The Unknown Princess (5)

Five days after the princess arrived.

The count's castle, training grounds.

“Your Highness, shouldn't you be attending to affairs of government?”

“Meeting with you is one of my duties.”

“That's sophistry.”

“It isn't. How could you possibly comprehend my grand intentions?”

“Then I won't ask. Why have you called me here today?”

“The moon is bright, so I intend to exercise. I'll run ahead. Keep up.”

Professor Roylen watched the exchange from behind a pillar along the passage beside the training grounds.

He couldn't believe what he was seeing.

The Iron-Blooded Princess.

Benelia had earned that name through the cold, commanding manner that made people believe her mind and body were fashioned from iron and blood.

Yet the woman laughing and exchanging teasing remarks with Viscount Theorad scarcely resembled that formidable commander.

She looked like a mischievous girl her own age.

Your Highness…

Roylen's anxiety deepened.

Had five days of spending time with this troublesome young lord changed the princess so completely?

Theorad was talented, goodhearted and handsome, and he headed a venerable noble house. There was nothing inherently wrong with her taking an interest in him.

At least Roylen believed he wasn't hanging about in hopes of acquiring the princess's political influence.

Her Highness has been the one summoning him every day.

That was the real problem.

For five days Benelia had neglected the troops she'd brought to Pelgaroin. She hadn't issued meaningful instructions for hunting the rebels.

Operational command had consequently passed to Hildes Froheim, commander of the Blue Banner Knights under Count Leonberg.

For all practical purposes, Benelia had entrusted control of the troops to the Count for the duration of her visit.

If this became common knowledge, rumor would say that Princess Benelia had humbled herself before Count Leonberg while enjoying herself as his guest.

Her hard-won prestige could suffer badly.

Yet she appeared not to care at all.

What are you thinking?

Roylen sighed.

Perhaps you have to fool your allies to deceive your enemies—but couldn't you at least give me a hint?

A sudden, menacing sensation made him look up.

Nearby stood a silver-haired elf in a maid's uniform.

The elf was watching Benelia with a fierce glare.

Roylen approached, clearing his throat.

“Excuse me. You're Viscount Theorad's personal slave, aren't you? A slave shouldn't glare at Her Highness like—”

“Shut up.”

Roylen went rigid.

He couldn't believe a slave had spoken to him that way.

He felt angry, but something instinctive prevented him from expressing it. It was like a dog lowering its tail before a beast that could destroy it.

“Ah… yes. Enjoy watching.”

With as much composure as he could manage, Roylen stepped away.

He had no idea what the elf was, but he didn't want to be near her.

Farther along the opposite passage, he spotted another familiar figure.

A maid was peering through binoculars, tracking every movement Benelia and Theorad made.

It was the head maid who usually attended Lady Ashley.

Why is she spying on them? And where did she get binoculars?

Bewildered, Roylen approached the woman—whom he'd met when being shown to his room—and tapped her shoulder.

“…!”

The head maid started, lowered the binoculars and stared.

Roylen offered a friendly smile.

“It's been a while since you guided me to my room. How pleasant to meet you again—”

“Shh!”

The head maid abruptly covered Roylen's mouth.

“Mmph…!”

Roylen's eyes widened.

He'd merely tried to say hello. Now this woman had silenced him with a hand over his mouth.

The head maid paid no attention to his protest. She kept watching the princess and Theorad running around the grounds.

Only after she was satisfied they hadn't noticed did she lower her hand and sigh with relief.

“Professor.”

She looked at Roylen with obvious annoyance.

“You came up and started talking without warning. Does the university's Mage Tower teach no manners?”

You're the one spying on people with binoculars!

Roylen was too dumbfounded to answer.

The maid seemed to understand the thought anyway.

“I know this isn't ordinary behavior. But I have a good reason.”

“…A reason?”

“Viscount Theorad is betrothed to our young lady. I have to find out whether he is being unfaithful to her.”

“But if one interprets your behavior harshly, you're spying on the imperial family. That could be a serious offense.”

The head maid fixed him with a cold look.

“Wouldn't the same be true of you, Professor? You've been hiding behind those pillars, watching Her Highness all this time.”

“That's part of my official duties—”

“Does that make the act lawful?”

Roylen had no answer.

After a long silence, he admitted defeat.

“I won't tell anyone what you're doing. In return, perhaps you could—”

“Of course. I won't tell anyone you were watching Her Highness either.”

“…Very well. I'll go, then.”

Roylen turned toward the training-ground entrance, trying to preserve what remained of his dignity.

Sweat gathered on his forehead.

Why are the women of this county so terrifying?

There was simply no understanding them.

---

After roughly seven laps, Theorad had reached his limit.

He stopped running, head spinning and face pale.

“Ugh…”

His stomach lurched, and he retched.

Benelia, by contrast, was still running ahead without the slightest sign of strain. She wore comfortable exercise clothes that made her figure more apparent.

Her long ponytail streamed behind her as she completed another circuit.

Only then did she stop beside him.

Theorad was doubled over, breathing heavily, his eyes barely open.

The princess smiled mischievously.

“Your endurance is dreadful. That's what comes of sitting in a mansion reading books all day.”

“If I'd known you meant to make me run, I'd have worn more suitable clothes.”

“A fine excuse. Would changing your clothes really make someone this exhausted a better runner?”

Theorad glanced at her.

She wasn't entirely wrong, but admitting it would have wounded his pride.

Benelia seemed to understand and chose not to press further.

“Enough running. If you're tired, we can walk and talk. I probably won't have another chance to see you from tomorrow onward.”

“Are you preparing to leave?”

“Yes. Tomorrow I'll have what I came for. There won't be any need to stay longer.”

What does she mean by that?

He fell into step beside her as they began walking.

The night air was cool and clear. Stars shone across the sky.

Benelia looked upward for a while, enjoying the breeze. Then she turned as though a new thought had occurred to her.

“Tell me something. What do you think of me?”

The sudden question caught him off guard.

“What do you mean, Your Highness?”

“Just what I asked. What sort of person do you think I am? We've spoken for five days. You must have formed an impression.”

“I understand your question, but I wouldn't dare pass judgment on a member of the imperial family.”

“Then pretend I'm not a princess.”

Theorad stopped walking.

Benelia took two more steps, then turned back to face him.

“Go on. What sort of person am I?”

Her golden eyes rested on him alone.

This time she seemed determined to hear his genuine thoughts.

Why is she asking me?

After a long hesitation, Theorad answered almost before he could reconsider.

“I think you're a very sad person.”

“Sad? Me?”

Benelia laughed softly.

She'd heard endless compliments about her beauty and praise for her achievements. No one had ever described her that way.

“Why would I be sad?”

“You went to war when you were twelve. Worse, you fought at the front.”

“Explain.”

“I don't know much about your family. But an ordinary father wouldn't send his twelve-year-old daughter into battle, least of all to the front lines.”

“…I was the one who asked His Majesty to let me fight.”

“That makes it sadder.”

Theorad's light-brown eyes were gentle.

“Why would a twelve-year-old princess want to go to war as a soldier? Why didn't the Emperor stop her? I can't imagine the pain that lies between those two questions.”

He felt pity for the princess without caring about her rank, wealth or influence.

“People admire the lion that casts its cub from a cliff to make it strong. But to the cub falling through the air, all that exists is terror and pain.”

“…”

“Great accomplishments don't erase the scars of the past. That's why I think you're sad, Your Highness. And perhaps softerhearted than people believe.”

Benelia's eyebrow twitched.

“Me? Weak?”

It was almost a warning.

Theorad didn't retreat.

“Yes. I've noticed that you wear white cotton gloves whenever you go outside. You're wearing them even now, during exercise.”

“That's just—”

“I suspect you're hiding the calluses and scars on your hands. And the sword at your waist when you first entered my room had a worn hilt. It wasn't merely for ceremony. You've held a sword and trained with it for years.”

Benelia fell silent.

He wasn't wrong.

Survival had demanded that she become a leader and warrior of almost impossible ability.

She'd needed soldiers to believe in her, to follow her command and trust her strength.

So she'd hidden the scars and traces of the work that had made her capable. People spoke as though she'd overcome every enemy through natural genius alone.

Does Theorad know all of that?

Of course not.

He had only scraps of evidence. Some of what he'd said was speculation, perhaps even fantasy.

Still, in only five days, he'd come remarkably close to the truth she concealed from almost everyone.

What are you really after?

Even this perceptive young man refused to enter politics.

She'd offered him opportunities and tried to persuade him in different ways over the past five days, but he had consistently declined.

That led her to a new idea.

Perhaps artificial-rain magic wasn't Theorad's single great achievement. Perhaps it was only one among many things he could do.

Are you looking beyond the Empire? Do you see the whole world?

What lay behind that innocent expression?

She couldn't begin to guess.

Yet she didn't dislike him for hiding his true intentions. If he was concealing something, perhaps that made them similar.

And, even without knowing her past, he'd offered her an unexpected kind of comfort.

“Theorad Deharem.”

Her hair stirred in the breeze.

Benelia smiled, a trace of sadness in her eyes.

“I wish we'd known each other a long time ago.”