Chapter 118
“Einhart.”
“Yeah?”
Lionel turned his gaze from his old friend, who had answered him, to the building before them.
The silhouette of the palace against the darkness of night was unmistakable.
“Isn’t this Ausahorn Palace?”
He had reunited with Einhart around dusk, enjoyed a meal and drinks while catching up, and then Einhart had said, “I’ll introduce you to an exceptionally fine woman,” before bringing Lionel to the palace where Princess Tsetsilia and her party were staying.
“Could the fine woman you mentioned possibly be... Princess Tsetsilia?”
It was already late at night. Even for the First Prince, this was an utterly unreasonable hour to visit a princess staying in the palace.
As Lionel furrowed his caterpillar-thick brows, Einhart fluttered the white flower he had been holding the whole time.
“Well, that’s the official story, but someone else is who I want you to meet.”
“...What?”
While Lionel puzzled over Einhart’s inscrutable intentions, Einhart strode toward the back gate and whispered something to the gatekeeper.
The gatekeeper gave them a knowing look and let Einhart and Lionel through.
“...What did you say to the gatekeeper?”
“I told him to help His Highness sneak into a woman’s bed. That did the trick.”
“Einhart!”
As Lionel flushed red with anger, Einhart dropped his teasing smile and spoke with a serious expression.
“It’s not like it’s some big secret. People in the delegation are already whispering that there’s nothing going on between you two, even though the engagement talks are moving forward.”
“...W-what?”
“Some of them are even getting mad, asking if our saint is really so unattractive!”
Lionel fell silent with a groan.
Lionel understood that his engagement to Tsetsilia was all but settled.
Lionel’s mother was a member of the royal family of Landor, a small country between the Kingdom of Ridill and the Empire. As a result, the First Prince’s faction had a weak foothold in the Kingdom of Ridill.
Thus, people said that if Lionel were to marry, it would be preferable for his bride to be a daughter of the Ridill royal family with influence in the country. That would strengthen the Ridill royal bloodline and unite the nobles more firmly.
But even setting that aside, an engagement to the Empire’s saint was an attractive prospect for the Kingdom of Ridill.
Tsetsilia was a saint and the contract holder of the ancient magical artifact 〈Mirror of Bern〉. As long as Tsetsilia was in the Kingdom of Ridill, the Empire could not use its trump card, 〈Mirror of Bern〉.
Among the Kingdom of Ridill’s leaders, who had once suffered a crushing defeat at the hands of 〈Mirror of Bern〉 in a war, some had even celebrated with open arms, saying the Empire had finally surrendered to their country.
Even so, Lionel could not bring himself to welcome the engagement. It wasn’t because Princess Tsetsilia had done anything wrong.
“Princess Tsetsilia doesn’t seem eager to marry me. She always looks so frightened...”
Einhart lifted one eyebrow and glared at Lionel.
Lionel immediately regretted his words. The way he had phrased it made it sound as though he were blaming Princess Tsetsilia.
“No, I’m sorry. I’m not blaming Princess Tsetsilia. I’m the one at fault.”
“Oh? What’s the problem?”
Einhart urged him with a look to go on.
It would be deeply dishonest to gloss over things here—not only as a member of the royal family, but also as Einhart’s friend.
After agonizing over it, Lionel confessed the feelings he had kept hidden in his heart.
“My previous fiancée... drank poison. Apparently, she thought it would be better to die than marry me.”
Fortunately, the young lady in question survived, and the engagement was called off under the pretext that she had suddenly fallen ill.
But the incident had remained lodged in Lionel’s heart like a thorn, and he had never been able to pull it out.
“So that’s it. You’re worried that Tsetsilia-sama might hate the idea of marrying you and kill herself?”
“I’m ashamed of myself. How can such a coward become the next king...?”
“You’ve always had trouble making up your mind. Though, to be fair, our king is far too decisive.”
“If you averaged the two of us out, it’d be just right,” Einhart muttered, then casually looked up—and his eyes widened.
“Hey, wait. Is that...?”
At the end of Einhart’s gaze was the balcony on the palace’s top floor. A small figure stood there.
Long hair shone a beautiful silver in the moonlight.
“Princess Tsetsilia?!”
Just as Lionel cried out involuntarily, Tsetsilia’s slender body began to tip over the balcony.
＊ ＊ ＊
“Tsetsilia-sama... Where... are you...?”
Panting heavily as she ran up the stairs, Monica called Tsetsilia’s name in a hoarse voice.
But no matter how many times she called, there was no answer. Monica was on the fourth floor, one below the top. Should she search this floor, or head up to the top floor?
As she hesitated, her breath suddenly caught. Someone had grabbed the back of her robe.
(An enemy?!)
Just as she was about to attack with unchanted magic, the person holding her by the nape of her robe whispered in a low voice:
“Honestly, you’re such a handful.”
Monica’s eyes widened at the familiar voice. The person then grabbed her and tossed her toward the balcony.
With a yelp, Monica tumbled across the balcony and caught sight of someone on the balcony one floor above.
Long silver hair swayed in the wind, framing a slender figure in a light gown...
(Tsetsilia-sama...?!)
Tsetsilia looked utterly terrified. Someone had cornered her, but from where Monica stood, she could see only Tsetsilia.
With vacant eyes, Tsetsilia gripped the balcony railing and leaned over it. Her slender body tipped as she climbed over the railing.
“I’ll leave her to you, my fellow Sage-dono.”
Before Monica could register the voice echoing from the hallway, she cast wind magic without an incantation.
Just as she had once slowed the fall of a winged dragon she’d shot down, wind enfolded Tsetsilia, carrying her gently downward, fluttering like a feather.
Monica leaned over the balcony and strained her eyes to see where Tsetsilia would land.
Someone was charging straight toward the spot where Tsetsilia was falling.
(That’s...)
“Nwoooooooah!”
The person rushing toward them with the force of a charging bull was Lionel.
Monica carefully adjusted the wind and gently lowered Tsetsilia into Lionel’s arms.
Lionel easily caught Tsetsilia’s slender body in his powerful arms. Seeing that, Monica clung to the balcony and breathed a sigh of relief.
“I-I made it in time...”
＊ ＊ ＊
〈Dream Mage〉 Kaspar Hütter clicked his tongue at the scene below the balcony and turned on his heel.
(Why is the 〈Silent Witch〉 awake?! Could she have had a defensive magical artifact on her?)
He had used mental interference magic to force the 〈Silent Witch〉 and the guards outside Tsetsilia’s room to dream.
Mental interference magic was extremely difficult to control; one small mistake could leave its victims with severe mental aftereffects. That was why Hütter had proceeded with the utmost care.
He did not want to hurt anyone other than Tsetsilia.
(...Mia.)
When he came to this country and caught sight of the 〈Silent Witch〉, the image of his late younger sister had crossed Hütter’s mind.
Her light-brown hair and plain, unassuming features—they weren’t so alike that one could mistake them for each other.
She merely reminded him a little of Mia, and they were around the same age. That alone had shaken Hütter absurdly, and he had avoided getting close to her.
That wasn’t Mia. She was one of the Kingdom of Ridill’s Seven Sages, the 〈Silent Witch〉—an extraordinary monster who had demonstrated the ability to cast illusions, said to be exceedingly difficult, without an incantation.
(She can use unchanted magic... If it comes to a real fight, I have no chance.)
As he ran, Hütter thought.
Where could he possibly flee? Having failed to assassinate Tsetsilia, he was now a wanted man in both the Kingdom of Ridill and the Empire.
More than anything, his employer, Duke Achenvar, would never let Hütter live. He would simply be killed to keep him quiet.
(Then I’ll take her down with me, if I have to... I’ll kill that princess!)
He could use powerful mental interference magic on Tsetsilia, driving her to the point where she would want to plunge a knife into her own throat.
Hütter had seen battle and knew how to fight hand-to-hand. For a delicate princess like Tsetsilia, snapping her neck like a twig would be easy.
But Hütter did not want to kill Tsetsilia with his own hands. He wanted that so-called false saint to choose death herself.
His younger sister Mia had chosen to give up her life for Tsetsilia.
Then, to make things even, Tsetsilia had to give up her life of her own choosing, too.
(Suffer. Suffer, suffer, suffer, suffer, and in the end, give up your life to atone!)
His face twisted with hatred as Hütter ran down the hall. Ahead, he spotted a figure and frowned.
The figure, faintly visible in the dark hallway, wore a black dress and a white apron. It was a maid from the palace.
(Damn it, why is there a maid on this floor?!)
He had no intention of hurting her more than necessary, but he couldn’t afford to waste time using an illusion.
“Get out of my way!”
Hütter thought he had struck the maid with a body blow.
But the maid easily slipped away from his attack with a casual movement.
At that moment, the nape of Hütter’s neck prickled. A chill, like a naked blade pressed to his throat, seized his entire body.
“Fools who get in the way of someone else’s love...”
The tall maid wearing glasses leaped into the air, her skirt fluttering lightly.
The chignon cap that had held up her hair came loose, and a long chestnut braid drifted through the air.
“...I’ll kick you to death.”
The next instant, Hütter felt a horrifying impact to his face. The maid had leaped up and delivered a full-force kick straight to it.
“Gah...!”
As Hütter collapsed to the floor, spraying blood from his nose and broken teeth, the last thing he saw before losing consciousness was a vicious smile showing a pointed canine—and grayish-purple eyes glittering with murderous intent.