Chapter 2

Chapter One The Princess of Sorrow and the Minstrel’s Song —from Escanor The bright full moon shone quietly on the surface of the lake. A small island floated in the middle of the lake, and on it, an old castle stood leaning over the edge of a tall cliff. The castle was made up of a snug keep with living quarters and two towers. Lights shone from several windows. Faint laughter could be heard, and it seemed that even past midnight, the residents of the castle were still not asleep. The shadow of a man loitered atop the rampart connecting the living quarters with the First Tower. The man had a tall, thin build and was wearing clothes that were much too baggy for him. The features of his slightly oval face were well put together, in their own way, but his stooping posture and unconfident expression ruined them. “Hahh,” he sighed, leaning on the edging along the top of the wall. His gaze had been fixed on the tower to his right for some time. A light flickered in the window on the top floor of the tower. The man had been staring at the light, but after a while he turned his eyes away and sighed again. Looking down from the rampart, he could see the sandy beach that spread out on the other side of the lake. It stood out palely in the moonlight. “ ‘The beach suspended in moonlight is like your pale white arms. Coming in and out of sight in the dark waves, revealing the truth’…” He muttered the mysterious words, then let out a self-deprecating laugh. “Search as I might, I guess someone like me could never find the words to express her beauty and kindness and intelligence.” He looked up again at the First Tower. “Oh, but I wish I could…Merlin.” 1 The Kingdom of Liones, extolled as the strongest country in Britannia. Surrounded by a city wall to guard against attacks, the royal capital sparkled in the dazzling morning sunlight. It was June; the nights were short and the dawn broke early each morning. Most of the people were still asleep. In Liones Castle, which looked down on the capital, the bedrooms of the royal family, too, were all quiet and still. The king’s oldest daughter, Princess Margaret, nearly fifteen, lay in bed clothed in layers of silk and lace. However, her beautiful face was strained with anguish. Her white hands gripped the bed sheets, and her lips trembled. Her mouth opened as if to scream, but made no sound, and shut tightly again. It was as if she were holding back, even in her sleep. Margaret was dreaming. It was a dream about two years ago. A dream of that terrible morning. She was in a room in the old castle on the outskirts of the royal capital. In the room was a man’s corpse, drenched in blood. The corpse had been pierced by innumerable spears and swords, and now hung in the air. His beautiful silver hair and golden armor were stained a deep red. His bloody feet floated above the floor. Plip. Plip. Blood dripped down from them and spread out across the stone floor. Margaret held her hands over her mouth and stifled a scream. She had to keep herself hidden. If she were discovered, it would be the end for her. Two figures stood in front of the mutilated corpse of the Captain of the Holy Knights. Two men who should not have been there, who could not have been there. They were huddled close together, discussing something. Pale cheeks. Margaret could just barely hear their words. “Yes—this should do.” All that was left was to wait for the Seven Deadly Sins…“…!” Margaret awoke with a start. She was covered in sweat. She slowly sat up in bed and steadied her breathing. From the light slipping through the curtains, she realized that it was already morning. I should get up, she thought. At the same time, a brisk knock sounded against the door to the dressing room attached to Margaret’s. “Princess Margaret. Good morning. It’s me, Grace.” The voice sounded troubled. Grace was one of her lady’s maids. She was probably worried that Margaret hadn’t gotten up yet, even though it was past time to. “Your Highness?” With a click, the door opened a crack. Margaret caught a glimpse of Grace’s red hair. “Don’t come in!” Margaret shouted reflexively. “Ah—a thousand pardons!” The door closed in a hurry. Grace was a new lady’s maid who had come to the castle just that spring. She was only fifteen, the same age as Margaret. Today was her first day helping with Margaret’s morning routine, and perhaps her mistress’ sudden scolding had given her a shock. Even so, Margaret had a reason for not wanting Grace in her bedroom. Yes—and it wasn’t just Grace. Margaret didn’t want her other lady’s maids, or her sisters Veronica and Elizabeth, or even her father the king to come into her room. She never wanted anyone to enter. At that moment, the lace canopy of her bed swayed, though there was no wind. Margaret flinched in surprise. “Get away,” she whispered bluntly. The lace swayed again. An invisible presence—something dreadfully large was staring at the bed. “Don’t come near!” There was the sound of something dragging. That thing must have been moving away from the bed. Slowly, sluggishly, making that faint dragging sound, the thing moved toward the edge of the room. When it reached the wall, its presence disappeared. Margaret shivered. She hadn’t seen its physical form since that day two years ago. But she had always known that the horrendously creepy thing was lurking nearby. It wasn’t a creature of this world. It was a grotesque monster born of sinister magic. It was a fearsome guard that had kept watch over Margaret ever since she bore witness to that secret two years ago. Doing her best not to look at the corner of her room, Margaret got out of bed. Even though she couldn’t see it, just knowing it was there made her feel sick. The monster had shown its hideous true form once, and the sight was still etched in the back of her eyelids, even now. Eyes that stuck out to the left and right; a body shaped like a giant slug; the wings of a bat… Margaret shivered again, then shook the memory from her mind. She slipped on a lace shawl hanging on a nearby chair and gently opened the door. Grace was sitting on the sofa in the corner of the dressing room. She looked up when she noticed Margaret coming in, but was wringing a handkerchief tightly in her hands, and her eyes were red. “Oh my, Grace, are you all right? Did I speak too harshly?” Margaret hurried over to her lady’s maid. “No, no, it’s not your fault, Your Highness. I’ve just got something in my eye…” Grace nervously tried to explain it away, scrubbing at her eyes with the handkerchief. Margaret knelt down in front of Grace and grabbed her hands to keep them still. “Don’t rub so hard. You’ll hurt your eyes.” “Don’t—Your Highness, please don’t kneel.” Looking shocked, Grace took Margaret by the arm and tried to make her stand. But Margaret shook her head. “I really am sorry, for shouting at you. I had a frightful dream before I woke up, and I was all worked up about it.” “My, was it really such a frightful dream? Now that you mention it, Your Highness is covered in sweat…” “Oh, is it that bad? But I’m fine—it was just a dream.” Margaret touched her hand to her forehead and made herself smile. “But, Your Highness, they say nightmares forewarn illness. And I’ve heard they can also be a sign of an evil magician’s curse.” Margaret’s breath caught at the word “magician.” But she quickly smiled again. “Oh, I’m sure it’s nothing like that. Sorry for worrying you. Anyway, please help me get dressed, or I’ll be late for breakfast.” Margaret took Grace by the hand and pulled her up from the sofa. “Y-Yes.” Grace finally smiled, too, and stood up with a swish of her short braid. 2 “…and that’s what happened, Erica.” That afternoon, Grace was walking down a corridor in the castle alongside Erica, another one of Margaret’s attendants. Since Grace had had the early shift, she was wearing plain clothes now, but Erica was wearing her aproned maid’s uniform. “Hmm…that’s happened to me, too.” Erica was only two years older than Grace, but she had been in the service of the princess for over five years. “Or perhaps I should say, these past two years, it’s happened several times…Princess Margaret has changed a bit.” “She’s changed?” “Yeah. She used to be more cheerful. Then again, a lot has happened since then.” “What do you mean?” “Well, there’s what happened to Lord Zaratras, for one.” The moment the name left Erica’s lips, a soldier walking down the corridor a little ahead of them glanced back with a start. Erica quickly faked a smile, then lowered her voice. “You know about it too, right? How Lord Zaratras, the previous Captain of the Holy Knights, was killed.” “O-Of course.” There wasn’t a single person living in Liones’ royal capital who didn’t know about it. There had been a tragedy two years ago, on the morning of the kingdom’s anniversary festival. Zaratras, at the time the Captain of the Holy Knights, had been brutally murdered in the old castle on the outskirts of the capital. It was said that a single Holy Knight possessed the martial and magical power of a thousand ordinary knights. The captain who governed over all of those Holy Knights must have been unimaginably strong. That such a personage had been atrociously murdered would in and of itself have been a major incident, but what was more, the offenders were the members of the Seven Deadly Sins—an order of knights who were well trusted by and served directly under the king. But the Seven Deadly Sins, just seven people surrounded by all of the kingdom’s Holy Knights, had broken through the ring, shaken off pursuit, and escaped. Their whereabouts were still unknown. “Captain Zaratras was an old friend and trusted subordinate of His Majesty the King, so to Margaret, he was like a favorite uncle. She and young master Gil, Captain Zaratras’ son, were practically like siblings,” Erica said, taking the opportunity to show off her seniority. Grace tilted her head. “When you say Gil, you mean Lord Gilthunder, the Holy Knight apprentice, right?” “Yep.” Even Grace knew Zaratras’ son Gilthunder. A boy with reddish-brown hair and good features, he stood out among the apprentices training to become Holy Knights. “Was he close with Princess Margaret?” “Yes, he was. They grew up together. He was like her personal bodyguard, you know? Even though the young master is a year younger.” Erica continued with a ribald grin. “This is just a hunch, but I’m sure Captain Zaratras and His Majesty the King must have considered the possibility of setting the two up for betrothal! Young Gil would succeed his father and become Captain of the Holy Knights, and Princess Margaret would become the Queen of Liones…Romantic, isn’t it?! Like it was meant to be?!” She got excited as she talked, and her voice rose again. When Grace frowned at her, Erica just laughed, Tee hee, pretending not to notice. “The two of them don’t seem quite so close now, though,” Grace pressed, to which Erica sighed. “That’s true. You could say young Gil completely changed after his father was killed. He used to be a cute little boy, open and cheerful and a bit of a crybaby.” “Wow…” “But it’s not just those two, though. Ever since then, His Majesty the King is often melancholy, and the whole castle has gotten gloomier. We keep getting nothing but more of the most boorish soldiers. Lord Dreyfus and his lot all seem tense somehow, too.” Dreyfus was the late Zaratras’ younger brother. After the incident, he assumed his older brother’s role as Captain of the Holy Knights. He was an earnest man and, not believing himself to be fully ready to act as captain, received special permission from the king to share the position with his good friend Hendrickson. “Which is probably because they know that those backstabbing Seven Deadly Sins could always return—they can’t let their guard down against a group of such heinous villains who scattered all the Holy Knights with just seven people. In the end, it just goes to show that no matter how strong they were, gathering criminals to form an order of knights wasn’t a good idea.” They reached the rear entrance of the castle. “Your house is on…Birch Street, right?” Erica asked. “Yes.” “I’m heading in that direction too, so let’s go together. I’ve got to pick some things up at the sundries shop on Birch Street.” They pushed open a small wooden door and came out into the West Garden, where a refreshing breeze was blowing across the greenery. Summers were beautiful in Britannia. “…Ah, speak of the devil—it’s young master Gil.” Erica pointed discreetly. Grace looked over as well. Toward the edge of the garden, several young soldiers and knights seemed to be engaged in some sort of training. Some were sparring with swords, others were pointing at and discussing the rampart around the garden. The boy with the pretty face who stood out among them was Gilthunder, son of the late Captain Zaratras, and Princess Margaret’s childhood friend. One year younger than Margaret, he would turn fourteen this year, but he looked rather grownup for his age. One of the young soldiers noticed Erica and Grace walking through the garden and whistled at them, teasing. Erica, apparently an acquaintance, stuck her tongue out mockingly in return. It roused a laugh out of the group. But Gilthunder alone, straight-faced, turned his gaze elsewhere. When Grace absently followed his line of sight, she was surprised by what she found. Gilthunder was looking at the tower built into the west wing of the castle, all the way across the garden. Grace could see a figure in the tower’s small window. Princess Margaret… Her long platinum-blond hair was unmistakable even from far away. She was wearing the dark blue dress that Grace had helped her into that morning. The princess was staring straight back at Gilthunder. Her expression was unreadable from the garden, but there was no mistaking that she was looking this way. A crow on the castle wall cawed hoarsely. As if the call had reproached him, Gilthunder broke his gaze away from Margaret. Grace hastily averted her eyes as well. “Hmm? Something the matter?” “No, it’s nothing.” When Erica cocked her head, Grace just smiled reassuringly. She felt like she shouldn’t share what she’d just seen. The pair continued out the castle’s west gate and down into the surrounding town. “What will you do for the Summer Solstice Festival? Are you working?” Erica asked as they walked along the brick road. The summer solstice was next week, on the 22nd of the month. Various festivities were held around the castle town to enjoy the longest day of the year, starting on the 21st and lasting for three days. “No,” replied Grace, “they let me excuse myself from duty starting the afternoon of the solstice. My older sister, who moved to Vaizel when she married, is coming home to visit and bringing her child, so I’d like to go see a play with her.” “Wow, sounds nice. I took the day off, too! Oh, look, they’ve already set up some of the stalls.” Just as Erica said, decorating and preparations for the festival had already begun. Liones Kingdom banners hung from the eaves of the stores along the main road. Some shopkeepers had set up tables in front of their stores, where they were selling special sweets and clothes and odds and ends that people would need while preparing for the festival. “ ‘In celebration of Princess Elizabeth’s birthday,’ it says.” In front of a confectionery shop, a stand adorned with a portrait of Princess Elizabeth was selling bags of candy. The 12th of that month had been the third princess’ birthday. Representing her age, this year the little bags held nine pieces each. “It used to be that starting from Princess Elizabeth’s birthday, lasting through the solstice, and on until Princess Margaret’s the next month, a stream of visitors would come to the castle; it was very lively. But that stopped two years ago like everything else.” Erica let out a long, disappointed sigh. “These days the talk at the castle is all wretched and nothing bright. Ghosts popping up and such.” “What?!” Grace inadvertently shouted. Erica shushed her. “You haven’t heard? They say Princess Margaret is being haunted by some sort of ghost.” “What—why…?” “Well, in the past, the lady’s maid on duty in the morning would open Princess Margaret’s bedroom door and wake her up. I mean, I had one of the lowest positions, so I was never assigned, but…” “Is that so?” “Mm-hm. Back then, someone of your position wouldn’t have even been allowed in her dressing room. But that’s no longer the case, since there aren’t as many lady’s maids now.” “…” “Anyway, two years ago, Princess Margaret suddenly started disliking it when attendants came into her room—even to clean. Now Agatha the head housekeeper does the cleaning alone, and only on days the princess specifies.” Now that Grace thought about it, that was true. A job like that, especially, should have come around to a low-ranking attendant like herself, but it never did. “People say they’ve heard the princess sobbing in her room in the middle of the night, or that they’ve sensed the presence of some sort of big creature. Some of the more fainthearted attendants quit because of it. If the princess were her old self, she surely would have kept them from leaving. But even when Clara, who had been in her service for quite some time, said she was resigning, the princess just said, ‘I see,’ and let her go.” “But…what would want to haunt Princess Margaret?” “That, I don’t know. It’s just a rumor, after all. I’ve never seen the thing.” Erica cackled. She herself didn’t seem to believe it. Grace was slightly taken aback. “You’re fond of stories like that, aren’t you, Miss Erica.” Erica didn’t seem to mind the comment at all, even coming from her junior. “I love ’em! I mean, stuff like this is what makes working at the castle so fun!” Something in the distance caught her eye and she pointed. “Oh, look! The minstrel is here! He’s sort of good-looking, isn’t he?” A cluster of about a dozen people had gathered in the small square up ahead. In their center, a young man sat on a curb, strumming a lute. “Ah, it seems more young ladies have come by. In that case, I think it’s time for a love song.” The minstrel spotted Grace and Erica immediately as they joined the little crowd, and sent them a playful wink. Erica squealed and waved. “You’re too kind, miss. Now then…let’s see…” he said while nimbly tuning the strings of his lute. “I found this poem handwritten into a book I purchased here in the capital of Liones, when I was passing through for the Summer Solstice Festival last year. I don’t know who wrote it or where it’s from, but for some reason it touched my heart, and I decided to give it a melody. If by some chance any of you fine citizens know who wrote it, I would be much obliged if you could tell me. Now then…” And with that, he started to sing. A clear, resonant tenor flowed from his perfect lips. “ ‘The beach suspended in moonlight is like your pale white arms. Coming in and out of sight in the dark waves, revealing the truth’…” The beach suspended in moonlight is like your pale white arms Coming in and out of sight in the dark waves, revealing the truth The shadow of the mountains reflected in the lake is like your noble profile It wavers in the light and wind; I stretch out my arms but I cannot reach This lone old palace on its tiny island feels like a stone cell that holds me bound My body is cursed and torn apart by the fates of the day and the night It stands here still as stone, it sighs Oh, that I might be allowed just to sing about you here Though my hands might never touch you and my voice you never hear Because standing here remembering you and singing your praises Is the only thing that I can do “How dreamy…” Erica said, spellbound. The rest of the women in the crowd looked charmed as well, all listening with rapt attention. Grace, too, had closed her eyes and was lost in his voice. But for some reason, what appeared in her mind was the scene that she had witnessed earlier. The princess and her beautiful knight, separated by a hundred feet, gazing at each other for just a moment. They had been close childhood friends—perhaps even engaged to be married. What in heaven could have come between them? It was hard for Grace to believe that they had simply had a falling-out. Surely, there’s some reason. As a lady’s maid, she was of course not permitted to pry into her mistress’ private affairs. She had been strictly told so when she started service at the castle. But there must be something—something she could do. Listening to the minstrel sing his love song, Grace sunk deep down in thought. 3 That morning, Margaret woke with tears on her cheeks again. But it hadn’t been a bad dream. This one had been wonderfully happy. A dream of the past—she hadn’t known anything back then. On my honor as a knight, I’ll protect you as long as I live, her kind childhood friend had sworn. A dream about several years ago, when she childishly believed that her days would continue forever just as they were. “Gilthunder…” She couldn’t resist whispering his name. When she did, she felt that big presence next to her bed rear its head. “Oh, shush! Go away! I know!” Was she not even allowed to whisper his name in private? Margaret bit her lip and sat up. She doubted the monster had any volition or intelligence of its own. It was just reacting to certain words and people. Margaret and Gilthunder. The two who knew the secret weren’t allowed to seek help from anyone, or comfort each other, or even take their own lives. But this monster wasn’t the one who had decided thus—that woman had. The secret: That the Seven Deadly Sins hadn’t been the ones who killed Zaratras. They had simply been caught in a trap and wrongfully accused. And the real murderers were none other than the two who were currently sharing the role of Captain of the Holy Knights. But even so, there was nothing that Margaret could do. She took a deep breath, put on her shawl, and, as usual, opened her bedroom door herself, acting as if nothing was wrong. “Good morning.” “Good morning, Princess Margaret.” It was Grace who stood up from the sofa and bowed her head. “Hmm? Wasn’t Erica on duty today?” “Yes, she was, but…I asked her to switch.” “Oh? Why?” Grace smiled vaguely and didn’t answer. But once Margaret had sat down in front of the mirror, the lady’s maid reminded hesitantly, “It’s almost time for the festival.” The Summer Solstice Festival was three days away. “Mm-hm.” “I heard that Princess Veronica and the others are going with their escorts. Won’t you attend too, Princess Margaret?” “Mmm—I’m not a fan of crowds, so…” Margaret said with a laugh. Grace’s face fell, but she was determined. “Perhaps…would you go with Lord Gilthunder?” Margaret’s breath caught at the sudden mention of Gilthunder’s name. She froze, trying to detect that presence. “…Why would I?” “Er, I heard from Erica that you used to be close.” “That was back when we were children.” She was trying with all her might to keep her voice from shaking. She couldn’t feel the monster’s presence. It probably didn’t respond to her lady’s maid’s voice. “I haven’t even spoken to him in a very long time,” Margaret said, keeping her eyes downcast. Grace opened her mouth, but closed it after a moment without speaking. Instead, she pulled a little folded-up piece of paper from her maid’s uniform. “Um, here.” “…What is it?” Grace gently closed Margaret’s hand around the paper. “A minstrel was in town for the solstice festival, and this is a song he sang. It was so lovely I had to write it down. Your Highness, if you don’t mind, I think you should read it too.” Margaret opened up the note with her pale fingers to reveal hastily scribbled lyrics. It was a love poem that a man had addressed to the woman who held his heart. “ ‘The beach suspended in moonlight is like your pale white arms. Coming in and out of sight in the dark waves, revealing the truth’…” Tears welled in Margaret’s eyes as she absorbed the words. —This lone old palace on its tiny island feels like a stone cell that holds me bound… When she read that verse, a particular landscape came to her mind. Stony mountains, their peaks wrapped in perpetual snow. A lake reflecting them on its calm surface. An old castle stood on a small island in the middle of the lake, across from a white beach. Our royal villa in the north… Years ago, back when Margaret’s mother was still alive, they had all gone there on holiday. Her little sister Veronica had been two or three; her youngest sister, Elizabeth, an infant. Zaratras and his brother Dreyfus had both come with their families as well. I played with Gilthunder in that castle’s garden and on the beach… Could the image in this poem be about that same castle? Or was it just some other, similar place? Margaret bowed her head and pressed the piece of paper to her heart. Tears drip-dropped onto her knees. Oh, that I might be allowed just to sing about you here Though my hands might never touch you and my voice you never hear Because standing here remembering you and singing your praises Is the only thing that I can do Grace handed her a handkerchief and opened her mouth, carefully picking her words. “I hope I’m not being impertinent, but I just wanted to say…there are ways to let him know how you feel, even without meeting in person. Though it’s not my place to meddle.” She bowed her head apologetically. Margaret slowly shook her head. “Not at all…Thank you. Really.” Grace is right, Margaret thought. She had felt as though she and Gilthunder were little birds trapped in two separate, invisible cages. They would gaze at each other from far away, meeting each other’s eyes only for brief moments. They would hold still and listen whenever they heard the other’s voice drifting over from somewhere, making sure to keep out of sight. And that was all they could hope for. All they were allowed to hope for. Surely, as long as they kept up their act, that woman would think they had drifted apart. Margaret had already started to resign herself, little by little, to such a fate. She realized that. But—maybe there is a way to show him that my feelings haven’t changed. Surely there was. And without being noticed by that woman—or the two Captains of the Holy Knights. “Thank you so much, Grace,” Margaret said, taking hold of her attendant’s hand and raising it to her forehead in gratitude. “You’re welcome, but…Please let go of my hand!” Grace repeated herself several times, embarrassed, but Margaret did not let go.