Succession Rights.

Whenever the subject came up, Aspara’s answer had always been the same.

Wearing the expression of someone for whom it hardly mattered, she had always given him the same answer.

“But you never got a single thing you wanted. And why? Because that kid is a dimwit. The sort of man who never achieves what he wants, no matter how badly he wants it. Powerless. But you?”

‘Yes, fine. Whatever.’ — that was how she had always answered him. Listlessly. Whatever he asked of her, always the same.

“You never tried to do anything in the first place. Whatever your husband said, you’d say yes, yes, yes. Only ever choosing the easy path — and this is the result.”

“And if I had tried — what would have changed?”

For the first time, Aspara raised her voice. It was a mistake. If anything, it only emboldened Flower; he sneered and pressed his advantage.

“How should I know? You’ve never actually tried, have you.”

“Well, even if I had…”

“You aren’t powerless. You’re just lazy.”

The man dropped two cubes of sugar into his teacup and stirred with a little swirl.

“But this time, at last, the chance has come for you to make the choice. Go on — choose.”

He took a sip, then promptly grimaced and spat it back out. Flinging the gone-cold tea onto the floor, Flower went on.

“Do as your barbarian husband ordered — save the north, go back to that wasteland — or stay here with me.”

“…Be honest with me.”

In a voice that trembled a little, Aspara nevertheless met his eyes squarely and said,

“What reason do I have to marry you again?”

Aspara had suspected it from the beginning. Why is this man suddenly after me?

It couldn’t simply be that he had grown fond of Aspara herself; she knew perfectly well that she was not so attractive a woman as all that.

She would have to find out what sort of blade was hidden inside this man’s black heart.

“Tell me. What on earth do you want from me?”

[21.]

《The royal succession rights!》

《The royal succession rights?》

《I said — the royal succession rights!》

Volmo shouted it twice over, his voice gone shrill with astonishment.

《Why on earth do you have something like this?》

《I told you, didn’t I. It was given to me as a festival gift.》

The young interpreter, working his way through the thick sheet of paper, was staggered. The more he translated, the clearer it became. What that madwoman had given the castle lord was neither a love letter nor a curse-filled screed but a document conveying the succession rights to her own country’s throne.

What in the world had been going through that woman’s head when she’d handed this over to the king of the barbarians.

《No — no, now that I really look at it, the seal and all… you really didn’t think any of this was strange, given what you were handed?》

《I did think it was a little odd. My wife tends to write quite short letters, you see.》

The castle lord, mumbling like a scolded dog — no, like a scolded dog that hadn’t understood what it was being scolded for — muttered glumly.

《I suppose she didn’t want to write me a real letter all that badly after all…》

《That is what’s bothering you right now?》

He looked deeply disappointed to learn that the object in his safe was not a handwritten letter from his beloved wife. Not a letter she’d written herself; merely a document asserting the right to a nation’s throne.

Volmo cradled his chin in his hand and sighed. With a passing acquaintance with high society, he understood what this gift meant. Rather than a gift for its own potency, it was a kind of performative gift: a declaration that she meant to lay her bones in the north for the rest of her life.

But he had no particular desire to explain that and thereby prolong this whole mess.

《Well… to you, as a northerner, and to Lady Aspara, who sits at the very tail end of the line of succession, it isn’t an object of any great weight. However… however, the very fact that a northerner is holding such a thing is in itself an enormous source of potential scandal.》

《Hmm.》

《If outsiders were to find out, it would cause an uproar. There’s no precedent for it.》

Gus stared down at the paper covered in its squiggly script, glaring a hole through it. He looked like a man whose mind was elsewhere, fixed on something other than the object before him.

《…Meaning this is something of value to a southerner.》

《That depends on the person, but generally — yes.》

《As much as the purple dye?》

《That also depends on the person, but in the first instance —》

Wait.

Fighting down the cold sensation running from his head to his feet, Volmo said,

《…You aren’t thinking something strange right now, are you?》

《Strange thinking, as in?》

《Don’t. Really, don’t. Don’t think about giving it to that dogshit man.》

As for what fresh madness that utter lunatic might commit if he got his hands on something like this, Volmo was already worried.

《I know that.》

《This document has no real meaning to you, or to Lady Aspara. But in that man’s hands, it’s another matter entirely. If —》

《I won’t hand it over. Because —》

The castle lord folded the paper neatly once more and placed it carefully back inside its envelope.

《— even without this, my wife will come back.》

《Castle lord… sir…》

For the first time, Volmo cautiously tried calling the man “Castle lord, sir.”

Gus’s grave expression inspired genuine trust. Even Volmo, an outsider, looked at his profile and felt a sharp jolt of respect.

《Quite right. I’m sorry I ever doubted you.》

《Besides — even if it isn’t a handwritten letter, even if it’s merely royal succession rights, it is still, to begin with, a gift from my wife. One cannot simply hand over to someone else what was given as a gift.》

Volmo felt his new respect shrinking back down again.

There isn’t a sane person in this whole castle.

South of the northern territories, in the central kingdom’s town square.

Two attendants from the north were strolling along the streets. One was glancing this way and that, trying to find the way; the other walked alongside him, hands clasped behind his back.

“Jack, aren’t you going to tell me what Lady Aspara has asked you to do?”

“Sorry. I was told not to tell a soul.”

“That’s harsh. Not even me?”

“My memory’s no good with complicated rules, right? So she went and gave me a command I didn’t have to remember at all — ‘Don’t tell a soul.’ Just that one line.”

“Hah…”

Ugli grimaced.

“I’m disappointed.”

“That expression isn’t going to work.”

“Pleeease.”

“Neither will pouting.”

“Fine, fine.”

“No matter how cute you are.”

“I didn’t even do anything just now.”

Jack made an angry face, as if to say don’t you dare lie. Angry-face or not, it wasn’t a scary face.

“And what about you. Where are you going?”

“Hmm. Haven’t decided yet.”

Ugli had originally meant to stay behind in the carriage. However, the attendants of Flower’s estate had shooed him out with “We can hardly keep a barbarian inside the building.”

The northern attendant, with nowhere left to go, thought for a moment, then shrugged.

“I suppose I’ll just have to kill my precious time at some nearby inn or eatery. Alone.”

“No matter how much you say that, I still can’t take you with me.”

“Or else…”

He pressed himself close to Jack and whispered in a low voice.

“I could go and meet Sebinya Gobir on my own and try to persuade her.”

“Who’s that?”

“…Your lady’s ex-husband’s wife. The one we saw just a little while ago.”

“Ahh, Lady Seh-hhhng-hrr-rrr. What would you meet her to do, exactly?”

“Well…”

Ugli smiled a slow, circling smile, like a fox with a hunt ahead of him.

“While Lady Aspara is busy persuading that man, it occurred to me that I might try persuading the lady of the estate as well. We can’t leave all the hard work to your lady alone, can we.”

“Ugli…”

Jack looked at him in something like awe.

“Which brings me to my point, Jack… you used to live at that estate, didn’t you.”

“Yep.”

“Do you know of any dog holes or the like where a person could sneak in?”

“Yep! More than twenty of them, easy.”

He grinned broadly, puffed up with pride.

The estate from which the two attendants had been chased off. In its garden, the divorced couple were still locked in their precarious conversation.

“What do I want, you ask.”

“Yes.”

“You. No one but you.”

“…”

At the man’s sunny smile, Aspara scowled. She gave him a look that said, if you’re going to lie, at least make it believable.

“I mean it.”

“Hah.”

“Aren’t we the most splendid pair? Why? Because you’re lazy, and I enjoy doing things on another’s behalf.”

“How very flattering, I’m sure.”

Aspara, rather than looking at the man before her, muttered into the depths of her own teacup.

In a tone utterly different from the browbeating manner of moments ago, now kindly, Flower said,

“I know you like to maintain the status quo. But right now isn’t the time to be carried along by what the king of the barbarians orders — it’s the time to make the right choice.”

“…”

“This isn’t just for your own sake. What about your escort knight? How long do you mean to keep that poor child up in the north?”

“…You’re right.”

Aspara lifted her face and met the man’s eyes.

“I learned a great deal in my time in the north. So long as there are people who care for me, it isn’t possible to go on thinking I’ll just live out my life however, it doesn’t matter. My life is not something I live by my own will alone.”

“Hmm.”

“I’ve lived a life that has been a great burden on others. By failing to pay attention to what was right in front of me, I planted guilt in Star. By ignoring problems I could have avoided, I made Jack suffer for it. And to Castle Lord Gus… to him, I made him live with a woman like a corpse. I used to think I was killing myself, just going on living — but I was being arrogant. To lean on others for my very life, and then to let the strength go out of my own legs like that.”