2
1. The girl-empress reading fairy tales, teacup in hand, fell deep into thought as she looked at the man before her. Count Rokania. A man famous as a lecher.
"I hear you've taken yourself a new wife this time as well."
The Emperor said to Count Rokania with a smile. The Count grinned broadly. The Count had the solid bearing peculiar to a military man, yet it coexisted with that peculiar unclean aura of a man fond of women's company.
"It shames me to say, but it is so."
"Heh heh, the Count remains as vigorous as ever."
At the Emperor's words, Count Rokania gave a short laugh. He stroked his mustache.
"Life is short—what harm is there in coveting seductive flowers?"
Count Rokania smiled at the Emperor as if to say, surely you understand. Had it been the past, the Emperor would have felt a sense of kinship at that smile and smiled back, but the Emperor's face had stiffened oddly. 'So looking and looking again, he's been crawling up.' Count Rokania was in charge of the Empire's central military power. This man was a genius commander, but he himself possessed no martial strength. Yet a man who indulged in women would inevitably grow lazy in his proper duties—instead, with an exceptional sense, he stayed several moves ahead of the future, developed gunpowder weapons, and held a monopoly on them.
That they could hold the advantage in dealings with the Kingdom of Talasa was also entirely thanks to Count Rokania. He had willingly lent engineers to the Empire.
Thanks to this, the ducal house of Turvol, the Empire's knightly family with overwhelming command and martial prowess, was pushed from its place as the foremost martial house.
Count Rokania had been a useful check against the Emperor, whom the House of Turvol's unbending integrity had rubbed the wrong way. But the man's extravagance sometimes irritated the Emperor.
"It seems your son takes after you and loves flowers as well."
"Flowers? What do you mean? My son..."
"I'm talking about Pond, Pond."
"Aha, Pond!"
The Count burst into hearty laughter. The Emperor narrowed his eyes as he watched him.
"That woman by the pond was overflowing with charm too. Yes, well..."
Watching the man suddenly drift off into other memories, the Emperor spoke.
"Because you begged me, I did not place him directly in the Crown Prince's palace."
"I know. Fabian is quite a diligent fellow."
Count Rokania smiled. A lecher though he was, he had taken responsibility for most of his children. Fabian was one of them.
He was a man overflowing with love in many fields, and paternal love was one of them.
"Has my boy committed some discourtesy toward Your Majesty?"
Slyly asked, yet his voice was unexpectedly full of worry. This was why Count Rokania was easy to handle.
However it turned out, he did love his children.
"He's been eyeing the daughter of that woman I brought in myself."
The Emperor looked at Count Rokania. The man soon caught the meaning and laughed loudly.
"Ah, you mean that girl? The daughter of the late Beatrice?"
"...."
"If she's her daughter, she must be quite the beauty. Then it's only natural, I suppose."
Whether the Count simply failed to notice that the Emperor had brought this up deliberately as a warning, he gave a small chuckle. This is why stupid military men are useless! So what if he racked his brains and developed cannons and nothing else! The Emperor ground his teeth.
"Do you not know what I am trying to say?"
"Aha, you mean to take the daughter of a former mistress—who was believed to be Your Majesty's daughter—as a mistress yourself. And my boy was pushing himself at your prospective mistress, so you found it absurd."
Count Rokania pointed it out precisely with a smiling face. Was he mocking him knowingly, or did he simply not understand?
The Emperor's face stiffened at once, but the Count paid it no mind.
I'll have to remove this one later as well. I must remove him without fail. Emperor Belenus ground his teeth.
"My boy knows nothing of such matters. I'll speak to him properly, so please, put away your displeasure."
The Count soothed the Emperor thus. The Count's smiling eyes turned cold.* * *"I must read it again."
So this was what punishment was like. Daphne kept reading the books as Ashelard commanded. Her eyes kept drifting shut. Daphne sighed.
"Daphne."
An incomparably gentle voice.
Daphne's rebellious gaze was caught.
Perhaps because of that, Ashelard, as always, seated Daphne beneath his own chair and made her read. When drowsiness overtook her, Ashelard would send her back.
But today was different. Ashelard made her read.
"And so, the fairy of the forest... fleeing the god of the sun... at last became a laurel tree."
Did he not need to sleep after all? Ashelard's face was weary, but he had none of the precariousness she had, as if she might collapse at any moment.
Then, a knock sounded.
Daphne tried to turn her head, but Ashelard gently stopped her head from turning. It meant she was to read the book.
"You must read the next story."
Daphne nodded. She was too sleepy to bear it.
"There was a girl who loved weaving. Her skill at the loom was by far the finest in all the land. They say that when she embroidered a flower, the flower seemed to breathe forth fragrance..."
The door creaked open. Daphne spoke as if murmuring. The hand gently stroking her head seemed to urge her on.
"Daphne. That's enough for now. Go to sleep."
At that, Daphne closed her sleepy eyes, set the book down, and rested her head against Ashelard's knee. His fingers brushed her ear.
Steady, soft breathing began.
Ashelard, gazing tenderly at Daphne, who had fallen asleep leaning her upper body against his knee, smiled. Then, at the continuing presence of someone outside, he raised his head and stared at the visitor.
"You came?"
Ashelard gave a melting smile. Languid eyes tinged with drowsiness. That particular languor of those steeped in sleep. The visitor—no, Fabian—was watching it with a frozen expression.
"Did you summon me for some matter?"
The knight spoke quietly, forcing an air of nonchalance. Ashelard, without a word, bowed his head again and smoothed Daphne's hair, scattered like threads of gold.
"Your Highness."
At the words, spoken almost as a prompt, Ashelard brought his index finger to his lips.
"Shh. If you keep making such a fuss, you'll wake her."
Ashelard said it alluringly, his eyes curving in a smile. At that incomprehensible scene, Fabian spoke.
"Did you wish to show me this?"
"...."
"I..."
"Still, he's nominally my knight. I ought to at least warn him."
Ashelard stroked Daphne's head. He said it while looking at Fabian's face. Fabian, his face deathly pale, looked back and forth between Ashelard and Daphne, who sat upon his knee.
"What on earth..."
"...."
"What on earth is this hell unfolding here?"
"...."
To Fabian, it was impossible to tell what was what. But the one thing he could understand was that a hideousness far too great to bear was entrenched here, in the imperial palace.
Shielding Daphne, who was being treated like some pet like that.* * *"Daphne, is your body all right?"
Sara looked tenderly at the cheek Daphne had been struck on. The girl with the dark chestnut hair seemed consumed by guilt.
"Oh dear. It's swollen quite a bit."
After being struck by Kalista, Daphne had done nothing but read books at Ashelard's residence. A grave punishment, you ask? It had not been a great punishment at all.
Having drawn the Empress's ire, the fact that she had come back alive at all was a feat in itself. Moreover, when she came to, Daphne found herself lying on Ashelard's sofa.
"He's told the head maid to let you rest for a while."
Daphne nodded weakly.
"What happened? I heard you were caught getting dressed. Did His Highness scold you?"
Sara asked carefully. Daphne looked at that clear face, then spoke quietly, almost like a sigh.
"I wasn't scolded badly. I just stayed up all night without sleeping, reading books."
"Did something happen? Don't tell me, His Highness the Crown Prince, he..."
At those words, Daphne shook her head.
"Nothing happened. Really, I only read books."
Sara gazed at Daphne's body steadily.
"And Lord Fabian?"
"Fabian?"
Daphne laughed emptily.
"He ran away."
"...."
"No, not ran away. He just... left."
At those words, there came a sound like air escaping. Daphne looked intently at Sara's face, but Sara wore an expression of pity for her.
"Poor Daphne."
"...."
"I suppose he couldn't handle you either."
Daphne did not answer. Because Sara's words were right. Just because he liked her did not mean she returned to being an ordinary girl.
"Oh, look at me. Mrs. Lapel told me to clean the hearth... Daphne, see you later."
Sara rose from her seat and stepped back. She seemed accustomed to being cooped up in her room. She hugged her knees and passed the time.
Night deepened and dawn drew near when the door burst open.
"Daphne."
At the sound of the door bursting open, Daphne lifted her head. It was Fabian. When Daphne started in surprise, he brought a finger to his lips as if to say quiet.
Regardless of the disappointment she harbored toward Fabian, she had no idea what was going on. There was no one who would come even if she made a sound, but Daphne nodded for now.
Fabian looked at Daphne's sorry figure curled up on the bed, then soon took her hand and pulled it. Just as she was about to say something, something damp was pressed into her hand.
"Here."
Daphne realized she could smell a fragrance of grass from it. What is this? Daphne looked at what she held.
Withered yellow daffodils. Daphne blinked at them.
Flowers, all of a sudden, why...?
Fabian said in a low voice.
"They were the flowers blooming on your mother's grave."