Chapter 62
Blanc opened his eyes to a pain that felt as though his throat were being torn apart.
The prince picked up the pitcher from the bedside table and pressed his lips to its long spout to replenish his fluids.
He had no time to pour it into a glass.
Glug, glug.
The clear, cold water rushed nonstop down his parched throat.
Once his thirst was quenched, incredible hunger became his next problem.
Blanc shoved the snacks lying beside the bronze pitcher into his mouth.
After hurriedly emptying a plate, the sugar began to take effect, and the surroundings gradually came into focus.
Dazzling sunlight filled the room.
The sound of birds chirping.
Even his damp body had been cleaned, as though someone had taken care of him.
The tray with the pitcher and refreshments had also been set out, so it seemed a servant or maid had come by while he slept.
“I must hurry.”
After taking a moment to organize his thoughts, Blanc sprang to his feet and got dressed.
It seemed Laisen's rebellion had been dealt with without incident, but there was still much to do.
Even if he would not be involved in Laisen's punishment, he had to oversee the aftermath of the incident by assessing the damage, clearing the Empire's name, and contacting the maids outside the World Tree.
“I should go see Vieta, too.”
Though there was no reason to think she had been hurt, Blanc hurried out of the room.
***
Vieta was staying at Nesciel's Guardian Tree.
She could have stayed in Arba, but without realizing it, she had avoided the place because she found it difficult to face Blanc.
At first, she thought she had misheard Blanc's words.
‘I must have heard him wrong.’
Yet, as if determined to shatter that misconception, Blanc continued muttering the same words.
Not knowing what to do, Vieta set down the tray and left his room.
Then she asked Iris to arrange for a servant to look after Blanc in her stead before heading to Nesciel's Guardian Tree.
Nesciel did not ask a single question when Vieta showed up in the middle of the night, and instead gave her a comfortable place to sleep.
Vieta was grateful for her consideration.
“Vieta, what are you doing?”
As Vieta peered out the window at the elves bustling back and forth, she heard Ugo's voice.
The young elf was hugging a basket full of parchment.
“Nesciel says it's time to eat.”
Vieta let out a short sigh. Even though she was a guest, she should have helped prepare the meal, but she had been so swept up in her emotions that the thought had not occurred to her.
She hurried to the kitchen.
“Should I have let you sleep a little longer?”
Nesciel was holding a pot of sweet-smelling soup in both hands.
“No. Oh, give that here. I'll carry it.”
Vieta took the pot from Nesciel. She placed it on a timeworn brown table, then set out the bowls and spoons one by one.
By then, Ugo had returned from carrying out Nesciel's errand and began helping her set the table.
“Let's eat.”
“I'll enjoy it, Nesciel.”
Vieta had no appetite, but out of politeness, she took a spoonful of soup.
The warm soup traveled down her esophagus and warmed her hollow stomach.
That let her just manage to finish a bowl of soup.
"You're not eating more?"
"It's morning, so I can't eat as much as I expected. Ah, it's not that it tastes bad."
Worried that Nesciel might misunderstand, Vieta waved both hands.
In return for the bed and meal, Vieta volunteered to clean up.
After finishing with the dishes and stepping out of the kitchen, she found Nesciel waiting for her.
“Where's Ugo?”
“He took his medicine and fell asleep. That poor child has been running errands for this old woman since before sunrise.”
Nesciel lifted the pitcher and filled the two teacups on the table.
Noticing that one of them was for her, Vieta sat across from Nesciel.
“Everyone's been busy since early morning.”
Nesciel was gazing out the window.
“Doesn't Nesciel have to go to Arba?”
“Elrod isn't such an incompetent chief that she'd summon an old woman who has already retired.”
The fragrance of black tea seeped into Vieta's nose.
“By the way, young lady, what is it that's worrying you so much?”
When Vieta gave her a bewildered look, Nesciel gazed at her warmly.
“You've looked troubled ever since you came last night.”
“…Was I?”
Vieta lowered her gaze as she wrapped both hands around the warm teacup.
“If you go back with that expression, I suspect your friends will make quite a fuss.”
Is my expression really that awful?
Vieta forced the corners of her mouth upward. Her smile was stiff and terribly awkward.
That feeling reminded her of her relationship with Blanc.
How should she treat Blanc from now on?
Vieta's thoughts were thrown into turmoil.
She had never imagined that Blanc might like her.
And with good reason—their social statuses were different to begin with.
More than that, Vieta was an outsider.
Her name, her gender, the world she lived in.
She had wandered for nearly eight years without sorting out any of it.
How could she accept someone else when she did not even know herself?
It was absurd.
“In my long experience, waiting is an answer too.”
At the unexpected cryptic remark, Vieta raised her head and looked at Nesciel.
“Unless it is an emergency where your head will be cut off if you do not decide or solve something right away, there is no need to hurry toward an answer. If things are awkward, let them be awkward; if they are uncomfortable, let them be uncomfortable. If you go on like that, anything is bound to change eventually.”
“…What should I do if I hate things being uncomfortable and awkward?”
“Heh heh, I see you're a greedy one after all, young lady.”
Nesciel's words were playful, yet somehow seemed sincere, and Vieta's face grew hot.
Just as she was about to offer a retort, someone came to Nesciel's Guardian Tree.
“Lady Nesciel! Are you there! Lady Nesciel!”
Nesciel's expression creased slightly, as though she were irritated at having her pleasant conversation interrupted.
*
The person who had come looking for Nesciel was a messenger sent from Arba.
When the messenger said that elves who still followed Laisen remained and asked Nesciel to help persuade them, Nesciel grumbled that Elrod was an incompetent chief, then followed the messenger.
Vieta remained at Nesciel's Guardian Tree.
She was worried about Ugo being left alone, but above all, she felt awkward about facing Blanc.
Blanc would treat her as if nothing had happened, but she had no confidence that she could do the same.
If he had openly confessed, she could at least have rejected him outright, but he had not even done that.
Yet if she treated him coldly again, he would obviously ask whether he had done something wrong.
“This is driving me crazy.”
As she sat alone, pulling at her hair, someone came looking for Nesciel's Guardian Tree once again.
“Vieta!”
However, this visitor was not looking for Nesciel, but for Vieta herself.
It was neither Blanc nor Fulcare.
With her mind full of questions, Vieta went down to the first floor and opened the door.
“Vieta! So you were here after all!”
As soon as Vieta opened the door, a figure wearing a black hood pulled her into an embrace.
The figure stood two heads taller than her.
When she looked up with dazed eyes, she saw verdant green eyes.
As Vieta studied the elf's face, her eyes widened.
“…Could it be Siran?”
“That's right. It's me.”
Siran, the vanished former chief of the elves, beamed at her.
***
“I've never been inside Nesciel's Guardian Tree.”
After entering the Guardian Tree, Siran kept looking around.
“Really?”
“That old hag is more particular than you'd think.”
Siran's words left Vieta uneasy.
There were plenty of eyes around, so she had hurriedly let Siran inside, but technically, she had accepted a guest without the homeowner's permission.
“Don't worry. She's not the sort to make an issue of something like that. By the way, aren't you thirsty?”
Siran strode into the kitchen and began brewing tea by herself.
Vieta was suddenly reminded of Fulcare helping himself to everything in her office.
“Are you having some too, Vieta?”
“I'm fine.”
She had already eaten a filling breakfast, and had drunk two cups while talking with Nesciel earlier.
If she ate any more, she felt she would turn into a hippopotamus.
A short while later, Siran came out carrying a cup in one hand and a pitcher in the other.
“By the way, why did you come here instead of going to Arba?”
“Wait, let me have some tea first. I haven't had a sip since last night.”
Siran drained two cups of steaming tea in succession, then looked satisfied.
“I feel alive again.”
If she hadn't even been able to drink water, her stomach must have been empty too.
Vieta pushed the remaining refreshments toward Siran, who picked up a cookie without hesitation.
“Oh, right. You asked why I didn't go to Arba?”
“Yeah. The messenger said earlier that the elves are still supporting Laisen.”
“I've been in Arba up until now. Don't you think I deserve some rest too?”
“Huh?” Vieta made a foolish sound, unable to understand what she meant.
“Surely you don't think I left the elves' affairs to the Empire and sat around twiddling my thumbs? I had a hard time fighting in Arba all night too.”
Her clothes were a mess, with scorch marks here and there and dark stains turning parts of it black.
“…Did you sneak in?”
“Correct.”
“You managed not to get caught by Fulcare.”
“No, he caught me.”
“…Was it okay to get caught?”
“Was there any reason it wouldn't be?”
Vieta was left speechless.
She had assumed there must be some reason Siran had hidden herself and acted in secret.
Yet judging from her words, there seemed to be no reason for it at all.
If there had been no special circumstances, Siran could have protected the World Tree herself from the beginning.
Then Laisen would not have rebelled, so Vieta could not understand why Siran had gone to such lengths to complicate matters.
A broken branch has to be cut away, or it will make the whole tree sick.
Siran's expression grew serious.
Laisen was a broken branch. From a human perspective, he might have seemed ordinary, but for an elf, he was greedy. Even if someone other than Elrod had become chief—or even if I had remained chief—Laisen would eventually have rebelled.
“So you tried to deal with him by borrowing the Empire's power?”
“Well, both, really. I also had somewhere far away to go.”
Siran put a cookie in her mouth and shrugged.
“Where exactly did you go?”
If Siran had had to leave, it had to be something significant.
“The Kingdom of Madak.”
“The Kingdom of Madak? The marquis said many elves have been going to Madak. Is that related?”
“It's an important issue for the World Tree as well as the Empire.”
Siran drew the small dagger from her waist and placed it on the table.
The blade was unusually thick compared to an ordinary sword, and Vieta recognized it as something she had seen somewhere before.
“This looks similar to the one Nesciel made.”
Siran nodded and continued.
“Vieta, what do you think would happen if a group of ordinary soldiers charged while brandishing fire?”
The moment Vieta realized what she meant, her face turned deathly pale.