Morning arrived with little birdsong, bright and elegantly clear.
In the spacious room, the warm scent of freshly baked bread drifted softly through the air. The occasional clink of tableware fell gentle on the ear. The maids moved briskly as they served, never letting their lovely smiles fade, and even at this early hour they made the whole atmosphere feel clean and refreshing.
And yet, despite it being so early in the day, he’d already said it five times.
“I truly apologize. If I weren’t required to oversee the jousts, I would handle this myself.”
Kasumireaz’s face clouded with sincere regret, exactly as his words suggested.
Masumi couldn’t help thinking that he might as well accept it and move on already, but for the Captain of the Imperial Guard, this apparently wasn’t something he could swallow so easily.
“And it would be an inconvenience to ask you to act as the tournament’s chief supervisor as well, so—”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m idle anyway.”
Ark waved a hand with easy nonchalance.
The topic, in the end, was simply this: who would take Masumi into Vestofa’s city proper.
The day after the beast incident, Masumi had protested that she had no change of clothes. When she pressed the matter with, “Even suspects have human rights, so—” Ark had, surprisingly, accepted it at once as “reasonable.”
And yet Kasumireaz still couldn’t settle himself, because even if a contract had been drawn up in name, the suspicion that Masumi might be a spy still remained. If she were merely the commander’s exclusive musician, they could ask the noble household currently hosting them to provide a maid as chaperone and a guard besides, and that would be enough.
But unfortunately for Masumi, she was not merely the commander’s exclusive musician. In her case, it was preferable that the person accompanying her be someone who knew the situation—and could respond if anything happened.
Which meant there were only two candidates.
Masumi couldn’t help blurting it out.
To begin with, only Ark and Kasumireaz knew Masumi’s circumstances, and when it came to strength as knights, those two stood head and shoulders above everyone else. Of course they did. One was the Supreme Commander of the Fourth Knight Order, and the other his Captain of the Guard.
Ark himself clearly didn’t care in the slightest. As his earlier remark suggested, now that the investiture ceremony was over, all he really had to do was watch the jousts. So running an errand didn’t bother him at all.
For a man with status, this Supreme Commander was oddly lax.
It was his aide who minded these things—quite a lot, apparently.
“I’ll borrow one maid from House Merino as well. We’ll leave the selection to her, so there won’t be any trouble.”
“It isn’t that I wish to speak of trends and fashions, but…”
Kasumireaz gave a faintly troubled response to Ark’s needless consideration.
Masumi understood how he felt. But there were no other options. Already dressed and ready, Kasumireaz seemed to make up his mind at last. He rose and bowed.
“I apologize for troubling you. It is time, so I will depart for the arena.”
“Yeah. It’s only been a day since yesterday—don’t push them too hard.”
“Who knows. If they would listen when spoken to, they might even be endearing, but…”
Kasumireaz shrugged, the unspoken meaning plainly visible: “It’s pointless even if I tell them.” He didn’t seem inclined to hide it.
Naturally, Masumi agreed in her heart.
If words were an effective method of restraint, there’d be no need for that brutal sermon delivered in the language of bodies. The renewed iron-claw grip was still fresh in her memory.
“Yeah, they won’t listen,” Ark said, laughing lightly.
Those subordinates of theirs—the knights of the Fourth—had to get through four days of jousts starting today, then a full day of that “Quadrijis” competition, and finally the extra stage on the last day: the right to challenge the upper ranks.
It was work, yes—but Masumi had already heard that in practice, they joined with enthusiasm.
It would go exactly as their superiors predicted. Whatever spectacle it became, it would certainly be worth watching.
Perhaps because a week-long grand event—investiture ceremony into jousts—was underway, Vestofa was crowded not only around the arena, but everywhere.
Apparently, many travelers stayed in town during this period specifically to see the tournament.
After Masumi enjoyed a slow, generous breakfast at the noble estate—House Merino—she headed with Ark to the commercial district on the opposite side of the city from the arena.
The arena side was packed like a festival, stalls jammed together and people overflowing. But this district, though lively, was easier to walk.
Wide stone-paved roads stretched ahead; on either side, beautiful shops lined up with whitewashed facades. The weather was lovely. Lured out by the bright day, a general store displayed goods on a wooden wagon, and eateries that seemed to offer light meals had set up terrace seating.
When the young maid escorting them asked what Masumi wanted, Masumi immediately requested everyday clothes.
“Certainly,” the maid said with a bright smile, leading them with practiced ease. She had a few freckles that suited her, and while she listened to Masumi and Ark’s idle conversation with an amused expression, she never once inserted herself unnecessarily.
On the way, their topic—at least for the moment—was yesterday’s beasts.
“It’s amazing they can just keep coming, one after another.”
“They’re weak. If they didn’t have numbers, other beasts would eat them and that’d be the end of it.”
From Ark’s remark, it seemed even the beasts’ world had its own food chain. Still, being told they were “weak” after what Masumi had seen carried no weight whatsoever for her.
“And they’re the ones that get eaten, but they go after humans? What kind of sense does that make?”
“As far as the Wolves go, they rarely become man-eaters.”
“Except that yesterday’s swarm was an exception, right.”
Masumi’s eyes narrowed, unconvinced.
“Sure, they’re dangerous to civilians like you. But to us soldiers, they’re not even playmates.”
They were just practice targets for swordplay and magic, Ark added blandly.
“Even if they’re below ‘playmates,’ that still felt like overdoing it.”
“If they get a taste for people, it becomes a problem. If you don’t cull them quickly, they’ll keep attacking over and over. They’re not smart enough to learn restraint.”
So it was like bears that start raiding human settlements and develop a preference for it—something along those lines.
“If you leave even one behind, it’s a pain.”
“Hm. So you’re confident you cleaned up every last one yesterday?”
“If you throw that much power around on something as small as Wolves, yeah.”
Ark spoke as if it were obvious.
He seemed convinced it was justified self-defense for the sake of preventing future trouble—yet the fact that he was fully aware he’d gone on a rampage made Masumi’s throat itch with the question of whether it had been overkill after all.
But there was no point saying it. So she swallowed it.
“By the way… are you still tired?”
Masumi looked up to her right. Ark tilted his head with a quiet, “Hm?”
“That ‘magic’ of yours doesn’t recover unless you listen to music, right?”
The fact still shocked her.
But last night, the truth was she’d only caught a small glimpse of their situation—and done almost nothing. The night had simply deepened. She’d had not a single word to offer Ark as he struggled with that bitterness.
All she’d managed was to stay close, showing through her presence that he wasn’t alone.
Eventually, they’d fallen asleep.
Ark had held her tightly and wouldn’t let go. Masumi had rested her cheek against his chest without resisting. They’d shared warmth, and that was all. No words.
The only thing she’d done, really, was play Vltava.
If it had eased even a little of his exhaustion… Masumi couldn’t help hoping so.
“That again? I’m not fully recovered, but it’s not a problem.”
“Not recovered but ‘not a problem’ is still hard to understand.”
“Because I’m an ember.”
“Explain a bit more.”
She already knew that those with enough power to share it with others were granted the right to invest knights.
They maintained an unending, enormous heat. Thus their magic was called an “ember,” and those who received a portion were said to be given a “spark.”
But Masumi’s understanding stopped there. “I’m an ember, so I’m fine” didn’t actually tell her how Ark was doing.
“My total magic is on a different order. Even if it drops a bit, I still have more than an ordinary person in total.”
“How different are we talking?”
Ark paused, thinking.
“Hard to say. Even if you added up every knight I brought, it might not reach half of mine.”
“All of them… there were around thirty, right…”
So even bundled together they couldn’t match him.
Masumi’s face tightened despite herself. He was beyond “exceptional.” It was absurd. Still, it made the scale of his ridiculous attack yesterday feel… grimly plausible.
Ark, meanwhile, looked perfectly calm. “That’s about it,” he said.
“Even the mage corps’ top-ranked archmages can’t do much against an ember with just one or two of them.”
You need three before it becomes—he almost said “fun,” and corrected himself with the air of someone who didn’t bother correcting himself at all—before it becomes a proper fight.
When Masumi made a face that could only be described as a weary “ugh,” the maid announced that they’d arrived.
Shopping itself went smoothly.
Even though it was “everyday clothes,” Masumi had been bought enough for a week, and she couldn’t hide how pleased she was. Pants apparently counted as men’s attire here, so everything she picked was a skirt—but she could live with that.
Even better, the shops offered delivery service.
Well, it was probably House Merino’s name that made it possible, but still—she was grateful not to have to lug armfuls of packages from shop to shop.
Next was a cosmetics store.
The maid guiding them had rosy cheeks and clear skin, and Masumi’s instincts had kicked in. At the very least, there had to be basic skincare—toner, moisturizer, the essentials. When she asked, she’d been thrilled to hear it wasn’t just basics; they had lipstick and powder as well.
Soon they reached the shop that handled such things.
Its sign was an elegant red with graceful gold edging. The large double doors stood open. Peeking in from outside, Masumi could see women of various ages browsing, testing colors on their skin.
Masumi glanced back.
Asking with her eyes, “What will you do?” she received Ark’s answer instantly—an expression of raw weariness, and a flat, “I’ll wait outside.”
Of course.
Masumi understood. In fact, they’d done the same exchange at the first clothing shop, too. Masumi didn’t take long to shop, generally, but even so, it must have been a kind of torture. She felt a bit guilty.
Just the bare minimum, then.
Thinking that, Masumi hurried as much as she could. Thanks to the maid’s guidance—she’d clearly been watching their needs closely—the second shop ended quickly.
And then—
When Masumi stepped back outside, Ark wasn’t under the awning.
Huh?
Puzzled, Masumi swept her gaze around and found a plaza diagonally across the street, with a fountain. Ark had settled onto a bench at its edge. He must have assumed it would take a while and moved.
His feet were planted apart at an easy angle; he leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees, long fingers interlaced.
His eyes were absentmindedly fixed on a cluster of white birds gathered near his boots.
Compared to the sharp expression he’d worn in battle yesterday, he looked almost defenseless. But he was still dressed in his knight’s uniform, which made him look—unfairly—thirty percent more striking.
And Ark was very clearly drawing attention.
“What do we do… I really don’t want to go over there.”
“I-it is true, but…”
At Masumi’s blunt honesty, the young maid floundered, glancing between Ark and Masumi with obvious unease. She seemed to understand Masumi’s feelings all too well, murmuring, “What should we do… but yes, you’re right…”
Ark was probably the most recognizable person in Vestofa right now.
He was the Supreme Commander of the Fourth Knight Order, an ember with the right of investiture. Naturally he attended the ceremony every year, and watched the tournament as well. There was no one who didn’t know his face.
So people watched from a distance, whispering and squealing. A crowd was beginning to form—not bold enough to approach him directly, but certainly bold enough to stare.
For Masumi, pushing through that to reach him felt… unpleasant.
And yet, while she was resting her hand on her chin, thinking what to do, Ark lifted his gaze from the birds. He noticed Masumi beneath the awning and rose immediately.
Soft, restrained shrieks broke out here and there.
Ark didn’t care at all. He didn’t offer a smile, didn’t acknowledge anyone—he simply walked straight back to Masumi.
Which meant every gaze that had been fixed on him now stabbed into Masumi as well.
So it wouldn’t have mattered whether she approached or not. Masumi’s eyes went distant. She wanted her wasted deliberation back.
“You were quick,” Ark said.
“I didn’t want to keep you waiting.”
Trying to disappear into the flow of people, Masumi hurried forward. From behind came voices like, “Is that—” “The musician?” “It’s her, I saw her at the ceremony!”
Masumi found it difficult to breathe in the middle of so much excitement.
And she couldn’t possibly say, “I’m a suspect, actually,” even if her mouth split open. Shattering someone’s bright dream and admiration—she couldn’t do it. And even if she did, it would only highlight how miserable her own situation was.
So she pretended not to notice that they’d noticed her, and spoke to Ark instead.
“Commanders really are popular. Is it always like this?”
“Dunno. I get more support from men, but… the others aren’t like that.”
“Men?”
Something snagged at Masumi, and she cast a quick glance around without making it obvious.
She’d assumed it was mostly women, because higher voices carried more. But looking closely, more than half the onlookers were boys and young men.
Kasumireaz, on the other hand, had seemed surrounded almost entirely by women.
Where did that difference come from?
As the question rose in her mind, a scream went up from the far side of the plaza.
Not a delighted squeal this time.
A ripping, brittle cry—genuine fear.
Ark’s eyes sharpened.
And at the same time, Masumi’s face stiffened.
It had only been one day since yesterday. What now?
And why did she feel, with sinking certainty, that she was about to be dragged into it again?
