Unassuming.

Unassuming.

Not only had she readily accepted Aspara’s proposal; she had gone so far as to write out letters of recommendation to various figures in the central kingdom, asking them to purchase the futures on her behalf.

More a gamble than a proper scheme, so I couldn’t bring myself to tell Ugli about it, but…

Had Volmo’s mother refused, had Jack failed in his rounds calling on Aspara’s old acquaintances, had Aspara failed to keep Flower’s wits tied up—

It had been a plan with far too many variables. That it had come off this swiftly could only be called a miracle.

“…Do you understand what the operation was?”

“…Yes!”

The young knight was nodding mechanically, like a rooster pecking at feed. It was the face of someone who had not understood a word.

“Well, the point comes down to this.”

The woman’s pale eyes glinted in the sunlight.

“There are now as many forces invested in keeping the price of the dye up as there are in keeping it down.”

“Yes…”

“…”

“…”

“Uh, the point being… Flower’s threats don’t carry nearly as much weight anymore.”

“Ah! …Yes! I see.”

Jack laughed.

He still did not understand the operation in the slightest, but his lady’s mood seemed to have improved, and that was enough.

[22.]

A few days had passed since Aspara left for Flower’s mansion. A span that was long if you called it long, and short if you called it short.

To Gus, at least, it had been an excruciatingly long few days.

《It’s taking longer than we thought, isn’t it.》

《Don’t tell me she’s not coming back at all?》

《Shhh!》

The people of Fang Castle had begun to whisper among themselves. Not one of them, of course, dared carry those whispers up to the castle lord.

《Lady Aspara — you don’t suppose she’s decided to stay on down there for good, now.》

Not one of them, that is, except for the single man who, however long he had been living here by now, still somehow looked down his nose on the “King of Barbarians.”

《That is not the case.》

Gus answered Volmo’s muttering in an even tone.

《How can you be so certain?》

《Because that is what we swore to each other.》

《Still, it is a worry.》

《…So it is.》

The castle lord answered without looking up at Volmo, his attention fixed on the sword he was cleaning at his seat.

Of late he had scarcely left the office. What on earth he was getting up to behind closed doors even in his private hours had been a puzzle; but seeing the heap of freshly polished blades laid out across the room, the answer was plain enough.

《Do you truly believe Lady Aspara would never choose the south?》

《Of course she might.》

《Pardon?》

《She might well choose that way.》

Gus at last set down the sword and met the gaze of the man before him.

《But I do not believe she would make that choice in secret, and simply leave without a word.》

Volmo eyed him with something close to suspicion.

《…You, are you really alright with this?》

《I am alright.》

《No, look — if you’re worried out of your mind, just come out and say so.》

《Why should you think I am worried.》

《Well, for one thing…》

Volmo cast a glance around the room. The air smelled of iron; freshly polished swords were piled along one whole wall, enough to cover it from end to end.

He had, it seemed, spent these last few days shut up in this room doing nothing but sharpening his blades.

But there was another habit Volmo would sooner see him break, and it was this one he brought up.

《Well — for one thing, people have been grumbling that you’ve been scribbling some kind of cursed drawing in the margins of the paperwork lately.》

《…》

《You know, that — the one that looks like some burning boar or something.》

《It is not a boar.》

《Anyway, could you stop with that. There’s a rumor going around now that anyone who gets the drawing three times in a day is going to die, so nobody wants to do paperwork. And we’re already short-handed since that fellow went south.》

《…It is not a boar.》

The castle lord sighed and, at last, rose from his seat.

《So. Why have you come?》

《Hm? Ah, that’s right.》

Volmo, who had been rummaging inside his coat, drew out a rather crumpled sheet of paper.

《An errand. A letter arrived this morning.》

《Mm.》

Taking the item in hand, the castle lord handled his unwieldy greatsword with practiced skill to slice the wax seal of the letter cleanly open.

《Is it from the south?》

《…Further south than the castle, but not across the border.》

He held the paper close to his face, a slight furrow in his brow, and read.

《Your mother, it appears to be from.》

《Pardon?》

As the castle lord read on, one of his eyebrows climbed higher and higher.

《Mother’s merchant house?》

《Hm…》

《What is it.》

《Concerning the details of the agreement that was made…》

Not being privy to Aspara’s contract, the castle lord could not make out the precise content. But the general gist ran roughly as follows:

This transaction I entrust to you in good faith; I hope it proves a sound choice for both of us, and wish you luck as well. I write ahead in anticipation of your swift return.

Once the goods reach production, do be sure to grant us the trade…

《It seems the madam has entered into some sort of deal.》

The letter closed with the parting line: Since I have already entrusted my precious son Volmo to you, I see no harm in entrusting this much to you once more as well.

《Hmm…》

《…You, are you on good terms with my mother?》

《Do not peek.》

Gus creased his brow and surreptitiously drew the letter close to his chest. He did not, however, manage to fully cover the contents.

《What is all this.》

《It appears the madam has entered into some sort of arrangement. Seems she has been issued some manner of certificate of rights…》

《Mother has entrusted me to you?》

Gus sank into thought, brooding.

《Um.》

Economics and law were not his fields. He could not, therefore, fully grasp the letter’s contents. But one thing he grasped intuitively.

《Um, Castle Lord.》

The madam is doing everything in her power not to return south — everything in her power to remain at my castle.

《Um. Um. Hey.》

Sensing it, the castle lord let his lips curl into a faint smile.

Ugli was in a distinctly foul mood.

It was well enough that Jack, who had gone wandering off to who-knew-where, had returned in one piece. But he could scarcely credit that, within such a brief window, Aspara had drawn up a plan and, through her charm with people and her old social graces, pulled it off so splendidly.

“You’ve proved more capable than I’d thought.”

Which was why he let the barbed remark slip out before he could stop himself.

“Hohoho, have I? That’s kind of you to say.”

Aspara, however, passed over his blatant rudeness without remark, merely laughing the comment off.

“Our lady has always been capable. The north is simply not the place to put that capability to use.”

“The south was not the right place for it either, you know.”

“That can’t possibly be so!”

Something about watching the two of them trade compliments and brush them aside in perfect rhythm put Ugli strangely out of sorts.

But then he shook his head, reminding himself that what he felt toward this woman was not some petty jealousy.

“I wasn’t even needed here, perhaps. Jack was off running about outside the whole time in any case.”

“That’s not quite so. If something had happened to me, Jack wouldn’t have managed it on his own, would he.”

“That’s harsh of you to say. Though I won’t deny it.”

“And besides…”

Aspara narrowed her eyes and savored the scent of her tea. Only after she had drawn in a long breath did she continue.

“I thought it might be a good chance for you to take on a more leisurely bit of work for once, so I arranged it on purpose.”

“…Pardon?”

“The bulk of the work is just being on standby at the mansion for a few days, is it not. I thought it would be a good opportunity to catch your breath.”

“I’m not the sort of person who does his work by halves.”

Aspara shrugged.

“You’re allowed to rest. I’ve been worried about how much you work. I know we’re short on hands, but still… I’ve been meaning to ask you for a while — what exactly is your official position?”

“And why, pray tell, am I being taken along on a tour of the south?”

“Oh my — are you not partial to southern culture? A northerner who speaks the cultured tongue as well as you do, and all.”

“That’s—”

Ugli felt his face flush bright red. Embarrassment? No. He was not certain, but it was most likely a flush born of anger.

“That is not—!”

He opened his mouth to express, as politely as he could manage, the deep irritation that had now taken root in his chest. But as if the words were caught in his throat from sheer disbelief, no fitting reply would come out.

“…I haven’t any particular attachment to the south, nor am I in any need of rest.”

“And who in this world is not in need of rest.”

“I—”

Ugli could not, in the end, finish the sentence. But he was spared the humiliation of being seen to fail.

For at that moment, the door of the parlor swung open with a tremendous crash.

“Aspara!”

“Oh my, how you startled me.”

Flower had come charging into the parlor, his voice pitched so high it was impossible to tell whether he was furious or simply beside himself.

In a tone rather too even for one who had claimed to be startled, Aspara said:

“You really ought to knock before entering.”

“This is not the time to—!”

“This is a room with a lady in it, is it not.”

Flower let out a strangled groan, heaved a sigh, then stepped back out of the room and shut the door behind him. From beyond the closed door came a prompt knock-knock.

“Come in.”

“Entering now.”

It was only after receiving Aspara’s permission that the man calmly opened the door, stepped through, and shouted again:

“Aspara!”

“Yes.”

Watching the whole performance, Ugli thought to himself that southerners were, truly, an absolute pain.

“What is the matter?”

“What in the world have you been doing behind my back.”

“Behind your back? To a woman who has been locked away in a birdcage all this while — whatever can you mean.”