THE LOVE BALLAD OF THE SWORD DEVIL
Lovers’ Interlude
1
Grimm Fauzen could still remember the moment he had fallen in love.
At the limit of his endurance, Grimm collapsed in a corner of the battlefield. In one hand he held a battered old sword, his fingers so frozen from clasping it that now he could not let it go. His arm still vibrated with the sensation of cutting off the head of the creature that had once been his friend.
“ ”
It was hell. Every place on the battlefield, every time, was hell.
He regretted his own foolish decision, though it was too late. He regretted fleeing his hometown. He had been so afraid of taking over the family business in their lonely hamlet, terrified of spending his entire life as a nobody.
His pitiful wish to be a hero, the ugly ambition he had been unable to discard—this was where it had led him.
The face of his former friend Tholter, eyes empty and vacant due to his transformation into an undead warrior, was burned forever into Grimm’s memory. He used his sword not out of grief for his friend’s passing but out of an opportunistic impulse not to die.
The fact made the stains of blood and viscera on his hands seem that much deeper…
“It looks like I underestimated you.”
The voice struck his ears, terrible and clear, making his heart tremble.
“ ”
He unwittingly looked up from where he sat. And there she was, standing before him.
Her beautiful golden hair was cut short, her blue eyes were like jewels that shone openly with her emotions, her carriage was noble, and what struck him most of all was that all of this seemed completely natural in her. She was not sweet or precious so much as she was elegant and beautiful. And her name was…
“You’re Miss…Carol.” His voice scratched as he spoke her name.
The girl’s—Carol’s—lips softened into a thin smile. “That’s right. It looks like we’ve both had a rough time of it, um…Grimm.” At that moment, the dignified impression she wore relaxed, revealing a more youthful side befitting her age.
She shrugged off her light armor, setting down the sword she always kept with her; in so doing, she looked far removed from a mature female knight. Of course, this was hardly a typical moment of idle conversation. The dry wind gusting over the battlefield reeked of blood, and Carol herself was wounded.
Yes—she must have been injured fighting the enemy.
“It’s just a scratch,” she said. “Nothing for the daughter of warriors to complain about.”
“Is…that right?” Grimm said.
“Yes,” she answered, reading the doubt in his face. “And what’s more…” She looked down. Her sapphire eyes fixed on the hand in which Grimm clutched his weapon. Some complicated emotion flashed through her eyes, and then she slid into a sitting position.
“Was that the first time you’ve ever killed anyone?” She touched Grimm’s right hand as she spoke. Her thin, pale fingers worked at his own frozen muscles, loosening them until he felt the joints begin to move again.
“Oh, um…”
“Don’t feel you have to rush. You can take your time. It comes to us all. All the more so when he was your friend.”
“ ”
Grimm swallowed his trembling words, looking down in despair.
This was the third time he had been on the battlefield, and the first time he had killed someone at last. That is, if the undead could be killed in the first place.
And three times now, each and every time, Grimm had regretted standing upon the field of battle.
Putting his own life in danger, treating the lives of others lightly, standing amid the nauseating stench of blood—Grimm felt nothing but regret over all of it. Every time, he discovered afresh that he had no place here…
“That was a very brave thing you did.” Even as Grimm was racked with remorse, Carol was looking straight at him. “Your friend was in the most terrible possible circumstance, and you sent him to his rest with your own sword. Even if you hardly did it consciously, it doesn’t change what happened. A very fine thing.”
Carol seemed to be trying to reach the vacant Grimm. At the sound of her voice, at the meaning of her words, Grimm caught his breath and reflected on what he had done.
Was it really anything worthy of praise?
“If nothing else, you freed your friend from the shame of what happened to him after death, and you gave the final push that helped me and your other comrades in arms… Though I’m disappointed it also gave yet another opportunity to that crass jerk.”
Once again, Carol seemed to have read Grimm’s thoughts. He gazed in wonderment at her, but she only smiled. “I hope I’m not too far off the mark.”
“…No! Not…at all.”
“No? That’s good… Ah.”
Carol let out a small breath of relief. She looked at Grimm’s fingers and saw his painfully clenched digits releasing the hilt of his sword.
Carol gently relieved him of the sword. Then, still holding his weapon, she got to her feet. “What?”
Grimm stumbled at her quiet question. “Er, it’s, uh—” His head spun with confusion at what he himself had done.
His own hand had taken Carol’s, stopping her.
It was as if his fingers were loath to let her tender touch leave.
“This is highly—”
“Th-thanks!”
“ ”
“…I mean, thank you, miss.”
Grimm found his voice at the very moment the warmth threatened to go out of Carol’s expression. His words took the form of gratitude, but it was blindingly obvious that this was just a lame excuse.
Carol’s eyes were wide at Grimm’s exclamation.
“…You’re a strange man, Grimm.”
She furrowed her shapely eyebrows, but her lips formed into a smile.
From that moment onward, Grimm Fauzen belonged to Carol Remendes.
2
Fear of the battlefield never waned for Grimm. War was hell; that conviction never lessened. There was no field of battle that was not hellish, no battle he fought without terror, no life that deserved death, but countless many that went to it.
He hated fighting and never once felt that he was cut out for it. Everyone around him agreed, and they never hesitated to tell him so.
Grimm understood that it was its own type of kindness. Why would someone so unsuited, someone who could never conquer the fear, continue to struggle on in hell? If he had decided to quit, surely none of his companions would have stopped him.
No, they would have seen him off as he went back to his hometown, relieved smiles on their faces.
With just one exception: Wilhelm Trias.
“You still alive, dumbass? If you have time to sit around staring like the dead, then get the hell out of here.”
The Sword Devil, the one capable of unparalleled feats in combat, growled as he found Grimm struggling along on the battlefield.
There was no lie in Wilhelm’s words. He spoke not from any kindness or consideration but from the absolute belief that the weak did not belong on the battlefield and that Grimm would only get in his way.
“As if I could! Wilhelm, why are you always so—?”
“No time for stupid chatter, either. Look, enemy reinforcements.” Ignoring Grimm’s objection, Wilhelm raised his blood-soaked blade, then went charging off in the direction of the opposing force, as quick as the wind. Grimm’s eyes went wide, and he practically tore his hair out as he called, “Ahh, crap! Wait! Wilhelm, wait for me!”
He ran off after Wilhelm, drawn once more into a battlefield teeming with enemies; he brought up his shield.
The fear never went away. He wasn’t suited to battle. War was always hell.
Yet somehow, Grimm could never run from war. Instead, he kept pressing forward, following his brother in arms. In that moment, the thing he feared most was that a day might come when he would be able to follow no longer.
“If you try to act like him, I don’t think it matters how many lives you have—it won’t be enough.”
Carol, visiting Grimm when he was giving himself first aid, looked exasperated.
It was immediately after one of the skirmishes that characterized the encounters between Zergev Squadron and the demi-human forces during the war. This battle had included another of Wilhelm’s overwhelming displays, so it had been a fairly easy victory with relatively few casualties for their side. That Grimm was counted among that minor number was to his shame.
“…I can’t watch this,” she added. “Give me that.”
“Oh, uh, sorry… Thanks.”
Carol took charge of the treatment from Grimm, who had been unsteadily trying to bandage his own dominant arm. She briskly wrapped the dressings around the slash in his right shoulder. It took her just a few seconds; to Grimm, it made his own incompetence stand out all the more.
“It’s a matter of being used to it,” Carol said. “Even I couldn’t wrap my own favored arm very well.”
“…Is it that easy to read me?” Grimm asked, touching his own face.
Carol’s eyes widened slightly as she said, “Yes,” and nodded. “I’m not sure why. You’re oddly… Your face is easy to understand, I feel like. Maybe…”
“Maybe what?” Grimm leaned over, eager to hear what Carol would say.
Carol, sensing his interest, shook her head gently. “Maybe someone so easy to see through doesn’t belong on the battlefield.”
“Oh, that again…”
Carol was surprised to see Grimm so deflated.
“Don’t worry,” Grimm said with a tight smile. “People tell me I shouldn’t be here all the time. I even say it to myself a lot.”
“So why do you stay?”
“I don’t know.”
The question was a natural one, but Grimm looked off into the distance. Carol looked over her shoulder, following his gaze. Then…
“Does it have to do with that man Trias?”
Grimm was staring at the Sword Devil, the one who had stood on the front lines of this fight and returned without a scratch. The sour-looking boy reclined, seeming bored, closing his eyes to get a little rest.
Grimm smiled at the prickle in Carol’s voice. “I wish I could say it had nothing to do with him, but that probably wouldn’t be true… I hope you won’t be too annoyed with me for saying that.”
“ ”
“Um, I just don’t want that awful, sword-obsessed idiot to leave me behind.”
Saying it out loud, this motivation sounded so ridiculous that Grimm found he could almost laugh at himself. Wilhelm walked his own path, an intense and lonely road on which no one could approach him. That was the wellspring that fed his strength and made him who he was.
Yet, for as aloof as Wilhelm was, he had saved Grimm’s life three times.
“I don’t think Wilhelm even knows it. I doubt he thinks I owe him anything.”
“Well, then…”
“But not me. He saved me.”
He couldn’t overcome his fear: He would always hate fighting, and war would always be hell for him. But on that same vicious battlefield, Grimm had been rescued by a brother in arms—though that very man might not have realized it himself.
In this brutal place, amid the awful spreading battle, where Grimm’s heart was tormented by terror, only his comrades kept him safe, protected his life.
“If I only said thank you to him, I’m sure he’d just sneer at me. Mumble something about not getting too chummy. So instead, I’m going to make him understand.”
“Make him understand?”
“I’ll fight until one day he’s glad I was there—glad his brother in arms was there to help him.”
The most earnest words of gratitude he could muster would never really reach Wilhelm. So he would wait for the moment when the feeling he wanted to express could get to the other man’s heart. He would wait, watching like a hawk.
“When the time comes, even Wilhelm should be able to see how thankful I am. Then I’ll tell him, ‘Now we’re even.’ That’s one reason I keep fighting.”
“ ”
“Oh…”
Carol was struck speechless to learn Grimm’s secret ambition. Her reaction left Grimm suddenly embarrassed by his own confession. What a humble and womanly wish he had expressed.
Carol, however, with trembling lips, said, “…It looks like I’m still underestimating you.”
“Oh, er, uh… No, I-I’m sorry to bore you—”
“Hardly… Do you really believe…that he’ll change?”
Grimm stopped halfway through his apology. He had been caught by the earnest look in Carol’s eyes.
“ ”
She was silent, awaiting Grimm’s answer. To him, it felt like she wanted an answer to something else. Like she was seeking some kind of help from him.
In a flash, he recalled something she had said when they’d first met. Something about being someone’s servant and fighting in the war on that person’s behalf.
Did this question, perhaps, hint at some sort of feelings for that someone?
He felt a dim pain pierce his heart. But he put a hand to his chest, ignoring the feeling, and said, “Yes, I believe he will change. Anything, anyone, can do it with enough time, if they want to.”
“ ”
“I’ve actually reached the point where I can hold a conversation with Wilhelm, you know? Maybe someday we’ll even be able to go out and get a drink together or something.” He spoke almost jokingly, but it was something of a front. The reason being the change he saw in Carol’s eyes.
He saw the anxiousness in those beautiful sapphire eyes clear away in an instant. Whatever reservations she had had about this person she held dear, his words had cured them. He could almost hear his friend Tholter, now dead in battle, shrugging and saying, You do one dumb thing after another, huh?
He could be dealing with someone who was effectively his rival for Carol’s love, and here he had provided aid to the opposition.
“…A person can change. With time and desire, anyone can…” Carol repeated Grimm’s words of assurance. The strength came back into her voice as she spoke. Finally, her breath steadying, she looked Grimm square in the eye.
“I’m with you.”
“Huh?”
“I want that for you. I’ll be happy if your wish comes true.”
Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes brimming with hope.
“ ”
Grimm felt his pulse quicken. Then again, he knew those eyes and that expression weren’t directed at him, and he castigated himself for acting as if they were. This had to be something else. There was already someone Carol cherished. As for him, they had only seen each other on the battlefield a few times. What could such a beautiful woman ever want with—?
“Hrm? That’s…” Carol muttered as Grimm looked at the ground, confused. He looked back and saw that she was looking once more over her shoulder, and that her face was once more dangerous. The source of her suspicion appeared to be a tall, slim woman talking to Wilhelm.
“There goes Lady Mathers, talking to him again…”
She brushed off her knees and stood up. The woman she referred to with such deference was Roswaal J. Mathers, a royal mage. Both her clothing and her speech could generously be described as unusual, and she frequently appeared in the same places as Zergev Squadron, where in addition to helping turn the tide of battle, she often spent time teasing Wilhelm.
She had a reputation for being rather troublesome, but as her recklessness resulted in his routine meetings with Carol on the battlefield, Grimm was privately thankful to her.
Carol, however, was not taking the encounter between Wilhelm and Roswaal lying down. “Pardon me, Grimm,” she said. “I have to go work.”
“Oh, o-of course! I’m—I mean, I’m fine. You did a great job.”
“ ”
Carol squinted at him for a moment, considering his off-kilter answer. Then, glancing at the oversize shield leaning against the wall beside Grimm, she said, “Do you intend to learn how to use that?”
She seemed very serious, so he looked at the shield, too. “Miss Carol…?”
“Grimm, if you really mean to survive this civil war… For that matter, if you mean to stick by Trias and Captain Zergev…the way you’ve been fighting is dangerous.”
“ ”
“So if you want, I would be willing to teach you how to use a shield. Although… How do I put this? I must admit, I’m not fully studied in it myself yet.”
“—! Will you really?!” Grimm all but jumped to his feet. He couldn’t even have wished for this offer.
His reaction surprised Carol, but she quickly nodded. “Yes. Let’s make some time, then. I think I should be able to spare a bit back in the capital.”
“S-sure. Thank you very much. I look forward to learning from you!” He bowed his head several times, deeply grateful to Carol. Of course, he had to be careful not to mistake her intentions. She was only offering out of kindness. Still, he more than welcomed any sort of progress, either in his wish for his comrade or in the attempt to spend some time with the woman he adored.
He was clenching his fist in happiness when Carol said, “By the way, maybe I’m reading too much into things, but…”
“Yes?”
“The person I serve is a woman. Please don’t get the wrong idea.”
That was it. That was all she said before she turned on her heel and headed over to Wilhelm and Roswaal. She spoke sharply to them, breaking into what appeared to be an argument.
But Grimm, watching from a distance, was struggling desperately to understand what he had just heard.
“I…I must not…misunderstand her intentions…but…”
But was it really a mistake? The question whirled around and around in his head.
He couldn’t shake the sense that elsewhere in his mind, Tholter was grinning mischievously.
3
And so began a series of meetings replete with gratitude, hope for the future, and perhaps the slightest of ulterior motives. Outwardly, they were shield-training sessions to help keep Grimm alive. But in fact, they were far more intense and brutal than anything he imagined when he heard the simple word training.
“There!”
“Ouch! Ow, ow, ow! Miss Carol, that hurts!”
“It’s going to do a lot more than hurt on the battlefield! You just lost all your limbs!” Carol shouted. She was holding a wooden training sword with which she had just smacked each of Grimm’s hands and feet. He had dropped his shield and was now hunched in pain in front of Carol.
Carol wielded the wooden sword as if it were an extension of her body, attacking Grimm with quick changes and flowing movements. Unable to follow her blade with his eyes, he had suffered dozens of blows, and his body was ready to break.
“You’ve gotten a lot better, but there are still too many inefficiencies in your movements,” Carol said, sitting down next to Grimm. “Someday you’re going to run into a really powerful foe, and then you’re going to be overwhelmed.” She let out a soft breath, then gently wiped the sweat from her forehead and wet her lips with her tongue. Each gesture was dignified in its own way, and Grimm was smitten with the way Carol looked in profile.
Thus, for a time, Carol helped toughen Grimm up. They would meet at the training grounds in the capital, and Grimm would get to spend several hours training with her one-on-one.
Bordeaux had actually praised Grimm for becoming able to hold his own with a shield. Grimm was heartened by his words and felt he had begun to make some progress in his shield work, but clearly, he still had a lot of rough edges. Carol seemed to find openings in his defenses everywhere, and in a real battle would probably have been dead a thousand times by now.
“From what I’ve seen,” Carol said, “I feel like your movements are a lot better on an actual battlefield.”
“Oh. I wonder if it’s thanks to that weird feeling I get at the nape of my neck.” Grimm touched the back of his neck, offering his own sort of hypothesis.
This “feeling” was a sort of sixth sense for danger that Grimm himself didn’t quite understand. When he faced an enemy on the battlefield, or when he felt one nearby, a shock of fear would run along his nape. By listening to it, Grimm was able to wield his shield far more skillfully than his training would suggest. Then again, perhaps he never would have managed it without Carol to raise his overall level of ability.
“I’m not sure how I feel about that,” Carol replied. “It implies the energy I put in here is nothing like a real battle.”
“Th-that’s not what I meant at all! I just, uh, how do I put this…?”
“I was just joking. You don’t have to get so upset.” Carol’s lips softened into a smile, and she turned her kind eyes on Grimm.
He clutched his head, pathetically muttering, “Dang…”
He suspected she could see right through him, knew exactly what he was feeling. The fact that she nonetheless continued to keep these appointments meant either that she thought he was all right, too, or that she was very devoted to keeping her promises. Although he liked to think that, by this point, he knew she was about more than just etiquette.
“Miss Carol, I just can’t win with you…”
“Grimm? What did you say?”
He quickly smiled and tried to cover for himself. “Oh, I…I just thought that maybe the reason I can’t ever seem to defend myself from you is because I’m like an open book to you.”
“I see,” Carol said softly. “It’s true your expressions have never been difficult to decipher. Maybe your face is just especially open to me… I guess we go well together.”
“What?!”
“Oh, nothing,” Carol said, a flash of mischief in her eyes. “…You really are easy to read.”
She jumped to her feet, then politely reached down to Grimm.
He debated for a second whether or not to take her hand—then grabbed it before he could talk himself back out of the idea.
“I feel,” Carol said, “like even if you couldn’t speak, I could still understand you.”
4
Carol apologized desperately for the comment as she came rushing into Grimm’s hospital room.
“I’m sorry…! I’m sorry, Grimm… I…!”
She came to his bedside, apologizing tearfully. When he heard the pain in her voice, Grimm opened his mouth to say something, anything that would stop her tears. But—
“ ”
Only a raspy breath emerged from his mouth; he was unable to form meaningful words.
The battle at Aihiya Swamp, an engagement fiercer than any other in the Demi-human War, had just ended. As part of Zergev Squadron, Grimm had been on that battlefield, where he had found himself confronted by Libre Fermi, one of the bannermen of the Demi-human Alliance. The unit had been drawn into a merciless fight.
With the battle almost over, a flash of Libre’s twin blade had torn into Grimm’s throat. The stroke cut through the organs he needed for speech, and Grimm lost his voice. The doctors at the hospital had already declared that he would most likely never speak again.
Carol blamed herself for Grimm’s injury and was tremendously distraught. As if a casual remark from a training session many moons ago could have been the cause.
“Grimm?”
He smiled at the hoarse, tearful voice speaking his name. Carol was safe with him, and at this moment, that made him happy.
Yes, it hurt to have lost his voice. To know he would never speak her name again. But even so, he was glad that at least, in the fires of that hell, he had not lost her.
He had already lost one comrade in arms. Someone to whom he owed a great deal. The battlefield had stolen that person from him. His own powerlessness had resulted in death. All the more reason—
“—Ah…” I’m so glad you’re safe, Grimm thought from the bottom of his heart. And Carol, who had always known what he was thinking better than anyone else, understood immediately. She raised herself up slowly, looking at him with moist eyes.
He felt he would never get tired of looking upon her face and drinking in her beauty. He no longer believed he was misunderstanding the reason her eyes were wet, the reason she looked at him. They no longer needed any excuses.
Indeed, Grimm now pulled Carol to him.
“—!”
Carol caught her breath, surprised for an instant, but then she leaned into his chest. When she looked up at him, he bent down to steal a kiss from her lips.
She didn’t resist.
As the kiss ended, he hoped she would see in his face how much he loved her.
The thought crossed his mind as he hungrily held her warm body close.
5
The days and months passed, and much happened to Grimm and Carol. The fight in the castle that turned out to be the turning point of the Demi-human War; the debut battle of the Sword Saint, which caused Wilhelm to desert the army; and the second battle at Castour Field, which led to the ultimate conclusion of hostilities.
And then there was the intrusion of the Sword Devil on the armistice ceremony, and the defeat of the Sword Saint.
“That absolute, utter, complete fool of a man! You’d think in two years he would have learned something!”
The Sword Devil had burst into the ceremony, overwhelmed the Sword Saint in a display of strength, and then was promptly arrested and thrown in the Prison Tower by a brigade of knights.
It would not have been possible for anyone else to do something so stupid and so grand, and Carol was resolute in her appraisal. Grimm could only smile wanly at his infuriated lover. He himself had, after all, been involved in the capture of the Sword Devil after the man’s impossibly audacious behavior. They had hardly gotten home before Carol started griping, and Grimm smiled without quite meaning to.
“Grimm? What exactly is so funny? Did I say something amusing?”
Not funny. More like…predictable, maybe.
“Hmph. You mean you knew I would get angry?”
You tell me, teacher.
He scribbled quickly on a pad of paper he produced from his bag, teasing her.
In the more than two years since he had lost his voice, he had gotten quite used to this way of communicating. Of course, Carol, who had only gotten even better at guessing his thoughts, had already puffed out her cheeks and annoyance before he finished writing.
It had been some time since they had begun to show each other their emotions so openly. At that moment, though, she looked more natural to him than at any time in the past two years.
Are you happy Wilhelm is back?
“Am I—? What are you talking about! Y-you’re the only one in my heart, Grimm…”
Sorry. I meant happy for Theresia.
“…I think you meant exactly what you wrote.” Despite the quick appearance of a second sheet of paper, Carol pouted and glared at him.
Fully satisfied with his beloved’s adorable expression, Grimm noticed afresh how remarkably relieved he was himself. He clenched his jaw, forcing his teeth to stop chattering.
Wilhelm, who had been missing for two years, had returned. He was as good a swordsman as ever—perhaps better, in fact. Good enough to claim victory over the Sword Saint at the ceremony. The Sword Devil was truly home. He had come back to rescue the heart of Theresia, the woman who meant everything to Carol.
“Anyway! We can’t just wait around here! Somebody has to go and inform that idiot just how stupendously stupid he is! And that’s our job, Grimm!”
What about Lady Theresia?
“I can’t imagine my dear, sweet-hearted Lady Theresia would so much as scold him. She needs me!”
It was not a hope but true conviction that powered this declaration. The relationship between Wilhelm and Theresia must be just as she said. As certain as the fact that Grimm loved her.
He himself had more than a few pieces of his mind that he wanted to give Wilhelm. They both wanted the same thing.
“Let’s go, Grimm! I’m sure Lady Theresia will take him back to her house… And that’s where I’m going to let him have the two years’ worth of anger I’ve been saving up!”
She reached out her hand, and he took it with that same small smile. She was ready to dash out the door, but he pulled her back, just for a moment.
In that moment, he wrote down the feelings he hadn’t had a chance to express at the interrupted ceremony.
That dress looks beautiful on you.
Let us move on without detailing Carol’s exact reaction. When she and Grimm left the ceremony hall, though, her face was very red indeed.
6
As the wedding concluded, Wilhelm and Theresia shared their first kiss as a married couple. From the pews, Carol leaned on Grimm’s shoulder and wept openly.
Zergev Squadron had miraculously arrived in time for the ceremony, but all of its members were in a sorry state. That included Grimm, whose armor and uniform, after three consecutive days of use, could only be called unhygienic at best.
Carol, though, with her (filthy) beloved once more at her side, could not have cared less. The beautiful bride, Theresia, felt exactly the same. Both their chests swelled with pride.
With the exchange of vows and then of a kiss, Wilhelm and Theresia were at last officially married. Even His Majesty the King had attended, albeit incognito. No one present objected to the union. Of course, no one except the bride’s father had ever held much against it.
“Oh…Lady Theresia, how beautiful you are…” Carol was unable to hide her joy and emotion at the sight of Theresia in her bridal gown; she was completely transfixed. Grimm felt a touch jealous, but on today of all days, he could let it slide.
No one needed to explain to him how immensely important Theresia was in Carol’s life. They were like sisters, or even closer, and her feelings on this day must have been truly intense. Grimm himself was equally relieved to see Wilhelm get his wish. Though maybe he wasn’t quite as emotional about it as Carol.
“ ”
With the vows and the kiss, the ceremony proper was over. Still, the proceedings dragged on with features someone uncharitable might have considered superfluous: Bordeaux, representing the new groom, gave a speech; Veltol, as the father of the bride, related some memories of his life with his daughter, though he predictably broke down in tears.
Finally, when everything was over, Wilhelm and Theresia left the chapel together. Everyone applauded them and offered their blessings. And just as the couple was about to leave—
“Carol!”
“Wha?!”
The bridal bouquet arced through the air and landed neatly in Carol’s startled arms. Tossing the yellow flowers Theresia had been holding was the very last of the wedding customs that had to be observed. It was said that whoever caught them would be the next to find lifelong happiness…
“Oh…”
Theresia winked puckishly, and Carol went red in the face. At that moment, the applause in the chapel shifted away from Wilhelm and Theresia and thundered for Carol. Nearly overwhelmed, she grabbed Grimm’s arm, but this only caused the well-wishing to intensify.
“G-Grimm, uh…”
His lover didn’t seem to know quite what to do, but Grimm winked, too. On the far side of the applause, Theresia was smiling happily at them, and Wilhelm had a foul look on his face, as if to say he was giving Grimm a little payback.
You’re gonna be the next one standing up there, he seemed to be saying.
“ ”
Grimm wrapped his left arm around Carol then, with his free hand, he grabbed the bouquet from her and held it over his head for all to see.
There was an instant of shock among the onlookers, but then everyone glanced at one another and burst again into applause. The lover of the maiden who had received the bouquet had held it aloft. That could only mean one thing.
Theresia put her hands to her mouth, and Wilhelm raised an eyebrow as if ever so slightly surprised. Bordeaux laughed uproariously, Miklotov smiled, and King Jionis clapped harder than anyone. Veltol, gripped by the fear that someone he thought of as a daughter was going to be taken from him, broke down crying once more.
Carol leaned into Grimm, still blushing. “Grimm, you…dummy,” she mumbled in her sweet voice. Her complaint was soft, but he picked it out clearly amid the applause.
7
“I swear, I never know what you’ll do next,” Carol said, shooting a recriminating glance at Grimm as she sat on the bed. The ceremony was over, and they were in a private residence in a corner of the commoners’ quarter as night fell upon the capital of Lugunica.
The room was Grimm’s bedroom, and the building was his house. Grimm was the vice-captain of Zergev Squadron, a distinguished and well-regarded unit. Bordeaux had already judged that Grimm should no longer have to spend nights at the garrison but should have a house near the castle, and the result was this building. It gave him access to everything he needed to have and do, making his life easier. And it also just so happened to make it easier to steal time with Carol.
“I used to worry about how some of the other knights and guards looked at me.”
Their secret rendezvous weren’t as frequent as all that, but the life of a man with a beautiful lover could be tough in its own way. Grimm had long been engaged in a secret battle of his own to keep any of his far less qualified and devout competitors from getting their hands on Carol. He wasn’t about to tell her about this particular struggle, and anyway he would soon be amply rewarded.
“You’ve had a long…well, more than just a long day, Grimm. Come over here.”
He had bathed and changed clothes, and now Carol patted the bed beside her, blushing faintly. He sat down next to her and wrapped an arm around her slim waist. Their lips met without the need for another word.
At these times, when it was just the two of them, Grimm hardly even carried his writing brush. It was enough just to see each other. Grimm savored the pleasure of knowing that Carol was right, that words were not the only way to communicate their feelings.
Suddenly, reminded that he was with someone who communicated her feelings with the sword, he burst into laughter.
“…Oh, Grimm, look what you’ve done. A little apology won’t be enough for this.” Carol was thoroughly incensed at having been hung out to dry in the middle of the kiss, the mood between them completely spoiled. She refused his apologetic expression and turned away from him in annoyance.
He put a hand to one of her cheeks, pressing a kiss onto the other.
“Hrn, no. You’re not getting off that easy.” His princess remained angry, but he wouldn’t back down from this challenge. Her ears, her neck: He showered her with kisses.
“Ah, hey, that tickles… No fair, no fair, I said!”
Carol wriggled under the tickle of his lips, the stiffness in her cheeks finally giving way. Then, at last, a smile came back over her face, and a burst of laughter announced her surrender as she rolled into his arms.
“…Strange that such a brave heart should live in such a slim chest.” Her lips brushed against that same chest, her voice sweet and vulnerable.
She was usually so careful to present herself as self-assured and strong; no one else saw this more sentimental side of her. Even Theresia wasn’t privy to this look on her face—it was for Grimm alone.
“ ”
At their first meeting, she had helped to keep his heart from shattering completely. Then she had entertained his outsize ambitions without a hint of laughter.
She had mourned the loss of his voice, had become his lover. Over the course of two years, she had watched over him until he could at last forgive himself. And then he watched her catch those flowers, receiving everyone’s blessing.
“…I’m not quite ready to be Carol Fauzen yet.” She smiled, guessing what was in his eyes as he looked down at her.
At this rate, it seemed he wouldn’t be able to hide even his intention to pop the question. He resolved to be careful, to make sure he could at least surprise her for that. It was all so he could make this person, so dear to him, happy in every way he was able.
And so ends the dazzling interlude in the story of the Sword Devil and the Sword Saint, of the joining of a man and a woman. This, too, is another important part of the tale of the Love Song and the Love Ballad of the Sword Devil.
<END>
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