Arc 10 Chapter 29: Gray Star's Mission

Chapter 29: Gray Star Mission

—Everything was proceeding without a hitch.

Beneath the great chandeliers suspended from the ceiling, their brilliant light spilling across the hall, the elegant melodies of stringed instruments filled the air. Guests adorned in formal attire of every vibrant hue gathered in animated conversation, wineglasses in hand. The evening banquet, held in the grand hall of the estate belonging to Viscount Disken Moreau, lord of the surrounding territories, was an undeniable success. The spacious chamber overflowed with the voices of its many distinguished guests, every corner alive with the sounds of celebration.

Those invited were individuals of considerable standing: nobles who maintained close ties with Viscount Moreau, merchants whose extensive trade routes passed through his lands, and prominent figures whose influence stretched across several villages. Not one among them could be considered lacking in status or distinction.

Whenever the viscount, as host of the festivities, raised his glass and offered a toast to the peace and prosperity of his domain, voices rose enthusiastically in agreement. The musicians responded with a lively composition, their music lending further strength to the sense of unity permeating the gathering. Everyone present welcomed Disken Moreau's words with approval, never once doubting that the viscount stood upon their side.

And naturally so.

—For each of them, the viscount had arranged rewards sufficient to justify their loyalty, including the invitation to this very celebration. He had ensured they understood the considerable advantages to be gained by contributing to the prosperity of the Moreau domain.

When people stood to gain enough, they were remarkably adept at overlooking the occasional inconsistency.

—There was no malice in them, nor any awareness of wrongdoing. They were collaborators who did not even realize they were collaborating.

And that was precisely the ideal.

In recent months, Viscount Disken Moreau had undergone a profound transformation in his approach to governance. Previously, the viscount had been a conservative man, possessing what might uncharitably be described as a timid disposition, one that recoiled from change. Yet over the past several months, his conduct had departed dramatically from that long-established preference for maintaining the status quo. He had begun undertaking ambitious initiatives, drawing the influential figures of the surrounding region into one substantial enterprise after another.

Having passed his fiftieth year, the viscount had once been mocked as a man whose philosophy of life amounted to little more than enjoying fine wine and rich food while preserving the security of his comfortable position. His sudden transformation was so remarkable as to make those old judgments seem almost inconceivable. And those who had profited from the changes welcomed them wholeheartedly. Indeed, the celebration that evening had been arranged expressly to invite those who had benefited from a particularly significant recent transaction, and to demonstrate the viscount's boundless gratitude for their cooperation. At an age when middle life was giving way to the first years of old age, Disken Moreau's talents had finally blossomed in their truest form. Such was the assessment of the viscount held by everyone gathered beneath his roof.

—For none of them could possibly have known that Disken Moreau had been replaced by another person, and that everything belonging to the real viscount, including his position and identity, had been stolen wholesale.

'————'

Raising a glass of wine to his lips, the individual calling himself Viscount Moreau quietly surveyed the festivities. He responded readily to those who addressed him, answered proposals and consultations with a smile, and returned every compliment with praise even more generous than that which he received. Through such exchanges, he carefully measured the extent to which the poison had spread.

Poison.

This did not mean that he had physically administered some lethal substance. Rather, the poison was the being who now called himself Disken Moreau, the impostor occupying the viscount's identity and position.

Something that slowly corroded those it touched, eating away at them without their awareness, until even their lives might be taken before they recognized the danger. He had heard that poison administered with such a purpose had now spread throughout every corner of the kingdom. The reason he knew this only through hearsay was simple: even he had not been entrusted with the full details of the operation by which the poison was being distributed. Yet there could be little doubt that he was not alone. The signs of its influence could be quietly discerned by anyone who observed the changing circumstances of the kingdom closely enough. In all likelihood, the time was drawing near when the poison would finally begin to exert its full effect. And in preparation for that inevitable moment, it was his responsibility to remove every possible obstacle.

—Which was precisely why the veteran retainers and servants who had questioned his authenticity, despite his appearance being perfectly identical to that of their master, would have to disappear together.

Invitations had been sent to them as well. Not invitations to the splendid banquet presently unfolding before him, however. Instead, under the pretext of explaining the situation and discussing a possible reconciliation, they had been instructed to enter a separate building through the servants' entrance at the rear of the estate. Every one of them had already arrived and been escorted into the mansion's underground chambers. And by the time the orchestra finished its final composition, they would quietly depart the estate.

—As corpses.

Their bodies would be loaded into a dragon carriage, and the scene arranged to suggest that they had fallen victim to bandits somewhere along the highway. The official account would be that the retainers, having failed to repair their relationship with their lord, had departed the banquet in anger. The guests gathered here would later hear the viscount's sorrowful explanation of how his attempted reconciliation with his former servants had ended in failure. They would offer him their sympathies, accept his account without question, and eventually learn of the tragedy that had followed. Once this night was over, every discordant voice within the domain would have been silenced.

That was the fulfillment of his purpose as poison.

Convinced of the certainty of that outcome, the man calling himself Viscount Moreau returned the flattering smile of a merchant who had approached him.

'Why, this truly is a magnificent gathering. Incidentally, Your Lordship, have you had an opportunity to speak with that married couple over there?'

Following the merchant's gaze, the viscount saw a man and woman standing among a circle of guests. They were husband and wife, according to the merchant, though it was the wife who immediately commanded his attention. Her abundant black hair had been gathered into an elegant arrangement, its glossy strands complementing the tasteful cosmetics adorning her pale complexion. Her evening attire was equally refined, every element composed with exquisite care. The dark dress widened dramatically toward its hem, the generous sweep of its skirts emphasizing both the narrowness of her waist and the voluptuous curves of her figure. Holding an open fan before her lips, the woman conversed pleasantly with an older noblewoman standing beside her. The movement of her eyes, the smallest gestures of her hands, the measured grace of her posture—everything about her was perfectly judged, neither excessive nor lacking.

She was not merely beautiful. She seemed intimately familiar with the impression she created upon others, and with precisely how she ought to behave to delight those whose attention she commanded.

—Natsumi Schwartz.

If memory served, she was a young lady who had inherited an enormous fortune following the sudden death of her father. At least, that was what the guest registry stated. She had joined the celebration on short notice through a letter of introduction from another territory, making her one of the few unfamiliar faces at an event otherwise carefully populated with allies.

Standing beside her was her husband, a tall man whose deep green hair had been gathered into a single tail. His formal clothing was elegant without being ostentatious, and an ornamented longsword hung at his waist. His posture and manner of walking suggested the discipline of someone born into a martial household, his bearing displaying unmistakable evidence of long training. Yet the most striking aspect of his appearance was his face. Or rather, the eyepatch covering his left eye, which only served to accentuate the handsome features surrounding it. It created the peculiar impression that the loss of something had made what remained all the more beautiful. Standing beside his wife, he was in no way overshadowed by her. They made an exceptionally well-matched couple.

'I had the pleasure of speaking with them earlier myself.'

Noticing the direction of the viscount's attention, a heavily perfumed lady joined the conversation.

An inquisitive smile played upon her lips, revealing a woman who seemed particularly fond of gossip.

'Apparently, they have been traveling from one territory to another in search of suitable investments for the lady's inheritance.'

'Indeed, several others have already expressed considerable interest in them. I must confess that I am among those interested myself, but I thought it rather improper to approach such promising guests before their host had been given the opportunity.'

The viscount responded with an agreeable smile to the lady's mischievous glance and the merchant's self-congratulatory display of consideration. Yet in the time that followed, the Schwartz couple's names reached his ears repeatedly. By the time the evening had progressed a little further, those names had become firmly engraved upon the mind of the man calling himself Viscount Moreau.

'—My name is Natsumi Schwartz. I hope Your Lordship will forgive my discourtesy in allowing so much of the evening to pass before offering my greetings.'

Natsumi Schwartz delivered the introduction with an elegant bow. The false viscount responded with a magnanimous nod, concealing beneath his welcoming smile the sharp appraisal of a predator assessing its prey.

'My husband and I are deeply grateful to have been invited to such a wonderful occasion. Your domain is remarkably vibrant, Your Lordship. Surely this flourishing atmosphere is proof of how warmly your governance has been received by the people.'

Following his wife's introduction, the husband offered a courteous bow of his own, praising the viscount's accomplishments. Naturally, the false viscount had any number of suitable responses prepared. Though the couple were newcomers, they appeared to enjoy conversation, and the guests who had spoken with them had already furnished him with an abundance of information. However, while he considered which of his conversational advantages to employ, the husband forestalled him with a single word.

'However…'

The lowered tone suggested that the man was approaching a matter of some importance.

'My wife and I have been entrusted with the management of the wealth inherited from her family. We cannot afford to make careless decisions based solely upon what happens to meet our eyes.'

'We have heard certain things concerning the many new enterprises Your Lordship has recently undertaken within the domain. If you would be so kind, might we have the opportunity to hear more about them?'

Matching her husband's subtly lowered voice, the wife introduced the true purpose of their approach.

Clearly, the couple had discussed the course of this conversation at length beforehand. In that case, attempting to postpone the central issue through elaborate pleasantries would merely waste everyone's time. It would be better to withdraw somewhere private, discuss the matter directly, and bring the Schwartz couple into a position where they, too, might assume a portion of the responsibility for spreading the poison carried by the man calling himself Viscount Moreau.

—Another potential concern eliminated, another useful piece added to the board. What an auspicious evening.

'—Thank you ever so much for setting aside your valuable time for us, Your Lordship.'

The private reception room into which the couple had been escorted was empty save for the three of them.

Even the false viscount's personal guards had been instructed to remain outside. Given the Schwartz couple's earnest request for a confidential discussion, it had been a necessary concession. In any event, the thick door now separated them from the festivities in the grand hall. Within the room were only Viscount Moreau and the married couple.

'We have heard that your territory has undergone remarkably vigorous changes these past few months, from the expansion of its highways to the construction of new marketplaces. My father was forever impressing upon me the principles of the Schwartz family: ‘Stagnation is no different from decline.’ He taught me that change and growth are the surest roads to prosperity and advancement.'

The wife's words revealed an ambitious family philosophy, and she made little attempt to conceal the fierce hunger for success beneath her cultivated elegance. The false viscount offered an indulgent smile before personally pouring wine into three glasses and taking his seat. The husband left his own glass untouched.

'I hope you will not take offense,' he said, continuing where his wife had left off.

'I, no less than my wife, perceive considerable potential in the Moreau domain. But if we are to place our confidence in that potential and commit ourselves to action, there are several matters I would like to clarify.'

The husband was plainly attempting to take command of the discussion. Glancing toward the wife, the false viscount observed that she seemed content to leave the negotiations in her husband's hands. She sat with her closed fan resting upon her lap, smiling with easy confidence.

Very well.

The false viscount assured them that he would furnish whatever information or documentation was necessary to secure their interest and understanding.

'The financial returns of an enterprise are, naturally, of considerable importance. We would certainly wish to examine the relevant records. However, more important to both my wife and myself is whether the individual with whom we intend to conduct business is worthy of our trust. —I understand that Your Lordship has recently dismissed a considerable number of long-serving retainers while appointing new personnel to positions of responsibility.'

At the mention of those former retainers, irritation stirred within the false viscount. They were an inconvenience that would be eliminated before the night was over. Nevertheless, the prospect of their imminent removal did little to lessen his anger toward them. Particularly when their existence threatened to obstruct his efforts to recruit new individuals who might prove useful.

'Although one ought not to confuse years of service with actual ability, dismissing those who have served faithfully for so long cannot have been an easy decision. Surely some among them had stood beside Your Lordship since your younger days.'

So that was the concern. The husband wished to ascertain how he and his wife might be treated once negotiations had concluded and they had successfully entered into a business relationship. If the viscount had been ruthless enough to cast aside servants who had attended him for decades in pursuit of reform, what assurance existed that newly acquired associates would be valued any more highly? It was an unnecessary concern.

So long as an individual remained useful, there would be no reason to discard them. Of course, if that individual proved too useful—useful enough to serve as poison in their own right—there was always the possibility that they might be replaced by a more suitable piece, just as the genuine Viscount Moreau had been. But there was no need to enlighten the couple on that particular possibility. Instead, hoping to dispel their doubts, the false viscount began speaking with mounting emotion about the retainers he had supposedly been forced to dismiss. He recounted their years of service, their accomplishments, and the cherished memories he had shared with them.

None of those memories were inventions.

Every incident he described had truly occurred.

He could even recount the occasion when the viscount had fallen from a dragon, identifying the precise location of the accident, the injuries sustained, and the names and faces of every servant involved.

Only by possessing such comprehensive knowledge could he fulfill his duty as genuine poison, rather than merely some harmless imitation.

'—I see. I believe I understand perfectly now.'

The husband nodded with apparent emotion after hearing the false viscount's tearful account of his bonds with his former retainers. His amber eyes shifted briefly toward his wife. Perhaps their arrangement was that the husband conducted negotiations while the wife retained the ultimate authority to approve them. Even so, after such an exhaustive exchange, surely no reasonable alternative remained but to accept the viscount's assurances.

And yet—

'Might I trouble Your Lordship with just one final question?'

'Natsumi?' The husband frowned slightly.

Apparently, the question had not been part of their agreed-upon discussion. Meeting the doubtful gaze of her eyepatch-wearing husband, however, the wife merely raised her folded fan beneath her chin. Her dark eyes settled upon the false viscount.

'The ringa tree in the garden has borne fruit again this year. —What does that mean?'

The question was entirely unlike anything that had preceded it. It concerned neither Disken Moreau's competence nor the propriety of his personal relationships. Instead, it referred to an exceedingly private memory. Why this woman should have mentioned such a thing was puzzling. Nevertheless, the false viscount concealed his momentary surprise behind a faint, rueful smile and shook his head.

The words Natsumi Schwartz had spoken referred to a memory shared between the genuine viscount and a former retainer who had served him for many years before retiring several years earlier. Long ago, the real viscount had been served a particularly astringent ringa at the retainer's home. Following that incident, the retainer had promised to provide him with sweet ringas every year thereafter.

A trivial little occurrence. The very same phrase had appeared in a letter sent by that retired servant four days earlier. The false viscount had questioned the genuine Disken Moreau about its meaning that very day, filling the gap in his borrowed memories. Apparently, ringas had continued to arrive from the retainer every year since that occasion. And this year, too, the man would undoubtedly send another gift, believing that Viscount Moreau would be the one to receive it.

'Why… what a lovely invitation, one whose meaning only the two of you could understand.'

Upon hearing the explanation, Natsumi raised a hand toward her eyes as though deeply moved, delicately wiping at their corners. Judging by her reaction, whatever suspicion she might have harbored toward the false viscount had now melted away completely. Not that another hundred questions would have presented any difficulty. Nor another two hundred. The false viscount could reproduce with perfect accuracy whatever answer the genuine viscount would have given—

'—The wind carries the scent of a lie.'

At the sound of that clear, resolute voice, the false viscount's thoughts abruptly stopped. He had been raising his wineglass toward his lips, intending to moisten them, but now his body froze. Before his eyes, the husband who had spoken those words reached toward his own face. And removed his eyepatch.

The left eye thus revealed— It was a dazzling golden eye.

The Dragon's Eye.

'—!'

The instant he recognized the danger, the false viscount kicked the table standing between himself and the couple.

With a tremendous crash, the small table rose to obstruct the space separating them. But a quietly drawn blade flashed through the air, severing the table diagonally into two pieces. And it did nothing to stop the long leg thrusting toward him from beyond the collapsing furniture. The sole of a shoe struck him squarely in the chest, the elegant kick driving the breath from his lungs and sending his body flying backward. Yet falling and rolling away had been precisely what he intended.

Keeping his enemy within sight, he reached behind the backrest of the sofa upon which he had been sitting and seized the staff concealed there. He brought its tip, fitted with a magic stone, to bear upon the insolent couple—

No. Upon his mortal enemies.

The false viscount understood perfectly well what it meant to encounter a being possessing the Dragon's Eye. Such beings were enemies of the poison. Therefore, there would be no restraint. Blades of wind began swelling into existence at the tip of his magical staff—

'—E! M! T!'

'Perhaps!'

The explosive torrent of wind should have surged forward, its countless blades slicing his enemies to pieces. But the blades that ought to have erupted from the staff suddenly lost their power. Their deadly force vanished. The wind dispersed, stripped of form and purpose, transformed into something utterly harmless. And at the very instant that inexplicable phenomenon occurred, the false viscount witnessed something still more bewildering.

Behind the bearer of the Dragon's Eye stood Natsumi Schwartz. Her voluminous skirt suddenly billowed upward. And from beneath that dress emerged a little girl, herself dressed in a gown.

Had the child truly been hiding beneath the woman's skirts the entire time?

The sheer absurdity of the sight overwhelmed his thoughts. —And that moment of confusion proved decisive

'I'm afraid you've simply had the misfortune of choosing the wrong opponents.'

A glittering blade came to rest against the false viscount's neck, rendering him incapable of movement. Yet it was not the wielder of the Dragon's Eye, whose sword now held him captive, who spoke those triumphant words.

It was Natsumi Schwartz, standing beside the little girl who had emerged from beneath her dress. And for some reason, she looked positively victorious.

△▼△▼△▼△

—Owing to the sudden illness of Viscount Disken Moreau, the evening banquet was brought to an early close.

The guests departed one after another, leaving behind expressions of concern and wishes for the viscount's swift recovery. Once the musicians hired for the celebration had also withdrawn from the estate, the last remnants of the evening's revelry finally faded into silence. Only then, looking once more over the people assembled in a secluded room on the mansion's ground floor, did Subaru release a small breath of relief.

'Truly, I cannot begin to express how relieved I am that none of you came to harm…'

'Oi, how long are you planning to keep up that damn act!? You're way too comfortable playing the part! Is that supposed to be a knight's special talent or something!?'

The furious interruption came from Rachins, who stood nearby in the uniform of a serving attendant, berating Subaru as the latter, still thoroughly immersed in his Natsumi Schwartz persona, pressed a handkerchief to his eyes as though struggling to contain tears of heartfelt gratitude. Dressed in a neat ensemble of black and white reminiscent of a bartender or formal waiter, and with his hair carefully arranged, Rachins presented the image of a respectable young gentleman. Indeed, during their infiltration of the banquet, his conduct had apparently earned considerable approval from the ladies in attendance.

'Nevertheless, those eyes of yours do make it rather difficult, don't they? I understand perfectly. Ever since I was a little girl, people have had all manner of things to say about the way my eyes look.'

'Don't go deciding we're comrades just because of that! It's a damn coincidence, nothing more. I don't need some bastard who happily dresses up as a woman calling himself one of my kind.'

'Are you quite certain you ought to say that? Why, there might be a gentleman in your own camp who would look surprisingly fetching in women's clothing.'

'Like hell there would be! Seriously, between you and Blue Snake…'

'—What? Were you just talking about me?'

Rachins's mouth twisted into a grimace, and his expression immediately stiffened. Turning reluctantly toward the voice, he found Ferris emerging from the doorway of an adjoining room, dressed in the same attendant's uniform. Ferris had removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. As he wiped the blood from his hands with a cloth, he directed an icy glare at Rachins and, for some inexplicable reason, Subaru as well.

'Thank you for your hard work, Blue Snake. Are the injured all right?'

'—Well, barely. Those people gathered in the annex… the ones who'd become inconvenient because of the replacement, they were all about to be executed. We only stopped it because Long Tongue and his friends managed to intervene. Even so, the person they picked to go first was in a pretty bad state, you know.'

'You actually managed to bring someone back from that? Your healing magic's as monstrous as ever.'

'I'll choose to take that as a compliment. And when Long Tongue finds himself on death's door, this very same monster will make sure to patch him up properly, too.'

Ferris gave as good as he received, his barbed tongue showing no inclination to yield to Rachins's habitual rudeness. Smiling wryly at the two, who seemed forever to remain a single step short of genuine friendship, Subaru turned his attention toward the anxious people gathered in the room. They were the former retainers of Disken Moreau, the men and women who had narrowly escaped execution. Upon hearing that their gravely wounded companion had survived, relief began spreading across their faces. Perhaps only now were they finally able to appreciate that they had truly been saved.

And then—

'Kuhahahahaha! What a cheerful lot of miserable bores! If you've been saved, then celebrate! Make some noise! And if you've got something troubling you, then lament it! Wail your lungs out! I've no use for this halfhearted business of lingering somewhere in between!'

The voice that intruded upon the room's gathering relief belonged to someone whose booming laughter was singularly ill-suited to the atmosphere. A tall young man with dark skin and unruly, wheat-colored hair strode heavily toward the doorway and peered into the room without the slightest consideration for its occupants. His features might have been strikingly gallant had they been arranged in a more serious expression, but instead they were twisted into a look of extravagant mockery.

In high spirits, he raised the bottle of liquor in his hand and drank directly from it. Technically, he too was dressed in the same attendant's uniform as Ferris and the others. Yet his manner, his posture, and every word that came from his mouth made the outfit seem almost entirely different upon him. Of course, Subaru and his companions were accustomed to the man's conduct, and so their response amounted to little more than exasperation. For those who had only moments earlier escaped death, however, his presence was considerably more difficult to endure.

'Now see here, Black Dog! Whatever do you mean by behaving in such a manner? These poor people have only just escaped an exceedingly dangerous predicament. To show such little consideration for their feelings…'

'Oh? What's this? What's happening? A lecture, is it? Buuut! Before you start passing judgment on my manners, perhaps you ought to reflect upon that deceitful appearance of yours, concealing the truth as it does! And besides, whatever else you may say about this, that, or the other thing, I'm the great benefactor who saved these people's lives! Don't see why I should have to put up with any complaints, do you?'

'That is an entirely separate matter…'

'If you get to divide things up however you please according to your own reasoning, then I get to put them together however I damn well please according to mine! There! If you want to comfort them, do it yourself. Me, I'm perfectly happy pouring my own drinks. Though if a beautiful duchess wanted to pour me one, I'd hardly object! Kuhahahahaha!'

When both parties insisted upon their own peculiar logic, Subaru found it difficult to press the matter too forcefully against Black Dog, who had undeniably accomplished what had been asked of him. Indeed, without his assistance, they could never have prevented all the atrocities being committed in Disken Moreau's mansion through the sinister use of the Replacement Puppets.

—No. Perhaps it was still too early to claim that they had prevented every loss.

'Unfortunately, I couldn't find any trace that seemed to match anywhere inside the mansion, I suppose. It would seem we ought to assume that the real viscount is being held prisoner somewhere else.'

Just as Subaru quietly clenched his fist at that troubling possibility, Beatrice returned with a report that confirmed his fears. She had been searching the mansion for magical traces and hidden mechanisms. Beside her stood the beautiful woman who had accompanied her in that investigation, examining anything that might have seemed suspicious—Crusch. Having played the role of Natsumi Schwartz's husband during the banquet, Crusch had already restored the eyepatch to her face, recovering the dashing appearance that had made her so convincing in the disguise.

'I agree,' she said, confirming Beatrice's findings.

'I searched the estate alongside the Librarian, but even my eye detected nothing unusual. The individual impersonating Disken Moreau has shown no inclination to reveal anything, either. Had his subordinates survived, the situation might have been different, but…'

'Kuhahahahaha! Well, that's just too bad, isn't it? My deepest condolences!'

Even under the sharp glare Crusch directed toward him, Black Dog displayed not the slightest sign of remorse. He had always possessed an infuriatingly mocking air when his identity was concealed beneath a mask and cloak. Yet removing those disguises and revealing a face strangely at odds with his personality had done nothing but make his eccentricity all the more pronounced.

In any case—

'—Then our master was nowhere to be found.'

The words emerged in a hoarse voice from one of the former retainers seated before them. Fourteen servants of the viscount had been summoned to the annex and nearly executed. Each had been a true and loyal retainer, someone who had noticed discrepancies in the conduct of the impostor who had replaced the genuine Disken Moreau through the use of a Replacement Puppet. And though only one of them had voiced the question, the others undoubtedly shared his anguish over their master's fate.

'…Long Tongue.'

'Tch. Hate to say it, but we searched more than just the mansion. We went through the annex and the underground rooms, too. Those two even checked for hidden chambers and anything else that might've been tucked away. But we came up empty.'

'Then His Lordship…'

Their suspicions had been confirmed. An impostor had stolen their master's place, and the genuine viscount was nowhere to be found. Despair and resignation began to settle over the former retainers' expressions. But Subaru intervened.

'Please, do not abandon hope just yet. I asked the impostor a question, you see. —A question concerning the ringas and a certain former servant of the household, and the memories he shared with Viscount Moreau.'

'Do you mean the matter involving my predecessor as steward? But that…'

'He is an ally of ours. And the letter concerning that particular memory was written only four days ago… Yet the impostor answered my question perfectly. Isn't that right, Emerald Beauty?'

'Indeed. There was no falsehood in what he said. The memory did not belong to him, but we can be certain that the incident itself was genuine. —I see. So that was why you introduced those unexpected questions.'

'Precisely. —Do you understand? The impostor knew of a memory that he could only have learned by questioning the genuine Viscount Moreau. Which means…'

'—His Lordship is still alive?'

'—Yes. Of that, I am quite certain.'

The elderly retainer's eyes widened. Subaru approached him, took his dry, deeply wrinkled hand in both of his own, and nodded with solemn conviction. Tears immediately welled in the old man's eyes, and the surge of emotion spread among his companions. With that, the atmosphere of the room began to change. No one burst into loud sobs, but the faces that had been sinking beneath the weight of despair rose one after another. Within their eyes, a new sense of purpose had awakened.

—They would find their missing master.

'If that is so, then we must find His Lordship, whatever the cost—'

'—Your devotion is admirable. But precisely because you care for your master, I cannot recommend that course of action.'

'—!'

The one who halted their growing determination was Crusch, still dressed in masculine attire. As she had when apprehending the impostor posing as Viscount Moreau during the banquet, she rested a hand upon the longsword at her waist and surveyed the gathered retainers with an unwavering, dignified bearing. Under the force of her penetrating gaze, their voices trembled.

'Why…?'

'At present, this territory has been deprived of its rightful lord. Among those appointed by the impostor, some may have served him without knowing the truth, while others may have knowingly conspired with the enemy. Unless the chain of command is restored, the administration kept functioning, and the consequences for the people minimized, can you imagine how much turmoil would follow?'

'That is…'

'When the true Disken Moreau finally returns, if he finds his territory devastated, his people suffering, and nothing remaining of what he was sworn to protect, then can such an outcome truly be called the salvation of your lord?'

'————'

As Crusch continued speaking, the former retainers' initial confusion and resistance began to give way to understanding. Gradually, agreement spread across their faces, and they found themselves listening ever more intently to her words. It was proof of the natural charisma she possessed, the rare quality of one born to make others listen and to guide them.

'From this moment onward, your duty is to preserve the appearance of a territory continuing as it always has. Do not allow anyone to discover that the impostor has been removed. Govern through a council of your own number, and spread word that the viscount has taken ill and is confined to his bed. —For the sake of the master who will one day return, safeguard his position. Protect the place to which Viscount Moreau must come home.'

Subaru studied Crusch's profile, considering the weight of those words coming from her. She faced the retainers with unshakable composure, delivering her counsel without any trace of personal sentiment. And yet she herself had been stripped of her rightful place by unjust accusations and forced into a life of flight.

'Always doing that again…'

The faint murmur came from somewhere behind Subaru.

It was Ferris, the one person who could hardly help but feel the most powerful and instinctive anguish over Crusch's present circumstances. But his words did not reach her. Crusch's attention remained fixed upon the loyal retainers, who were now striking their own cheeks with their palms, casting off their despair before nodding deeply in renewed determination.

'—We understand. Until His Lordship returns, we shall protect this land and preserve his place without fail. And so, we ask…'

'Indeed. You may leave it to us.'

Crusch returned the resolute retainer's words with a deep nod of her own.

And then—

'—Even if I must spill every last drop of blood that flows through these veins, I swear that I shall cut away the corruption that has taken root within this kingdom, and put an end to the suffering that weighs upon your hearts.'

Thus she answered.

Though she had been driven from her position and stripped of the standing that was rightfully hers, she spoke with a conviction that perhaps embodied, more perfectly than anything else, the pride and responsibility befitting a Royal Selection candidate.

△▼△▼△▼△

'—Everyone, thank you for all your hard work! The operation was a success, and we managed it without suffering any casualties on our side!'

'Well, with Betty and Subaru involved, this much was only to be expected, I suppose. White Sheep did rather splendid work as well, in fact. Betty shall graciously bestow her praise upon you.'

'Th-thank you very much. I'm truly honored!'

The one bowing repeatedly, a bashful smile upon her face as she received Beatrice's praise, was White Sheep, who had played an especially important role in the success of the operation. Rather than her customary black suit, she wore a pale-blue evening gown for the banquet infiltration. Like the Schwartz couple portrayed by Subaru and Crusch, she had entered the gathering as an invited guest, using her natural warmth and approachable manner to subtly steer conversations among the attendees, ensuring that the false Viscount Moreau would become interested in the couple.

'Of course, I'd like to think the rest of us handled our parts pretty smoothly, too, but White Sheep, you really surprised me with how ridiculously competent you are. Seriously, you were a huge help.'

'N-no, Subaru… I mean, Lady Natsumi, I think the operation succeeded because of what you and the others accomplished. I really didn't do anything particularly remarkable…'

'Come on, saying you didn't do anything remarkable is just plain wrong. And besides, I've already taken off the wig and removed the makeup, so you can call me Subaru again. I don't want to go around calling myself Natsumi when I'm not in her complete form.'

'Eh? But you're still wearing the dress… Ah, never mind. It's nothing. Yes, understood.'

White Sheep appeared on the verge of saying something more, only to hastily swallow the words. Subaru tilted his head at her curious reaction. Yet before he could investigate further, the exhaustion that followed the release of his accumulated tension descended upon him all at once.

'Man… honestly, that went so well it almost feels like it went too well…'

With that thought, Subaru, still dressed in his gown, looked back toward Viscount Moreau's estate. It was the direction in which the former retainers had remained bowing until the very last moment, seeing their rescuers off with gratitude. Everything that had transpired within that mansion tonight would remain concealed. Until the day the genuine viscount finally returned, his loyal servants would struggle to preserve both the territory and its administration, maintaining the appearance that nothing had changed.

However—

'Just so we're clear, those people have probably figured it out themselves. If the enemy realizes what's happened, there's every chance they'll dispose of the real viscount.'

'Rachins…'

'And don't start spouting some overheated nonsense about how they've entrusted everything to us. You think I can just go around picking up everybody else's burdens whenever they feel like handing them over? I've already got my hands full carrying my own damn baggage.'

Rachins clicked his tongue, leaving Subaru without a ready answer. Whether the Moreau domain could truly be restored to its former state depended upon the frailest of hopes. They could do nothing but trust in a miracle and attempt to cross a precarious bridge suspended over an abyss, with scarcely anything to support it. And it was not only the Moreau domain whose future depended upon faith in such a miracle.

'Already… two whole months…'

As though engraving the bitterness of regret and the urgency of impatience into himself, Subaru contemplated the time that had passed.

—Two months had gone by since Subaru and his companions had been driven from the royal capital and begun working alongside Six Tongues. Throughout that time, they had moved from one part of the kingdom to another, continuing their struggle against the Beloved Children, who had infiltrated the deepest reaches of Lugunica and were quite literally plotting the overthrow of the nation itself. What had astonished them most was the extent of the enemy's operation. The replacement of influential figures by the Beloved Children was by no means confined to the highest circles of the royal capital. It had spread throughout the kingdom, reaching even its distant territories.

—During the preceding two months, Subaru and his companions had resolved five incidents resembling the one involving Viscount Moreau. Tonight's operation marked the sixth.

'The damage the Replacement Puppets have done to the kingdom is serious. I know there's value in dealing with them one by one. I know that, but…'

'Subaru, impatience won't help, I suppose. Emilia and the others in the castle must surely be safe, in fact. Crusch has given us her assurance on that matter, I suppose.'

'—To be precise, the arrangement is that I have our people remaining in the castle verify their circumstances, after which Emerald Beauty uses her Divine Protection to confirm that I have not falsified their reports.'

'————'

Beatrice laid her small hands over Subaru's tightly clenched fist, offering what comfort she could. Then another voice entered their conversation. They were standing in the forest some distance from the Moreau estate, before a hunting lodge that Six Tongues had secured as a temporary rendezvous point. The man now standing in its doorway was none other than Russell Fellow, the chief of that organization.

'Russell, did you actually come out here to welcome us back yourself?'

'Indeed. White Sheep, whom I had sent to meet you, had failed to return for quite some time, so I began to wonder whether some unforeseen complication had arisen. Also, I believe I instructed you to address me as Silver Fox while the operation was underway, Gray Star.'

'Huh? We're still counting this as part of the operation?'

'At the very least, until you have changed out of that dress, the false Disken Moreau has been safely transferred into our custody, and I can confirm that we have departed this territory without incident.'

Faced with Russell's uncompromising caution, Subaru scratched his cheek with one finger. He could hardly accuse the man of overthinking matters or insist that such precautions were unnecessary. Not after everything they had witnessed of the enemy's activities. Indeed, Russell's painstaking vigilance was one of the reasons Six Tongues had survived this long, and by extension, why the kingdom itself had managed to endure.

'Still, setting aside my codename, Gray Star, and Beako's, Librarian, don't you think Rachins getting called Long Tongue was a little too half-assed? At least you went with my suggestion for Crusch's codename, Emerald Beauty.'

'The requirement is that the names be both recognizable and sufficiently obscure. Now, everyone, please come inside. There are matters concerning our next course of action that I wish to discuss. —Ah, and one more thing, Gray Star.'

'Hmm?'

'Although it ultimately had no effect upon the outcome of the operation, introducing an unnecessary exchange into the negotiations carried a very considerable risk of arousing our opponent's suspicions. I would ask you to refrain from such thoughtless actions in the future. You endangered every one of us, and consequently, the kingdom itself.' Russell narrowed his eyes as he delivered the warning in a quiet, measured voice.

'Ugh…'

Subaru could only groan faintly. Truthfully, the criticism concerned a unilateral decision he had made with full knowledge of the risks. It had been Subaru himself who asked the retired steward of Viscount Moreau, now cooperating with them as an informant, to write a letter mentioning the old memory involving the ringas. And there had been a reason for that. He wanted to establish whether, when confronted with information the impostor could not possibly know, the latter was obtaining his answers from a source.

—That source being the genuine viscount, kept alive and questioned whenever his stolen identity demanded knowledge only he possessed.

Subaru had wanted certainty that the real Disken Moreau remained alive. And the people who would be saved by that knowledge were not something as vast and abstract as the Dragon Kingdom of Lugunica, whose continued existence weighed so heavily upon Russell's decisions.

They were—

'It was necessary to save the retainers who would otherwise have bowed their heads in despair, believing their master's life had already been lost.'

The person who revealed Subaru's true intentions from behind him was Crusch, who had witnessed the entire affair. Indeed, apart from Beatrice, who had concealed herself beneath Subaru's skirts while holding her breath, Crusch had been the person most directly exposed to danger by Subaru's independent decision.

'Emerald Beauty, are you saying you approve of his actions?'

'If we place rationality above all else, then Gray Star's unilateral decision can hardly be praised. Even from the standpoint of a duchess, I would consider it an error in judgment. —However…'

'However?'

'As matters stand, I am a fugitive pursued by my own nation, and I have been deprived of my position as duchess. Furthermore, speaking from my own personal perspective, I find myself rather fond of this man's excessive compassion. I can only express my heartfelt sympathy for the burdens that are placed upon you.'

'…I shall take your opinion under advisement.'

Confronted by Crusch's unapologetically favorable defense of Subaru, Russell rubbed at the corners of his eyes before offering that weary reply.

'If you will excuse me, I intend to go inside. Using this eye places a considerable strain upon me, after all. I do not expect to fall asleep, but I would appreciate somewhere to sit.'

With those words, Crusch passed Russell and entered the hunting lodge. Black Dog, who had remained entirely unconcerned with the conversation, had already gone inside. White Sheep hurriedly bowed as well before rushing after them, presumably to prepare enough tea for everyone.

'Hah. I can understand why the old man's got plenty he wants to say. So go ahead and let him have his say. Doesn't bother me. Even a moron like you wouldn't go pulling something like that without figuring you had some chance of winning.'

Rachins laughed openly at Subaru's predicament, slung his discarded jacket over one shoulder, and disappeared into the lodge. Whether the words were intended as encouragement or sympathy was difficult to determine. Russell offered no response to them. Instead, he looked toward Ferris, who stood behind Subaru and Beatrice.

'Blue Snake, you should come inside as well. I realize you may be tired, but…'

'Not particularly. There were fewer patients, and their injuries weren't nearly as bad as some of the cases I've dealt with. If I started complaining about exhaustion after something like this, I'd have been completely useless back at the royal capital's treatment facilities.'

Ferris waved a hand dismissively. Russell merely shrugged and returned to the lodge. As for Subaru, he was painfully aware that he had contributed his fair share to Russell's worries. Truthfully, he was almost overflowing with the desire to apologize.

'But that'd probably just get on his nerves even more…'

'There's nothing to be done about it, I suppose. Such are the responsibilities of those who stand at the top, in fact. Emilia and Roswaal being so remarkably free of that particular kind of suffering is what's unusual, I suppose.'

'Maybe so. Besides, if I told Russell the whole truth, he'd probably get even angrier.'

Subaru understood perfectly well that Russell was already making every effort to accommodate him. And yet, despite recognizing the full extent of those concessions, he could not bring himself to stop demanding still more.

The most glaring example had been his independent decision during tonight's operation. Rachins might have defended him in his own rough way, but—

'The truth is, you didn't really have any confidence it would work, did you?'

'Ferris…'

'That's Blue Snake. If Silver Fox overhears you, he'll start making a fuss again, Gray Star and little Librarian.'

'————'

'Gray Star, you really are good at getting people to indulge you, aren't you? —I'm almost jealous.'

The voice was sweet and charming. The sharpness of the gaze accompanying it was neither. Subaru found himself utterly unable to answer. Ferris allowed him no further opportunity to do so, passing beside him and entering the hunting lodge. And with that, only Subaru and Beatrice remained outside.

'Haaah… I've been working my ass off, haven't I, Beako?'

'Betty has always been the one watching Subaru's efforts most closely, I suppose. …And surely everyone else is safe, in fact. They're all impossibly tough people who never know when to give up, I suppose.'

'—Yeah. You're right. We're not the ones who get to start complaining that we've had enough.'

Though the information reached them through Russell, they had at least managed to confirm that Emilia and Ram, who remained in the royal castle, were still safe. However, they knew nothing of the present circumstances of Rem, Otto, and the others, who appeared to have escaped. The only thing Subaru could cling to was a grim confidence in the enemy's willingness to exploit every advantage. If any of their missing companions had been captured, surely the enemy would have made a grand public announcement of it. And so Subaru persuaded himself that the absence of such proclamations amounted to indirect evidence that they remained safe.

In any event—

'—I'm seriously running out of everything! Emilia-se alone isn't enough anymore! I need Remcillin, Ramino Acid, Garfieine, Ottogen, Petramide, Meilitol, and Frederimin! And while we're at it, I could use some Roswanol, too!'

'It can't be helped, I suppose. For now, you'll simply have to make do with Bearotomin, in fact.'

'Uoooooh! Absorbing Bearotomin! Time for a big dose of Beako!'

Thinking of the companions he had been unable to see, and of the longing that had only grown stronger with their separation, Subaru lifted Beatrice into his arms. He hugged her small, light body tightly against himself and began spinning around in circles. As he turned, he offered a silent prayer to the stars glittering through the night.

—A prayer for the safety of those precious to him. And for the day they would meet again.

'GRAY STAR! LIBRARIAN! I TOLD YOU TO COME INSIDE! I WOULD APPRECIATE NOT HAVING TO REPEAT MYSELF!'

Russell's scolding voice, a sound Subaru had heard countless times over the past two months, rang out once more beneath the night sky, carrying high above the forest.