LP 1.14 The New Servant

The unfamiliarity of that word left the retainers’ minds momentarily adrift, wandering emptily around them.

“The perpetrator… he’s the perpetrator.”

Lucian, who had abruptly reversed the direction of the discussion, clicked his tongue and muttered. However, his tone was rather light for someone discussing a ‘perpetrator’.

“First impression? That would have been much earlier.”

It’s hardly surprising. Aren’t there plenty of people in Izelant who like him? Strictly speaking, ‘Knight’ Lucian. That polished mask he created with meticulous planning and vast amounts of money to establish his foundation in Ostbrahe, being a native of Callot.

“The one who assaulted him was Lucian, who had a problem here.”

A long finger tapped his own temple.

“And I can behave ‘normally’ just fine while the sun is up.”

The Mage likes him. Enough to throw a rock at a stranger’s head just for being rude to him.

Of course, he claimed he didn’t really intend to do that, but Lucian didn’t believe such excuses.

The words he used to pressure the guy, telling him to try using magic, were also very deliberately chosen.

The guy who whined that he couldn’t do it reacted sensitively to the single word ‘disappointment’.

Meaning he has at least enough feeling for him to not want to disappoint him.

Earning favor while feigning disgust was Lucian’s specialty anyway. Even if that guy was someone else’s spy, making him want to betray his side and fall head over heels…

“Worth a try, don’t you think?”

Lucian asked as if talking to himself.

After a not-so-brief silence, Mylotte finally sighed and spoke.

“Well… yes, I understand what you mean. It’s just something I’ve never considered before, so it’s a bit… but anyway, a Mage… if they can be of any assistance, they could be a somewhat meaningful asset.”

Stammering, Mylotte nodded. Lucian chuckled inwardly. ‘Somewhat’ — he could guess the reason for that conservative reservation.

His gaze returned to Gosrick.

He averted his eyes and said nothing.

It was a right he had granted his close aides: to sufficiently voice their opinions and objections to their lord. If he chose not to exercise that right, then he no longer had the qualification to oppose.

“It’s not that I trust him. Let me say it again.”

Lucian slowly added, as if placating that silent discontent. Of course, that was only natural.

The Mage likes him, but he doesn’t like the Mage.

“Continue the investigation. Has the man sent east returned?”

Mylotte nodded in response.

“The personnel sent to Allohen have returned, but the others are still a bit delayed. I’ll compile and report as soon as everything is gathered.”

“Within two days. If not, bring what you have. And…”

Lucian habitually swept his hair back and rubbed his forehead with his fingers. Anyway, the issue of the Mage was just one among the many problems they had to deal with.

“How many eyes do we have in the East Wing right now?”

The topic shift was abrupt. Mylotte’s hands, rummaging through the mountain of documents piled on the wide table, grew more hurried.

One of the tasks they had devoted the most effort to since arriving at Ostbrahe was planting eyes and ears throughout the castle.

It was less about any particularly great scheming and more something anyone who had formed a certain level of influence within the castle would naturally do. Even here, there were undoubtedly countless eyes and ears of others they hadn’t yet caught.

“After the head steward of the West Wing conducted a large-scale purge two months ago, I believe the replenishment is still incomplete. Hmm… if you could specify which areas you need, I’ll try to match them.”

Mylotte spoke with a somewhat unconfident tone.

Operating reliable tails, or those that could be easily cut off without issue, required an immense amount of time and resources. The fortunate thing was that Lucian — or more precisely, his land Callot — was extremely wealthy. The unfortunate thing was that they were always short on time.

“Substance.”

“Haa…”

At the concise answer, Mylotte reflexively made a pained expression and sighed.

“As far as I know, that area is currently… a bit tricky because of that woman, Iri? Since she got married and brought a whole entourage from her family, there’s not even room for a needle to enter that side…”

“Is it because of Sir Mathers?”

Suddenly, Pellon interjected.

He was also one of those who had witnessed the commotion in the main tower courtyard from the beginning.

Lucian, at least within the court, generally acted according to pre-arranged scripts. Although the Mage’s intervention left the conclusion messy, that sudden action of provoking Bastian was not part of the plan. Even dragging in Sir Mathers, whom they had no connection with, as if they had met…

And Bastian’s wife Iri is Sir Mathers’s youngest daughter.

“Well, to some extent.”

“If you wish, we could try making contact with Sir Mathers. Lauren is in Ollet right now.”

“No, that’s not it.”

Lucian shook his head. He leaned toward the desk. On one side of the spacious walnut desk, large enough to serve as a bed for most people, lay a game board.

This board, made by inlaying two different colored woods, could be used for various games, but what currently occupied it were the small wooden figurines used for the Tiris War Game. However, far more figurines than needed for that game were scattered chaotically.

“I don’t want Sir Mathers…”

Though he was a lord who owned part of the fertile southern granary region and completely controlled Ollet’s military forces, making him a tempting faction… It’s better to cleanly give up on things that are impossible from the start.

“Just… enough to create a slight rift between Bastian and him…”

Father-in-law and son-in-law… they can’t always get along, right?

Lucian, who had been fiddling with the board as if pondering, carefully pushed a red figurine shaped like a mounted knight toward one edge. Pellon asked again.

“Do you think the Ollet cavalry moved that day, regardless of Bastian’s intentions?”

“Perhaps? Or maybe not. But at least my sister-in-law must know something.”

“…I’ll look into that side for now.”

Mylotte answered.

“Good. No rush.”

Lucian waved his hand. Anyway, stirring up someone else’s house is relatively low in terms of priority. Isn’t cleaning one’s own house always the more urgent matter?

Then a thought suddenly followed. It wasn’t new; in fact, it was an issue that had been lying at the base of his consciousness since yesterday.

It’s just that he had some slight hesitation about whether this was the right judgment or not.

“…And send that guy out.”

But the words jumped out before the judgment. After spitting them out, he felt a bit awkward, but he didn’t feel like taking them back.

“That guy?”

“The one who guarded the Mage.”

Mylotte frowned. The one who guarded the Mage… It probably wasn’t referring to Eydrick, who was currently serving as his temporary watcher. It must be referring to the man from when the Mage ‘escaped’ previously.

That man was just a soldier, but he had been under Pellon for a long time. He wouldn’t have been entrusted with such a task in the first place if he wasn’t somewhat reliable. Naturally, after the escape incident, he had been separately interrogated.

‘I suddenly felt dizzy. Just, I got dizzy. I thought it was because I’d been standing too long, so I just leaned for a moment. I, I don’t remember what happened after that.’

‘Did you drink or eat anything special?’

‘None at all, none at all. It’s basic not to put anything in your mouth while on duty. I know that much, no matter how lacking I am.’

…During that interrogation, he had genuinely seemed wronged.

Pellon, who was in a position to be held responsible for the man’s mistake, and Mylotte, who kept getting a strange feeling whenever the Mage was mentioned from Lucian’s mouth, each fell into different speculations and thoughts.

And Lucian himself was simply thinking about that room.

That simple room with just a bed and a chair.

And the swollen lips… and things like that.

Ah, of course the Mage must have used magic to put the guard to sleep and escaped. But what if, just in case, that wasn’t it? The whining about not being able to use magic seemed quite sincere.

Once again, he was full of suspicion. If there was even a sliver of possibility… Using someone who had already succumbed to temptation once is foolish. So.

“Transfer him outside or do whatever, just make sure we don’t run into him within the castle.”

“…Understood.”

His superior, Pellon, accepted the order without objection. After giving the instruction, his head felt much lighter. So Lucian thought as lightly as his now-light head. Should have done this earlier. Like, yesterday. When that thought first occurred.

Then maybe he wouldn’t have had that damn dream again.

---

It seemed that non-escape escape had indeed made his presence felt.

In just a few days, Kosha was summoned again. A fortunate thing for the poor Mage who had been anxiously counting the days.

Kosha fiddled with the collar of the worn shirt he was wearing. A small metal badge hung there. It bore a stag antler emblem. Mylotte himself had come this morning to attach it.

‘Like this.’

Mylotte, now quite familiar, said.

‘It’s not that we intend to treat you like a servant, but as long as you’re within this castle, you’ll inevitably attract some attention. However, it would also be odd if we suddenly said we’d taken on a new servant. The West Wing isn’t short on servants right now. Ah, for your information, where we are is the West Wing of the royal castle. We use most of it, and there’s one more prince, the fourth or fifth, but you don’t need to worry about him. You won’t run into him anyway. Unless problems arise.’

In Kosha’s opinion, Mylotte had a habit of often speaking too quickly and at length. It was a common trait among those with many thoughts and worries… but most of the information that came out was unnecessary for the listener.

So Kosha just… listened. Understanding about half of it.

‘So, you’ll be my errand boy summoned from my family home.’

‘Sir Mylotte?’

‘I’m not a knight, so I’m not called “Sir.”‘

Even amidst that, he kindly corrected the title.

‘You can just call me by name. Chief secretary or whatever, that has nothing to do with you. Anyway, you’re here from Callot to run my errands. This is the mark of that. People here will recognize it. Then even if you get a bit lost or act a bit foolish, it won’t seem strange. No, that doesn’t mean you can wander around alone enough to get lost.’

Then he had attached the badge.

The symbol of Callot, so to speak. Kosha was pulling at his shirt collar, lowering his eyes, trying to get a better look at what was attached to his collar when…

“What are you doing? Spacing out.”

A low, weighty voice was heard. Startled, he looked up to see a man with mottled blond hair. His beard was a bit more unkempt than the last time he’d seen him.

“Sir Gosrick.”

“He’s calling for you. Go in.”

He nudged Kosha. Even from just that, Kosha staggered and was pushed. Since being brought here the second time, Sir Gosrick had been a bit chilly.

Probably unavoidable.

With a slightly aching heart, Kosha pulled the heavy wooden door. The door was heavier than expected, but thanks to the new watcher from last night — what was his name, Eydrick? — pulling it from behind, it opened easily.

And the moment he stepped into that room, Kosha completely forgot his previous thoughts.

His cheeks burned. They were probably turning an unsightly red. His green eyes lost their place and wandered. But this too was unavoidable.

He was sitting in an upholstered armchair.

It was a sunny spot. His posture wasn’t very upright; it was rather lax. With his long legs half-crossed, sitting almost as if about to slide off sideways, he was holding and looking at a thick bundle of papers, with a similar mountain of paper bundles piled on the table beside him.

And next to that, a multitude of various cups stood in a row. Quartz cups, glass cups, silver cups, pewter cups. Some with saucers, some long and cylindrical, some flaring wider toward the rim. Some empty, some containing something.

Bathed in light, he shone excessively, causing Kosha to hesitate for a moment.

He didn’t know if he could approach that mountain of documents recklessly… He didn’t know if he could approach Lucian recklessly either.

No, just, he wasn’t even sure if it was okay for him to be alone with Lucian. Not that, well, he would do anything to him. He wouldn’t dare, but…

Around the time he was having such thoughts, Lucian turned his gaze. Kosha held his breath.

“Going to keep standing there?”

And he gestured. It was a gesture like calling a dog, but Kosha, as if enchanted, took hesitant steps. It was an infinitely slow gait, but Lucian waited for him patiently this time as well.

Well, the sun is still up, after all.

“Sit there.”

He pointed with a careless mix of honorifics to a small stool placed beside him. The small four-legged stool without a backrest was actually made for use as a footrest, but Lucian didn’t mind, and Kosha… was out of it.

For one, he wondered if sitting so close wasn’t inappropriate. Not kneeling, but, like, equally? Sitting on a stool facing him? Too close, and just the two of them? So, you could say he needed mental preparation. He rather wished someone, even Sir Gosrick, was watching over him.

Lucian gazed at the Mage, who kept glancing back uneasily, as if observing him.

“Did you leave something outside?”

At the exquisitely feigned gentle voice, the Mage’s shoulder twitched. The shirts issued to servants weren’t made with very elaborate collars, so his neckline was exposed.

The line from his neck to his shoulder was slender.

‘Quite emaciated,’ Lucian appraised inwardly and continued. “You keep looking back since earlier.”

“Ah, no.”

Kosha hurriedly bowed his head. But the questioning grayish-blue eyes kept following him. Kosha couldn’t endure this interrogation for even a moment longer.

“Just… Sir Gosrick and such.”

“Sir Gosrick?”

“I, I thought someone should be here. There’s no one.”

“Ah.”

Lucian lightly opened his mouth. And habitually tilted his head.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“Huh?”

“Is being alone together uncomfortable?”

“……”

“It’s okay. You can be honest. Well, given what happened…”

Lucian pretended to be magnanimous. Of course, he didn’t think the Mage would actually speak frankly even if he were truly uncomfortable.

“No, not at all.”

As expected, the Mage shook his head frantically.

‘What happened.’ Despite the vague reference, he seemed to recall it accurately, as his face instantly flushed red.

“That was an accident, yes, it was an accident. You didn’t do it on purpose.”

And gradually spreading, to the nape of his neck.

“Right, it was an accident.”

Feeling an inexplicable unpleasant sensation from that nape, Lucian smiled like a painting.

“Sir Gosrick is a busy man, so he can’t just stay here. The others are the same, of course.”

Of course, he had chosen to meet the Mage alone simply to efficiently drop pretenses. In such matters, close aides were somewhat… disruptive.

“And we have our own business. Right?”

And he reached out his arm. Kosha flinched slightly. Of course, that hand didn’t touch Kosha. The fingertips, which had been skimming over several cups on the table, stopped at a sharply cut quartz cup. The series of movements was like flowing water and deliberately refined.