Purple Heart (10)

“Sto—p…!”

Juan worried that Alicia, in her state, might clash with the sentries who would want a simple check.

He feared she would not respond properly to their calls.

The worry proved pointless.

“…!”

The horse carrying Alicia vaulted over the men on watch as if they were obstacles and shot past.

The sentries carried unusually long spears.

Alicia cleared two pikemen and three mounted knights in a single leap and did not so much as glance back.

“S-stay your mount!”

It might have been a perfunctory challenge, but they bore the responsibility of guarding Baden’s outskirts.

One mounted knight moved to pursue Alicia.

“Stand aside!”

From a distance, Juan shouted at the sentries who tried to give chase.

The pikemen tightened their guard at the shout of the uninvited rider coming after the dress-clad “intruder.”

“Who goes there!”

“I am Juan Lukens! The lady ahead is Lady Alicia, Countess of Echeveria! Verify identities with the Rain marquisate’s knight following behind! Make way!”

Juan spurred his horse on, shouting without slowing.

“Sir… Sir Juan. M—make way!”

Recognizing him, one of the knights lowered his pike and stepped aside.

The others shuffled back a pace or two after him.

Juan slipped through the disordered line and chased Alicia, who had shrunk to a smaller and smaller dot.

As his horse thundered past, dust blew up.

The knights waved their hands to clear their vision and coughed harshly.

“What was that? Wasn’t that Sir Juan Lukens?”

“I think so…”

To the senior’s question, the knight who knew Juan answered uncertainly.

Their faces showed pure bewilderment.

“If the one ahead is the Countess of Echeveria, isn’t she the future Grand Duchess of Tessen?”

“Lady Alicia, the betrothed Grand Duchess.”

“Didn’t that horse twist in midair to change direction?”

“I… think so…”

Their baffled faces traded unsure words.

“Pikes up, everyone.”

Seeing a mounted rider rapidly approaching from afar, a sentry spoke sternly.

If Juan’s words were true, the man coming next would be a knight of the Rain marquisate.

They needed to confirm the identities of the two who had passed and ask their business.

“Mount up, all of you.”

At the senior’s order, the knights swung into their saddles and took up positions.

Perhaps thanks to their readiness, the Rain knight approaching them slowed—unlike the first two.

He did not dismount, however.

As he drew near, he produced a token showing he was on the Marquess of Rain’s business.

The sentries dismounted to show respect for the Marquess of Rain.

Without so much as a greeting, the Rain knight urged his horse on and galloped past.

Another thick cloud of dust rolled over them.

Alicia did not stop riding until after half a day had passed.

There had been dim light even when she set out at dawn, but by evening the road grew too dark to continue.

Her vision failed, and the horse beneath her was spent.

She had urged the flagging animal a few more times before recognizing from its weary snort that it could go no farther.

She only realized how black it had become when she dismounted.

Stroking the horse’s head gently, her tired face softened with apology.

“I’m sorry.”

Even so, her eyes searched for another mount she could run.

Impatience swam in her trembling sight.

“My lady!”

As Alicia’s horse slowed, Juan drew close enough from behind to see her.

He spotted her standing still and shouted.

“Sir Juan…”

He dismounted and looked at Alicia with concern.

Her face was a mess of dust.

Her hair stuck out whichever way the wind had pushed it, and the cream dress she had put on at dawn had become the color of ochre.

“Haa… my lady. You cannot ride alone like this. And to gallop the entire day? First, take this.”

Alicia looked up, dazed, as Juan draped a cloak over her shoulders.

“Sir Juan.”

“What state is this? Roderick will come asking to be your friend.”

“We don’t have time to—”

She reached feebly for Juan’s horse.

Feigning to straighten the cloak, he blocked her hand.

Meeting her dazed violet eyes, he slowly shook his head.

“It is four days’ journey to Rain. Hard to believe, but you have gained almost two days already. If we leave at first light, we may reach Rain by tomorrow night.”

Juan tied the cloak’s knot triple-tight.

“Sir Juan.”

“Listen to me. If you keep riding without rest, you will collapse—and lose more time. Eat first. The horses need feed as well.”

Turning her by the shoulders, Juan guided Alicia toward a pub.

The roadhouse on the village outskirts, where travelers came and went, buzzed with noise.

Tavern, eatery, and a place to shake off road-weariness all in one, it proved far more comfortable than expected.

“Welcome. Two of you? Boarding the horses outside? Five silvers for the stable alone, eight with water, ten with hay and water. Five to use a seat, ten with beer, fifteen with a meal. A room gets you seat, drink, and supper—twenty-five. What will it be?”

As they opened the door, a middle-aged man seated by it rattled off the rates.

He looked more like an imperial tax collector than a tavern-keeper.

Crisply dressed in shirt, waistcoat, and dark trousers—if the fit were tighter, he could have passed for a noble house butler.

“Feed and water both horses. One room. Three seats. Supper immediately. Hot water up to the room.”

Juan added five extra silvers atop the quoted price.

“Take the bar seats. Three beers! Kitchen, plate up!”

The man by the door checked the coins and assigned their places.

He sent a stable boy to the horses and called the order to the bartender.

Juan seated Alicia at an inside spot with a wall at her back.

Before they had fully sat down, a burly bartender set down great foaming mugs.

Juan did not offer Alicia any; he raised his own and drank deeply, draining one at a gulp and downing half of the next.

He looked famished after riding without rest and without food while chasing Alicia.

“I’m sorry. It’s my fault.”

Alicia apologized belatedly.

“It is not.”

Juan eyed the wooden plate with four white rolls the bartender set down, face dubious.

The steaming soup that followed smelled surprisingly good.

“Water’s ready. Room 2-I on the second floor.”

When a meal that did not look like a mere fifteen silvers arrived, the door warden called out the information.

“Please wash up. Your hands too. If you eat like that, you will surely get sick.”

Alicia obeyed Juan without protest.

The stair was narrow enough to steal one’s breath, but it was easy to find the room.

Though the corridor’s doors sat close together, the room itself was spacious.

The water was better prepared than expected: one bucket hot, one cold, with a wooden dipper for ladling; an empty pail and another to discard used water; and three clean towels on a rack.

Alicia mixed hot and cold to wash her hands and face.

After half a day of hard riding, her hair smelled of dust.

She shook out what dirt she could and gathered the wind-tangled strands into a single tie.

When she descended to the first floor, the boisterous air shifted subtly.

Juan was in the midst of talking with the bartender.

Noticing the hush, he turned—and, seeing Alicia cross the room with every eye upon her, fell silent.

With the dust wiped from her face and her disheveled hair smoothed and tied, she looked every inch a highborn lady.

A faint sadness lay over her sharp, sensitive features.

“You are here.”

“Yes.”

“Eat. Do not move about alone. I will wash as well—back in a moment. No killing; if someone bothers you, just take an arm or a leg. Understood?”

Handing her his sword, Juan offered advice that made no sense.

He turned away, oddly at ease despite the harsh words.

“My lady, there is to be no killing, no injuries, no fighting in this establishment. Shall I warm your soup?”

The strict-looking middle-aged man—likely the proprietor—called out to Alicia.

“No, it’s fine.”

He seemed to address her, but pitched his voice for all to hear.

Thanks to his warning, Alicia ate in peace.

The soup and the plain, unadorned white bread tasted far better than they looked.

It struck her that this was her first meal of the day.

By the time she finished, Juan had returned.

Not only had he washed, he had changed into a fresh set of clothes as if he had spares.

“One more beer here. Will you have more to eat?”

Sitting, Juan asked for another mug and glanced at Alicia, a silver laid on the bar.

“I am fine. I ate your portion too—order more for yourself.”

Alicia spoke flatly, her face drained.

“This is enough for me.”

Reclaiming his sword, Juan glanced at the beer just set down.

Alicia answered with a small nod.

“…”

In all the time Juan had known her, he had never seen Alicia so spent.

The children of House Lukens mostly grew up to be knights.

Son or daughter, Lukens offspring excelled at swordplay and riding, fierce for victory and eager for advancement.

They cherished house, honor, masters, and sword clans as if their lives depended on it.

Of all he knew, Juan himself was the least attached to the life of a knight.

Of all he knew, Alicia Rain was the most knightly.

Juan had little attachment to living by the sword; he could not fully grasp the pride his kin took in a knightly house.

He loved what was more beautiful, more lovely, more brilliant.

His family had three sons and no daughters.

For as long as he could remember, Juan had harbored a fond fantasy of a little sister.

Roderick, born to a house full of elder and younger sisters, called such girls pitiful, delicate—and ravenous little devils.

Since Roderick, from his teeming brood, also called his brothers crude money-grubbers, his judgments were not worth heeding.