon her.

“Lady Crusch,” the maid began, “have you ever been in love?”

The question caught her off guard. Crusch looked at the maid wide-eyed, unsure what she meant. The maid closed her eyes and shook her head, taking Crusch’s silence for an answer.

“Then I don’t think any amount of explaining would help you understand what I want.”

“…The flow of this conversation makes it clear who your feelings are for. But there are too many things that it doesn’t explain. Were you Felix’s wet nurse?”

“—”

The moment Crusch said that, the maid’s formerly expressionless face stiffened, and the wind picked up. No—it only looked that way to Crusch. In reality, it was a swell of powerful emotion. It was something like delusion. The same tumultuous feelings she had sensed in Bean resided in this woman, too. But that suggested…

“…Wait. Your hair. Your eyes…”

Looking at the maid’s taut face, a spark caught in Crusch’s mind. The remarkable flaxen hair. The clear yellow eyes and gentle expression. If she were to smile kindly, Crusch suspected her face would bear a strong resemblance to one she knew very well.

—She reflected that Ferris had met his fate because of the suspicion of infidelity.

“If you have the first thought of harming Felix…”

“I’m not going to do anything to Felix. You’re the one who distanced yourself from him, aren’t you? What I want has nothing to do with Felix…with that boy.”

That was the last thing the maid said as she turned away from Crusch. With the chains unlocked, it would have been possible to stop her. But the commotion would have meant the end of everything Crusch had worked for. For a moment, the duchess found herself caught between her personal and official priorities. Then, still unable to choose, she called out to the departing maid.

“Hannah! Hannah Rigret!”

“If you’re too loud, you’ll attract Miles’s attention. Now is the time to be loyal to your duty.”

Crusch had no choice but to watch as the maid disappeared from view.

The taste of defeat bitter in her mouth, Crusch hoped she would have another chance to talk with the maid. Then she would discover the true connection between that woman and her knight.

But she would never get the chance. The flames consumed Argyle manor: the bodies of Ferris’s mother and father, along with the maid, and whatever truth she was keeping.

Crusch was left with only her doubts and a secret, the only one she could never tell Ferris.

17

Overhead, the clouds that had crowded the sky were broken. Fourier quietly let out a breath. Before they’d left the castle, he’d ordered Marcus to put some insurance in place, and what happened in the sky was proof that it had worked. Although there might be some questions later about the use of a tactic that was normally forbidden so close to the country’s borders.

“But I don’t think we’ll have to meet Volakia in force today. They don’t want to contend with us any more than we with them.”

Some outside agency had clearly been involved in the recent events surrounding the House of Argyle. Fourier had never met Bean Argyle personally, but the family’s status and history convinced him that Bean didn’t have the ability to do something like this on his own.

He thought about who might have played a part in this. Perhaps those within Lugunica who wanted to see Crusch fall from grace. Or perhaps an interloper from outside the country, someone with bigger goals in mind. He forced himself to contemplate the worst possible scenario. It was likely that what the Volakians had wanted from all this was to obtain the House of Argyle’s secret spell that allowed them to control undead warriors. The current Volakian emperor was said to be a cruel man. Given the friction between Volakia and Lugunica, it had been necessary to prevent anyone else learning the forbidden spell.

“I managed to do everything I wanted to. Sometimes I impress even myself.” Fourier’s reading of the situation had been so perfect that he found himself bursting into spontaneous self-congratulation.

Fourier’s intuition sometimes proved considerably sharper than average, but this time it had been especially brilliant. Then again, he had been focusing his full concentration on it ever since Crusch had spoken with him.

Granted, this sometimes left him with a pain in his head and a heaviness in his chest…

“But it’s a very small price to save Crusch and Ferris.”

Those two were now talking together near the burned ruins of the Argyle mansion. He dearly wished to join them, but it would have been a most impolitic time to break in. Ferris and Crusch shared a bond that was for them alone. True, Fourier had his own bond with each of them, but he knew that at this moment it was necessary to keep his distance for reasons he couldn’t fully articulate.

“Of course, it’s hard for me to let Ferris have Crusch all to himself right now, given how worried I was about her…”

“On behalf of your friends, Your Highness, let me thank you for your considerateness.” The speaker was Julius, who rode with Fourier in the dragon carriage. He seemed to find recent events thought provoking in his own way. His expression looked different, somehow, from the way it had before they left the castle.

“I gave you your fair share of trouble, too, didn’t I, Julius? Well done getting them both out at the very end there.”

“You needn’t thank me, Your Highness. Truth be told, today’s events made me feel acutely how powerless I really am. I think I may have let being chosen for the royal guard make me forget what it truly means to be a knight.”

“Another serious one! Knights should be more—well—gallant! Do some brave deeds, and you’ll be knight enough. Yes, I’m sure of it.”

Julius looked entirely taken aback by Fourier’s pronouncement. But he composed himself quickly and smiled, then nodded. “You’ve surprised me more than once today, Your Highness. I, Julius, swear anew my fealty to you.”

“I’m not quite sure how I feel about that, but I accept your loyalty. Devotion to the kingdom is truly valuable. Let your heart be bound not to me, but seek the prosperity of our whole land. Now…you think it’s about time?”

Fourier leaned over to get a look at Crusch and Ferris. Ferris, who had been crying in Crusch’s arms earlier, was now turned away, blowing his nose. It looked like things had calmed down some. He could call out to them soon.

“Maybe I’ll go and join them, then.” Now eager, Fourier stepped proudly from the dragon carriage and down onto the grass, ready to go over to Crusch and Ferris. But as he did so, his vision wavered.

“—Your Highness?” Julius’s voice sounded strikingly far away. The next thing he knew, he felt an impact, and everything was sideways.

Fourier himself didn’t know what had happened. Until so recently he had been filled with the sense that he could see everything that was happening in the world, yet now that feeling had utterly abandoned him.

“Ferris! Ferris, come quickly! His Highness Fourier needs you!”

Julius’s panicked shout was the last thing Fourier heard as his consciousness slipped away. Everything went dark, the world grew distant. But just before it left him, he heard two beloved voices calling his name. Fourier clung to that sound as the darkness overcame him.

<END>



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