On second thought, he did not think Rhodes knew that Myuri had been knighted, and he was not sure if he should tell Rhodes or let Myuri tell him herself. But he did have a feeling that Myuri generally thought favorably of Rhodes, so perhaps he should let her have this so they had more to talk about. Those thoughts rolled around in his mind as he took his seat, and Rhodes finally spoke, as though waiting for that to happen. “I will stop by another time to give my regards to Heir Hyland. Today I have an urgent letter for you from my captain, Master Col.” “What? For me?” Col was shocked, not expecting to be the object of business, and Rhodes pulled out a letter from his breast pocket. It was an official letter, bound with horsetail cord and sealed with red wax, imprinted with the knight order’s stamp. He retrieved it with a flutter of nerves; he glanced up at Rhodes, seeking permission to open the letter, and Rhodes nodded. And what he read shocked him even further. “It is thanks to your aid and God’s guidance that we were able to regain our honor as knights,” Rhodes said, momentarily dropping his gaze to the letter in Col’s hands before looking back up again. “But we often find our own power to be lacking. And each time, we are reminded of the authority and influence you have.” The letter, penned by that knight of knights with the silver beard, said as much. The knights were acting to expose the Church’s wrongdoings throughout the kingdom on the kingdom’s behalf, since tensions would likely escalate if agents of the kingdom were to try the same on their own. The Knights of Saint Kruza were popular with the people, enough so that their praises were sung in fairy tales, which meant Col had often heard that popular opinion on their quest was quite good, but it seemed not everything was going smoothly. “We have no problem in relatively larger towns,” Rhodes continued. “Everyone knows the name of the Knights of Saint Kruza, and none can argue back when presented with the scripture. However, in smaller and older towns and villages where God’s protection does not reach, especially those where the seat of the bishop is hereditary or where the priests cannot read the script of the Church, that is not the case.” That the bishop, one who was meant to be celibate all throughout their life, was a hereditary post was a dizzying contradiction, and a priest who could not read the scripture due to the script of the Church and thus did not exactly know what was written sounded like a joke, but that was rather common. “In those places, we are derided as brigands and often chased away with curses and splashes of water. However…” The people immediately behaved when they learned the knights had come under the orders of the Twilight Cardinal, detailed the letter. And without exception, all those churches had a copy of the booklet containing excerpts of the vernacular scripture. “Though they may not know the word of God, they all do have their eyes and ears on what is happening in the world. They hear of your name from traveling merchants and residents who go to sell their crafts and livestock in larger towns. And though the copies are occasionally filled with misspellings, they do get their hands on partial copies of the translated scripture and come into direct contact with God’s teachings for the first time.” Col was genuinely surprised to know that their work was having that sort of effect on things. And at the same time, he felt a powerful hope knowing people would take notice when one does the right thing. “May I ask what you’ve brought with you, then?” Col asked. The letter was filled with compliments that were beginning to fluster him, along with praise of how wonderful it was that he was translating the scripture into the common script. The latter half of the letter expressed the captain’s desire that the Twilight Cardinal accompany them on their travels so that they may right the nominal priests’ ignorance together, but it was worded in a way that made it obvious it was simply a sentiment and not a genuine invitation. Because even if Col himself was not present, his words could still reach the people. “The captain has ordered me to quickly make one copy of your translated scripture,” Rhodes said. He pulled open the bag he had slung over his shoulder and pulled out a quill and other familiar writing implements. Col had once seen a letter Rhodes had written, and his handwriting was neat and methodical. First Canaan and now Rhodes had come to make a copy of his vernacular scripture. This was not so much a coincidence but the righteousness of their path beginning to bear fruit. What people needed the most among all the things that were happening now in the world was, indeed, a scripture in the common language. “I will have to ask Heir Hyland to confirm, but I believe you may have a place to stay here in the manor for an extended period.” Copying the scripture could not be done overnight. But Rhodes quickly shook his head. “No, I couldn’t cause you that much trouble. It would be a problem for the cathedra, I believe.” The order of the Knights of Saint Kruza were considered the Church’s own knights, so Col wondered if that was due to their status. Rhodes’s unit was bound together by the fact that they were all from the kingdom, but they were officially on the Church’s side and technically enemies of the kingdom. Col sat there in his disappointment when Rhodes suddenly dropped his gaze, his knight’s facade fading slightly and his natural boyish expression showing through. “But I have one request…” “What is it?” Rhodes was oddly hesitant, and it suddenly reminded Col of Myuri. She had once said that Rhodes had a crush on her. Knights were typically meant to lead celibate lives, but this was not an absolute rule. And as her surrogate older brother, Col would be relieved if a boy like Rhodes got on well with her. As those selfish scenarios floated through his mind, Rhodes looked up at him, determined. “I don’t mind if it’s only occasionally, but when I’m working…do you think I could have your instruction, Master Col?” “Hmm?” Rhodes stared straight at him, and Col could not help but blink. That had not been what he was expecting, but Rhodes’s gaze had been stronger than his surprise. “Ah, of course, I don’t mind…” “Thank you so much! It is thanks to you that we knights have truly been saved. And we truly understand how incredible you are, wherever we go! I can only think of the time you saved us from a dog’s death at the roadside as guidance from God himself! But…I do have one regret.” Rhodes’s tone was frustrated. “I am constantly embarrassed by my ignorance—if only I’d asked for more of your instruction. I acted so rudely toward you, too…I confess that I personally saw this transcribing assignment as a chance to make up for my lack of study. But I want to learn from you with all my body and soul!” “Oh, um…Yes. I hope I can teach you well.” Col, instead, was embarrassed that he thought Rhodes was going to ask about Myuri. It was often said that one’s handwriting reflected one’s character—Rhodes was a boy who perfectly suited his methodical, heavy-handed writing. “So long as you don’t mind my inexpert scholarship, then I would be more than happy to help.” Rhodes beamed, bowed his head again, and said a word of thanks. Since Hyland was absent and Rhodes had come straight here from his travels, he excused himself as he stood from his seat, saying he needed to say hello at the cathedral. Col also stood to see him off; he placed his hand on the door— “Master Col?” Rhodes spoke up. Col turned to see Rhodes standing closer to him than he thought. “The captain has a message he wanted to impart with you in total confidence,” he said, his voice lowered. “A personal message from your captain?” Col turned to face him, and finally understood that this was the real reason the boy had arrived in town and immediately come to the manor, still dressed in his traveling clothes. He gave a short nod and briefly glanced out the door. Outside was a gentle afternoon; in the courtyard beyond the peristyle, the elderly servant minded the fruit trees as the puppy playfully pounced at his feet. “No one’s here.” Rhodes nodded, took yet another step toward Col, and said, “Sinister individuals throughout the kingdom seem to be plotting to deliberately foment an incident between the kingdom and the Church.” Col said nothing, only staring at him in return. “Someone attempted to ambush us and planned to make it look like the royal court’s work. We turned the tables on them and captured the perpetrators, only to discover they were run-of-the-mill bandits, but on their person were epaulets painted with the crest of the golden sheep. They were planning to plant that as evidence had their attack gone well.” The Knights of Saint Kruza were the most knightly of knights, the kind sung of in legends. Col found himself suddenly sympathizing with the bandits’ ignorance—they were only in it for the money, after all. “They were simply after the coin, so they did not know who hired them for the job. It was either the Church, who wanted to turn the blame on the kingdom, or the kingdom’s roundabout way of making it seem like the Church is plotting something…” Rhodes’s unit was bound together from among the rest of the Knights of Saint Kruza by their shared homeland in the Kingdom of Winfiel, and that meant they occupied a particularly strange position. Both the Church and the kingdom regarded them more as enemy than friend. But if the bandits were planning on leaving the royal crest at the site of the attack, then it would be apt to assume this went far beyond simply targeting the knights. “Either way, this means there are forces out there trying to incite fighting between the kingdom and the Church, correct?” “Yes.” Rhodes nodded, then hesitated before continuing. “There are many within the kingdom, the Church, and those who belong to neither who would be delighted if war broke out.” That might refer to the merchants who would profit handsomely off arms and rations, or those like Rhodes, who existed solely to act in war. For them, the end of the war against the pagans was a signal that their entire reason for existence had vanished as well. A new war was a new job. “And another member of the order reported spotting someone from the Holy See at a harbor not too far from here. I would not be surprised if they were plotting something in concert with the ambush.” At mention of the Holy See, Col was worried his reaction showed on his face. Because the first person he thought of was Canaan. He had, in essence, betrayed the Church to come here, so Col knew he had to tell him about Rhodes immediately. “I see. You…wouldn’t mind if I shared this with Heir Hyland, would you?” “Not at all. Right now, both you and Heir Hyland stand at the forefront of the conflict brewing between the kingdom and the Church. I would not be surprised if either of you was the next target of these plotters, to the point that we debated posting ourselves here so we may protect you. But I believe we would only get in your way, so…” Getting protection from the Knights of Saint Kruza when things were already so tense would likely only cause more friction. But Col knew if he told Hyland how Rhodes and the knights felt, she would be delighted. “God sees your faith, as well as the deep consideration you have paid all of us,” Col said. “Thank you for telling me.” “This is the least we can do to repay the debt we owe.” Rhodes’s sense of honor was so strong it almost seemed stubborn. Now that Col had seen a true knight’s spirit, he could not help but feel his wild little sister was still missing something fundamental to become an upstanding knight. “May God guide us in our path,” Col intoned. Rhodes dipped his head in reverence. After seeing off Rhodes and returning to his room, the first thing that escaped Col’s mouth was a sigh. Though he was genuinely thankful that not only Canaan and the archivists of the Curia, but the Knights of Saint Kruza had realized the might of the vernacular scripture, that also meant that antagonistic forces were seeing the very same thing. It made sense that the attacks against the knights at this hour meant that while Col and those on his side considered this their prime opportunity, there were those who saw it instead as danger. But while Rhodes was questioning whether the Church was planning something, considering what his fellow knight said about seeing someone from the Holy See, Col did not think they were. In fact, he could think of one force in particular that could hold even greater sway over this conflict than the Church. It was one force that Hyland would know very well; Col would have to confirm with her once she returned home. Though this conflict split the world cleanly in two, there was no lack for actors with complicated roles. “I at least hope things are going smoothly in Myuri’s story.” Sitting on the desk was a sheaf of papers with Myuri’s fantasy knight tales, which she worked on whenever she had a spare moment. Col could not help but murmur aloud with a sigh when his gaze fell on it. But standing here grumbling would help nothing; that both Canaan and Rhodes took notice of the vernacular translation of the scripture was, without a doubt, a good sign. If they could make a great number of copies of the translated scripture and distribute them across the mainland, then proper faith would spread like wildfire. The questions Canaan sent him regarding the scripture translation were imbued with an almost tangible fervor. There were people out there using everything at their disposal to interpret what he translated. Though they were originally words he had refined in his attempts to instill an ounce of faith into one particular rambunctious girl, they were now striking chords in many hearts. If Myuri knew this, she would surely be filled with pride, as though it were her own accomplishment. The thought of that alone brought a lopsided smile to Col’s face, but in truth, with the way things were going, the vernacular translation of the scripture could very well bring a definitive end to the conflict between the kingdom and the Church. That meant Col had no choice but to do everything in his power to help. He pulled out the chair, sat, and faced Canaan’s letter. He took quill in hand and began to write an even more passionate response to a letter so filled with fervor that Myuri had suspected it was a love letter. Col’s head snapped up, and he found the room had grown dim. He felt like he had been holding his breath at the bottom of a lake, and gave a deep exhale. He could hear the vespers bell ringing from the world beyond the window—he had been absorbed in his work for quite a long time. He stretched his stiff back, and the moment he thought Hyland and the others would be returning, he heard a familiar flurry of footsteps from beyond the door. “Brotheeer!” The door flung open, and Myuri’s cheery voice filled the room. Before Col could say anything in response, she strode over to him and shoved what she had in her arms onto him. “Here. Put this on and get ready!” “…This is sudden. May I ask what this is about?” She had smelled of dust and dirt when she left, and now she smelled of the unique scent that came with old books. And what she had shoved into his arms were the clothes of a young merchant. And Myuri, too, had changed out of her knight’s outfit and into the guise of a mercantile company errand boy. “Blondie’s orders!” “Heir Hyland’s?” Though he wondered for a moment if she thought she could get her way by using Hyland’s name, he considered how much effort it would take to stop Myuri when she had this much energy and decided that it would be better to simply play along for the moment. And if he got to see Hyland because of this, then he could tell her about Rhodes’s message. But Myuri, who quickly stripped down and pulled a new shirt over her head, suddenly froze and began to sniff the air. Then, trouserless, she began to pad barefoot around the room, and eventually came to stand by Col. “I know this smell.” When she turned her eyes to him, she looked both like a knight pursuing a heretic, and a lover questioning her partner’s infidelity. “Rhodes…Sir Rhodes came by.” After Myuri heard the name, her wolf ears flicked up and down. “Did he always smell like this? It’s, hmm…” “He has grown into a young, dauntless knight in such a short period of time.” Her tail wagged. “But I’m a knight now, too.” Myuri held herself with pride, as though this was a competition, but she wore only a shirt and no pants; she looked as though she had just gotten up for a midmorning nap or just having changed after wetting the bed. Either way, Col sensed not even a fraction of the discipline he had sensed in Rhodes. “Knights do not wander around in such unsightly dress.” “Oh! We need to get changed!” Col’s scolding went in one ear and out the other. Myuri quickly began to dress herself again; Col kept a dubious eye on her as he, too, finished changing. Once they left the room and ventured down the stairs, there they found Hyland, dressed as a city girl, a way they have seen her dressed only once before in Atiph, waiting with a bright and happy smile. Here was a young merchant who had just arrived in Rausbourne on a ship full of cargo, inviting a staff girl he was immediately smitten with out on the town, and they had arrived at a modest tavern with his entourage and guard in tow. That must be how I look, Col thought with defeat. “It’s kind of fun to do this every once in a while, isn’t it?” Hyland said, dressed as a local town girl. Her guards, dressed as cargo handlers, poured wine into her mug, and she took it in her hands. “The meat at the Golden Fern is good, too, though.” The establishment Myuri mentioned sat on the cathedral square and was frequently patronized by the most important people of the city. With how a great curtain, painted with the shop’s logo and name, hung from the ceiling in the great central atrium, it, too, almost seemed like a cathedral of meat and booze. In contrast, the place they were at presently was in a part of Rausbourne where many artisans lived and was cozy but not particularly outstanding. Stray dogs loitered around the front door, hoping for scraps; loud sailors threw back cup after cup of ale while the forceful barmaids commanded attention of even the drunkards; among it all were shady individuals hoping to get their hands on unsuspecting patrons’ wallets while taking tiny, tiny sips of their drinks. “Why are we here?” Col asked. Not only were there plenty of other taverns just like this one all crammed in the area, the room was filled with smoke—the chimney that allowed it to escape must have been clogged—and Col had to keep blinking it out of his eyes. He wanted to speak with Hyland about what Rhodes told him about, that there were forces in the kingdom scheming to stir up even further trouble between the kingdom and the Church, and about Canaan and the other archivists, but this was not the place for it. “Mister Le Roi and I read so many books at the library.” Lamb ribs sat piled high on a wooden plate—though parts were burnt here and there, the fat still crackled and popped in the heat. It smelled strong—it was doused in a rich sauce comprised of mostly grated garlic, likely to suit the palate of the clientele. Hyland seemed to delight solely in the fact that she got to eat this food with her hands, and bit into it; Myuri did not mind that it was still hot, and she bit straight into the meat as well. “Because we found out about the history of the building we’re using for the monastery,” she continued. “What?” Though Col had been genuinely curious about that, he realized he did not quite understand how those two things were connected. He opened his mouth to ask again, but Hyland spoke up this time. “When I arrived at the council, I found an old acquaintance of the one who sold me the land and the building you were wondering about. I asked after the building’s history, and he told me that it once belonged to a band of knights called the Aloné Order, which traces their roots back to the ancient empire that came to this land long ago.” Hyland was unsure what to do with the grease on her fingers and ultimately licked them clean. Her guarding knight, upon seeing her do this, did his very best not to show the shock on his face. “But it’s a very old order, so there weren’t any official records of them in the library. Is that right?” As Col watched Hyland turn the conversation to Myuri, he recalled that Myuri and Le Roi had gone to read at the library annexed to the council building. Hyland had been meeting with some important members of the city on the same grounds, so that was where they likely convened. “Yeah,” Myuri replied. “Mister Le Roi recognized the name, but they didn’t have any crests in the library. So he suggested that it might’ve been a really old order that was more like a mercenary band.” “But…that knowledge alone is not enough, is it?” It still did not explain why they came all the way out here, to this tavern, in disguises. Col was unsure if he should scold Myuri for the way she wolfed down the meat. His eyes drifted to the dried codfish—despite how the server had practically thrown it on the table, the dish looked positively delectable—and he decided to take a piece and wait for her to continue. “Haum, hom, gulp. But he said it was also really well known. He suggested we should collect stories about them and restore the buildings to match the stories and stuff. So you know how we need a lot of money, right? And apparently monasteries can make a ton of money if lots of people come.” As the very one combatting the Church’s excessive desire for money, Col found it hard to nod in agreement, but it was true. A monastery’s most reliable source of income was sheep farming, but there were plenty of abbeys with grand facilities that were the result of donations procured from eager pilgrims. If the building was related to the Aloné Order of Knights, then it would not be bad for business to use that as a selling point. But the reason Myuri emphasized that point was perhaps because she had foreseen Hyland making some bad decisions to raise money. She was trying to lessen Hyland’s burden in her own way. Though she always took on a salty attitude when it came to Hyland, she ultimately recognized the blond woman as an ally. What Col did not understand was why they had come all this way to talk about the Aloné Order of Knights and why there were no records of them despite being so famous. Something was not adding up, Col mused to himself, when the commotion in the tavern suddenly felt like it changed direction, like a flock of birds, all at once. “Oh, oh! They’re here!” Right when Myuri yelled, the other patrons around them stood and raised their mugs into the air, sending their applause toward the front of the building. Col craned his neck to see what was going on and found a group of bards. They were an essential part of business among the bathhouses in Nyohhira and were of course present at the Golden Fern. But these were a bit different from the bards he was used to seeing. They were a most eccentric bunch, one who often played music for the people who lived in the most squalid parts of the city. “O, all-powerful and almighty creator! Thank you for another day of drink and merriment!” one of the bards yelled, his voice carrying well over the noise of the tavern as he strummed the strings of his lute. And the music that suddenly broke out was nothing like the sort played to soothe the souls of those soaking in the baths, or to obscure secret business talks of the rich and powerful. No, this was a boisterous tune, one meant to be enjoyed with ale in one hand while stomping one’s feet, blowing away the accumulated exhaustion of a hard day’s work. At the front of the tavern, patrons linked arms together to form a ring and began whirling in a circle in their dance. It was apparently a standard song for those who frequented places like this—some were even singing along. Myuri was understandably delighted by the crude and obvious merriment; Hyland clapped along to the beat, enjoying the music; and the guard kept a sharp eye out, making sure no pickpockets decided to take advantage of the commotion. As Col sat there, overwhelmed by the noise, Hyland, face flushed from the alcohol, leaned closer to him and shouted so her voice did not get lost in the clamor. “We can’t hear music like this at the Golden Fern! We had to come here!” In his bewilderment, he wondered if they really needed to be here among this chaos. Myuri began rustling around at his belt. “I need some coppers, Brother!” she said, taking the contents of his coin purse like a little thief. She then added, “The bards who come to places like this will always know a song about the Aloné Order of Knights!” After giving him an excuse, she rushed off into the enthusiastic crowd, copper coins in hand. As he watched her vanish, it finally clicked—not all epics and tales of the world were recorded in text, neatly bound, and kept as books. Some stories were passed down through the ages as song, embellished and dramatized for people’s entertainment. The story of the Aloné knights was among them. “I’m not exactly sure if this is appropriate for a monastery,” Hyland said, watching Myuri negotiate with a particularly sinister-looking clown who loitered around the bards, taking offerings and music requests. “They’re apparently well known for their captain, whose actions caused a scandal of legendary proportions. That sort of makes you wonder if we should keep the outdoor baths on the grounds as is, doesn’t it?” The buildings were all connected with flagstone colonnades, which were flanked by decorative pillars. That was very reminiscent of the ancient empire, and to modern sensibilities, it was rather sensual. But how would an open-air bath featured in a popular city tune be received at a monastery these days? As one who played assistant to an extraordinary merchant who opened a bathhouse in the steamy Nyohhira, Col could not help but sense a business opportunity. And though they were baths left behind by a shameless knight captain, ablutions were considered a crucial activity in any monastery, so it could very well be considered unproblematic in matters of faith. As that thought crossed his mind, he saw that Myuri’s negotiations had gone well. Not long afterward, the tune and rhythm of the music changed to something gallant yet strangely sweet. The dancer immediately cozied up to the bard, and the singing girl began to sing of a romance between a knight and a beautiful girl. Just as Col focused his attention on the lyrics, he almost choked when he heard the words. There was once a beautiful mansion that stood in the kingdom’s quiet countryside. A great knight captain sat soaking his feet in the mansion’s canals, which smelled fragrantly of roses, while a gorgeous woman served him wine to drink. The spot Le Roi had fallen into upside down, looking rather like a demonic sacrifice, was precisely the waterways the song was about. And as the song went on about the uninhibited pair in the outdoor baths, Col’s face went red for reasons besides the alcohol. “This is something, isn’t it?” Hyland said, lopsided smile on her face. The instruments’ melody grew even more bombastic, and the singer sang with such vigor and pressed her hand to her chest so hard that it looked like it might even cave in. “I reap rewards in battle—oh!—to swear my love to you! But, my beloved, as there is no end to my valor, so, too, is my love never-ending!” As the singer’s clear voice went on at length about, essentially, someone who went from battlefield to battlefield to find lover after lover, one particularly enthusiastic drunk wrapped his arm around one of the barmaids, who mercilessly slapped the patron across the face, and he promptly dropped to the ground. The song was of an era when war was primarily the pursuit of the nobility, when adventure was a man’s reason for living. The Church did not have that much power back then, and wolves were popular symbols for noble houses. If one were to write this song down, bind it in leather, and place it upon bookshelves, they would no doubt be criticized by the Church. This was a story the wandering bards had kept alive while dodging the Church’s censors. This was a world that not even Le Roi, a bookseller who has encountered a vast portion of the world’s knowledge, could find in his books. The song ended; Col, in an attempt to erase the lingering echoes of the lascivious lyrics from his mind, concentrated on eating the whole dry codfish. Once he had gotten through about half, a deep realization that there was so much of his world of which he had yet to learn settled in his chest. But in contrast, all he could do was sigh. “I am worried that girl is only ever going to take to inappropriate recreation, and that includes this song.” His gaze settled on Myuri, who was spinning along with the dancers to yet another upbeat song. “And? She seems to be in her element.” Hyland is much too easy on Myuri¸ Col thought. But the way she held hands with the professional dancers was so entrancing it was almost impressive—and shameless. As he thought about it, he recalled how, not long after they left Nyohhira, Myuri had danced for some drunkards at the checkpoint inn to get food. But the sense of déjà vu came from how he recalled Myuri’s mother, Holo the Wisewolf, danced with traveling performers when Col himself was a child. Like mother, like daughter, Col thought as he pressed a hand to his head, almost feeling a headache coming on. But when he noticed how most of the patrons were concentrating on the florid dancing girls, he realized this was a perfect opportunity. “While the wild girl is preoccupied elsewhere, there is something I need to tell you, Heir Hyland.” “Hmm?” Hyland, who had grown all too used to licking grease off her fingers now, turned to look at Col. “A knight came bearing a message while you were away. Do you remember Rhodes?” Hyland’s usual countenance returned to her; she briefly glanced around and gestured with her hand for Col to whisper to her. All this noise was, in fact, perfect for secret conversations, so even if another saw him leaning over, whispering to her, it would only seem like he was doing a poor job of wooing her. The three things Rhodes had discussed with him were his declaration that he wished to create copies of the scripture, that someone from the order had spotted someone from the Holy See, and that there were forces who had attacked the knights in an attempt to bring things to a head. After briefly going over the topics, Col silently glanced at Hyland to see if she heard him, only to find her noble bearing shining through, no matter how she may disguise herself as a regular city girl, in much the same way her long lashes framed her eyes. “For the first matter of business, of course, he is more than welcome to. But if he were to work in the cathedral, other members of the clergy might spot him. It might be best he stay at the manor for the time being.” It was all right for Col and his company to think of Archbishop Yagine of the Rausbourne cathedral as an ally due to their complicated history. But there were more clergy in the cathedra than there were failing businesses, and each held their own opinions about the conflict between the kingdom and the Church. There might also be some who did not think very favorably of Rhodes staying there. “As for the second…That’s precisely why I told him we should meet up on the mainland.” Hyland, the one who was hiding Canaan’s presence, would have to bear responsibility if something were to happen to the young archivist. That said, that was simply a matter of which side of the scales that problem should be weighed on. “Had all of us gone to the mainland, the archivists would all be saddled with the exact same problem.” Taking on the problem themselves was less of a burden on their conscience than forcing it onto others. As that thought crossed Col’s mind, Hyland fixed her gaze on him for a moment before giving a tired smile. “I wasn’t insistent enough.” “That’s not true.” With her smile, she gazed off into the distance before turning back to Col again. “I’ll tell him someone may have spotted him. But…in that case, he may as well stay in the manor. It might be safer.” “In…in the manor?” “They’ll be making copies of the scripture as well, so it might be better if they can ask you questions directly, and I’m sure they would otherwise need to go into town to buy necessities. Staying in the manor will solve a lot of their problems. That would mean they would come across the knight Rhodes, but it isn’t like Rhodes is the one who spotted the person from the Holy See, right? Archivist Canaan would surely not think that way.” She had a good grasp on the reality of the situation. “And if need be,” she continued, “we can explain our plan. I’m sure Rhodes will understand. I don’t think he was all that stubborn. He would no doubt understand our cause.” Though Rhodes was somewhat stubborn, Col’s impression of him was not all that different from Hyland’s. “The problem is the third.” Hyland sighed, giving an exaggerated heave of her shoulders. She grasped her mug of wine, but she did not drink it. “Do you have any ideas of who might be responsible?” There was no point pretending like he did not. “The second prince, perhaps,” Col replied. Heir Klevend was second in line for the throne, raised in case something ever happened to his older brother. The eldest brother was supposed to take over the throne, as according to procedure, and now that the war with the pagans had come to an end, there was almost no chance that Klevend would ever become king. There was no possibility his brother would die in the chaos of war, and there was no opportunity for him to make a name for himself through acts of valor in battle. He would never be the main character in his own life—all that was expected of him was for him to pass on his family name and lands to the next generation. He was a pessimistic man, one who complained about the dark sides of the institution that was nobility. Rumor had it that he had still not given up on his ambitions for the throne and apparently commanded a gaggle of noble boys who also complained about their lot in life. Some even said he was willing to start a civil war. He had plenty of reasons to attack the Knights of Saint Kruza, who were presently working within the kingdom, hoping to exacerbate the conflict between the kingdom and the Church. Though very few were as magnanimous as Hyland, it was only toward Heir Klevend that she did not hide her hatred. It was likely related to how desperately she tried to earn the king’s loyalty, due to her background, which was decidedly not happy. “He’s the first one I think of, too. The methods are a little too roundabout for me to think it’s someone who’s carrying out secret orders from the Church. Especially when it comes to the king or the royal court—none of them would have reason to do so.” Hyland finally took a sip of her wine and turned her gaze to the front of the tavern. Myuri danced along with the other patrons and the bards to the rhythm of a harmless dance number, not an ode to passionate knights from an old age. “I’ll suggest to the king he pay close attention to things happening around the Knights of Saint Kruza. If we manage to get definitive proof that someone is trying sow chaos within the kingdom, His Majesty might finally take decisive action. This is a perfect opportunity to root out the evil in this country…” There was a cool glint to Hyland’s eyes, one Col had rarely ever seen. Perhaps it was a conscious decision for her to rest her gaze on the plate of lamb, which was now only bone. She suddenly noticed Col looking at her and lifted her head. “I think I’m drunk.” She could not remain calm when all the hostility she felt toward Heir Klevend came to the surface. Col had nothing to say; he only dropped his eyes and dipped his head. “Why don’t we join the dancing to sober up a bit?” Hyland suggested, and stood. The guard, who had been quietly beside them this entire time, spoke up in a fluster. “Young madam, you cannot!” And it was as though she had been waiting for him to say that. “Hollande, I thought I told you not to call me that. As punishment, you’ll have to dance with us.” It seemed the guard was one who had served Hyland’s family for a long time, just like an old house steward. In contrast to the straight-faced Hollande, Hyland wore a mischievous expression much like Myuri’s and patted his shoulder. The man was always calm and collected, the very picture of a knight who always helped Myuri with her swordplay for as long as she asked, except now he was pouting like a child. “Come on, stand up. We’re going.” Col watched how she tugged on his arm, bringing him slowly to his feet, and he could not help but smile. Perhaps there were more young ladies out there who had people like him by their sides, who went through all the same troubles as he did. But he could not allow him to do this alone. “I’ll be joining you,” he offered. With Hyland, who was both surprised and delighted, and Hollande, who simply resigned himself to going along, Col joined the circle of dancing at the front of the tavern. The whirling and twirling itself was fun, but he was rather nonplussed by how the moment Myuri spotted him among the dancers, she leaped at him with a wide grin across her face. Not only was she full of energy, but this was after she had been dancing for a while—she was drenched in sweat, like a puppy caught out in the rain. The strumming of the instruments echoed loudly, the stray hounds howled in the infectious excitement, the people danced and stomped their feet, and it numbed Col’s mind to the very core. Forgive me for finding amusement in wicked pastimes, he prayed, but he could not even see the moon from the narrow streets of the city. But he had an excuse—when he saw the way Myuri smiled and the way delight colored Hyland’s face, he told himself he would have not even noticed the full moon.
Chapter 93
35 min read