Thanks to driving their horses at a fast trot along the road to Vestofa, Ark and Kasumireaz reached the town in short order.
Though sizable for a rural settlement, it was still the countryside. A loose wooden fence encircled the outskirts of the town, lending it a pastoral air. Compared to the imperial capital, where towering stone walls wrapped tightly around the entire castle town, the sense of oppression was worlds apart.
They entered through the largest opening in the fence, the southern gate. As they rode past rows of houses toward the center, foot traffic gradually thickened. Shifting from their earlier haste, the two slowed their mounts and proceeded at an easy pace over the stone-paved road.
Before long, they arrived at the central square.
On ordinary days, it bustled with townsfolk and street stalls, but today it served as the venue for the investiture ceremony. Red drapes surrounded the area, barring entry to anyone not involved.
From several days ago until yesterday, officials and workers had been rushing about in preparation.
Today, however, only a limited number remained. It was clear the work was in its final stages. Naturally so. If preparations were still incomplete at this hour for the largest event this rural town hosted all year, that alone would have been cause for alarm.
“Looks like things are proceeding smoothly,” Ark remarked.
If everything was this far along, he should have been allowed a bit more sleep.
He shot Kasumireaz a glance tinged with mild reproach. After all, it had been a rare, restful night.
Kasumireaz responded by pointing toward a specific spot. Ark met his eyes briefly, then followed the gesture.
A red carpet lay there. The place where Ark would stand to bestow rank upon the new knights.
The ceremony would begin at noon. At this hour, no official participants should have been present. The only figures visible were support staff handling the final arrangements.
And then the sense of unease struck.
No matter how closely he looked, someone who should have been there was missing.
The moment he realized it, Ark felt his brow tighten.
“Where is the musician?”
“He fled.”
The question had been simple. The answer was equally so.
And yet it was precisely the answer Ark had not wanted.
“…What did you say?”
“Please don’t glare at me. Given the circumstances, I had no choice but to wake you early.”
Kasumireaz spoke curtly, his expression as bitter as Ark’s own.
The musician.
In broad terms, it referred to anyone who made a living playing music. Here, however, it meant the person tasked with performing the blessing piece that concluded the investiture ceremony.
Without that performance, the ceremony itself lost its meaning. One could say the commander’s prestige was on the line.
A suitably skilled musician had been hired specifically for today.
And that person had run off.
Ark felt an overwhelming urge to punch a wall.
But there was no time even for that. Forcing himself to stay calm, he pressed on.
“Is there any chance they’re still nearby?”
Kasumireaz shook his head without hesitation.
“We’ve searched the surrounding area thoroughly since dawn. There’s no sign of them. It seems they escaped during the night.”
“They were under watch, weren’t they?”
“They took advantage of a lapse late at night.”
“Why would you look away at such a time… ah.”
“You recall now, I see. Yes. We detected the intrusion of a concealed caster, so I had no choice but to respond.”
“…Right. That’s true.”
Ark’s face darkened.
A sudden presence within the third defensive line. An impossible situation under normal circumstances. It had been Ark himself who ordered Kasumireaz to investigate, unwilling to take chances.
If the intruder truly had been a concealed caster, a mere foot soldier might not have been able to handle it if the spell were released. With the investiture ceremony scheduled for the next day, Ark had wanted to eliminate even the smallest risk.
This was the result.
What rotten timing.
This was worse than a spy problem.
His head began to ache, despite being well rested.
“Can’t we procure one from the city?” Ark asked.
“Vestofa is a regional city, but finding someone worthy of you will be difficult,” Kasumireaz replied.
Ark could only grunt in agreement.
The ceremony was an annual event. If a replacement were so easily found, they would never have gone to the trouble of hiring a musician from the capital at such expense.
“Damn it. If only you had a musician, we could at least use them as a stand-in.”
“I don’t even have one assigned to you, so it would be strange for me to have one myself. Let’s not dwell on futile hypotheticals.”
“Fair enough.”
The Albarique knightly orders constantly suffered from manpower shortages.
It wasn’t that there were too few knights. On the contrary, it was a respected profession, and their numbers were adequate.
What they lacked were musicians to support them.
Musicians were the supply line. In other words, the lifeline.
Ideally, each knight should have one. In reality, even an entire order might have only a handful. Ark’s Fourth Order had none at all. The shortage was that severe.
There were many reasons for it.
But wishing for what did not exist solved nothing.
“This is a mess,” Ark muttered, looking up at the sky.
It was infuriatingly clear.
He checked the time. A little over an hour remained until noon.
Though urgency gnawed at him, no brilliant solution came to mind.
“At this point, should we try finding someone among the soldiers?”
“They’re all physical types. It would be a waste of time. Searching Vestofa is more realistic.”
“…I know. Fine. This is an emergency. Offer whatever compensation they ask.”
“We already have. Since early morning. There are candidates, but once your name comes up, they all refuse.”
“…Is that my fault?”
Kasumireaz hesitated, just briefly.
Then he answered carefully.
“I wouldn’t say fault, but you are… exceptional.”
“So that wasn’t a compliment.”
“It was simply a fact.”
Arguing further would accomplish nothing.
There was a very real reason this kept happening.
Despite the dire need for musicians, Ark had been abandoned by one under contract. Kasumireaz faced similar, if less severe, difficulties. Many lower-ranking knights had given up on securing musicians entirely.
Unlike the mage corps, which enjoyed an abundance of talent, the knightly orders were perpetually plagued by this shortage.
Complaining would not change reality.
“Isn’t there anyone we could pressure into it?” Ark muttered, searching his memory.
He visited this town every year. There had been musicians who played the villard at the celebratory feast afterward. If he could recall even a name or a face, he might bully them into performing with some flimsy excuse.
Kasumireaz saw through him instantly.
“No. They’ve already declined.”
“…You caught that fast.”
“I didn’t threaten them, but everyone knows what your ceremonies entail. No one is eager for work that ends in collapse.”
“That makes it sound like I beat them senseless.”
“The result is much the same.”
Kasumireaz shrugged.
Every word only underscored how dire their situation was.
Anyone. Anyone at all.
After a long pause, Ark’s gaze lifted.
“Come to think of it, she had a villard.”
Kasumireaz looked at him, silently asking who.
Ark opened his mouth, then hesitated.
“…I don’t know her name. I forgot to ask.”
“You mean that spy?”
“Yeah.”
“A spy disguised as a musician. It seems our Fourth Order’s lack of personnel has become common knowledge across the continent. How regrettable.”
Leaving aside the sarcasm, Kasumireaz pressed on.
“Can she actually play?”
Ark could only shrug.
Honestly, he didn’t know.
The instrument hadn’t been a weapon, so it was likely genuine. It was smaller than a standard villard and oddly colored, but that was trivial. More importantly, her stubborn resistance suggested some sort of history.
What tipped the scales was simple.
She had never once said she couldn’t play.
Even pinned beneath him, she had held her ground.
In that obstinacy, Ark had seen something real.
“…We’re truly cornered,” Kasumireaz said. “But at this point, we have no choice.”
There were too many unknowns.
But they were past the luxury of choosing.
Kasumireaz did not object.
