Each Person's Life and Bondage
The imperial palace had been bustling since before dawn.
Servants and attendants hurried between the buildings and the waiting wagons, loading supplies. Soldiers inspected their weapons, and some took extra care to scrape rust from the edges of daggers they carried at their sides.
The clatter of metal spread through the courtyard in the dim light like a contagious disease.
Even knights who ordinarily paid careful attention to their equipment were drawn into the atmosphere and began checking their swords once again.
Seven hundred people had gathered in the imperial palace's front courtyard. The air smelled of iron, and soldiers and knights stood everywhere the eye could see.
They belonged to the Dawning Steps, the combat force commanded by Benelia, the Empire's Third Princess and military minister.
Their orders were to march into the County of Pelgaroin to investigate and suppress the rebels.
“The weather's lovely,” Benelia remarked. “Just right for a march.”
She surveyed her soldiers and knights with a satisfied smile.
Roylen nodded without a word. Beside him, Beynon rubbed his tired eyes and glanced at the princess.
Benelia looked particularly lively in her sharply tailored military uniform.
And indeed, she was enjoying herself.
They called it a lifting of my confinement, did they?
She hadn't expected her father's order to stay out of sight to be withdrawn so quickly.
To Benelia, the reason for her newfound freedom was plain: the Emperor wanted her to travel to Pelgaroin and suppress the rebels. She suspected the informal way the order had been conveyed would leave him room to deny responsibility.
You fool, Father.
She understood his aim perfectly.
The Empire's present rulers had put unreasonable burdens upon the people. The rebels were declaring themselves on the people's side. If imperial forces crushed them openly, the common people would naturally resent those responsible.
So the Emperor intended to send his youngest daughter, a woman low in the line of succession, to carry out the suppression.
When the anger came, he could claim that Benelia, as military minister, had acted on her own initiative, without the Emperor's knowledge or the imperial family's blessing.
There was another advantage for him.
If the Dawning Steps took heavy losses in the fighting, Benelia's own military strength would be reduced.
Did my idiot of a second brother think of this? Or did someone at court whisper the idea into Father's ear?
Neither possibility reflected well on a ruler.
The Emperor might believe he was acting by his own judgment. To Benelia, the old lion looked like a creature whose decline had made him easy prey for the ministers around him.
But she didn't mind.
The cabinet's growing arrogance and its contempt for the aging Emperor made this an excellent moment to strengthen her position.
And they had even handed her an opportunity to approach Count Pelgaroin, whose house was regarded as one of the Empire's five great pillars.
If you want to eliminate a political enemy, you should do it properly.
Her opponents' clumsy arrangements had given her an opening.
She had lost nothing yet. All she could see were opportunities.
The sheer absurdity of it made her laugh.
Roylen, who had been observing the princess, finally ventured a question.
“Your Highness, will this be all right? Suppressing the rebels will also mean restoring the imperial family's prestige…”
“What makes you think I intend to suppress them?”
“Pardon? You've assembled nearly half the Dawning Steps. There are more than fifty knights and two hundred light cavalry among the troops. Anyone looking at the force would conclude we're going to crush the rebellion.”
Was Roylen truly that foolish, or was he pretending?
Benelia frowned at the professor's inability to see the political danger.
“Roylen. Who gave me these orders?”
“His Majesty the Emperor.”
“And who will be watching what I do?”
“His Majesty, His Highness the Prince, the ministers and the other officials.”
“Am I powerful enough to ignore their eyes? Or have I lost my mind?”
“…Neither, Your Highness.”
“Then close your mouth and nod. Ask another stupid question and I'll put a chess piece in it.”
Roylen realized his mistake, pressed his lips together and nodded obediently.
Benelia clicked her tongue and turned toward Beynon.
“Clown Knight.”
It was the nickname she had given him.
Other knights might have considered it an insult, even when spoken by a princess. Beynon didn't mind.
He had never been especially proud of his knighthood, and the last few days had taught him that Benelia rarely stopped to think how her words affected others.
“Yes, Your Highness?”
“We're going to take the warp gate to the square in the County of Pelgaroin. Once we arrive, leave the formation and go to Deharem Mansion.”
“May I ask why?”
“I want to meet him.”
Interest brightened her golden eyes.
“I've spent the last four days listening to your stories about Theorad. They make him sound like an infinitely kind young man. It's rather different from the person I imagined. I've been so curious that I could scarcely sleep. I want to see for myself.”
Young man? You're three years younger than he is.
Beynon kept the thought to himself and managed an awkward smile.
“Of course. I'll serve as your messenger. Where should I tell him to come?”
“I'll be staying at Count Pelgaroin's castle for a while. Have him visit me there.”
“As you command, Your Highness.”
Beynon stepped back with his left foot and placed a hand over his heart in an attempt at a proper courtly salute.
He wasn't accustomed to such ceremony. His movements were awkward enough that Benelia laughed softly and waved him off.
“You look like a country fellow pretending to be a city gentleman. Act as you usually do. If you were trying to make me laugh, it worked.”
“That wasn't what I meant…”
“Enough excuses. Just do your job. Roylen.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“It's time to depart.”
Benelia moved to the front with the effortless poise of someone born to the imperial household.
At the signal, Roylen drew his wand and made it flash three times.
An observer high in the watchtower saw the light and sounded a horn.
Booooo!
The note rolled through the courtyard.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
Soldiers and knights formed ranks on either side of the princess's path with a precision that made the entire force seem like an unmoving wall.
They held their positions until Benelia stepped into her four-wheeled carriage.
“Was your meal satisfactory, my lord?”
I found the chef's question surprisingly difficult to answer.
The food wasn't bad. Far from it.
I was simply so nervous that I couldn't have told whether I was eating a fine meal or a mouthful of earth.
Why… why is she so quiet?
From morning until noon, the elf had remained close to me without saying a word.
Even now she was kneeling nearby and eating from her bowl of dog food. She hadn't complained once.
Usually she would whine, make little noises and demand my attention.
The silence was utterly unlike her.
Did I do something wrong?
Was she threatening me by refusing to speak?
I searched my memories as carefully as I could, but nothing came to mind.
After we'd had sex, the elf had suffered from a nightmare, and all I'd done afterward was look after her.
Unless…
Yesterday, she'd disappeared for a while before returning to the mansion. I'd scolded her for wandering around without telling me.
Could she have disliked that?
No. I had spoken to her in the usual harsh manner she seemed to enjoy. There was no reason for her to be upset.
Was I not harsh enough?
As I agonized over the possibilities, the chef's expression grew increasingly miserable.
“It seems you don't care for the taste…”
“What?”
That wasn't it at all!
I hurriedly waved a hand.
“It's delicious! Your cooking improves by the day. I was simply distracted by my thoughts and failed to appreciate it properly.”
“Is that so, my lord?”
“Of course. Please don't worry. Go and take a rest.”
The chef's face brightened. He bowed and left the dining room.
Now there was only the elf and me.
I put down my spoon and studied her.
Something about the sight of her quietly lifting the food with her bare hands felt oddly familiar.
The red ribbon at the side of her hairband had loosened.
Is she trying to tell me something?
I couldn't tell.
Still, for some reason, I couldn't just leave it that way.
I beckoned.
“You. Come here.”
The elf lifted her head. She seemed so absorbed in her own thoughts that she hadn't understood me.
“I said come here.”
“Ah.”
She nodded, crawled over on all fours and settled beside my chair, looking up with an innocent expression.
I reached toward her and pushed her cheek to one side.
“Your ribbon's loose. Stay still while I fix it.”
She didn't answer.
She didn't refuse, either, so I untied the ribbon and began tying it again.
Sunlight filled the quiet dining room, and somewhere beyond it came the faint sounds of people talking.
There was no reason to hurry.
As I worked the knot into place, strands of her soft hair brushed the back of my hand.
She remained motionless for a time, then spoke softly just as I finished.
“Master… what do you think of me?”
A chill went down my spine.
I had no idea how to answer.
Was she asking me to insult her?
Her half-lidded eyes were dark and still, without their usual playfulness or hunger to dominate our exchanges.
She seemed serious.
When someone was in a mood like that, the safest course was a neutral answer.
I tried to sound calm.
“I think you're beautiful.”
“How beautiful?”
“…I was the one who bought you from the slave market. You were the first and last sex slave I chose for myself. I wouldn't have done that if I didn't find you attractive.”
Silence fell.
After a moment, the elf turned toward me.
A faint curiosity glimmered in her dark red eyes.
“Then, in Master's opinion…”
She spoke languidly, as though the question were of no particular importance.
“Am I prettier than Lady Ashley?”
It was a choice between death and death.