One afternoon, I, Julius zu Eigel, was in my shop’s meeting room listening to a beautiful melody. A young man’s long fingers deftly plucked away at the strings. The lute produced a light and airy sound that filled the room. The jovial tune suited a festival, and the delicate, elegant undertones were a product of the player’s skills.
After the short performance ended, the room immediately burst into applause. I clapped along as well, but my approbation wasn’t out of politeness or empty flattery—it was sincere.
“Hiiragi, that was amazing! Simply perfect!” Lady Rosemary exclaimed. The faint red dusting her cheeks told of her elation.
“You have a gift. I’m impressed. It’s hard to believe you’ve only heard the song once,” Sir Leonhart—Lady Rosemary’s husband—said with admiration.
“Your words are too kind. I’m honored. My ears have always been my only strong point,” replied Mister Hiiragi. Although he was being showered with praise by a duchess and her husband, he didn’t seem flattered and maintained a breezy attitude.
He was a merchant from the Kingdom of Osten currently employed by Lady Rosemary. Although I wasn’t acquainted with him personally, I was aware of his existence. As someone who dealt with Osten goods, I wanted to establish a rapport with him by all means, but Mister Hiiragi was a tough nut to crack.
At a glance, he was an amicable man. His slender build and graceful features gave off the impression that he was unreliable. On top of that, there were more than a few people who looked down on him simply because he was a foreigner. There had been a few scoundrels who’d approached him wearing the guise of kindhearted souls to offer him unfair trades. However, I’d heard that in their negligence, the tables had been turned on them and they’d ended up fooled out of exorbitant sums of money.
He was an exceptionally capable and outstanding individual. That was my perception of Mister Hiiragi. I’d like to connect with him one day, but I shouldn’t approach him imprudently. That was my current line of thought.
“Your ears aren’t the only good thing about you. I didn’t know you could play instruments on top of everything else! And aren’t Osten instruments different? Yet you produced such a beautiful sound. That’s quite a feat!”
“I’m merely glad I can be of use to you.”
Lady Rosemary’s compliments were free of ulterior motives, and for a moment, Hiiragi seemed at a loss about how to respond. His poker face crumbled for a split second, and I caught a glimpse of his discomfort. I know, he was internally agreeing.
When one worked in business for many years, it became a conditioned reflex to ascertain other people’s ulterior motives. Observing someone’s demeanor from every angle to determine whether they were a trustworthy individual—it just became second nature. I was well aware that it was an unsavory habit.
Because of that, I was weak to genuine people. When in front of a good-natured person like Lady Rosemary, I became extremely guilt-ridden. I wanted to capitulate completely without any sort of accusation on their part.
If Mister Hiiragi feels uncomfortable right now, then he likely has similar values to mine. I can rest easy in that case. Given that his reaction to Lady Rosemary’s virtuous nature is “she’s difficult to handle” rather than “she’s easy to deal with,” I know he won’t bring her any harm.
Mister Hiiragi didn’t seem used to receiving such unreserved compliments, because he looked like he couldn’t endure another word, so I shifted the topic away from him. “I’ve laid eyes on an Osten instrument once, and it only had two strings. If memory serves, you don’t pluck it with your fingers—you use a special tool.”
He looked relieved and jumped on my lifeline. “That sounds like a niko. We use a bow, similar to the violin’s, but the way you pull the bow is somewhat unique, so it’s a difficult instrument for beginners.”
“Fascinating. I’d love to hear one one day,” I said, indirectly asking, “If I get my hands on one, will you play it for me?”
However, he replied with an inscrutable smile. He didn’t even offer out of politeness, perhaps because he didn’t want me to take it as a promise. The merchantlike response put a wry smile on my face. I was correct. He’s quite the shrewd one.
“By the way, Duchess, would this suffice for the sheet music?”
“Yes, thank you very much.”
Mister Hiiragi put the lute away and handed Lady Rosemary a score. It was the song that we planned to play for the harvest festival. I believe the title is “Song of Festivity.”
It was a beloved classic festival song among farm villages. Apparently, it was passed from parent to child, but a score had never existed before now. The villagers didn’t look at music when they played it or when they were teaching it. To them, learning by ear was a given.
Hence, depending on who was playing, there were slight variations in key and lyrics. I had thought we were having Mister Hiiragi transcribe it to standardize it. However, that was evidently not the case. Lady Rosemary was fond of the lax nature of the villagers and had no intention of intervening. She’d said she wanted it transcribed purely for documentation purposes.
Lady Rosemary hasn’t elucidated much, but I gather that she wants to preserve their culture for future generations. Not even a historian would pay attention to a tiny village’s festival song.
“Now I’ll be able to learn the song as well,” Lady Rosemary said.
“The song as well? Did you memorize the dance already?” There was a hint of tongue-in-cheek mixed in with Mister Hiiragi’s question.
“I should be able to dance it. I haven’t attempted to yet, but I probably can...” Lady Rosemary was at a loss for words. The energy in her voice lost steam halfway through and faded away at the end.