MB Chapter 11

The day of the wedding arrived. It had been only three weeks since the match was settled, so everyone had expected something modest — and yet, if anything, it erred toward excess rather than restraint.

Unlike Melishi's wedding, the venue had been chosen not as a chapel but as a vast ship belonging to Entzi Bethelgius.

Ship was perhaps too modest a word; it was the size of a small island. Stepping aboard, Goiyo could not help but wonder, with genuine suspicion, where exactly Entzi's wealth came from.

She had known he was not simply of common origin — but even so, this was rather beyond the pale.

Once the ceremony concluded and the guests were sent home, the ship carrying Goiyo and Entzi would depart from the harbor, circle the Orion River once, and return to the capital.

By the time Goiyo disembarked, she would officially be Goiyo Bethelgius. Precisely as Goiyo Rubiette had planned.

"You look absolutely beautiful, Goiyo."

"The dress suits you wonderfully."

"Thank you, Lady Kazehl. Thank you too, Melishi."

"He seems capable and high-spirited — you'll get along well together, I'm sure."

Lady Kazehl, her face warm with satisfaction, offered a few more words of blessing before glancing briefly at the clock. The ceremony would begin soon.

Has it gotten this late already. One final word of congratulations, and Lady Kazehl left the waiting room.

Melishi, about to follow her mother out, hesitated — and drew the door closed again.

Melishi? Goiyo called, puzzled. Melishi opened her mouth with care.

"Sister — has there been no word from Lord Therio?"

"Has he still not returned from the Avalanche? His engagement ceremony isn't far off."

"Word came from House Alte that he had made progress in his swordsmanship and wished to remain a little longer. But there has been no personal message yet, and..."

"I'm sorry, Melishi, but no separate message has come to me either. If he were going to send a personal message, he would send it to you, not to me."

Goiyo Rubiette was no longer even a friend of his — whereas Melishi was his betrothed.

Not that Goiyo was without knowledge of Therio Alte's whereabouts. She had stood at Entzi's side and witnessed the moment he was sent away.

Though she had believed his destination to be House Alte, rather than the Avalanche.

It was only upon hearing the news that the heir of House Alte had departed for the Avalanche for knight training without a word to anyone that Goiyo had finally extracted Entzi's admission — that what he had called a perfectly habitable little hill had been the Avalanche all along.

For a moment, her stomach turned cold. She had wondered whether she might be treated as an accomplice. But fortunately, it appeared that Therio Alte had not mentioned the Marquess as the one who had sent him there.

As the account went: House Alte had contacted Therio through an emergency communication artifact, alarmed by the chaos surrounding the heir's succession, and Therio had said he had come to train. Entzi claimed it was an excuse born of wounded pride — having been so effortlessly flung away by someone barely two years his senior — and Goiyo had agreed.

For Therio Alte, brilliant knight and considerable narcissist, to have been toyed with by someone only two years older — yes, it would sting.

Entzi had laughed at him and added: since he gave that answer, he can hardly ask to be helped out of the range, and so he'll be wandering alone. There is no chance he will come crashing the wedding.

The imperial court had declared the range off-limits, but knights were still permitted entry. That it wasn't illegal was at least something, she supposed.

Turning the situation over in her mind, Goiyo felt a vague awkwardness.

My husband sent your betrothed to the Avalanche, and out of wounded pride he is now wandering the mountain range alone — hardly the sort of thing she could say.

Melishi nodded, visibly deflated.

"I see... Then I'll take my leave. I'll see you at the ceremony."

"All right."

"...Sister Goiyo — it may seem presumptuous of me to say this, but — congratulations, from the bottom of my heart. I hope you'll live happily."

"Yes. Thank you."

Knowing full well she would not be happy, Goiyo answered with empty words. Since she had no intention of visiting the Rubiette estate separately, the next time they would meet would perhaps be at Melishi's wedding.

Turning the thought over idly, Goiyo soon arrived at the possibility that occasion might never come. Melishi had not yet come of age — so even if the engagement were held at once, a year would have to pass before she could marry.

Following the memories of her former life: House Rubiette had been destroyed one year after Melishi married Entzi.

Perhaps by the time of Melishi's wedding, Rubiette would already be gone. Since Melishi was Therio's betrothed, rushing through the marriage registration would save her — but that was a separate matter.

Apart from that: when Rubiette fell, Goiyo Rubiette's life would end too.

Thinking this might be the last time, Goiyo felt something strange move through her.

"Melishi — I might not be able to come to your wedding. Perhaps. Perhaps."

"Oh — if you're busy, of course you can't. It's all right."

"Yes. So let me say something now."

Live well. Be happy.

Precisely the sort of farewell one reserves for the last time.

The ceremony began. But beyond the thought that things were proceeding as planned, Goiyo felt no particular emotion. Only irritation.

The dress was heavy. Her face felt suffocated beneath the makeup. The high heels were uncomfortable if not painful. The perfume was too thick. A headache had settled behind her eyes, and her stomach shifted uneasily.

The practical discomforts she had been unable to feel at her wedding to Therio Alte — overwhelmed as she had been then by tension, excitement, a razor-thin anxiety, a faint guilt — now made themselves known with blatant candor.

And through it all, she still had to keep the smile on her face. Goiyo could only wish the ceremony would end.

Entzi wore a black tuxedo. Unlike Therio's — which had been fine in fabric but plain in design — this one was as elaborate as a knight regiment's dress uniform, the kind worn for formal processions.

Yet his face refused to be eclipsed. It shone with a luminous clarity that made even Goiyo, who rarely felt anything at another person's appearance, inwardly acknowledge the fact.

'I notice it only now — he really is extraordinarily handsome.'

It was the one thing worth looking at in an otherwise tedious ceremony. But when Entzi caught her gaze and smiled playfully, Goiyo turned her eyes forward again. The officiant happened to be turning toward her at that moment.

"And so — does the bride swear to love the groom forever?"

Forever. What a hollow word, she thought, with cold precision. She answered with a lie.

"Yes. I swear."

The ceremony ended with a brief, light kiss.

Bwomm— The ship's horn sounded long and low.

The ceremony was over. The guests had all gone home. Goiyo, having changed into the slip dress that had been prepared, had come out onto the deck even before the ship departed.

The curtain of night sky was dense with stars, and in the champagne glass she held, stars floated just as densely.

Leaning against the railing, Goiyo looked up at the night sky with nothing in particular on her mind. Then, all at once, her shoulders grew heavy.

She glanced at the coat that had been draped over them and said, with no particular feeling:

"You're quite practiced at this."

"Mm..."

Entzi rearranged the coat on Goiyo's shoulders into a clumsy sort of arrangement. The sleeve dangled awkwardly.

"Like this?"

"You're very practiced at feigning unpractice."

"No escaping it, then." He shrugged and set the coat right again.

Entzi Bethelgius leaned against the railing beside her. He had changed after the ceremony too — the elaborate clothing was gone, replaced by a black shirt.

"Goiyo — why did you never become the Duke of Rubiette? You were in the most advantageous position."

"That's an unexpected question. I'm not such a remarkable person."

"Becoming the head of a house doesn't require quite that much remarkable ability. One need only look at whoever happens to occupy the highest position at any given moment."

"...Even between the two of us, you speak without mercy."

"Of course — I was referring to Lord Alte, who currently occupies the very highest position of all."

The Avalanche Mountain Range is no ordinary height, Entzi said, smoothly changing course. The sheer absurdity of it made Goiyo let out a small involuntary laugh.

"I have some aptitude for study. But I'm not skilled at managing people. I was never suited to be a duke."

"Do you think so?"

"I suppose something might have come of it with enormous effort — but truthfully, I never wanted to. I don't regret it, even now."

"And why is that?"

"Because I don't love Rubiette."

She rested both arms on the railing and leaned her face against her own hands. Whether from the cold air or the champagne, warmth had risen to her cheeks. She closed her eyes as though simply receiving the cool wind.

"I didn't want to work to possess something I don't love, protect it, and sustain it."

"I see."

Entzi nodded quietly.

"Then what do you want? What is it you wish to do?"

"My dream? You heard it when you were listening in during my argument with Lord Alte."

"I did hear it. From that absurd moment — when a piece of scrap metal told someone to marry him."

"Really... When the guard on duty said he hadn't seen you, I had my suspicions — but did you teleport into our house as well?"

"Mm..."

Goiyo had turned toward him with cold displeasure. Entzi slid his gaze to one side.

"Perhaps the guard had momentarily removed his glasses?"

"His eyesight is perfectly fine."

"Then perhaps he had removed his eyeballs."

"His hearing is also perfectly fine."

"My — it seems he was attending to the private conversation of a couple quarreling in the street out front, quite unable to notice guests coming inside, so occupied with other people's affairs. We'll have to reduce his wages."

He shook his head with decisive firmness, as though surveying the most unmanageable situation imaginable. The complete absence of anything resembling embarrassment made him look, if anything, like a stern and principled knight.

"You truly are the most shameless person I have ever met."

"That's an insult. You're saying I'm more shameless than Therio Alte?"

"Good heavens — does your character really have to be compared to a piece of scrap metal?"

That Goiyo Rubiette would call him that. Caught entirely off-guard by the counter-strike, he blinked — and at the sight, pfft, Goiyo burst into laughter.

It was the first time he had heard that clear, unstudied sound from her, and doubly startled, Entzi found himself involuntarily tightening his grip on the railing.

Oh.

The railing had bent to the shape of his fingers. He looked down at it with dismay. Goiyo, not noticing, opened her mouth.

"My dream was a modest family. My mother and father became husband and wife through an arranged marriage, and so there was no love between them. And because of that, they could not love the child born of it — me. When I was young I thought that was simply how things were. Then my mother died, and Lady Kazehl came to the ducal house, and I learned that it wasn't."

Goiyo's eyes grew distant, as though reaching back through years.

In those early days when she had believed a loveless home was simply ordinary. Though they felt nothing for each other, her parents had at least appeared to respect one another. And so young Goiyo Rubiette had grown up entirely unaware that anything was wrong.

But the invisible fractures had widened and deepened, until they reached their catastrophic end in her mother's suicide.

"After that, I found myself wanting it more than anything in the world. Something so ordinary — to meet someone you love, to marry them, to have children and to love them. It may sound trivial to you."

"Not at all. I know how difficult that is for people like us."

"Thank you. But I've given it up now. And having given it up, not a single dream remains — and yet my heart grew lighter."

Dying a little less painfully — that could be called a dream, she supposed, if one stretched the word far enough. But it felt less like a dream than a scheduled appointment.

A life with nothing left to want was both hollow and restful. Goiyo Rubiette, once adrift on an endless sea, had at last dropped anchor and was waiting for the ship to sink. No longer searching for happiness somewhere she couldn't find — only waiting quietly for the storm.

And the storm was here, standing beside her now.

She asked the storm:

"What is it that you want, Entzi?"