Enrique was still unconscious, giving Cecilia at least some temporary relief. Just as Krishna had planned, Second Prince Johan was ruling in his brother’s stead. Of course, he couldn’t manage everything himself, so Cecilia had offered to help. She was visiting the orphanage as part of her charity work that day when a girl in a shadowy hood approached her, avoiding the notice of her guards. When she saw the girl’s face, Cecilia dismissed her entourage. It was Salvador’s younger sister. Cecilia knew she was the one taking care of the hostages. She glanced around warily as the girl told her she wanted a new guard. “Why?” “Because he’s violent,” she said bluntly. The hatred in her garnet eyes was unmistakable. Cecilia thought back to the man she had assigned as the guard. He wasn’t especially good at his job, but he didn’t mind killing, which made him easy to use. She did remember him being a bit impulsive. No doubt he’d grown bored of standing around and thrown a punch at Prince Ulysses or the girl. It wasn’t praiseworthy behavior, to be sure, but… “You’re awfully considerate of your prisoners.” “…Aren’t you the ones who will be in trouble if something happens to them?” You—Daeg Gallus. She was drawing a clear line. Cecilia observed the girl standing before her. She wasn’t an official member of the organization. Salvador had picked her up somewhere when she was a little baby who could do nothing but wail. In other words, he owned her. What’s more, she was the reason that carefree killer had unilaterally decided he wouldn’t harm children. Although she was young, she had pretty, even features and graceful limbs. She was fresh as a flower bud—no doubt more than one man had entertained evil thoughts about her. But Cecilia knew all too well what would happen to anyone who dared lay a finger on her. “I suppose I don’t have much choice.” If the girl cried, Salvador would get nasty. So Cecilia went along with her demand. Shoshanna’s face relaxed into obvious relief. Rumor had it she was quite skilled with her hands. Apparently, she was the one who made the colored powder Salvador wore when he dressed as a southern trader. But she seemed incapable of harming a fly. Maybe that was why Salvador so stubbornly refused to give her the sun tattoo. Anyway, it didn’t matter. Everything would be over soon. Theophilis was looking down on the castle town from a window in his office. People the size of fingernails scurried around on the streets. He wondered how many of them realized just how close Faris was to the brink. As he turned away, he glimpsed his own reflection in the window. His violet eyes were proof that he, more than anyone else, was fit to be king. He had been born into this kingdom as its fourth prince. His mother had come from a distinguished family whose men often took royal women as their brides, and from a young age, he had been told that should anything happen to the first prince, he would take over the throne. His father, King Hendrick, had still not regained consciousness. It seemed the wolves were finally shedding their wool. They insisted on war with the kingdom’s neighbor at every turn. True, if war did break out, money would move. That was essential for this kingdom, now on the cusp of death. But it also carried risk. A certain number of innocent people would likely lose their lives. In that sense, he could not agree to war without reservation. Of course, he wasn’t so noble that he’d pretend to be a dove like his merciful sister Alexandra. In short, what he needed to do was weigh his options and choose the most beneficial strategy. As the next king, he had that right. The long game of musical chairs was finally coming to an end. Most of his siblings had given up their claim to the throne. The only ones remaining were the reclusive Second Prince Roderick, the imprisoned Third Princess Alexandra, and the missing Seventh Prince Ulysses. What challenge did any of them pose? Everything was going frighteningly well. Even if his father never regained consciousness, sooner or later the Council would probably approve Theophilis’s ascension to the throne. But for some reason, he felt no relief. He couldn’t shake off the feeling of a bone lodged in his throat. All of a sudden, he thought of his half sister Alexandra. The public praised her to the skies as a thoughtful and fair princess, but they had it all wrong. That woman was nothing but a bully. She’d always been a rude, insensitive rascal who never thought before she acted. He couldn’t even count the number of times she’d made him cry. He couldn’t stand the thought that a tyrant like her enjoyed such enormous support from a section of the populace—including both nobles and commoners. The color of her eyes was far from royal, and yet the voices calling for her succession never ceased. For Theophilis, with his highborn mother and violet eyes, she was a constant thorn in his side. At the moment, she was locked up in the castle tower known as the Tower of Sorrow. Since long ago, royals found guilty of crimes had been imprisoned there. Remembering this, Theophilis frowned reflexively. People thought he was the one who had locked her up, but that wasn’t quite right. One of his aides had planned it. True, he was the one who’d ordered them to “get rid of that horrible woman,” but he’d never imagined they’d go so far as burning her at the stake. They didn’t have to kill her—they could just take away her succession rights and banish her to some distant land. He’d said as much to them. After all, no matter how much he detested her, they still shared the same blood. It was only natural that he felt some resistance to taking her life. But his words had been brushed away with the argument that if they left Alexandra alive, she would stage a coup. At the time, it had made sense, but… “It seems Adelbide has decided to execute the noble girl accused of participating in Ulysses’s kidnapping.” A low voice interrupted his thoughts, bringing him back to the present. He raised his head slightly and saw it was that same aide—the one who had taken the lead in imprisoning Alexandra. “Have they?” Apparently, his youngest brother, who had nothing to recommend him except his pedigree, had been kidnapped by some ruffians in Adelbide. “What are they after anyway? I can’t see how they’ll gain anything by kidnapping the boy.” Ironically, the hawks were probably happy Ulysses had vanished. Now they had a perfect excuse to invade their neighbor, who had otherwise done nothing wrong. Suddenly, a look of confusion crossed Theophilis’s face. “…Do you think Adelbide really arranged all this?” “Of course,” the aide replied, pasting an unreadable smile on his face. Theophilis remained quiet for a moment, hoping the man would reveal his thoughts. But eventually, he shook his head. The truth would reveal itself in time. I am the one who will be king. A gust of wind blew in through the open window, sending documents flying. The man squatted down astutely and gathered them up. Theophilis watched him. Suddenly, his gaze fell on the side of the man’s head. What’s this now? He had a small mole behind his right ear. No—it wasn’t a mole after all. It was a tattoo of the sun. Scarlett had vanished. She was simply nowhere to be found. Connie was in shock. She’d first noticed after her meeting with Randolph. Scarlett had told her from the start that she didn’t get along very well with His Excellency, and at first Connie had assumed that was the reason. But the next day, she still didn’t appear. Maybe she was sleeping after using up all her energy on the wharf in the Grafton domain? But in the past, she’d always been back to her usual self after half a day. Connie had been in jail for several days now, and Scarlett was still missing. Which must mean… Had she run out of patience with Connie? It was hard to imagine she’d attained eternal peace. After all, this was Scarlett. Her stubborn nature was unlikely to let her rest before she’d had her revenge. Revenge. Locked up like this, Connie couldn’t do a thing to help her. In these circumstances, it made sense that Scarlett would vanish. Eventually, Connie was transferred from the jail to the prison. Her sentence had been decided. According to the talkative prison warden, it seemed that Constance Grail was soon to be executed. “You have a visitor.” Connie’s prison cell was small but clean. Maybe it was the same cell Scarlett had occupied ten years ago. Thinking about that lightened her mood, if only a little. Connie stood up from the bed, where she had been sitting, and followed the guard to the meeting room. When she saw who was there, she let out a soft gasp. “…Father.” It was none other than Percival Ethel Grail. When he saw his daughter, his face took on a frightening look, like a bear possessed by a demon. His piercing glare was enough to kill a person. “Constance. Tell me one thing.” The low tone of his voice surprised her, and she unconsciously looked down. “Do you regret what you have done?” Connie jerked her head up, then slowly shook it from side to side. “No.” That was the undeniable truth. She spent every day worried and afraid, and sometimes she couldn’t sleep, but she wasn’t sorry for anything. Her father sighed in deep disappointment. “Did you spare even one thought for your father?” Connie gave a small sob in response. “Imagine. One day I suddenly hear my daughter has been arrested and rush to the capital, only to find she has already been sentenced to death. I truly thought my heart would stop. I saw my own departed father waving to me in the distance.” “I’m s-sorry.” “Now that I think back, I could tell there’s been something different about you lately. I know something must have been going on. Though in that case, I wish you had come to me for help before things came to this.” Connie knew her mother and father loved her. They must have been shocked to hear of her death sentence. She could imagine how deeply it must have pained them. Just thinking about it made her feel as though her heart were being crushed. As she slumped in front of him, Ethel continued. “As I was walking around the house complaining about what a coldhearted daughter you were, Marta started scolding me. ‘Just how was she supposed to count on you?! You think about that for a moment, sir!’ she said. She was right. I can’t exactly complain about other people…can I? And we’re such minor nobles, with hardly any money or influence…” His shoulders slumped dejectedly. As Connie was wondering what to do, he looked up, seeming to have revived his spirits. “Oh yes, I almost forgot. I brought something for you,” he said, untying the string around an enormous bundle and explaining its contents piece by piece. “This is from the young Miss Lorraine. There’s your favorite raspberry pie, some raisin bread, and I think these are honey-roasted apples. And here are some clothes from your mother, and a letter and stuffed toy from Layli. I thought you’d like something savory to go with all those sweets, so I put in some blue cheese, but one of the guards confiscated it…said it was too smelly… By the way, Marta told me with a straight face that she wished they’d lock me up instead of you. I felt like I was being sentenced to death myself—” “Father,” Connie broke in. “Please disown me.” Ethel was silent for a moment. “And why should I do that?” he asked slowly. “If my actions were to end up causing you harm—” Right now, Connie was a notorious sinner accused of helping kidnap a young prince from the neighboring kingdom. In the event that ended up sparking a war, her whole family and all their servants could end up being punished, too. Even if that didn’t happen, those around them would sling slander and abuse at the family. That was fine as long as Connie herself bore the brunt of their attacks. She was surprisingly impervious. Of course, the thought of being executed was scary, but she had faith that Randolph and the others would rescue her. Still, no matter how thick her own skin was, she didn’t think she could stand seeing the people she loved suffering through no fault of their own. She bit her lip and looked at the floor. Suddenly, she heard laughter. “The truth is I marched straight to the palace as soon as I heard you’d been arrested and sentenced to death. I verified the charges, but I knew there was no way a daughter of mine could have done the thing they accused you of. True, you do run off the rails sometimes, like a certain someone in the family. But you would never do such a thing. I wanted to hear your side of the story.” “That’s…” “But something struck me as odd, too. To start with, you were sentenced to death while His Highness was away from the kingdom. And I hear Crown Prince Enrique has been unconscious this whole time. His younger brother was the one who issued the sentence, but would such a mild fellow really do something like that? And without asking his brother or father for their opinion.” Nevertheless, Connie had been sentenced to death. “Something is going on.” His voice was as calm as a tranquil sea. “Most frustrating of all is that I have little idea what goes on in the palace. I don’t know the first thing about what’s happening right now in this kingdom. But I do know one thing. I can fight to save my daughter.” His words, on the other hand, were not tranquil in the least. Connie jerked her head up in surprise. “But that’s too reckless…!” Just the other day, she had been involved in a gunfight and nearly killed in an explosion. Now those memories flickered across her mind. There was no way a minor noble family like the Grails could hold out against that kind of force. “W-we’re lowly viscounts, without money or force of arms! And you might be big, Father, but you’ve got two left feet when it comes to physical activity…” “As for my physique, I was just born this way. And despite my looks, I’m a devoted pacifist…” “That only adds to my worries…!” “Listen to me, Connie. Fighting isn’t just about physical strength. People are moved by people. That’s been true since time immemorial.” His unexpected statement left Connie blinking in confusion. “Back when the Ten Years’ War had just begun, Percival Grail the First encountered many hopeless crises. But he never gave up. Why? Because he knew the secret to winning.” The Eleventh Viscount Grail looked Connie in the eye and smiled mischievously. “Thou shalt be sincere.” What in the world could he mean? “I’m relieved to have found you in such good spirits,” he said perplexingly, before heading home. When Connie went back to her cell, it felt bigger than before. Although it was summer, it was dim and cool. She clenched her teeth and flopped facedown on the bed. The floor planks creaked loudly in response. “…Scarlett,” she moaned quietly, but no one answered. The inside of her nose tingled, and she hurriedly pressed her face into the scratchy sheet. If she hadn’t, a very embarrassing liquid would have spilled all over her cheeks. Where in the world has Scarlett gone? That night, Cecilia slipped out of the castle and headed for Saint Mark’s Square. She had decided to have a look at the hostages. Shoshanna’s request had her worrying about something. Needless to say, it wasn’t the condition of the poor little captives. From what she’d heard, Lucia O’Brian had lived until a few years ago in a world rank with violence and drugs. She’d had hardly anyone to rely on, so she must be awfully clever despite her youth. An ordinary noble girl would be reduced to a shivering mess as she waited for someone to rescue her, but no doubt Lucia was different. If Cecilia’s hunch was right, the girl was probably searching for an opportunity to escape at this very moment. She moved along the chilly underground passage, using the scant lighting to guide her. She was actually quite skilled at seeing in the dark. A new guard was standing in front of the iron grate. The man was young. Cecilia slowly pushed back her hood to reveal her face and said the password. “Step away for a little while,” she instructed him. The man nodded, clearly flustered by the unexpected appearance of the crown princess, then hurried away into the dark. Cecilia peered into the cell. Ulysses was snoring, wrapped in a blanket. His expression was innocent and sweet. A blond girl was curled next to him like a mother cat protecting her kitten. “…Do you have some business with us?” the girl asked. So she had been awake. Or maybe the noise had roused her. The cavern was dim, lit only by torchlight, and Cecilia had dressed shabbily so as to slip away from the castle. The girl would never guess she was the crown princess. “I came to give you some advice.” “Advice?” “Yes. Advice for a courageous noble girl. If you don’t want to die, stay in line,” she said in a low, threatening voice. The girl’s eyes grew wide. Then she smiled as if she found something amusing. “I think you’re very kind.” “Kind?” Cecilia frowned at the unexpected word. “Yes. Shoshanna and you both.” She had to agree that Salvador’s sister was a pushover. But she was different. She wouldn’t hesitate to stain her hands with blood in the service of her goal. “If someone ordered me to, I would kill you.” Unlike that coward Salvador, she had nothing against killing a child or anyone else. The girl smiled again. “Yes. And that’s why you’ve come, isn’t it? So that you won’t receive an order like that.” Cecilia’s face went blank. The girl’s voice echoed across the cavern like a gunshot. “So that I won’t be killed.” Mylene and Kate were sitting at a café terrace on Anastasia Street as sunlight poured down on them from the sky above. “I simply can’t believe it!” Mylene moaned. She set her glass of fruit water on the table with a clank. What used to be a newspaper lay crumpled on her lap. The article was utterly implausible. It claimed that Constance Grail of all people was involved in kidnapping the prince from Faris. Her friend, Constance Grail? Miss Goody Two-Shoes herself? To top it all off, it seemed Constance had already been thrown in prison. Assuming there wasn’t some mistake in the article, Mylene was certain she had been framed. After all, this was one of the sincere Grails. Whatever third-rate journalist wrote this ought to have said as much. And moreover… “What do they mean, execution…?!” She unconsciously brought her hand to her forehead at the horrible word. According to the article, Constance would die in ten days. Everything was happening much too fast. It felt like they were following some hackneyed script by an anonymous author. Anger overtook her, and she clicked her tongue. Kate remained silent, staring white-faced at the cup of steaming tea in front of her. She seemed to be brooding over something, but after a few moments, she suddenly looked up. “After Scarlett Castiel was executed, public executions were abolished, weren’t they? Do you know why?” “Why? Let’s see, I think a citizens’ group started a campaign.” “A citizens’ group?” “The Violet Association.” Kate drew her brows together in thought. “Mylene, do you know where their headquarters is?” “I don’t know the exact location, but usually if you go to city hall…” Before she could finish, Kate jumped up with a clatter. Instead of her usual warm smile, she looked ready to kill. “Um, Kate…?” “Thank you, Mylene!” “Y-you’re welcome…I think? But where are you going…?” “To rescue Connie, of course!” “…Huh?” “Sitting here complaining won’t stop them from executing her. I have to do something about it. This is no joke. It won’t do to simply sit here and cry over it.” As Mylene stared at her, eyes wide, Kate announced that she had to be going, and she stormed resolutely out of the café. She was like a soldier on the way to a duel. Mylene watched in shock as her friend left the café. The next moment, she snapped back to reality. Her hesitation lasted only a second. “…All right then!” she said with a nod, firing herself up by tossing back the rest of her fruit water. Kate must have been heading to the Violet Association to request they once again petition for an end to executions, just as they had ten years ago. As for Mylene… “I’m going to prove that the pen is mightier than the sword!” He’d always been called creepy as a child. Maybe the reason his family had handed him over to the church before his sixth birthday wasn’t only because he was the useless fifth son of a lower noble. Maybe it was because they wanted to be rid of the uncanny boy possessed by demons as quickly as they could. “…Demons? Did you say demons?” When he mentioned it in passing to one of the elderly nuns, she acted as indignant as if she were the one being disparaged. “How dare they call you a demon! Your power is a gift from the goddesses. You have a light that will save many people.” She was a stern woman, but kind. He liked when she patted his head with her dry, wrinkled palm. But she had died soon after, from complications of pneumonia. When the hand that had reached out to help him was so abruptly taken away, the child realized something. There were no gods in this world. Leaning on the altar, Hamsworth took the cigar from his mouth and puffed out a ring of smoke. Of course, smoking wasn’t allowed in the church, but he wasn’t worried about that. As long as no one noticed, it wouldn’t be a problem. And this was an unlucky day, so it was unlikely anyone would come to pray at the church. After he’d realized that there were no gods in this world, Hamsworth decided to live life as he pleased. No matter how far his freewheeling life was from the image of a virtuous priest, the church would never expel him. In an ironic twist, it seemed that people favored by the goddesses were quite valuable to the religious establishment. As a rule, Dominic Hamsworth didn’t believe in gods. But he knew of something very close. Close, that is, insofar as she was the object of his own private worship. Scarlett Castiel. Hamsworth had never encountered a soul so fierce and beautiful as hers, before or since. That was why, ten years ago when he heard she had been arrested, he asked to see her as a priest, though she hadn’t called for him. To his surprise, despite her hopeless circumstances, the light in Scarlett’s eyes burned as brightly as ever. Suppressing his excitement, he asked her a question. “I’m so very sorry, my lady… Is there any way your humble servant can help?” Her reply was frigid. “Get out of my sight, you eyesore.” “What a pity. If you should change your mind, please do not hesitate to ask me for anything you need.” “Indeed I will, if I should change my mind. Now please remove yourself from my presence.” As it happened, those were the last words Hamsworth exchanged with her. Suddenly, a breeze blew in. The curtain ruffled. Hamsworth looked up slowly. Of course, no one was there. “You can drop the little act.” No one alive, that is. “You can see me, can’t you? You could from the start—ever since we met at the Grand Merillian, you’ve been aware of my presence. If you weren’t, you never would have troubled yourself with dissolving the engagement of some insignificant girl you didn’t even know.” Her voice, as clear and sweet as a bell, affected his body like poison. “Did you know I have an excellent memory?” she asked. Her skin was like porcelain, her lips like ripe fruit, her body the very image of glamour and seduction. He had always believed that if a goddess descended to earth, she would look like Scarlett.
Chapter 46
21 min read