Chapter 40
The sound of turning wheels filled the silence inside the carriage.
Helen was taking in the evening scenery of Hexilov. The sunset, beautifully set in the sky, richly depicted the life of the small territory.
Smoke rose from every chimney. A delicious smell wafted through the carriage door. Most days she had spent in Hexilov had been satisfying.
Only Liandor seemed dissatisfied. Even as the carriage moved smoothly, occasionally jolting over small pebbles, he remained sulky throughout the ride. He rested his elbows on the window frame and propped his chin. Through the window, the horse following behind and the knight mounted upon it faintly reflected.
"Why is that bastard following us?"
Damn knight bastard.
Liandor chewed his lip. He wanted to knock the man off his horse and break at least one of his legs, but he was someone Helen cherished.
"He says he came suddenly and has nowhere to stay, so shall we make him sleep by the roadside?"
"He's a knight commander! The Emperor sent him!"
Watching Liandor whine like a seven-year-old, Helen crossed her arms. His trembling shoulders made it obvious that he was furious. Seeing him like that, she had no desire to comfort him; rather, she wanted to tease him.
"Since His Majesty sent him, the knights will likely treat him well enough, but what can I do about him liking me?"
When she shrugged as if boasting, Liandor truly lost his temper this time. He sprang up from his seat and even banged his head on the ceiling. He would have groaned if a bump had formed on his crown, but Liandor's head was tough. It was so hard that even if he hit it ten times, he wouldn't get a bump, let alone a small scrape.
"What? He likes you? That bastard?"
"Yes. He likes me, Sir Banjeu."
Yes. This was the expression she had wanted to see. His face was so flushed it seemed it might burst. They say that when you suppress anger past the point of endurance, you end up wanting to cry.
"Ah, it seems he likes me, not Violet."
When she stated the fact so bluntly, a transparent veil rose over Liandor's eyes. The man who had been throwing a tantrum just moments ago now acted as though he might burst into tears at any moment.
"It must be tough having one more rival in love."
A lie.
The person who had flashed through Liandor's mind just now must be Carlyle Everett, but he loved someone else, didn't he? Therefore, Edwin Banjeu was the only rival for Helen Platini.
"My tastes lean more toward swordsmanship than magic, so Sir Banjeu probably has the advantage."
"Hmph. Magic is a thousand times better than swordsmanship, which has no efficiency whatsoever. You can't even sweep the Empire with such swordplay."
"Then shall I try sweeping it once? Ah, or can't you because you're afraid your beloved me might die?"
"You...!"
She had touched Liandor's weakness. The mage who prided himself on being the strongest in this world had one fatal weakness, and Helen made very good use of it.
"Sir Banjeu will be staying in the room next to yours. He'll spend most of his day at the training grounds, so it won't be uncomfortable."
"He won't last a day...."
"If he ends up leaving, I'll kick you out too. Don't touch Sir Banjeu."
Helen cut off Liandor's words and asserted. She added a slight threat and firmly warned him.
She could see exactly what would happen for the time being without even looking. Liandor would surely be displeased with the rival who had appeared so suddenly. He wouldn't kill him immediately, but he would torment him. Probably until Edwin Banjeu left Hexilov of his own accord.
"What? Is there really something between you two?"
"There isn't. If anything, perhaps I'm Sir Banjeu's savior. And you know who I love."
"Yeah, I know."
Carlyle Everett. Helen loved him persistently. Even in death, even though she had already died once, she was still living on, holding that person she could never forget in her heart.
Liandor wiped away all the tears welling at his eyes with a bitter smile.
No matter what he did, Helen, who possessed Violet's memories, would never be able to erase Carlyle. Until winter came, there was nothing he could do. Thinking that he must not be hated by her any more than this, he turned his head and looked out the window.
The sunset was beautiful. It wasn't quite what one would call artistic, but it was worth looking at. More than anything, Helen's red hair against the backdrop of the sunset was beautiful.
Liandor placed his hand on the window. He brushed the reflected red hair in the transparent glass with his fingers. As he softly combed it strand by strand, they had arrived at the mansion before he knew it.
"If you're not going to show Sir Banjeu to his room, go in first."
"Forget it. I'll show him."
Liandor muttered, as if he knew what the two of them would get up to. Helen snickered and waited for the carriage to come to a complete stop.
"The two of you look so intimate together. It suits you."
"Why would you say something so disgusting?"
"Disgusting? It would be nice if you spoke a little more kindly."
After Helen entered the mansion, the coachman drove the carriage away and disappeared. Soon after, someone appeared from inside to take Edwin's horse. It was someone Helen had sent. She was benevolent and delicate. One would never think she was the young lady abandoned by Count Platini, for she carried out her duties as lord so well.
At times, that very fact made Liandor uneasy.
Liandor approached Edwin, who was handing over his horse, with both hands tucked into his pants pockets. His fairly handsome face was all the more annoying. And what was with those absurd arm muscles? Liandor scrunched his face at the muscles visible with every movement of Edwin's arms.
Helen's words—that she preferred swordsmanship to magic—came to mind. So every time he swung a sword with those disgusting muscles, crowds of young ladies fell for him?
Hmph. What was so great about cutting down one enemy per swing of a sword? He simply didn't know that living life efficiently was best.
"Hey."
"Are you talking to me?"
Edwin looked around and pointed at himself with his index finger. Liandor nodded.
"Yeah, you."
"How ill-mannered... It's fine. I'm Edwin Banjeu, so please call me whatever is comfortable."
"You."
That the bastard was really calling him casually just because he said to call him whatever was comfortable grated on him immensely. Edwin sighed at the fact that he currently had no sword. But it seemed he could send this mage before him to the other world with a single punch.
Protecting the young lady with such a pathetically weak body? He should count himself lucky if he could take care of his own body.
"No one's around. If I killed this bastard right now, no one would know, would they?"
"I can hear everything. And this 'bastard'? You're not even that old."
"Then how old are you?"
"I'm older than your father's father's father's father's grandfather."
Would he have to go all the way to that grandfather's grandfather? It had already been a hundred years since he stopped counting his age. Age was unimportant to a mage who didn't visibly age.
But a fresh young man barely in his early twenties had no reason to believe the mage's words sincerely. Edwin snorted as if scoffing and gathered his luggage from the ground.
"Ha. Go get some sleep."
"I'm telling the truth."
"If the young lady believes that, I'll acknowledge it."
He would believe anything if it was Helen's word. Even if the path of death was the path to happiness, he would gladly die.
"Your young lady doesn't believe it right now."
"I'm telling you, go and tell her."
"I told you, she won't believe it right now even if I do."
"What kind of nonsense is that?"
"Right here. I know."
What kind of absurd talk was that, not believing now but believing later? The dumbfounded Edwin no longer wanted to exchange words with this unpleasant mage.
Moreover, he was the one who had prevented him from riding in the carriage with Helen and conversing.
"Excuse me. I have no desire to engage in trivial chatter with you."
Liandor stopped Edwin's steps as he tried to enter the mansion with his luggage.
"The young lady told me to show you to your room."
"I can ask someone else."
Just then, a commotion was heard from inside the mansion. This mansion was the best place to work in Hexilov. Where could there be a better job than this, where you needn't worry about magical beasts even in winter, and simply doing your assigned work meant your fixed pay came out promptly?
For that reason, Helen employed as many of Hexilov's residents as possible. So there was no need to ask a worthless mage; he could just ask another employee to find his room. It was significantly smaller than the Platini mansion in the capital, so honestly there should be no problem finding it alone.
"Do you have anything else to say?"
At that, Liandor smiled the most despicable smile in the world, as if he had been waiting for that. No, it was the most untrustworthy expression in the world.
"She insisted I show you the way? She said I'm the most trustworthy?"
"What kind of bullshit is that."
"Hey, hey! The young lady doesn't like crude language."
Rather, those were the words Edwin wanted to say. What kind of person with such an ordinary appearance and features would speak in such an unbecoming manner?
Should he just kill him?
It was a shame he had left his sword at the training grounds, but he had experience defeating Imperial Palace mages. He didn't know the extent of this all-white figure's abilities, but against an Imperial Palace mage, he had a chance of winning.
'But I can't kill him.'
Because the young lady would be sad. That was the conclusion Edwin reached. He ground his teeth, praying that his room was not close to this bastard's.
"Damn..."
...it.
If the young lady didn't hate crude language, he would have cursed a hundred times over. How could he be told to stay in the room next to a mage who deserved to be knocked flat on the ground? Even though he thought it could never be the young lady's intention, Edwin couldn't step into the room.
The room was a size comfortable enough for one adult to use. The bed, the small desk, and the furnishings were clearly recently procured. But none of that mattered. There was only one thing he wanted: to get away from the room next to that ill-mannered, damned mage.
There was a simple way—staying in the lodgings prepared inside the training grounds. Of course, that wasn't what Edwin wanted. If he had planned to stay in the training grounds lodgings from the start, he wouldn't have planned to stay in Hexilov for about a month. He had come solely with the heart of wanting to stay by the young lady's side. Once he returned to the capital, he wouldn't be able to see her for some time.
"I'll be leaving soon. If I leave this time, I'll never return. Because I won't remember anything."
No, for a very long time. Perhaps forever.
He hadn't been able to ask where she was going. Her eyes, like a summer forest, had looked pained. Like a puppy exhausted and worn out, crouching down. He reproached himself, thinking he should have asked when delivering the Emperor's letter. How anxious he had been all this time. Afraid she had gone far, far away. Afraid he would never see her again.
"Investigate Helen Platini's future whereabouts. Also about the mage of Hexilov. If we dig into the two of them, something will come up."
The rumor that the Emperor had proposed to the young lady was true. He had even married another young lady of the Platini family, yet still seemed unable to forget her.
Well, she wasn't someone one could easily forget.
The Empire's loyal knight commander gathered the luggage he had dropped. He closed the door to his room as if fortifying it against a siege. He had no plans to interrogate the mage directly anyway. The damned mage wouldn't cooperate easily, but he intended to exchange not a single word with him while staying here if possible.
Before entering his room, Edwin looked around to confirm no one was there. He raised his clenched left fist toward the damned mage's room. And neatly extended his middle finger. It was a curse constantly used among knights.
Since he couldn't say it in words, he had to express it with his body.