Ras was unused to the maid’s cordial tone. Back at the imperial palace, the servants all knew his reputation as the Stallion and kept a wide berth.
“Ras will be staying with me for the time being,” Tishna told her. “Could I ask you to bring his and Koko’s beds here?”
“As you wish, Your Highness.”
Tishna swiftly began giving orders, which Emma-Leonie followed without a word of complaint. It was surely the mark of an excellent maid to be able to keep such a composed expression in the face of the princess’s outrageous request.
As Emma-Leonie trotted off in compliance, a middle-aged man stepped forward in her place. While he was dressed in nobleman’s attire, his every action was that of a military officer. He was also flanked by two soldiers, which meant he was probably in charge of security here at the villa.
“Princess!” he cried. “Welcome back. And who might this gentleman be?”
“Surely you haven’t forgotten, Girrith. This is Ras, the dragonslayer.”
“Sir Talion! It is you!”
As he stepped forward to shake hands, Ras suddenly remembered the man. It was Count Girrith Tegnail, who stood at Princess Tishna’s side when Ras fought the aquatic dragon.
“I commend you on your performance at Gradage, Sir Talion. We of Charlgia are much obliged. I had heard the crown prince was due to arrive early, but I see you are accompanying Her Highness instead! Might it have something to do with this ghastly assassin business?”
“You are quite right, Girrith. Ras has kindly offered to keep me safe. At all times.”
“He… He has?”
Girrith raised a puzzled eyebrow.
Under normal circumstances, it was unthinkable to put a foreign soldier like Ras in charge of the princess’s safety, even if she was the crown prince’s fiancé. It sent a clear message that Argyll didn’t think that Charlgia’s bodyguards were up to snuff.
“Princess Tishna insisted upon it,” explained Ras. “And the crown prince agreed. He’s worried about the assassins, you see.”
“Hmm, I understand. Given the circumstances, I suppose we can’t well refuse.”
Girrith accepted Ras’s argument so quickly, it was almost a letdown. The soldiers by his side didn’t look unhappy with the decision, either.
“Thank you, Count Tegnail. I promise I won’t make the place look too drab.”
“Ha-ha, perish the thought! It’s a great reassurance, and if I may say, an honor to have a famed dragonslayer like you on our side.”
After saying this, Girrith came in to shake Ras’s hand again. Ras felt no resistance through the man’s arm, which probably meant he was being honest about his respect.
“I’ll smooth things over with Mother,” said Tishna. “Will there be any other problems, do you think?”
“I’m sure everything will be all right, Princess. The court is accustomed to your whims.” Girrith punctuated his words with a wry smile, then excused himself and left the room.
Ras waited until he was completely gone, and then whispered, “Your right-hand man is awfully understanding.”
“Girrith is very special to me,” Tishna replied. “He’s been watching over everything I’ve done since I was very little.”
“Right.”
Ras could only assume that Tishna was referring to the actions she’d performed in the name of the Wicked Princess. Girrith had learned from experience that the princess’s erratic behavior always worked out in the kingdom’s favor.
“I wonder if you’ve noticed anything about the villa here, Ras?” Tishna suddenly asked. Ras thought about it for a second, then gave his honest impression.
“There aren’t many people,” he said. A building of this size required many servants just to keep the place running, but Ras hadn’t seen very many of them at all. It had been harder to tell in the west wing, where security was tight and there were guards around every corner, but after coming here to the east wing, the difference was stark.
“I’m sorry to say,” said Tishna, “but we’ve actually increased personnel for the crown prince’s stay. Normally, it’s even emptier than this.” She shrugged, looking ashamed. “I may be royalty, but around here I’m treated no better than a baron’s daughter. That’s all the child of a consort deserves, and I daresay it would be even worse without Count Tegnail on my side.”
“I wouldn’t have guessed that, given the number of mercenaries you were able to bring with you to Gradage,” said Ras. “Where did all that money come from?”
“You know, it’s funny you should ask,” replied Tishna with a sly smile. “Those funds were kindly donated by a very generous nobleman wanting to support my efforts.”
In other words, Ras realized, Tishna had blackmailed someone for it. It made sense, given the amount of information she had access to.
“The kingdom’s purse strings are tight enough as it is,” Tishna went on, “and it’s no surprise nobody wants to waste that money by handing it over to a no-good princess like me. I care little for luxury, though, so that suits me just fine. I have no talent for auramancy, and I cannot wield a sword; my only use is to be married off to suit the kingdom’s aims.”
Saying this, Tishna gazed down the long corridor. Coming toward them was a splendidly dressed woman—Queen Maia, Tishna’s mother. Although she couldn’t have failed to notice Ras and Tishna, the woman didn’t even look in their direction. Instead, she walked right on by without stopping, a slight smile upon her lips. An entourage of about a dozen men followed. Two of them were wearing particularly fine clothing: one’s was made of crimson cloth and trimmed with gold, while the other was dressed completely in black from head to toe. All the other men in the group appeared to be their bodyguards.
Once the group had completely passed by, Tishna continued, whispering, “The problem is, some people aren’t content with a life like that.”
Ras thought back to the queen’s expression. It wasn’t the smile of a mother to her daughter; it was more like that of a queen bee happily watching her hive work away. If Ras had to guess, she must have been pleased to see Princess Tishna building rapport with an important figure of another nation.
Many nobles and royals saw their children as nothing more than pawns to be traded away, and Queen Maia was no exception. Ras thought that perhaps Fiarca’s unfavorable assessment wasn’t too far off.
“Who are those people accompanying your mother?” Ras asked.
“The finely dressed gentleman is her brother.”
“So he’s a prince of Lumede?”
“Prince of nothing,” said Tishna with clear disdain. “He is a man of no import.”
“Right. But the other man…”
“Do you know him?”
Tishna shot Ras a puzzled look. He shook his head.
“No, I was just cursing his damnably good looks.”
Tishna tittered. “Oh, you needn’t worry. I much prefer men of your type.”
“Me too!” chirped Koko.
But Ras wasn’t listening to the two girls’ affirmations. His mind was solely fixed on the attire of the black-clad man he had seen accompanying the queen consort. At first glance, they looked like extremely commonplace garments of the subjects of Charlgia, but the sword at his hip had caught Ras’s eye. It possessed a basket hilt that would enclose the hand—a feature unique to the swords made in Registan, the enemy state of the Shrumland Alliance.