“There will be many people in attendance, won’t there? I don’t want them to laugh at me…”
“I understand. Leave it to me, and everything will turn out all right.”
Richard had much to do to prepare for the day of the ball, and the exhaustion was getting to him. Yet he still couldn’t find it in himself to refuse Brunhild’s request. She came first above all else.
Straight away, they headed to an empty room where Richard taught Brunhild how to dance by having her watch themselves in the large mirrors there. She was quick to pick it up, and he sensed that she was fit.
Once they started sweating, they decided to take a break. While drinking water brought in by a servant, they talked.
“Thanks to you, I feel like I’ve managed to get the gist of it again.”
“It’s because you have the aptitude for it. If you continue your lessons, I don’t think anyone will laugh at you at the ball.”
“You’re quite right. Can I ask you to keep teaching me? It will have to be every day, though.”
“With pleasure,” Richard responded, before asking, “So…are things all right with Sigurd? You’re with him every night, aren’t you?”
“For now, it seems he won’t lay a hand on me until the night of the wedding. I’m actually more worried about him…”
“You are?”
“He cries out in his sleep like a child, saying it’s dark and he’s scared. When I hold his hand, he does seem to settle a bit, though.”
“…You hold Sigurd’s hand?”
“…It’s strange, isn’t it? Even though he killed someone dear to me, I can’t just sit there doing nothing when I see him having nightmares right next to me.”
“…You really are kind.”
“I’m just indecisive. I’ve even…found myself find myself looking back on the night when the dragon was killed a little differently. I wonder how my brother must have seen that dragon—burning the village and attacking people…” She trailed off. “I’m sorry.”
Richard thought that she had to be feeling despondent over the dragon’s murder again.
“Even I don’t know what to think of Sigurd anymore. Though I do resent him, I was happy to see him not too long ago, when he was being kind to some children…” She wore a peaceful expression. “It made me think, ‘Oh, he is my brother after all.’”
“No.”
Richard didn’t say this loudly. But there was an indescribable, intimidating air in his rebuttal. Brunhild’s eyes widened, and she felt silent.
After some silence, she asked timidly, “What do you mean, no?”
If only I could tell her. Everything would be so much easier, Richard thought.
Right now, he wanted to say, I’m your brother. That kind gaze of yours shouldn’t be for that man from God-knows-where but for me.
But it was not yet time. He had to kill Sigurd, or he could never be at ease and return to his sister.
Now was not the moment for her to embrace him and welcome him back.
So Richard said, “You shouldn’t treat Sigurd like your brother. You know he hates that.”
“He does.”
“It makes sense he feels that way. He must feel like he’s being compared with a stranger when people see him as the boy from a time he can’t remember. I think it would be best to treat him as an individual called Sigurd rather than as your brother.”
Brunhild looked as if the scales had fallen from her eyes. “…You’re quite right. That never occurred to me. I was being very selfish.”
“You’re not selfish at all.”
She was right to care for her brother. It was just that she was caring for the wrong person.
Brunhild said, “I’ll be more careful. Thank you.”
The day of the ball arrived.
The doors would soon be opening, and people were beginning to gather at the castle. One after another, foreign kings, queens, princes, and princesses made their entrances. When they ascended the great staircase and came to the thrones where Brunhild and Sigurd sat, they offered their respects in the manner of their various nations. Sigurd received them with expertise, but at his side, Brunhild was as stiff as a rock. Beside them, Richard was watching her. He felt sorry for her; sweat was beading on her forehead.
Once all the guests were done paying their respects, fireworks went up outside the castle. The flowers blooming in the sky signaled the start of the ball.
The attendees began to dance in time with the music played by the castle musicians.
“We shall dance as well.” Sigurd took Brunhild’s hand and made her get up from her throne. They descended the stairs to head into the great hall.
The two of them reached the center of the assembly room. The attendees all focused on the hosting pair’s dance. Richard also nonchalantly followed after them, staying close by his king’s side.
Sigurd and Brunhild began to dance. Brunhild’s daily lessons had borne fruit, and her dance steps were quite brilliant.
With Sigurd pulling her hand, Brunhild spun. Her dress spread around her like a blooming flower. The onlookers gasped.
Richard wanted to watch his sister dancing forever, but it wasn’t the time. He needed to be ready at any time to pull out the long object hidden beneath his robes.
The waltz ended. When Sigurd and Brunhild struck their final poses, it happened.
One of the participants leaped at the royal pair. It was the criminal from earlier, well-groomed and dressed like an aristocrat.
He had a knife in his hand.
Sigurd noticed the attack. He quickly stepped in front of Brunhild to guard her.
The assailant stabbed Sigurd, cutting off his sword belt in the process. The sword he’d been wearing hit the floor with a clang.
Richard rushed forward. He swiftly picked up the blade and tucked it away in his robes, then swapped it with the fake that he was carrying. Sigurd wasn’t watching. He was focused on the criminal, fixing him with a glare of rage.
The criminal was staring at Richard. His expression seemed to say, I leave the rest to you. He had gotten the sword away from Sigurd as promised, so he was telling Richard, Now you kill Sigurd.
However, Richard called out to denounce the man instead. “You bungling fool!”
The criminal gazed vacantly at Richard, who was glowering with anger.
“Know that you cannot escape the king’s wrath.” Richard turned to Sigurd. “Pass judgment on him, Your Majesty. This villain deserves to be burned to dust.”
The Thunder appeared in Sigurd’s right hand. Richard knew well just what to say to incite Sigurd to action.
Before Sigurd fired the Thunder, the criminal babbled, “No, that man, he—”
That was as far as he got. Sigurd unleashed the Thunder and burned the criminal. The man collapsed and became a ball of fire, then fell still. When the flames subsided, not even ash remained.
As the attendees reeled from the sudden incident, Sigurd clicked his tongue. “I suppose I should have looked into who he was working for before I killed him.”
Richard rushed up to Sigurd and held out the sword he’d swapped.
“Your Majesty, your blade.”
He’d already had a new belt made for the fake Healing Sword. Sigurd accepted the blade with a satisfied look and said, “You truly are well prepared.”
Sigurd hung the sword from his waist without noticing a thing.
Richard was satisfied. He had finally obtained a weapon with which to kill the king.
Restraining his urge to gloat, he listened to Sigurd and Brunhild converse behind him.
“Brother, um…”
“What?”
“Thank you. For protecting me…”
“…I cannot be injured. That’s all it is.”
That exchange was the only thing to dampen his mood.