To Sell.

To Sell.

《What on earth are you talking about.》

《No, truly. We already have something like an altar, do we not.》

Ugli pointed to a corner of the room as he spoke. On the shelf where the sunlight fell most generously, the gifts Aspara had given him, and there were not many, were arranged with the utmost care.

《That is… well. That is — that thing.》

《…At any rate, I am relieved that you do not object to the buyout itself. I had been worrying how to talk you round if you said you wanted to call the deal off.》

《I do not greatly object. I know full well that the madam has no attachment to her homeland. I know the reasons for it, too.》

The castle lord drew another cup from the cabinet and poured into it what little wine remained.

《To begin with, I am a selfish man. The welfare of citizens of some far-off country I scarcely know weighs less with me than my wife.》

Ugli mused to himself. Was it really love, in the romantic sense, that this castle lord felt for his wife? Watching the man’s bearing, it often seemed less like a man in love with a woman than like a man in worship of some savior.

For all that Gus deceived everyone with his great frame and dignified air, he was, as his close confidant Ugli well knew, in truth a boy in the throes of adolescence trapped inside that enormous body. What, then, was the lord’s true feeling toward that woman?

Does this man actually love that woman? Or does he just need a Saintess to worship?

She was a woman with whom he could not even properly communicate. To love such a person was, by its very nature, unlikely to be a normal thing.

But Ugli only smiled brightly and answered as if it were nothing at all.

《Well — if that is your way of love, my lord, I shall respect it.》

《As shall I respect yours.》

The two northerners, each privately convinced the other had a thoroughly unwholesome notion of romance, lifted their cups in a casual toast.

The dull sound of the wooden cup striking the glass bottle echoed through the room.

Meanwhile, what of Squeaky, the silk-furred rat who had been startled into flight by the sound of the door?

The little silk-furred rat was furious that the two-legged creatures had dared to startle him, and was scampering down the corridor at top speed — ppol-ppol-ppol-ppol.

He, the dread guard-rat of Fang Castle! Squeaky let out a fearsome cry.

[Ppyu-ryuk.]

Squeaky darted swiftly across the castle, slipping through holes between corridor and kitchen. At this hour, there was another fine spot where one could mooch a snack.

It was the small room beside the kitchen, something like a tea-room, used by the castle servants as a break room. Its eastern wall abutted the kitchen hearth, so it was unusually warm; against that wall stood a long desk and three chairs.

At this time of day — yes, just so. A few of the young servants who were particularly kind to Squeaky were sitting around chatting and snacking.

The silk-furred rat clambered up onto the desk and announced his descent with full majesty.

[Kkwik, ppyu-wik.]

《Oh my, Fluffy’s here!》

《Aw, how cute. Have you come for your supper?》

[Ppip-kkwik.]

《Haha, asking for snacks again? You greedy little piglet.》

The attendants began offering tribute to placate the dreadful beast’s wrath. To wit: a bit of dry cheese, and a few scraps of dried sugar-beet.

The plump rat gnawed at the hard cheese the woman had broken off for him, eavesdropping all the while on their burbling chatter.

《Somehow the snacks are a bit poor today.》

《Isn’t that because of that? You know — they say some big-budget construction works have just started up.》

《Construction?》

Squeaky scrabbled at the cheese with his front teeth, listening to the young people prattle on. His tiny brain could not follow the substance of what they said, but this rat, clever for a rodent, loved the sound of human vocal cords vibrating.

《— So that’s the thing, they say it’s tunnel construction or something. That’s why our snack budget got cut a bit too, probably.》

《Heavens, was that what it was?》

《From what I heard, it’s all right now. They say the madam scrounged up the budget from somewhere else…》

《As if that means anything! What use is a top-up from a woman who came here with nothing but a bundle of flimsy clothes? Bound to be a few coppers tossed down for show.》

One of the workers, sitting with his legs crossed, cut in.

Squeaky pricked up his ears. The man’s voice was unusually sharp and shrill, and unpleasant to listen to.

《But, from what I heard —》

《If anyone’s dipped into his own purse, it’ll be the castle lord.》

《That much is true. It doesn’t seem likely that woman would have any money.》

《And anyway — even if she did suddenly come into some money, all she could have done was sell off her dowry; and the dowry of a woman who’s married in is the castle lord’s property to begin with, isn’t it. No need to be grateful.》

So saying, the man scooped up the last piece of cheese and flicked it into his mouth, then, smacking his lips, shot a sidelong glare at Squeaky’s portion.

[Ppu-wik.]

Squeaky sensed the threat by instinct and quickly stuffed the rest of his cheese into his cheek pouches.

《Aigoo, our little piggy. Already finished, are you.》

《Still, you know — a tunnel would be a fine thing. Perhaps we could even travel.》

《And we’d be able to bring goods in cheaper. Like figs.》

《Ah, figs! They really were delicious. The first fruit I’d ever eaten that was so sweet. Are the southern lands full of sweet things like that, I wonder.》

《Wake up!》

In that instant, Squeaky’s body floated about three centimeters into the air. The man’s fist had slammed down, bang!, on the table, and the blow rang against the floor.

《That is the very scheme!》

《Scheme, you say.》

《A trade road, into a country with no foreign currency to speak of! What if it is a plot to plunder our resources away to the south.》

《Well…》

《But our country doesn’t have any resources to plunder.》

《At any rate!》

He pounded the desk once more.

《You’ve got to keep your wits about you. No matter how much time goes by, in the end that woman is a foreigner.》

《Aren’t you overreacting.》

《Shh, the senior’s of the war generation, you know.》

《I can hear all of that.》

《I said it so you would.》

The man, looking not the least bit put out, went on.

《And this rat-creature is the same!》

《His name is Fluffy.》

《Don’t you go laying a finger on our Alejandro.》

《No — this fellow’s name is Meatball. Anyway —》

He hoisted up the fat rodent in both hands. Fluffy — Alejandro — Meatball kicked his little legs and tried his best to bite the fingers that had snatched him up.

[Ppyu-kkuk.]

《Awww, look — he’s giving your finger a kiss. Our little dummy.》

《Meatball is a pet of those southerners. Why must we share our meals with this piglet? Why must we share our food with the southern lot, I ask you.》

《You don’t pick up a silk-furred rat like that!》

《Ah, sorry. How am I supposed to pick him up?》

《Like this — so his bottom rests on your palm…》

《Ah, I see. Got it, got it.》

The man rearranged his grip on the silk-furred rat properly with both hands, then cried out once more.

《Why must we share our food with the southerners, I ask!》

《Because he’s cute…》

《Yes, that the castle lord took a foreign woman to wife — even that, I can understand. Wanting to take a beautiful bride is a feeling I can sympathize with myself.》

The senior was thinking the madam was a beauty…

《But our politics has no need of foreigners!》

He carefully readjusted his hold so that the silk-furred rat was facing him, and addressed the creature as if interrogating it.

《If you mean to covet our food, you must make your allegiance plain. Now then.》

He popped open the office stamp-pad that had been sitting at the corner of the desk, and dunked his little finger deep into the bright red dye.

《What are you doing?》

《Only those who are of us may share our bread.》

The man rubbed his pinky-finger across the rat’s round back and began to draw.

A pointed triangle, with two fang-roots jutting out of its base. The fang-emblem.

《If you would share our bread, you must no longer be the pet of southerners. The ones who share our table are, and shall ever be, only the people of Fang Castle.》

[Kkwik.]

《This fang-mark is the symbol of it.》

The man grinned and held the red-stained creature up for his two companions to see.

《I heard our castle’s emblem had been redesigned. It does look a bit odd, though…》

《That is not the point.》

He furrowed his brow and went on as if delivering a speech.

《The point is to know who is on our side. That woman is not on our side, and one who is not on our side is an enemy. Nothing such a person sets in motion can be of any benefit to us. Whatever the substance of it, there is, without question, a hidden agenda!》

The grip of the man holding the silk-furred rat tightened by degrees. The pitiful rat flailed his short legs, then opened his millet-grain-sized snout as wide as he could —

《Mark my words: in the end, the only ones to be trusted are our own peo—!》

— and bit down hard on the man’s finger.

《Ow!》

In the instant the man’s grip went slack from reflex, the little ball of fur slipped free and went skittering off down the corridor.

《Aaah, now look — our Fluffy’s run off because of you.》

《Oh, be quiet.》

[Ppyu-ruk.]

Tok-tok-tok-tok-tok — the sound of millet-sized claws striking stone floor echoed down the corridor.

The silk-furred rat ran with the emblem of Fang Castle borne upon his back. The strange smell coming from somewhere behind him was, frankly, not at all to his liking.