COARV Chapter 30

"I'm not putting some grub on my horse."

"What an honor, Your Highness."

"That sounded like sarcasm."

"Me? Toward my noble, honored savior? There's no way."

Lesche looked down at me and huffed a short laugh. He gave the knights a few instructions, then adjusted his grip on the reins and said:

"Hold on tight so you don't fall, my lady."

"Understood, Your Highness."

Falling off was out of the question, regardless. Honestly, if Lesche had just tossed this blanket aside, I'd have been a little cold, sure—but so much more at ease in every other way. I could've just wrapped both arms around him myself. But Lesche had bound my arms right into the blanket along with the rest of me, and there was really no way for me to hold onto him at all. Staying put was the only thing left to do. My entire weight depended entirely on Lesche.

He wouldn't just drop me for being heavy... would he.

Wrapped tight in blanket and cloak as I was, my body was still cold, somehow.

They say the central region's winter is like a drunk bastard of a man. Dead on, that saying.

Not cold, this man?

I tilted my head up slightly to look. Lesche's silver hair closely resembled the winter landscape. So closely that it was hard to tell it apart from the snowflakes.

To him—riding on, saying nothing—I opened my mouth.

"Your Highness."

Being a blizzard, the wind was loud. Whether he heard me or not, I figured it made no difference either way, so I asked, same volume as always:

"Aren't you cold?"

I figured he probably hadn't heard—but the answer came back fast, surprisingly.

"With a Stern in my arms, there's no reason to be cold."

"I'm not talking about the celestium armor. It's just cold, is all."

"This much, I'm used to."

"Are you."

"I am."

Lesche's voice was matter-of-fact. Like someone who lives on the plains, unbothered by the fierce wind that comes blowing through.

How long had we been riding.

Slumped, worn thin from the cold that wouldn't let up, I noticed—the horse's pace was slowing. Too worn out, too unwilling to lift my head, I just blinked my heavy eyelids—and something as cold as my own face touched my cheek. It took me a moment to register that it was Lesche's gloved hand.

Before I could react—just blinking—my chin was tipped up entirely. Then something warm—hot, even, next to what had just touched me—pressed against my cheek. Worlds apart from a moment ago.

Why was Lesche's eyes this close? Close enough that my own face filled his pupils, completely.

An impossibly close distance. Slowly, I understood. Lesche's tongue had touched my cheek. Had he—licked me? No—is he licking me. Right now.

Lesche. To me?

My slack breathing snapped back to pace at once. I jerked back, appalled.

"Your Highness! What are you doing?!"

"This wakes you up. Fall asleep somewhere this cold and you'll die, my lady."

"...For god's sake. If that's the reason, just say so with your mouth."

"I've been calling your name this whole time."

"What?"

That was the first I'd heard of it. I blinked. I really hadn't heard Lesche call my name, not at all. Apparently, without even knowing it, I'd been standing at the Jordan's edge, testing whether to wade on in. Lesche gently brushed the snow off my head, shoulders, and back. Each time, snow tumbled to the ground.

"Your Highness! My lady! Are you all right? You've come to!"

Linon shouted, gasping for air. He was quite a sight. Snow piled on his hair and shoulders, and worst of all, his face had gone dead pale. He looked exactly like a man frozen to death. I thought, any second now, something awful—but Lesche didn't spare him so much as a glance.

"We're almost there."

At Lesche's words I turned to look. A low sound of wonder slipped out of me.

A green building, of all things.

The manor visible in the distance was beautiful. True to its name, Laurel Manor, the exterior walls were built of pale green marble.

Really pretty.

You could tell great care had gone into the design from the very earliest stage. The three-story building was as grand in scale as any respectable count's residence in the capital. It lacked the overwhelming majesty of the main castle, but it didn't feel small or shabby either. The way the moon is beautiful in a different manner from the sun—this was that kind of beautiful.

We'd finally arrived at the manor. And yet.

Wow. This is really crap.

It's winter, so it's probably a little bleak...? Even with my expectations already lowered that far, Laurel Manor's actual state turned it upside down.

"Laurel Manor" was a proper noun—the building's actual name. Naturally, a garden came with it—but that garden was close to ruin. No. Correction. It just was ruin.

I found myself briefly picturing the sprawling garden attached to Berke's main castle. Though honestly, that one was so vast it deserved to be called a park more than a garden.

The main castle's garden had been kept in excellent condition, despite the winter season. It wasn't arranged with any particular skill for beauty, but with pricey plantings scattered over such a vast stretch of land, there was plenty to feast the eyes on. The guests staying in the main castle's annex for my wedding had made a point of strolling through the garden at least once a day.

So why was this place like this? This wasn't just neglect—the plants looked rotted, mushed clean through. It felt like some seriously difficult mistress of the house lived here. But this grand duchy only had one mistress—me. Well. Seria did carry a fairly cranky past of her own.

I hadn't received any separate report about this place.

Whether it was because the garden was more grotesque than I'd imagined, or because of the blizzard, some unpleasant feeling settled over me.

Without meaning to, I must have tightened my grip on Lesche.

"What."

"No. Just..."

Lesche looked at me without a word for a moment, then dropped his gaze.

"Let's get down."

Just as he had when he'd first put me on the horse, he dismounted in an instant, and once again, holding me in his arms, he started walking toward the manor. Linon, taking the lead, pulled a key from inside his coat and unlocked the door. Stepping inside, my heart, unbidden, beat a little faster.

Which would it be, I wondered? Would it be beautiful, matching the building's exterior? Or would it be a disaster, like the ruined garden?

For a moment, I couldn't find any words.

A tidy mold.

If I had to sum up this green manor in one phrase, that was exactly the right one. The beautiful building was overrun everywhere with black mold. It was hard to even guess what color the walls had originally been, and the floor was no different. The columns had lost their paint as well, and the doors were missing chunks, rattling loosely.

And yet the reason I could still call this manor beautiful was that the scattered decorations here and there were far from ordinary. I couldn't speak for my original self, but plenty of points here caught the eye of Seria's discerning taste.

How should I put it. Something like—a wealthy noble poured heart and pretension into building a petite castle meant to endure through history, and then, right at the end, went bankrupt, leaving it abandoned to fall into ruin?

Either way, that this Laurel Manor—called the cradle of the Gleick Empire's grand duchy, trailing all sorts of rumors behind it—should look this dreadful was, in more ways than one, apparently shocking. I couldn't say a word, too busy taking in the sight of the place over and over.

That was when it happened.

A middle-aged woman came out from behind the staircase, and upon seeing us, her eyes went wide.

"…Your Highness? Lesche, Your Highness?"

Wiping her hands on her apron, she came hurrying over with quick little steps, glancing back and forth between Lesche and me, her expression growing more and more astonished by the moment.

"And who might this beautiful lady be, frozen through like ice?"

Hadn't anyone told her who I was beforehand?

That struck me as strange. Linon was a reliable aide who handled things properly. More than that, it seemed odd that this woman—living in Laurel Manor and appearing, from what I could tell, to be someone important—didn't know something every single vassal of this grand duchy already knew.

Lesche jerked his chin at me.

"The Grand Duchess. Provisionally."

"What?"

For anyone hearing it without the full context, that statement was more than enough to invite misunderstanding.

"Provisionally? Your Highness! Testing the waters over whether to marry a lady is no virtue for a gentleman to have! And besides, this state she's in—was she kidnapped? Have you kidnapped a bride, Your Highness?"

"That's not what—"

Just then, a crack—something collapsing outside. I flinched, and the woman—who a second ago had been all but accusing him of marrying-and-abducting fraud—spoke, gentle:

"Don't worry. It's just a branch snapping under too much snow."

Then the door swung open, and Linon, who'd been outside minding the horses, spoke hurriedly:

"Your Highness. There are still knights at the border—"

"I'd best go check."

Lesche called out, "Masha," to the woman and moved to hand me over to her. My eyes went wide. He meant to just hand me straight over to a woman shorter than even me?

"I do have feet, you know, Your Highness?"

"The floor's filthy."

"That's not—!"

Lesche calmly ignored me. Just set me down! Put me down, I said! My feet could just be washed! Sure, the floor happened to be covered in strange mold too, but who cared about that!

"Eek!"

I shrieked, uneasy. But contrary to what I'd expected, I didn't fall. Instead, I found myself settled securely, comfortably, in Masha's arms. Compared to Lesche's stiff, cold hold, hers was soft and warm—being held like this was honestly the better arrangement.

"You—you're quite strong, ma'am."

"Thank you, my lady. Please just call me Masha. Though—you mustn't address me formally—"

Clack.

Before Masha could finish, the door opened and shut. Lesche had left.

Masha's and my gazes both turned toward the door together, then drifted back to where they'd started.

"You wouldn't happen to be speaking formally to Linon as well, would you?"

"Hm? Well, yes."

"Oh, dear, Masha, ma'am. There's no way I'd—"

My agreement overlapped exactly with Linon walking back in through the door. But Masha's expression made it plain she'd caught my answer perfectly well. She lifted her gaze to look Linon squarely in the eye.

"Linon."

"……"

Linon flinched. Masha spoke, her voice stern.

"You'd best have a reason ready that satisfies me."

"Yes, ma'am…."

Never seen Linon shake like that before.

New. Interesting. It wasn't as though Masha was glaring at him like some demon of vengeance, either. Her expression stayed just as gentle as ever—but as I looked at her with visible curiosity, Masha said, "Oh, right," and looked down at me.

"Let's get you to a bath first. You're frozen through."