Chapter 68 : Chapter 68
“A festival?”
Sevha, sitting below the office window and tending to his hunting gear, snapped his head up. He saw Teresse rise from her desk and stretch languidly.
“Mmm… yes. That’s right. Let’s hold a festival.”
When Sevha just stared at her, waiting for an explanation, Teresse perched on the windowsill. As if delighted by the very thought, she dangled her legs just in front of him, swinging them back and forth.
“I have two reasons for wanting to hold a festival.”
Sevha grabbed her ankles and pushed them aside in a silent rebuke. Teresse just chuckled and continued.
“First, we need a great deal of goods to restore the territory, but there are few merchants. I want to use the festival as a pretext to draw them in.”
“And the second?”
“Those who served the Count out of necessity. Those who call them traitors. The refugees of Anse. The other races.”
Teresse glanced out the window at Rasseu.
“Right now, Blanc is rife with latent conflicts. We need to foster harmony before they erupt.”
“And a festival is the catalyst for that?”
Teresse nodded confidently. “And the festival I want to hold is the Festival of the Hawk’s Descent.”
Sevha promptly let out a sigh of resignation.
“Now there’s an offer I can’t refuse. How nostalgic.”
Teresse flicked him on the forehead, flaunting her victory.
“I knew you’d say that. The Festival of the Hawk’s Descent commemorates the Anse’s descent to the surface world.”
The festival was an Anse celebration, a day spent dressed as animals, doing nothing but eating and drinking to commemorate their arrival on the surface.
“How do you know about that festival? Non-Anse aren’t even allowed to watch.”
“Magic.”
Sevha sighed again, thinking he shouldn’t have bothered to ask. “When are you planning to hold it?”
“As soon as possible. If we use the merchant companies already in Blanc to contact others, the preparations won’t take long.”
The reason was sound. The means, plausible. All that remained was Sevha’s decision.
“Fine. Let’s do it.”
Teresse, so pleased at the prospect, let out an uncharacteristic cheer.
“You like festivals that much?”
“Yes. I’ve never been to one. I’ve never even seen one.”
“What?”
On the continent, festivals were invariably tied to the gods. Every region worshiped a god, and every place held festivals, though their scales might differ.
Sevha could not comprehend how Teresse had never once seen one.
“What, were you locked in a dungeon your whole life?”
Her smile turned bitter for a moment, then brightened as if nothing had happened.
“Regrettably, I’ve never been locked in a dungeon.”
After her denial, she deftly changed the subject.
“But why does the Anse Tribe, who worship Diaka of Temperance, hold a festival that’s only about eating and drinking?”
Sevha grinned at the question, sensing a chance to finally get one over on her.
“To not even know that… your magic must be cruder than I thought.”
“What was that?”
“The reason we dress as animals and do nothing but eat and drink at the Festival of the Hawk’s Descent is… because it’s a festival to pray that the prey the Anse will hunt in the future grow fat.”
***
A few days later, Rasseu was in the thick of festival preparations. As dusk fell, residents decorated the exteriors of their homes in the Blanc style, while the other races decorated the areas around their homes according to their own cultures.
Sevha watched the scene and spoke to Legra, who was beside him.
“I feel like something grotesque is about to descend, not a hawk.”
“I agree…”
Just as Sevha was dismissing it with a thought—Well, if they’re happy, that’s all that matters—a cheer rose up nearby.
“Oh! Wonderful! The best!”
The one cheering was Manomano. His shouts grew louder with every freight wagon that rumbled past.
“I’m going to be rich!”
Sevha felt a pang of regret as he watched the greed plain on Manomano’s childlike face. Imagine joining hands with the likes of him. I’ll never be able to face the Goddess Diaka.
Sevha had told Manomano he would purchase the necessary items for the festival from him. Manomano had immediately prepared what was needed, calling upon other merchant companies to procure anything he lacked.
In the end, Manomano was one of the people who stood to profit most from this festival.
“Manomano.”
“Oh! You’ve come!”
“Control your expression. Diaka might send the Anse to hunt you down.”
“Of course, of course. It’s just that things have been difficult lately because of the Great Road, so I forgot myself.”
Sevha’s attention sharpened at that. “The Great Road? Is there a problem?”
“Passage has become difficult recently.”
“Why?”
Just as Manomano was about to answer, the loud sounds of strings and percussion filled the street.
Looking toward the source, Sevha saw a line of colorfully decorated wagons approaching.
The wagons were loaded with crates of various sizes, from which came the sounds of animals. Clinging to the wagons were humans and members of the other races in gaudy, suggestive attire, scattering flower petals.
“A traveling troupe,” Legra said.
“They must have heard rumors of the festival,” Manomano added. “A festival is where a traveling troupe earns the most.”
“I just hope they don’t cause any trouble…” Sevha grumbled.
He glanced at Legra. Having never seen a traveling troupe before, the boy was watching with sparkling eyes. Sevha smiled, finding the reaction endearing.
Just then, one of the troupe’s wagons passed in front of them.
Beside the driver sat a middle-aged man with his eyes closed, as if he were blind. And in the cargo bed, instead of crates, sat a quiet girl about Legra’s age, alone and apart from the other members.
She had black hair and black eyes, two small, bandaged horns, and a thin tail. Her body was marked here and there with mysterious tattoos.
The moment Sevha saw the girl, he muttered, “One who selects a king…?”
The humans on the street saw the girl as well. They muttered, “Could it be…?” then grimaced as if they had seen something foul.
The girl met their gazes, but her expression remained blank, as if she were used to it. Yet the moment her eyes met someone’s in the crowd, her expression shifted to one of surprise, as if she were seeing something for the first time.
As the wagon clattered past, the image of the girl was seared into Sevha’s memory.
“That was one of the Demonkin, wasn’t it?” he said. “I’ve never seen one with all its limbs intact.”
Manomano immediately added, “I’ve never seen one of the Demonkin at all.”
“Legra, what about you?”
When Sevha looked at Legra, the boy’s face was beet red. His eyes were wide and his mouth hung open, as if he were bewitched.
“Legra?”
“Yes? Ah, yes!”
“What’s wrong with you?”
“I, it’s just…” Legra touched his face, as if to check its temperature, then spun around. “I’m going for a run!”
“What? A run? Why?”
“I—I just want to run!”
Without waiting for a reply, Legra tore off down the road, sprinting into the sunset.
Sevha had no idea what had gotten into the boy. All he could do was chase after him.
***
The sun had set, and the streets of Rasseu were quiet. Sevha walked alongside Legra, rapping him on the head every few steps.
“If you’re going to run, you run a reasonable distance! This is what happens when you just keep going!”
“I said I’m sorry! Stop hitting me!”
“Eshu’s going to nag me again. ‘My Lord Marquis. I took your weapons because I wanted you to take knights with you when you go out. But what am I to do if you insist on only taking Legra? Isn’t that right, Hwin?’”
“Hahaha! You sound just like the commander!”
As they hurried back to the castle, they ran into someone they knew by the canal.
“Ah, good evening.” It was Leytia, Duce’s eldest daughter, with her handmaidens.
Sevha said, “Hello. What are you doing out here at this hour?”
“We were admiring the lake and are now on our way back to the castle.”
“This late? And without a carriage?”
The handmaidens shot Leytia a look that said, Now what?
Leytia unfolded the fan she was carrying and hid the lower half of her face. “Well… I was doing some swimming. I… enjoy it, you see.”
Sevha stared at her, his gaze silently questioning just how much one could possibly enjoy it.
Leytia cleared her throat and changed the subject.
“W-well, in any case, since we’ve run into each other, I wanted to say something I couldn’t before.”
“What’s that?”
“Thank you for saving me the other day.”
“Your mother would have stopped it anyway.”
“Even so, you shielded me. It would be a breach of etiquette not to thank someone who acted on my behalf.”
Like mother, like daughter, Sevha thought, giving a perfunctory nod.
“Anyway, you should get…”
Just then, a faint sound, one all too familiar to Sevha.
The drawing of a bowstring.
Creeak…
He reacted instantly, pulling Leytia into his arms.
Leytia yelped, just as she had when they first met, then immediately blushed and started to scold him. “Doing this to a lady is—!”
But Sevha’s eyes were not on her; they were fixed on the spot where she had been standing. An arrow quivered in the ground.
“Legra!” Sevha yelled. “They’re after Leytia! Get the handmaidens to the castle!”
Legra immediately grabbed the handmaidens’ hands and ran.
“Wh-what is this…?”
“Just run!”
Sevha and Leytia ran along the canal. The moment they moved, several more arrows struck the ground they had just vacated.
“You’re saying they’re after me?”
“Didn’t you see the arrow land where you were standing?”
“But why?”
“I’d like to know that myself.”
Sevha glanced back as he ran. Dark figures sprinted across the rooftops on either side of the canal.
Five of them.
Sevha quickly counted the footsteps and veered into the underground aqueduct at the end of the open canal. The tunnel seemed well-maintained; lamps hung at regular intervals along the waterway.
They’re following.
As he rounded a corner, Sevha listened to the faint echo of their pursuers’ footsteps.
Hunters… No. They aren’t masking their footsteps. They’re silencing them.
He immediately gave them a name.
Assassins.
Only after he had assessed the threat and decided on a course of action did his attention return to Leytia.
It was a grueling pace for a noblewoman, and he had been about to ask if she was all right, but though her expression was tense, her breathing was perfectly steady.
“You run well.”
“It is a lady’s accomplishment.”
“Uh… what?”
“In any case, have you finished thinking?”
“My thinking?”
“Until a moment ago, your expression was not that of the hunted, but of the hunter. You’ve decided what to do about them, haven’t you?”
Sevha was surprised by her sharp observation. “How did you know?”
Leytia answered, her confidence unwavering. “It is a lady’s accomplishment.”
There was something he truly wanted to say, but now was not the time. “Honestly, shaking them off would be easy. But I’d rather catch them and see their faces.”
“Can you do that?”
“If I had a weapon.”
The moment he spoke, Leytia ripped the hem of her dress. It revealed a dagger strapped to her thigh.
“Will this be enough?”
“Why are you carrying that there?”
She replied as confidently as before. “It is a lady’s accomplishment!”
In the end, Sevha couldn’t hold back the words he’d been suppressing.
“Exactly what kind of ‘lady’ are we talking about?”
“Pardon? It’s not as if I were brandishing a spear in someone else’s house. Why do you ask?”
“That’s practically the same thing… Never mind. Give it here.”
Leytia expertly drew the dagger and tossed it to him.
Sevha snatched the weapon from the air and stopped.
He listened to the footsteps echoing through the aqueduct, his face taking on the cold expression of a hunter.