The Guilty Will Be Punished
As I passed through the castle gates and approached the drawbridge, I saw that a four-wheeled carriage was already waiting for me.
Beside it stood a smaller wagon under the guard of two mounted knights. It was clearly meant to transport the prisoner.
“This way, my lord.”
The coachman bowed, showing a row of yellowed teeth.
I turned away from the prison wagon and climbed into the carriage he indicated.
“…”
As I'd expected, the elf was already inside.
For a moment I felt my mood sour. I managed not to show it, and took the seat beside her.
“Let's go.”
I tapped the carriage floor with the toe of my shoe.
The whip cracked, hooves clattered, and we set off.
I took out a book and opened it out of habit.
The elf, meanwhile, watched me without looking away.
Does she want something from me?
No. It would be better not to ask.
I had no desire to start another exhausting conversation. The sensible thing was to ignore her until we reached home.
Just keep reading. Don't look up.
The stare continued.
My fingers grew damp against the pages.
How long are you going to keep staring at me?
She still hadn't looked away.
At this point, there was no denying that she wanted my attention. If I ignored her much longer, I was going to lose my nerve entirely.
I shut the book and turned toward her, doing my best to appear indifferent.
“Is there something you wish to say?”
“Ah. Well…”
You were looking straight at me a moment ago. Why pretend to be hesitant now?
The elf lowered her pointed ears and looked up at me with wide, seemingly innocent eyes.
“I noticed a ring on Master's left hand. I've never seen you wear it before.”
“Is that all? This is…”
I stopped.
I'd been about to tell her it was an engagement ring.
No. Absolutely not.
If I said that aloud, the peaceful life I'd been looking forward to at the mansion would turn into a living hell.
Whether it was possessiveness or a desire to conquer me, the elf had made her dislike of my closeness with other women perfectly clear.
Telling her, It's an engagement ring! would be little different from asking her to kill me.
I swallowed.
I was standing at the boundary between life and death.
Lying troubled my conscience and my faith, but surely the God of Light would understand a lie told for the sake of survival.
“…I bought it recently. I thought it might make a suitable ornament.”
“Oh.”
Suspicion lingered in her red eyes.
“A diamond ring on the ring finger of your left hand. Just an ornament, then. It almost looks as though you've exchanged rings with someone to promise everlasting love. But I must be mistaken.”
Left ring finger. Diamond. Someone.
She had chosen each word with dreadful precision.
Any excuse I tried to invent would sound ridiculous now. But admitting the truth after already lying would only make things worse.
I would have to be forceful.
“You filthy wretch. What business is it of yours what your master wears? It's disgusting to let your imagination run wild.”
I clicked my tongue and fixed her with a cold stare.
Only then did she lower her gaze. Her ears trembled.
“I'm sorry… I'm as stupid as a sow. I didn't realize it was wrong for someone like me to question Master…”
“Hmph. As long as you understand. I'm tired and intend to rest. Keep that filthy mouth shut.”
“Y-yes…”
The elf fell silent.
That worked.
At least, it had worked for now.
If she learned later that the ring really was a symbol of my engagement, there might be a terrible uproar. Perhaps I could warn Ashley first, and we could find a way to avoid disaster.
Perhaps…
“We've arrived, my lord!”
The coachman's ringing voice woke me.
I blinked several times in confusion before realizing I'd fallen asleep without meaning to.
The elf was sleeping too, leaning back in her seat with her head resting against the carriage wall.
She must be exhausted.
Yesterday I'd ordered her to draw all her pictures again from the beginning. She had probably spent the night working.
Even a magician of her extraordinary ability couldn't escape the fatigue that came from going without sleep.
I considered waking her, then decided against it.
Things were easier when she was asleep.
I put a finger to my lips to stop the coachman from calling out again, and stepped down from the carriage.
I'd taken only a few steps when Havid, the chief chamberlain, and Beynon, the household knight, approached me.
“You've worked hard in your role as regent, my lord,” Havid said.
“Welcome home safely, young master,” Beynon added.
I nodded, then turned my attention to the knight.
“Has anything happened to the house?”
“Hm? I wouldn't know about that. You should ask the chamberlain.”
“I'm asking what you have been doing for the past week.”
“Ah, well… As your household knight, I remained here and guarded the honor of House Deharem. Nothing happened.”
“In other words, you've been lazing about.”
Beynon gave a small, guilty cough.
“Young master, isn't that a little harsh?”
“Not at all. I'm simply thanking the God of Light that House Deharem's only vassal knight is still alive and well.”
“Hmph. Had you given me an assignment, I'd have carried it out properly. But you left for the count's castle without so much as an order. What was I supposed to do?”
“If I had given you a task, you would have carried it out faithfully?”
“Naturally. I swear it on my chivalry.”
I've got you, Beynon.
Smiling, I pointed toward the smaller wagon behind us.
“Then here's an order. Take the prisoner in that wagon to Skygarden Street, block twenty-one. There's a flower shop there. The owner's name is Haria. Ask her how the criminal ought to be punished.”
“Hold on. I'm a vassal knight, not some errand boy!”
“Really? Didn't you just swear that you'd obey any assignment I gave you? On your chivalry, no less.”
Beynon's eyebrows twitched.
He looked like an animal caught in a trap.
For once, I wasn't the least bit frightened of him.
“Surely a man who places such importance on knightly tradition wouldn't break his own oath.”
I gave him a smile that invited an argument.
Beynon stared at me, then let out a hollow laugh.
“Young master, you're getting more cunning by the day.”
“I'll take that as praise.”
He sighed and strode toward the prison wagon.
“You! Criminal! Get out here!”
He'd evidently decided to take his frustration out on the prisoner.
Beynon went to the flower shop on Skygarden Street, in the twenty-first block, just as Theorad had ordered.
Its owner, Haria, was a widow raising a three-year-old son by herself.
She greeted Beynon warmly at first. But when she saw the prisoner, Murnon, her face changed and she gave a startled cry.
From her expression, Beynon could tell that she recognized Murnon as the man she believed had murdered her husband.
Beynon explained why the prisoner had been brought to her. After she recovered enough to answer, Haria asked that Murnon be killed as brutally as possible, made to suffer the same agony her husband had endured.
She thanked Theorad for remembering her and tried to give Beynon the money she'd managed to save from the flower shop.
He refused it.
He knew perfectly well that Theorad would hate the idea of taking money from her.
“Hey! Hey!”
Later, in an open clearing in the forest, Beynon prepared to carry out the punishment.
He threw a rope over a sturdy branch and drew the bound prisoner beneath it.
Murnon watched him with growing horror.
“What?” Beynon asked indifferently. “Something you want to say?”
“Y-yes! Spare me! I'll tell you where I've hidden my money!”
“Oh? And where would that be?”
“Save me first, and I'll tell you. I swear!”
“That won't do. Why would I trust you enough to let you go?”
Beynon pulled the rope taut and secured it to a stake driven into the ground.
“Kgh!”
The noose lifted against Murnon's neck.
It didn't kill him at once. If he stretched his toes and fought to keep his balance, he could still draw a little breath.
But his arms and legs were bound. Holding himself upright was an ordeal he couldn't endure forever.
Murnon began breathing in terrified gasps.
“Th-then… If I tell you first, will you save me?”
“Of course. I swear by my chivalry.”
“A-all right! In the cellar of the Black Wheat Fields Tavern, there's a brick that doesn't match the others. From there, count three down and five to the left. Press that brick, and a secret room will open! All my money's inside! I swear it's true!”
The directions were suspiciously precise.
Beynon stroked his rough beard, then nodded as though satisfied.
“Your money will be put to good use. But I can't grant your request.”
“Wh-what?”
“I swore allegiance to the young master. If he ordered me to do something, I wouldn't disobey him even if the Emperor himself demanded it.”
Beynon still remembered Wellion Deharem—Theorad's father, the man who had granted him his knighthood.
He remembered, too, the final request Wellion had made before his death.
Beynon. Look after my son. He's a kindhearted boy, and that could leave him vulnerable to political intrigue. I'll pay you whatever you ask.
Beynon hadn't accepted a coin.
He'd simply obeyed the dying wish of the man who had lifted him up and allowed him to live with dignity.
Murnon knew nothing about any of that.
“W-what are you talking about? Didn't you just swear on your chivalry that you'd save me?”
“I did. But breaking chivalry is my chivalry.”
Murnon stared, speechless.
Beynon scratched his head and took a step back.
“I'll tell you one thing. You'd be better off ending it quickly. Wolves come through this forest every evening. You wouldn't want to be left hanging here when they arrive.”
“You lying bastard…!”
“I don't care to hear that from someone who murdered an innocent man. Well, you've told me where the money is. I'll put it to use, and I'll pray that you rest in peace.”
Beynon grinned, mounted his horse, and nudged it gently forward.
The animal lifted its head from the grass and began walking at an easy pace.
“You bastard! You call yourself a knight?!”
The curses coming from behind him rang surprisingly clearly through the trees.
Beynon hummed to himself and gave a little wave without turning back.