HTWBB Chapter 18

Rather than comforting the dejected girl who felt she had been of no help, Rietta offered different words.

"Will just finding a place to stay solve it?"

"Pardon?"

"I'm asking if this wolf's options will broaden once your safety is secured."

"I suppose so...?"

Priscilla murmured in bewilderment. Rietta pulled out a dagger from behind her back and unhesitatingly undid the ornament wrapped around its sheath. A fairly large pendant hung from a string made of dozens of pearls.

"Take it."

She held the resplendent ornament carelessly and held it out to Priscilla. It was a precious-looking object recognizable even to an untrained eye. The girl reflexively caught it, worried it might fall.

"Wh-what is this?"

"Go to Rivièra. Find the estate mixed with blue at the easternmost end and show this."

"And then?"

Rietta spoke to Lycaon, who wore an expression similar to Priscilla's.

"They'll provide lodging where you can stay until I return."

"...What?"

She continued speaking without hesitation.

"It'll be different from here, but you can live in the forest behind the estate. I think there was a cabin the butler manages."

At the contents she couldn't follow at all, Priscilla still rolled her eyes with a dazed attitude.

On the other hand, Lycaon, who had quickly grasped the situation, carelessly picked up the ornament the girl had been holding reverently with both hands.

A sword surrounded by pagoda tree leaves engraved in the center of the pendant. It was clearly some family's seal.

"Why are you showing such kindness?"

"Once you become the true successor, you'll have the Moon Tide."

"Probably. That's originally passed down to the leader."

"And you don't need it."

The perceptive boy quickly understood the context. Lycaon raised his eyebrows sharply and nodded with certainty.

"Not bad. Accept."

"You catch on quickly."

"So what should I say about the origin of this precious pendant?"

From between Rietta's lips, which had parted as if she'd answer immediately, came a response one beat late.

"...Say that Marianne Lebleu gave it to you."

Lycaon grinned broadly. It was a satisfied smile.

"Good. That settles the deal. Don't go back on your word."

When they returned to the village, complete darkness had descended.

This small village became so pitch-black after early evening that one couldn't see ahead except for the light seeping from a few households. Perhaps because most lived self-sufficiently, going to sleep when night came was part of their natural routine.

However, now, unlike the trivial routines she had been able to grasp during the few days she'd been staying here, the inn greeted them with its entire interior brightly lit.

"I wonder what's going on?"

"Who knows."

Rietta placed her hand on the worn handle. The faint noise that had been audible poured out all at once when she opened the door. Boisterous laughter, incomprehensible songs, even small crying sounds. At least half the village seemed to have gathered here.

Rietta glanced around the noisy surroundings and squeezed through the thick smell of alcohol. The acknowledgments of heavily intoxicated people followed with every step.

"Who's this? Isn't that the guest who came to our village!"

"S-so, did you find anything? I heard you're looking for something."

"Not even going to say hello? Come have a drink!"

A small sigh escaped from Melian, who was following close behind. Without answering any of them, Rietta went straight to the innkeeper.

"Uh, why are you so late?"

His entire face was red enough to show he was just as drunk. Rather than his usual spot, he had firmly occupied the central table and greeted her while waving a half-finished drink, looking like the drinking party had been going on for quite some time. Rietta glanced at the table cluttered with unfamiliar bottles and responded perfunctorily.

"Had some business. What's all this?"

"Ah, right. You came at just the right time!"

He slapped his thick thigh and staggered into the kitchen. The innkeeper, who had stuck his head out briefly to add that they should wait, returned to his spot before long. A bottle of the same shape as those scattered about was roughly placed on the table. On the front of the bottle, a small clam holding a pearl was drawn.

"This is the special liquor I mentioned! I can take pride in this one thing if nothing else!"

"I don't need alcohol."

"Come now, just try it! You can't drink 'Mermaid's Heart' this good even in Clémora!"

Rietta, who had been dismissing his words carelessly, stopped all movement. The man's face, filled with intoxication, was full of pride.

"Mermaid's Heart...?"

"U-uh, Miss Rietta!"

Melian cried out urgently. Immediately after came a strangled sound, and the innkeeper's heavy body swayed like dried laundry. Rietta, who had risen halfway from where she sat, seized his collar and yanked him close.

The innkeeper, whose patience had grown considerably thin with the alcohol, opened his mouth to unleash his anger immediately, then awkwardly worked his lips and rolled his eyes.

Rietta, who had gotten close enough for their foreheads to almost touch, was staring directly at him without blinking. Her eyes gleamed with a madness-tinged color as if blue flames were sparking.

"Say it again. What did you say the liquor's name was?"

His lips, frozen in panic, barely moved as he stammered his answer.

"M-Mermaid's Heart, you mean?"

"Why is it called that?"

"The origin of this liquor is quite famous, isn't it?"

"I don't know."

At Rietta's denial, the innkeeper's reddened face showed round eyes. It was a story from over 50 years ago. Currently, there existed a legendary tale in Clémora so old that fewer people didn't know it than did.

In the deep waters before the harbor, a merchant ship that had made a name for itself in that era had been wrecked in a storm, and all the various rare treasures loaded inside had sunk with it. Among them, what always came up in connoisseurs' mouths was the 'Mermaid's Heart,' which supposedly granted immortality.

Even after hundreds of years, not even the tail end of the shipwreck had been found, let alone the Mermaid's Heart, but about 50 years ago, a certain bar owner in Clémora was swept away by the currents and happened to discover that wrecked merchant ship.

"Ha! Mermaid's Heart, my foot. According to him, he couldn't dive deep enough, so he barely managed to salvage just one bottle of liquor from the deck. But after being rescued and coming up to look at it, not a single thing was spoiled—it was only well-aged. Did he try the liquor? Of course! It was so incredibly good, you see. He couldn't figure out the brewing method, so he kept tasting it bit by bit until he finally succeeded in creating a similar taste."

"And that's the liquor called 'Mermaid's Heart'?"

"That's right. They say he named it out of regret. With many disciples clinging to him, you can taste it here and there now, but of course, nothing follows that place's taste."

Rietta released the collar she'd been gripping. The innkeeper cleared his throat while straightening his clothes. Melian, who had been listening quietly, suddenly interjected.

"But earlier you said what you made couldn't be tasted even in Clémora."

"Ahem! I meant excluding that fellow's."

The innkeeper, who scratched his head as if embarrassed, gulped down the remaining alcohol. After a brief pause, Rietta lightly tapped the 'Mermaid's Heart' sitting obediently on the table.

"So that means the one who first brought this is still alive?"

"Not just alive. That old man is so healthy he'll be fine for another 20 years."

"His name?"

"Nick. If you ask for Nick Under the Maple Tree, they'll know."

"Thanks for telling me."

Rietta, who smiled faintly, poured herself a drink and downed it in one gulp, then stood up without lingering. She then held the unopened bottle in her hand and waved it once toward the innkeeper.

"As you said, the taste isn't bad. Deduct the cost of the liquor from what's left of the lodging fee."

"Ah, you're leaving now?"

"Yes."

"Then I'll just bring down the rest of your luggage from upstairs!"

There wasn't even time to answer. In the span of a bewildered uh-uh, the dubious pair of two departed as abruptly as they had come.

The innkeeper blinked among the heavily drunk residents and stared at the creaking wooden door. Whether the alcohol hadn't worn off yet or because everything happened in an instant, his mind couldn't follow the situation at all.

Only after mentally deducting the liquor cost from the lodging fee he'd received in advance did he smile brightly. Whether it was a dream or not, for him, it was a business with no loss.

3. Deep Sea Shipwreck

"How much progress have you made?"

"They're forces moving secretly to begin with. I don't know the exact ratio, but we've captured about 30 people as of yesterday."

"To think there were this many filthy thieves in my country."

Wrinkled fingers heavily tapped the armrest of the imperial throne. Eltanin met eyes of the same color as his own, piercing down like arrows. When he smiled slightly, the Emperor clicked his tongue quietly. His expression was full of displeasure, but fortunately, he didn't seem inclined to get angry.

Eltanin glanced at the princess standing tensely with sympathetic eyes. She had been a strong crown prince candidate until just before he entered the succession struggle, and the Emperor had naturally provided her with education befitting that position.

Though worn down by time, he had become fairly gentle now, but his father was still a sharpened blade. Even after growing to adulthood, the memories of the past made him reflexively tense—by no means a soft temperament that showed leniency to his children.

"Besides the treasure hunters?"

"We're focusing on those with bounties on their heads."

"Good. Seems you're doing well."

The Emperor, who had muttered as if to himself, suddenly gestured as if remembering something. A nearby aide quickly placed something wrapped in red velvet before him.

"How long has it been since the first task?"

"Over a month."

"Already? I should give the second task within a few days."

The Emperor, who had dismissed the aide, picked up what lay before him with a satisfied face. It was the result of the first competition—a jet-black jewel gleaming mysteriously.

The 'real' treasure of the founding Emperor, radiating an unmistakable aura. The Emperor carefully set down Brynhildr's Necklace and looked at his son and daughter.

The treasure he had never expected, brought by the son he had similarly never expected. His assessment, which had secretly favored his daughter, couldn't help but adjust somewhat.

'Even if he received help from others in the process, that too is ability.'

Both would have used any means necessary without discrimination. Especially Eltanin, whose innate nature was soft, used to protectively surround his half-sibling whose existence he hadn't even known of until a few years ago.

The Emperor recalled his bastard who stood out particularly. A prince with mixed lowly blood who, despite being born in a fairly close order to the imperial throne, held the lowest succession rank. Although the princess might not know, Eltanin must had surely received that bastard's help.

Either way, an emperor also needed tolerance. Such a tender heart wasn't even a flaw. Above all, since unresolved matters remained, passing on the throne was too early. It wouldn't be too late to designate a successor after taking sufficient time to weigh and deliberate.

"Eltanin. Let me ask you something."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Have you met the 15th Prince recently?"

Eltanin smiled ambiguously. After a brief silence, the Emperor opened his mouth again.

"I see. Where has that Alcaide gone now?"