SALP Chapter 7

"I brought Miss Lanthe, my lord!"

Nina pounded on the large, heavy door as she shouted. The knight grinned back at her as she glanced sideways at Lanthe and beamed triumphantly at the gatekeeper. They seemed to share some kind of understanding. Whatever deep bond existed between the fierce-looking, hulking knight and the nine-year-old girl was beyond comprehension.

"Go on in, Nina."

The gatekeeper granted entry on his own authority, though the room's owner hadn't responded.

Creak.

Nina turned the doorknob and pushed the door open with both hands.

"Excuse me."

Lanthe, standing awkwardly beside her, murmured softly as she stepped into the room.

Blinding sunlight poured out from inside. As she squinted against the brightness after growing accustomed to the dim interior, a cold wind suddenly whooshed in and struck her face. It felt less like entering a room and more like stepping outside. She quickly identified the source of the invading sunlight and wind—a large window on the right side of the room stood wide open.

"I brought Miss Lanthe!"

Nina announced the completion of her mission once more with vigorous cheer.

"Hello, my lord!"

Vigo sat before a black desk placed in the center of the large room. His chair was turned toward the window, so only his profile was visible.

It was a distinctive room—both lavish and sparse. Perhaps it seemed that way because aside from the furniture lining the walls, only the desk occupied the expansive center. One wall featured large double glass doors, while the opposite wall displayed an array of ornate shelves and cabinets with gilded frames, freely exhibiting various books and sculptures.

"Well done. Nina, you may go now."

Vigo offered perfunctory praise without even glancing their way.

"Then I'll leave you two to chat comfortably. I'm going to see the reindeer."

Nina, grinning for reasons unknown, even lifted her skirt hem as she curtsied.

After she left and the door closed, silence descended.

A moment later, when the rustle of turning letter pages sounded, Lanthe clutched her wool coat tighter and spoke.

"Aren't you cold?"

He sat reading a letter with his shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest. Though a thick fur rested on his shoulders, watching him sit there unfazed while exposing his face and bare skin to the cold wind made her feel even colder.

"I was surprised when Nina told me yesterday. That Vigo is the lord here."

In truth, he had changed so much that addressing him familiarly felt somewhat awkward. Still, the silence was more awkward, so she chattered needlessly. In the past, she couldn't remember ever being silent for even a moment when with him. They'd been the kind of companions who could talk all day and still have more to say.

So he's a lord now—how impressive. Seems like you're doing well. Such words proved too difficult.

They might sound like she was reproaching him for doing so well while never visiting their hometown. It would be a lie to say such feelings didn't exist at all.

"...Surprised?"

After a pause, Vigo set down the letter and laughed quietly. It was a languid voice that suited his wind-tousled hair.

He truly seemed like a stranger. His darker hair, sharper features, the strong-looking jawline extending down to his long, thick neck, the outline of his solid frame—if she'd met him like this for the first time today without encountering him yesterday, would she have even recognized him as Vigo?

"Though not more surprising than the fact that you became Gebimonde's woman."

He spoke with a slanted gaze.

"What?"

Why this sudden mention of Gebimonde? She'd heard the name before, but this was absurd.

He must mean Pavel Gebimonde. The lord of the vast territory of Raphelik. The head of the Penmark Allied Kingdoms to which Derek belonged, who held hegemony over Oden. Though he currently curried favor with his subjects through benevolent rule, Fiarelle had once spoken with hostility about his plans to eventually become Penmark's first emperor and wield absolute power.

"How could I be such a person's..."

As Lanthe trailed off with a bewildered expression, Vigo narrowed his eyes into slits.

"That necklace you're wearing. Isn't it his property?"

His insolent gaze and pointing index finger indicated the area around her chest.

Lanthe looked down at her own chest.

Only then did she notice the small golden pendant on the long necklace.

"Oh."

She'd completely forgotten she was wearing a necklace engraved with that bastard's family crest. Of course she had. She'd fled Newbella in chaos and slept for four days straight afterward. She'd eaten and dressed with the maid's help without properly examining her own body. Looking at oneself in mirrors was something only certain classes of people did anyway.

"I hear you're engaged to marry the young Gebimonde."

He drove the point home with a slight upturn of his lips.

"No!"

Lanthe grabbed the necklace chain like touching something filthy and ripped it off, flinging it away. Clatter—the necklace struck the floor and slid across the gleaming surface, rolling all the way under the desk where he sat.

She hadn't known Derek's surname. Fiarelle, who'd always gone on at length about his plans, had never actually taught her his family name.

"I'm not, I'm not that bastard's woman. He's..."

Vigo's gaze traced her reaction with apparent surprise.

"He's insane. A madman. Talking about reviving Raphlang or whatever, he destroyed Roas, he destroyed Roas..."

Her breathing grew uncontrollably ragged.

She stopped speaking, her shoulders heaving violently. If she continued, tears would burst forth shamefully.

Vigo simply watched her quietly. His face was serious, but showed no sign of disturbance even upon hearing the name of his homeland. Upon hearing the name "Roas," he seemed unable to feel the same emotions as she did.

His cold gaze sobered Lanthe's mind as she gritted her teeth and continued.

"Roas burned down and is gone. That bastard murdered Aunt Louise and the village chief. Erin and the children, probably all of them too."

He probably killed them all.

Silence wrapped around them once more.

Lanthe realized her nails were digging into her palms and loosened her clenched fists.

"I see."

The returning voice was deeply subdued. His shoulders, which had been large enough to cast an intimidating shadow when he'd pushed her onto the bed yesterday and loomed over her, rose slowly and fell.

He exhaled a soundless sigh and turned his gaze toward the window.

An expressionless profile. Eyes whose thoughts were unreadable. The violet eyes that had once overflowed with abundant emotions—kindness, affection, compassion, fear—now looked completely empty. The boy who'd worn the world's most readable expressions...

"Aunt Alina passed away the year before last."

Lanthe hesitated, then added quietly. His adoptive mother who'd raised him wasn't a victim of this incident.

"From pneumonia."

"I see..."

Even at the news of the old woman he'd adored, calling her Mama, Mama, Vigo only quietly answered, I see. His eyes sparkled in the sunlight as if holding moisture, but only for the briefest moment.

Before long, his eyes gazing at her again looked utterly parched. As lukewarm and dry as the wind of Newbella.

"So."

His low voice struck her ears like a touch.

"You ran away from home because you had complaints about Gebimonde."

A voice that seemed faintly tinged with mockery.

Ran away from home? She was speechless.

Lanthe stared at him blankly. She was already flustered that he'd summarized and dismissed the incident in their hometown so simply, but now she'd heard something utterly incomprehensible.

Ran away? Had complaints? Could Derek's crimes be diluted with such light phrasing?

"...I risked my life to escape, Vigo."

She parted her dry lips and continued quietly.

"I jumped into the lake prepared to die to get away from the man who destroyed my family and homeland. Do Penmark people call this 'running away from home'?"

Ten years. It wasn't a short time. But she didn't think it was enough to completely transform a person's soul.

Yet Vigo seemed to have become someone else.

The low temperature felt from his violet eyes, the size of his hands fiddling with the chair's armrest, the jewels and gold buttons luxuriously adorning his glossy fur coat—not a single thing belonged to the him she had known.

"Lanthe, you were lucky."

'You, who were the loveliest Raphlish.'

"I was... lucky?"

'Could he really change this much?'

"Don't you think you're lucky to have survived and become queen?"

'To have survived.'

"Who wants to be queen? That bastard just wants to use me to satisfy his greed."

She'd survived with no time to savor the joy, merely breathing.

She'd reunited with the lost boy, but he wouldn't even give her a moment to say she was grateful he was alive.

"How is he using you?"

His beautifully drawn smile held none of its former warmth. His eyes narrowing like a crescent moon reflecting the season of cold water felt unfamiliar.

Lanthe was utterly bewildered facing this changed version of him.

Should she tell him? She hesitated.

You're a princess? A princess of Raphlang? So what? Wouldn't she only receive such mockery?

"How did you get to the Northern Sea?"

He changed his question.

"I don't know. I don't remember well."

This time she answered without hesitation. She knew her words would be interpreted as refusing to answer. But it was at least partially true.

Vigo nodded slightly as if unconcerned and said,

"If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine. What matters is that you're safe."

"Thank you for saving me..."

"Save your thanks for your fiancé. Gebimonde said he's grateful I saved you and will give me twenty thousand krone as a token of appreciation."

"What...?"

"He should arrive tomorrow or the day after. He's coming to fetch you himself."

"How does that bastard..."

How does he know to come here?

Goosebumps rose on her arms, forgetting the cold.

"Who knows? I'm curious too. Though I've heard he keeps a capable prophet."

His eyes, deeply lowered, gazed at the letter on the desk. His irises, tinged with the reddening sky, looked deep and dark.

"Anyway, rest well today. Even if this castle is shabby compared to Newbella's palace, it's more comfortable than Roas, isn't it?"

He smiled with lukewarm eyes, speaking in a deliberately kind tone.

"It was good to see you, Lanthe."