The clothes Shishka had prepared for Ras turned out to be the ceremonial dress of the cavalrymen from the Far East.
Ras had grown up in the county east of Argyll, and on paper, he was still a member of the county’s border patrol force. Ras’s biological father, the esteemed Count Veredica, had pulled some strings to make it so, not out of any love for his son but because the county needed any aura knight it could get its hands on to defend the nation in times of war.
The question did not escape Ras of how, precisely, this uniform had made its way here from the distant lands of his birth. He couldn’t help but feel like something deeply unpleasant was about to happen.
“Thank you for everything, Miss Klamina,” he said, after he had finished changing.
“Your gratitude is wasted on me, my lord. I merely wish you well on your travels.”
Shishka bowed deeply. She wasn’t particularly friendly, but she was a good sort, Ras could tell that. The blame would fall on her shoulders if he were to go missing between here and the audience chamber, so Ras put thoughts of escape out of his mind and went to see what the crown had to say.
This was exactly what Auriol had been aiming for by sending Shishka alone. Ras was a kind soul when it came to women, and a cunning manipulator could take advantage of that fact. The Auriol Ras knew, however, was not that type. He didn’t take Kanalayka for the scheming sort, either. Which could only mean someone else was pulling their strings.
Ras’s mind went back to the silver-haired woman who had brought him in. Her eyes were the same as Princess Fiarca’s. It was no mystery why she had disguised herself as Ras’s deceased lover—it was the best way to throw him off in battle, and it had worked. But Ras was not foolish enough to fall for the same trick again.
He was curious who she really was beneath the disguise. And if she really was such a schemer, what were she and the crown prince plotting, and how did Ras factor into it…?
With those thoughts whirling around in his head, Ras headed to the antechamber, where all those granted an audience with the emperor awaited their turn. On his way there, he passed several people coming down the hallway: noblemen of the imperial court.
“Is that the Stallion?” one muttered, intentionally loud enough for Ras to hear. “How dare he show his face in such august surroundings?”
“Did he tire of handling the sailors’ wenches and come to lay his filthy paws on a highborn girl?”
“His Highness must be embarrassed to have trained alongside him at the academy. What is he thinking, inviting him here?”
As much as he wanted to start a fight, Ras knew it was boorish to do so. The men could just claim innocence, and Ras would look like a fool for making a fuss. Ras heard abuse wherever he went—this was nothing new. Besides, he didn’t want to stay at the palace a second longer than necessary.
But as it turned out, Ras wasn’t the only one who heard the gentlemen’s disparaging comments.
“Are you really going to let them get away with that, Sir Talion?”
Standing before the door to the antechamber was someone Ras didn’t expect. It was the raven-haired legate of the Imperial Guard.
“Kanalayka Aluarche.”
“Why are you letting those men’s insults go unanswered? Is your honor not worth defending?”
Kanalayka, it seemed, was not particularly fond of the gentlemen, either. Ras was a little taken aback.
“What’s the matter?” he asked her. “Grown a conscience? From your treatment of me yesterday, I’d have expected you to join in with them.”
Kanalayka looked down regretfully.
“I read your file,” she said.
“And who’s been writing one of those?”
“His Highness. He’s been observing you for some time, Ras Talion, with the cooperation of your father.”
“…Hmm. And? Anything shocking in there?”
“Every single one of the women you’re rumored to have bedded has had personal problems—abusive husbands at home, employers who work them like slaves, or lovers who force them to handle dirty money on behalf of their criminal associates.”
As Kanalayka rattled off the list, Ras grimaced. He knew just which women those descriptors referred to, which meant that someone really had been surveilling him.
“You not only helped these women escape their troubled circumstances, you also dealt with the perpetrators…discreetly.”
“Don’t mistake me for some do-good vigilante,” Ras interjected. “I simply racked up more debts than I could repay, so the brothels had me do their dirty work; that’s all.”
Kanalayka nodded fiercely, as though that was precisely the answer she’d been expecting.
“Speaking of which, I looked into this brothel you’re so keen on. The owner is one Fon Cigel—the Black Blade herself! You were only pretending to use the brothels, when in fact you were receiving her tutelage every time, am I right?”
The girl was getting rather excited, and Ras wasn’t sure what to do with her. His smile was becoming more and more strained. “I wouldn’t say every time…”
Fon Cigel was one of the four Blades of Danakil—masters of the sword—and her name and auramancy skill were known and feared across the land. Despite being over fifty, she looked like she’d just turned twenty. A monster beyond all human reckoning.
A little over twenty years ago, after supposedly rescuing the young and reckless emperor of Argyll from a sticky situation involving a Sand Dragon, she moved to the Argyll Empire. The emperor said she could have anything her heart desired as a reward, and Fon requested permission to own and operate her own brothel.
Ever since then, the woman lived a quiet life, free from woes and responsibilities, until two years ago, when Ras was roped into becoming her disciple.
“Oh, there’s no need to be humble, Sir Talion. You shattered my trusty blade with your bare hands. Who else could have taught you to do that?”
Kanalayka stroked the pommel at her hip. Then she turned to face Ras and bowed her head deeply.
“…Er, Lady Aluarche?”
“Please, Sir Talion, call me Kanalayka.”
Ras suddenly felt all eyes on him. All the maids and the clerks who were passing by had stopped and were staring. The top knight of the Imperial Guard was bowing her head to the Stallion himself. It was an incredible sight.
“I beg your pardon for my vulgar behavior yesterday, my lord. Had I known you were the disciple of the Black Blade, I never would have—”
“It’s all right. Please just stop…,” Ras pleaded wearily.
Even without makeup, Kanalayka had a pretty face and proportions to match. Plus, given her hardworking style, it was safe to say she was picky when it came to choosing a romantic partner…which was to say she didn’t have one. People would certainly talk up a storm if a maiden like that were seen cavorting with the infamous Stallion. A loose tongue here and there, and the whole palace would be abuzz within the hour. Ras didn’t exactly want to be accused of working his charms on the palace guards before he’d even had his audience.
“I’m glad you don’t hate my guts anymore, but this is too far the other way,” he warned her. “A worse man than me could take advantage of a girl as trusting as you.”
But Kanalayka pursed her lips and shook her head.
“I didn’t change my mind just because I read a sob story or two. How gullible do you think I am?”
Ras frowned. “So there’s another reason?”
A beaming smile appeared on the guardswoman’s face, and she nodded.
“His Highness speaks very highly of you. He says you’re the only man who can save us from this crisis.”
“Crisis?” Ras was surprised by Kanalayka’s choice of words. “What kind of trouble did you and Auriol get yourselves into?”
But the young lady shook her head again and turned her piercing eyes on Ras. In a voice just soft enough for nobody to overhear, she explained.
“You misunderstand, Sir Talion. It is not I nor His Highness who is in peril…but the entire Argyll Empire.”