Chapter 47
Ssshh. Thwack! The arrow arced through the air and embedded precisely in the deer's neck.
"Yahoo! Wheeet!"
Heinrich let out a raucous yell and whistled as he spurred his horse toward where the deer had fallen. To calm his own startled horse at the sight, Dominic yanked the reins tight.
"Whoa, whoa."
Of all things to catch, it's always something like that. Tsk tsk. The sun was tilting toward the mountaintops above the heads of Heinrich and his group racing toward the fallen deer. Dominic looked up at the sun drawing ever closer to the ridge and twisted his shoulder toward Daniel behind him.
"My lord. Let's wrap up and head back to camp now. The sun will set soon."
Even at Dominic's urging, Daniel did not turn his horse around. He remained utterly still, his gaze quietly fixed on the foothills of Altas surrounded by peaks large and small. Instead of pressing Daniel further, Dominic turned his horse and drew up beside him. It had been a week since leaving Munheim Castle. On the way into the forest, he'd casually mentioned the location where the Duchess planned road construction, and Daniel had been like this ever since. He wasn't sure if Daniel was aware of it, but for the past three days, the original purpose of hunting had faded entirely. Among those who had set out together, only Heinrich Updyke was enthusiastic about the hunt now. Daniel scanned the territory here and there with a sharp gaze as if selecting a battlefield, moving camps every other day. It even seemed like he planned to scour the entire duchy this time. As Dominic approached, Daniel extended his hand and pointed to the mountainside.
"What's the reason for going around the outskirts instead of cutting straight through there?"
"Because the Duchess absolutely wants it that way."
Dominic emphasized the word "absolutely."
"Didn't I tell you it's the shortcut?"
"Of course not. Do you know how much more the construction would cost?"
Avoiding the shortcut and building a road would cost at least three times as much. Dominic's rough calculations were fairly accurate, so this one was surely right. When ten-year-old Daniel had gone to his great-uncle's mercenary corps, Dominic had followed suit. It wasn't at Laura's insistence; it had just happened naturally. Unconsciously, he'd thought his place was by Daniel's side and lived accordingly. To be more honest, he'd been sick of studying and eagerly packed his bags. Laura, who forbade looking at other books, had uniquely encouraged him to diligently study useless mathematics and science for mercenaries.
"Everything you learn has its use, Dominic. So don't be lazy—study quickly. No sword practice until you've finished that book."
Thanks to that, Dominic had become the smartest and busiest person in the mercenary corps. Ten years ago, when a gold mine was discovered in the rocky mountains of Rapas owned by Daniel's great-uncle. Determining the route to transport it to the Veneto Duchy, calculating costs, dividing profits—every task fell to Dominic. His father had bragged about it to the Duchess, so even after returning to the duchy, his collar was firmly grabbed.
"Dominic, you'll help, right? Who else can I trust besides you?"
Damn. How could he refuse when she clung like that? Dismounting, Dominic stretched toward the sky and grumbled.
"I tried convincing her it'd cost more and take twice as long, but she wouldn't budge."
Shaking his stiff neck side to side, he stretched his arms and scowled.
"There's a fairly large village at the far end on the other side of the mountain. She says if we clear all the trees here, a landslide could happen during heavy rain."
"Just relocate them near the castle. That should be cheaper."
Remembering he'd said the same thing, Dominic let out a snicker. This proved that those who only swung swords thought so simply.
"There are other ways, but she doesn't want to uproot the territory folk's homes if possible. Besides, with Munheim Castle's refurbishment unfinished, crowding people near it could cause water supply or security issues."
Anyway, who knew a noble lady could know so much? Dominic grinned proudly for no reason.
"I told you. Our Duchess is a genius."
Better than a hundred empty-headed Shendal Castle fops in fancy clothes.
"We mustn't make the territory folk uneasy. One at a time, but quickly and surely. Show reliable results, and they'll follow us on their own."
Her resolute face had been so cute and admirable he'd nearly patted her head without thinking. Receiving no reply, Dominic turned his shoulder and looked up at Daniel on horseback. Each time the wind rustled his hair, his inscrutable deep reddish-brown eyes flickered into view. The eyes fixed on the mountainside held not a hint of wavering. What on earth had happened that morning when they left for the hunt? What had occurred to make him leave the castle and stay out here a week without returning?
'No way... did that bastard really know nothing? So he couldn't...?'
"My lord, by any chance..."
"When can construction start?"
Dominic swallowed his hesitant question at Daniel's counter.
"We could start right away. The problem is finishing it. Just pouring money in might never end it."
He wanted to add, "In short, it's insane," but seeing Daniel's eyes, Dominic shut his mouth.
"Start anyway."
A red gaze filled with an ineffable, stymied emotion—not anger, not coldness—trembled faintly.
"What I can do for her... is just that much."
*** Another name for Chellino, capital of the Svergen Empire, is the "City of Flowers." Though winters were harshly cold, they were short, and with no midsummer swelter, its generally mild climate saw flowers of every color blooming in spring. Especially Shendal Castle, where the emperor resided, was renowned not only for its magnificent, ornate, antique exterior but also its beautiful gardens. Among Shendal Castle's many gardens, the most famous was undoubtedly the "Mirabel Garden" of the Dowager Empress's palace. The landscaping, designed for different flowers to bloom successively year-round, was unparalleled. However, rumors inflated by nobles' boasts after visiting were closer to exaggeration than truth. Access to Mirabel Garden was limited to a select few summoned by the Dowager Empress. Thus, nobles who had even once visited vied to create similar gardens in their estates to flaunt their connection. Last spring, word that Mirabel's garden arch had changed to pale purple wisteria caused wisteria seeds across the empire to dry up and prices to skyrocket absurdly. Ulrich Chamberlain Count, entering the fully spring-blooming Mirabel Garden, paused briefly to gaze at this year's garden arch of white and pink roses intertwined. Before Chellino's flower market opened this spring, he'd bought up saplings of these colors as tipped off, and the tidy profit from reselling brought a pleased smile just seeing the rose arch. The white table at the round table beneath the rose arch. An empty chair with a backrest at one side. The Dowager Empress seated with her elegantly upswept golden hair crowned by the radiant Adamas tiara. Chamberlain's eyes took it all in at once. The Dowager Empress sat with upright poise and dignity, reading documents with a calm expression. Three days since the emperor had caused quite a commotion leaving the castle. Her composed demeanor, as if no such fuss had occurred, was quintessentially Baichen. The Baichen ducal family, joked to have hearts in their heads rather than chests. Among their descendants, known as paragons of cold reason, she was deemed the most rational and ruthless. Yet even the Dowager Empress had her limits. She couldn't dissuade her son's stubbornness to visit Vutain Baron's Wife after all.
'Tsk tsk. No parent can win against their child, as they say.'
Erasing the characteristic sneer creeping onto his lips, Chamberlain raised the corners amiably. Sending her son to his displeasing consort's embrace, she must be seething inside despite no outward sign. To soothe the Dowager Empress's ire, he needed to muster every ounce of shameless flattery.
"Dowager Empress, here you are. I wandered this Mirabel Garden half to death searching for you. Haha."
Dowager Empress Margaret greeted the elegant bow with a refined nod and set the two documents in her hand on her lap.
"No one told you I was here, it seems. Making you with your bad leg roam the garden—I'll warn them sternly. Sit, Ulrich."
The Dowager Empress kindly called Chamberlain by name and indicated the opposite chair. Chamberlain hurriedly shook his head for the sake of the many palace attendants who might face needless reprimands because of him.
"No need, Your Majesty. It's my fault for not finding you despite the prior tip."
Kissing the back of the Dowager Empress's hand, Chamberlain sat in the indicated chair. He hung his cane—adorned with ornate golden vine patterns—on the cream-colored rattan-backed chair with its perforated back. The rattan chair was a gift to the imperial family from Baimar's Andrea Duke, purchased from the East, and enormously popular among nobles lately.
"Surrounded by flowers, I could hardly recognize you. I thought the goddess of flowers had descended upon Mirabel Garden."
Despite Chamberlain's incongruous flattery, the Dowager Empress didn't even smile faintly. At her nod, an attendant six paces away approached and filled the cup before Chamberlain. The scene of red hibiscus tea filling the white interior of the gold-rimmed cup was striking. Once filled, the Dowager Empress raised her hand and lightly gestured for the attendant to withdraw.
"Everyone withdraw without exception. Let no one enter the garden after this hour."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
As the attendants' footsteps faded, the Dowager Empress lifted the papers from her lap onto the table. Chamberlain narrowed his eyes, focusing on the blurry text. At the document's bottom were stamped two Altayka horses with two crossed spears between them. The official seal usable only by Svergen's margraves. Not the Updyke family's blue eagle, but the margrave's official seal—naturally, regarding border movements.
'Why show this to me?'
Chamberlain knew better than anyone how the Baichen family schemed and managed their surroundings. Now only four of the Twelve Dukes remained, Svergen's foundation. The militarily weakest Baichen had endured by wielding nobles through superior intelligence. Dowager Empress Margaret, direct heir of information-obsessed Baichen, never leaked even scraps to Chamberlain, her closest aide of nearly a decade.
'Is she testing me?'
His instincts, honed surviving Svergen's imperial court where emperors and nobles died frequently, issued a warning.
"Read it, Ulrich."
Even at the Dowager Empress's urging, Chamberlain confirmed once more before reaching for the document.
"May I?"
The Dowager Empress nodded slightly in permission and lifted her gold-rimmed cup of red tea.
"I need your help, Ulrich. To aid me, you must know exactly our situation."
"Help, Your Majesty? I am ever ready to lay down my life if the imperial family desires..."
Then, spotting a familiar name leaping out from the document he'd glanced at, Chamberlain Count startled violently.
"My God! This man's still alive?"
