Beginning

Still, I never imagined they’d send me all the way out here for a marriage.

Marriage in name only. Having arrived in a foreign land with no proper retainers and no personal assets worth mentioning, it was effectively exile for Aspara.

“—–, —– —––.”

“I am Aspara of House Bel. Unfortunately, we have no custom of teaching the barbarian tongue, so I’m afraid I cannot understand your greeting.”

“——, — ——.”

“Our interpreter committed a crime of disloyalty and could not accompany us this far. Well, I’m not terribly dim, so if we live together long enough, one of us — you or I — is bound to pick up the other’s language.”

“––, —– —––.”

“I was told the family’s dowry was sent separately in advance. We’ll take a few things out of that luggage over there and make do.”

The escort knight Jack thought that his mistress’s spine was truly something to behold.

Jack had been watching the two of them, each tossing out words in languages the other couldn’t understand, with a look of utter exasperation. After a few coughs brought on by the cold, he turned his gaze to the northern knights clad in leather armor.

They looked just as flustered. No, even more flustered than their side.

A natural enough reaction, all things considered. At the very least, Jack himself knew the reason why the new bride had shown up with nothing but a single knight, no interpreter, spouting off like this all on her own.

“…Jack, won’t you interpret for me?”

Aspara, wearing an expression of clear annoyance, turned to look at him; he’d been lost in thought for a moment.

Snapping back to attention and turning toward his young mistress, he found that a dozen-odd northern knights, including his young mistress and the dark-clad castle lord, were all staring at him with wide, expectant eyes brimming with hope and desperation.

“Uh, um…”

Jack recalled the day he’d been hired as a knight by House Bel.

For a country bumpkin with nothing but muscle, no connections, no accomplishments, nothing to speak of, getting employed as a personal guard for a prominent noble house had been a monumental undertaking.

…Just write it down! Everyone knows resumes are half-lies anyway — the people writing them AND the people reading them!

The voice of his eldest sister, who had shoved him into it (smart enough, though her moral compass left something to be desired), rang vividly in his memory.

Big Sis…

You think you’ll fail because you can’t shoot a bow? Then write something else! Put down that you speak the northern tongue — the northern tongue! Nobody actually speaks it, so they’ll never find out. It’ll be fine!

Ah, Big Sis. Not only did they find out, but thanks to you, I ended up on a northbound carriage I was never fated to ride.

Things had been manageable on the way here. There had been an interpreter at first, and with a few beginner phrases he’d hastily picked up from the man, he’d scraped by somehow.

Travel in the carriage meant limited conversation, and by leveraging the dynamic (nobles and their escort knight on one side, welcoming servants on the other), he’d survived on one-sided communication and botched interpretations.

But that trick had run its course now, Jack thought, sulking to himself, before forcing an awkward smile.

“He, uh… says welcome, my lady.”

“So this is how they welcome people in the north. Ah — don’t translate that part literally. Just tell them it’s cold, so let’s head inside.”

“…”

Under the silent pressure of his young mistress’s pointed gaze urging him to translate already, Jack wiped a bead of cold sweat, then rummaged through every last entry in the beginner’s vocabulary stored in his head.

“Um… ‘— — –.’”

“—! — – — —!”

“…He says to please wait a moment.”

Jack delivered the message with an obsequious grin plastered across his face. To his relief, the crowd, which had been murmuring amongst themselves, began moving toward the castle under the castle lord’s lead.

It was much later that Jack would learn what he had actually said in the northern tongue was not “Please let us go inside” but “Please let us go back.”

The lord of Fang Castle, Gus, called the King of Barbarians, was truly at a loss.

Lady Aspara!

His bride from the south was even smaller, even more fragile-looking, and trembling even more violently than he had imagined.

Lady Aspara.

Even after coming indoors, she was still faintly shivering, and the sight of it made Gus want to slam his head into the nearest wall.

Gus recalled the historic first words that the bride’s attendant had interpreted for him.

[Please send us back.]

But I cannot break the marriage contract. Forgive me—

King he might be called, but at the end of the day he was still a king of barbarians. No, strictly speaking, it was difficult to even call him a king. His “kingdom” was closer to a band of wanderers huddled around a shared bonfire.

What kind of ruler cannot even grant his wife’s very first wish?

“…I regret that I cannot fulfill your earlier request. Is there anything else you desire?”

Gus stole a sidelong glance at the attendant whose lips had turned blue.

The sword at his hip marked him as a knight, but the graceless way he walked inspired no confidence whatsoever.

That this was the sole confidant the bride had brought along, and in such a sorry state, only reaffirmed that Aspara had been cast off and sold.

“…I may not be able to attend to you as well as the castles of the south, but I will do my very best…”

Jack glanced at Aspara, gauging her mood.

…Is he talking to me?

“Jack, what is he saying now?”

“Well… sorry, but I’m not a professional interpreter, so my northern tongue isn’t exactly great… These people have a really thick dialect.”

“Isn’t this the northern capital?”

“Oh, they’re barbarians! No proper roots — that’s why. Even the king speaks like a country bumpkin. The language was never properly unified to begin with.”

It was an excuse he’d thrown together on the spot, but it happened to be true.

Because of this, everyone in Fang Castle was treating the southern attendant with the clumsy speech as some country bumpkin from the south who’d picked up a regional dialect wrong.

Gus watched the two foreigners whispering to each other. His bride had clearly said something, but her attendant was hesitating, unable to bring himself to interpret it.

Unable to bring himself to ask what his trembling new bride had said, Gus swallowed a sigh and led the two of them to the dining hall.

The kitchen was the warmest room in the castle.

A slightly thin but steaming-hot taro porridge, semi-dried fish jerky, white bread, and a splash of hot spirits; the maids had just finished setting everything out.

By the standards of Gus and his retainers, who were enduring a year of famine, this was the finest feast they could scrape together.

But gazing at the rough fare, which looked all the more shabby beside the bride draped in purple, Gus felt ashamed of his homeland’s provisions for the first time in his life.

If I’d known it would come to this, I should have put in more effort — carved off my own thigh and roasted it, even.

…Is he trying to needle me?

Looking at the table, Aspara wondered whether her new husband was making a point.

Come to think of it, this man had been half-forced into the marriage too, so it wouldn’t be strange if he resented the arrangement.

Not that she had any intention of being cowed by the likes of him.

To Aspara’s eyes, the enormous table was nothing but a provocation in and of itself.

She had heard the rumors that northern food was terrible, but she’d assumed it was simply a matter of cooking methods that didn’t suit her palate; she had never imagined the ingredients themselves would be this different from the central lands.

Even granting the food, serving wooden tableware is a bit much, isn’t it?

The young lady became certain that her husband, sitting there with that stiff expression, was unhappy about the marriage contract.

Well, it wouldn’t be strange if he already had a sweetheart. The man was a bit younger than her, but not so young that marriage would be considered early by local standards.

Besides, she had heard all the rumors about how northern barbarians formed marriage contracts through courtship without proper agreements, or held wedding ceremonies over and over again.

“—. — – —.”

Whatever Gus had been saying came to an end, and everyone fell into formation at once, taking their seats at the dining table.

Jack and Aspara hesitated for a moment. The attendants and the castle lord ate together?

Gus looked at Aspara and gestured toward the seat beside him. It was the seat of honor, with a tall backrest.

Aspara took her seat, and the castle lord, stealing glances at the new bride beside him, hesitated for a moment before calling out something that sounded like a toast.

“— —. — – – —, — –.”

Everyone raised their cups and echoed the toast. Jack and Aspara raised their cups slightly as well, smiling awkwardly.

What on earth is he saying?

Jack thought.

Once the toast was done, an awkward silence settled over the table for a moment.

Sharing a silent meal with strangers whose language you couldn’t speak was more uncomfortable than one might expect.

Is there truly no one in this castle who speaks the southern tongue?

The dining hall was filled with nothing but the clatter of utensils.

No, there was no clatter, either. The utensils and the dishes were all wooden.

Aspara looked around.

There isn’t a single decent piece of furniture. Is this really a castle? The outer walls, though a bit crude, looked sturdy and had a charm of their own — but the interior is like the servants’ quarters back home.

Yet this was merely an objective observation. Aspara felt neither despair nor gloom.

Whether the furniture bore lily crests or not, whether the roof had ornamental eaves or not, what did any of that matter? Whatever this place might be, it was easier on the heart than the castle back home, and Aspara was brimming with the desire to live here for as long as she possibly could.

The fact that this place looked like a pauper’s den only meant her dowry was that much more valuable to these people. And the fact that no one here seemed to speak the southern tongue only meant the chances of a spy working for her family being hidden among them were that much lower.