SALP Chapter 20

"You waited a long time, didn't you, Sir Warner?"

Lanthe hurried over to Warner.

He hadn't entered the fence, waiting outside instead. He'd been watching the surroundings with sharp eyes as if standing guard, then turned when he saw her.

"What's that load you're carrying?"

Warner looked at the yellow cloth bag slung over her shoulder.

"I borrowed a few books from Father Conor. Since they're precious, I borrowed a bag too so they wouldn't get dirty."

"I'll carry it. Give it here."

"It's fi—"

Before she could finish declining, her shoulder became lighter. The bag that kept slipping off her round shoulders sat quite securely on Warner's broad shoulders. Though the cloth bag with flower embroidery didn't exactly suit him. The sight of him casually shouldering her burden and taking the lead looked increasingly admirable in Lanthe's eyes.

"I'm sorry for making you carry things, Sir Warner."

"Don't worry about it. I'm doing this for my own convenience. Even trivial things like this all reach our lord's ears."

Is that so. Does Sir Warner also watch Vigo's mood? Looking at his stern atmosphere alone, Sir Warner seems like the higher-ranked person...

"By the way, didn't other guests visit here earlier?"

The path through the holly forest connecting the isolated church and castle was so narrow you could barely tell it was a path at first glance. It made her chest pull tight, thinking that was why.

"You must have seen Dame Skaeli and Bacchus."

Warner lightly lifted a tree branch jutting over the path with his hand and waited for her to pass first before answering.

"Do you know them?"

Right, she'd been called Dame Skaeli.

Lanthe recalled the knight whose hair had been impressive with its brilliant reddish glow.

Threatening to gobble someone up, no less. Her appearance had been quite beautiful, but her words and actions weren't beautiful at all.

The unruliness—it reminded her of something. Of someone. Vigo, if she had to name it. Were all Penmark knights like that? The knights inside the castle like Rix and Warner were polite, though.

"They're travelers who occasionally visit our castle. Dame Skaeli is a knight recognized for her skill in the east. She's a gem enthusiast who travels as a hobby to find things for her collection, and Bacchus is a writer, I hear. Writes while traveling or something like that—I'm not entirely sure."

"A knight and a minstrel. An unusual combination."

It was somewhat unexpected. She'd thought this Bacchus person was also a fellow knight since his gaze seemed unusual too, though not as much as Skaeli's. Thinking about it, he hadn't been wearing a sword.

"Did something happen with them?"

Warner asked perceptively.

"Ah, no."

She must have looked disgruntled when asking about them, Lanthe thought, quickly shaking her head.

"We exchanged greetings briefly, but the first impression was quite rough, so I was curious what kind of person they were."

Without even specifying who, Warner nodded knowingly.

"Dame Skaeli must have behaved discourteously. You should expect most knights from other regions to be like that. Dame Skaeli in particular is female, so she frequently encounters unnecessary provocations and displays even stronger wariness toward strangers."

Ah. She was a woman. A female knight.

The negative impression cracked somehow—just from knowing she was a woman too. Lanthe felt her shoulders drop. She smiled.

"She's impressive. I've never seen a female knight before. She has good build and a rather frightening impression, so I must have been scared for no reason."

"She's certainly rare here. Penmarkians have extremely different physical conditions between men and women, so for a woman's body to compete with men in strength and become a knight is nearly impossible. I hear female knights are common in places like the Valon continent, though."

Lanthe nodded quietly, lost in thought.

Raphlish people had little difference in build between women and men. So when assigning work, there wasn't much distinction by sex either. If Roas had knights, men and women would have mixed freely.

That's why she'd been so surprised seeing adult Vigo for the first time. Even after learning that Penmark men were more than a hand's breadth taller than Raphlish men. Because Vigo was even bigger than the Newbella knights she'd been shocked by at first sight.

Half his blood ran the same as hers—so how had he shot up like that, monstrous, all at once?

"Commander."

As they entered the castle grounds, knights snapped to attention and saluted Warner.

"The Roberia Merchant Guild has arrived. The administrator went to meet them, but the guild head says he has words to present directly to our lord."

"I'll go."

Warner answered briefly to the knights' report and passed them.

It was a dignified bearing that inspired respect. Lanthe felt increasingly embarrassed watching him wear the book bag like a porter and bowed her head.

"I'm really sorry for making you carry things, Sir Warner. You're the Knight Commander..."

He'd told her not to worry about it. But the flower bag. She kept looking at the flower bag on his shoulder and kept murmuring apologies anyway as she followed him.

Eventually Warner's eyebrows furrowed slightly.

"What's so difficult about being Knight Commander that Miss Lanthe is so intimidated? You'll be above me anyway once you become the lord's wife later."

L-lord's wife?

"Who?"

When Lanthe looked up at his profile in shock, he glanced at her too.

"Aren't you and our lord lovers?"

What? Lovers?

"Ah—no—that's not—"

Not at all?

"Hmm."

He narrowed his brow strangely and gazed at her.

"Sir Warner, Vigo and I are hometown friends. We were friends when we were very young."

She hastily explained.

'Wait—what did Vigo even tell his subordinates about me? Did he say anything? He'd called my name from the start, acted like he knew me, so he must have said something. He'd told me to use his room like it was nothing. Like it was obvious. To someone outside that would look like—'

Sir Warner misunderstanding was completely natural.

"Mm. I see."

Warner's lips curved subtly upward.

"Friends, then."

Right, that was the problem.

She'd slept in the same room with him for two whole nights. Because the parties involved had just slept soundly at a distance from each other, she'd overlooked the meaning of "sharing a bed," but people around them might naturally have attached deeper significance.

It's natural for Sir Warner to misunderstand.

'At this rate, won't even Princess Ana find out soon?'

"That reminds me, there was a rumor that Vigo was engaged to Princess Ana—do you happen to know anything about that?"

If Vigo's explanation had been a lie, she should demand a separate room using that as leverage even now.

Warner smiled quite unlike himself.

"Do not worry. Our lord has never promised marriage to anyone. For reference—he made a devotional pledge to the goddess Batiya, who takes a dim view of relations outside marriage. He cannot commit infidelity carelessly. You may rest assured."

'No? That's not the kind of reassurance I was asking about?'

"Yes..."

It felt like continuing to make excuses would just become pathetic with her face burning like this.

This isn't right.

Lanthe just closed her mouth and walked, quietly clutching her head.

"I'm back, Nina!"

Nina had said she'd wait until she returned from the church, and true to her word, she was still waiting in the dining hall. Lanthe collected her and they went upstairs together.

"Wasn't Father Conor scary, sis?"

Nina munched on snacks she'd obtained despite having eaten lunch twice.

"Not scary at all. He was a very kind person. And he lent me lots of interesting books, see?"

"Wow! Lanthe sis can read too?"

"Yeah. And I borrowed a picture book for you to look at too. Ta-da!"

"Yay!"

Lanthe hesitated at Vigo's room entrance for only a moment. It was an empty room anyway. The room's owner wouldn't return for several days.

The two of them sprawled on the spacious bed reading books. They even put snacks on one side of the bed and left the crumbs scattered, not caring.

It's not my bed, but so what. He stubbornly insisted on using this room, so he can take responsibility. I don't care either. Hmph.

〈Raphlang〉

She placed the book in a spot with good sunlight and carefully opened it.

On the first page was a sepia pen drawing. A delicate and beautiful landscape. Seeing the lush holly forest that looked like the one she'd just passed through brought a smile to her lips, feeling both wondrous and welcome.

Cross the deep and wide Mediterranean Sea, and when you reach the forest where children's voices spill out like song, remove your hat and lay down your sword upon the ground.

She passed the left page with just one sentence in the center and turned her eyes to the right page. There was a view that seemed to look deeper into the forest drawn on the previous page.

As if walking into the book itself, Lanthe turned the page.

That place is where the honors and weapons of the outside world cannot be brought.

Before it, set down what will vanish when the world ends. Ask only that you have come to seek what will exist forever.

Raphlang.

Then an angel will descend, carry you on its back, and guide you to its kingdom.

The magnificent castle gate of the forest kingdom was revealed. Though it was just a monochrome line drawing, Lanthe stared at the kingdom coming to life above the page, overwhelmed by the vivid depiction that seemed to leap off the paper, forgetting even to breathe.

The earthly paradise of North Oden, Raphlang.

She examined the picture carefully so as not to miss even a single stroke drawn with fine brushwork. She read through the pictures and letters with the same care as when reading the Ailea scriptures, written in small, cramped letters that were hard to read.

Had the neighbors of Roas always seen such scenery with their mind's eye...

"You are a descendant of the Kingdom of Raphlang, protected by angels. We are the proud people of heaven."

Lanthe could find countless familiar things in the pictures.

The arrangement of buildings forming small villages, the shape of roofs, the decorations on fences and gates—all were familiar.

The clothes people wore, the way they braided and adorned their hair, baskets woven from tree trunks and leaves and even the shape of bread contained in them—all resembled what she knew.

Roas...

Roas was there. 

The things they'd eaten and worn in her small hometown village, the bedroom where she'd slept, the round plaza where they'd gathered with neighbors to hold joyful festivals. All of it was contained wholly within the scenery depicting Raphlang.