4
“I know that bellowing. So Goz Ralphone is here. A bit much if all they want is to capture me and me alone. Not that I can say I’m surprised.” Priscilla smiled ever so slightly—she knew that what she said was not quite true—and then resumed running through the woods. She held up the hem of her red dress, moving as easily as if the difficult footing were level ground or as if she were a wild girl born and raised in the natural wilderness.
Other than the way she handled herself, however, every last thing about her was the polar opposite of someone raised in the woods, making her current actions seem like a miracle.
“ ”
At her back, in the mansion she was leaving behind, her husband and his troops were engaging the soldiers of the empire. The smile Jorah had given her, that very last thing, was burned into her eyes.
“He’s done a fine job.”
Jorah had not been a man of many distinguished qualities. He was perhaps the least qualified person by the standards of the Volakian Empire’s principles; he had left much to be desired as both a Volakian noble and as a man. And yet in that final moment, he had without question proven himself Priscilla’s husband. His love for his wife had inspired him to sacrifice himself to buy her time, to secure her escape. Priscilla was not so base as to sniff at either the attempt or the success, nor would she let anyone else do so.
With those feelings in her heart, she all but flew through the woods…
“That’s far enough, Princess.”
“ ”
…until she was stopped by an unexpected voice. She came to a halt, turning her crimson eyes upward. There, in the high branches of a great tree, she saw a silhouette, which swiftly dropped down in front of her.
It was a girl, a girl wrapped only in some cloths that left much of her skin exposed. She was around the same age as Priscilla, maybe not quite a teenager. She was plainly in good health but hadn’t quite developed the curves to be called alluring. She had one sleepy-looking red eye; the other was covered in a bandage that sported a flower pattern. Her hair was silver except for a single streak of red, and she had the unique, canine ears of the dogfolk.
In her hand, she held a pathetic twig she’d just plucked off the tree, and she fixed her single eye on Priscilla, her lips trembling. “Lady Prisca…,” she said, using Priscilla’s other name.
“ ”
Priscilla exhaled quietly at the ancient moniker, a name she’d already abandoned. Time had passed—not much time, but still, time had passed. Strange, then, that the girl before her—the familiar face, the color of her eyes—looked as if she hadn’t changed at all.
She served a new master now, supposedly, and yet she still turned a beseeching gaze on Priscilla. That was the proof that she was still the same.
“It’s hard to escape the irony that it should be you appearing before me at this moment,” Priscilla said.
“Princess. I—”
“Betrayed me and joined my brother. And it’s brought you this opportunity to finish me off with your own hands. What do you have to say for yourself?”
“N-no, I didn’t! I never…!” Though the young woman normally showed so little emotion, Priscilla’s merciless assault still made her face twist in alarm. “Then just like now… Princess, for you, I…”
“ ” Priscilla didn’t speak.
“Today… Today, it’s the same. Master Vincent said to me…”
“Fool. You mistake your form of address. My older brother is now the emperor of Volakia, and if you are a soldier of the empire, then you had best remember it. For—” Priscilla paused and crossed her arms. Then she stared down the other girl with her almond-shaped eyes and let her lips curl provocatively. “No… In truth, my brother has not gained the right to call himself emperor of Volakia.”
“Oh…”
“Prisca Benedict is dead. My brother alone survives of all the candidates who participated in the Rite of Imperial Selection. Except my existence threatens that entire story, doesn’t it?” If word was to get out, it would be the greatest scandal in the history of the empire. The emperor, who was expected to be the embodiment of the admonition to be strong, had acted contrary to the idea that only the strong survive.”
“Lady…Prisca…”
“And get my name right while you’re at it. I’m Priscilla now. Priscilla Pendleton—my token of respect for my husband’s last act of service. I must insist you not mistake this, Arakiya.”
“Pri…scilla…?”
“I grant it’s merely a bit of playing with sounds. Wherever and in whatever circumstances I may be, I shall always be myself. As much of a headache as that might be for my elder brother.” Priscilla winked at the girl, the one she called Arakiya, and then sniffed.
Arakiya straightened her small shoulders. “Prisca or Priscilla… The princess is my princess. Come with me. Master Vincent…I mean, His Excellency would speak with you. So…”
“I’m afraid I don’t follow. He wants me to return now? To what end? My brother is the emperor, and he cannot abide my continued existence. If, in spite of that, he commands me to return to the capital…”
“Yes? If so…then what?”
“It’s as good as declaring that he intends to seek my life once more.”
“Oh…”
Priscilla’s words were almost casual, but they left Arakiya shocked. She looked at her milk sister and realized it was true that Vincent hadn’t explained the niceties of his orders. But it had been enough for Priscilla to guess what he was thinking. Why had he sent Arakiya to find her at this moment?
“The fact that he sent you to me was, in his own way, an act of love.”
“What…?”
“Yes. Familial affection. My older brother does love me. And I have considerable fondness for him as well. But that is a separate matter from our respective positions. This time, my brother must kill me. And therefore…”
“ ?!”
Priscilla’s voice dropped on that last word, and then Arakiya’s eyes widened, her small body flying backward. The reason was clear: a red flash. A sweep, a beautiful and a cruel strike that, had it connected with Arakiya’s neck, would have seen her burned to cinders on the spot.
The source of the blow was a ruby-red blade that was suddenly in Priscilla’s hand.
“The Bright Sword, Volakia…,” Arakiya said.
“It must be most inconvenient for my brother that there are two of us who can wield this weapon. I doubt he has any need for such musty symbols of power, but without them, he would never be able to keep the likes of Belstetz in line.”
“Princess, put your sword away, and—”
“Still, you urge surrender upon me? Then you leave me no choice but to carve my own path with this gleam in my hand.”
The sword was too large for a girl who had not yet finished growing and too grand. But Priscilla burst with the confidence to use it freely and the competence to actually do so.
“Go, Princess.” Arakiya lowered the twig she clutched in her hand.
This made Priscilla breathe “Hoh?” and close an eye in amusement, taking the wind out of her sails. “Are you not defying the emperor’s personal orders?”
“But Master Vincent…His Excellency bade me come here.”
“ ”
Arakiya, perceiving what she judged to be the true intent behind Vincent’s orders, made her decision. Perhaps she was right, or perhaps it was simply an interpretation of those orders that was convenient to her personal wishes. Either way, it was a perceptible change in Arakiya, who had always before been loyal to the letter of what she was told.
When Priscilla saw that, she returned the Bright Sword to the air, where it disappeared.
“My princess…is the princess. But if Lady Prisca is dead…then this is the last. I beg you. Don’t draw attention to yourself anymore. Like with the broadcast…on the sword-slave island…”
“Ah, but that was my own expression of love for my brother. With the resolution of matters on the island, he could keep his defenders at home in the capital.”
In any case, ultimately, it had only been a matter of time before Priscilla’s hiding place would have been discovered. She was a woman fundamentally unsuited to lying low somewhere and watching the world pass her by. Even her days with Jorah had been merely a detour—although, unexpectedly, not an unpleasant one. Pleasant enough, at least, that she had lost her resistance to using the name Priscilla Pendleton.
“Arakiya, I am grateful to you. But the next time we meet, you had best have your resolve set.”
“…I hope we don’t meet. Ever again.”
“But we shall. At least, I believe so.”
With that, Priscilla smiled—and at the same moment, there came a huge explosion from the direction she’d come, the direction of the mansion. The battle seemed to have reached some sort of climax. Arakiya glanced toward the sound for a bare instant, but her attention swiftly returned to what was in front of her eyes. However…
“Princess…”
…by the time she turned back, Priscilla was already gone. Arakiya looked everywhere, but she knew Priscilla was not so careless as to be found that easily. She was, after all, Arakiya’s own milk sibling, and the Volakian emperor’s only living relative…
“…I’m begging you…”
Arakiya dearly wished Priscilla would go away, as far away as possible, and live out her life. That she would forget about the brutal war of succession in the empire and go on as just another girl, living in some distant place.
But despite her wishes, Arakiya knew the truth. “It’s absolutely…impossible.”
The young woman, Prisca Benedict, would never endure that way of life. Sometime in the future, another day would come when, like today, Arakiya was brought face-to-face with her princess. When that day came, what, if anything, would she be able to do with Priscilla, or Prisca?
Set your resolve. That was what she had been told. And yet…
“Lady Prisca… You big dummy…”
And yet for the moment, that single murmur was all she could manage.
No Comments Yet
Post a new comment
Register or Login