Risou no Himo Seikatsu - Volume 12 - Chapter 1

Chapter 1 — The Three Yans

It had been forty-three days since they had departed from the uninhabited island. The Glasir’s Leaf had finally reached its first port of call, the port of Pomorskie. In fact, it had been over ten days since the land of the Northern Continent had first been sighted.

Fortunately, the Glasir’s Leaf was in a good enough position in terms of both supplies and condition that it didn’t need to divert to a nearer port. Freya had said that due to the influence of the church being particularly strong in the southern states, she didn’t want to call on any of their ports unless unavoidable.

Zenjirou could only nod along in agreement. Frankly, he wanted to be on solid land as soon as possible after forty days of being shaken around in the wooden cot. Still, he wasn’t so arrogant that he assumed his whims held more weight than an expert’s opinion.

Regardless, he waited on deck as he watched the sailors go back and forth preparing for landfall. He knew he would be in the way, but he wanted to be on the ground as soon as possible.

Freya was with him. She had finished issuing her rough instructions, had left the specifics to her vice-captain, and was now talking with Zenjirou instead.

“The port is a center of international trade, so there should be no issue with us docking here. Resupply should be a simple matter as well. However, the problem comes with Pomorskie being an ordynacja of one of the leading families in the country. You and I will have to offer our greetings.”

This discussion had already been had several times since they had sighted the continent. Their current conversation was simultaneously something of a final review and just a topic to pass the time until they reached the port.

While he had not been seasick, Zenjirou had not been his usual self while they were out at sea. He wasn’t sure he’d managed to get everything memorized, so it was appreciated in that sense as well.

“I understand. Capua has no ties with the Northern Continent, so I would appreciate you providing an introduction, Princess Freya.”

“Indeed. One thing, though—we are still at sea,” she said, lifting her chin.

“Pardon me, Captain,” he corrected himself with a chagrined smile.

They were blessed with good weather today. The sea and sky alike were blue. The port finally came into view, where the two shades met and mixed on the horizon. Well, at least a white lighthouse-like building and the sea defenses marking the port had come into view.

“The Port of Pomorskie. The country was called Złota Wol...” Zenjirou said, trailing off, as he couldn’t remember the name.

“Złota Wolność. The Nobles’ Commonwealth of Złota Wolność in full,” Freya explained.

The Nobles’ Commonwealth of Złota Wolność was the largest country on the west side of the continent. The majority of the populace were followers of the church, just like the other countries on the Northern Continent, but this country held the rare position of recognizing the religious freedom of its people.

For the crew of the Glasir’s Leaf, who certainly did not follow the church’s teachings, it was a perfect port.

The ship was steadily approaching land as the two talked. With how close it was now, even Zenjirou could get a full picture of their destination.

“Incredible. It is several levels above Valentia,” he commented.

The port’s size, the number of berths, the lighthouses’ heights, and the size of the docks for building and repairing ships were all superior to Valentia, the pride of Capua, its biggest port.

“Three-mast ships are already standard within the commonwealth, so their ports have inevitably grown as well. We have seen at least five ships that are four-masted and are on the same scale as the Glasir’s Leaf.”

“Amazing,” he said, without a trace of exaggeration.

The advanced level of their shipbuilding capabilities, the resources to support it, and the size of their naval territory all proved the size and strength of the country. He seemed to remember Freya saying that Uppasala only had one other ship of the same level.

“An international power indeed,” he commented.

“They certainly are.”

The ship arrived with no trouble worth mentioning.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆

Being an international hub, the port of Pomorskie had lodgings built to a standard assuming that royalty such as Freya and Zenjirou would be staying. Zenjirou was spending the night in such an establishment.

The only others doing so were Freya, Lucretia, and the guards and attendants for each of them. The rest of the crew had been given their lump sum and sent off into the town. They would likely be spending their time in taverns and brothels to soothe both body and soul.

For his part, Zenjirou had immediately requested use of the bathroom and removed both the accumulated dirt of travel and his facial hair before taking a nap in a big, stationary bed for the first time in forty-three days.

“Sir Zenjirou, it is almost time for dinner,” came Ines’s voice, rousing him.

“Hrm? Ah, already?” he replied before getting changed.

The clothes he was changing into were neither the traditional Capuan garb nor the clothes he had brought from Japan. They were western clothes made by the tailors of Capua, although from Capua’s perspective, they would be clothes styled after the Northern Continent’s. The cut and coloring might stray somewhat from the popular styles as far as someone from the Northern Continent was concerned, but it would still be less eye-catching than either of the other two options.

Room service wasn’t a thing, even in such a luxurious establishment, so he had to head for the dining room on the first floor to eat.

“Oh, should we call on Princess Freya or Lucy?” he asked in sudden realization.

“Her Highness is still at the lord’s estate to explain our entry to the port. She indicated that she would likely stay there tonight. Lady Lucretia is still asleep.”

“I see. The princess certainly has a significant burden.”

However used to traveling she was, going straight from a long voyage to dealing with formalities with the lord of the land was still a significant task. Regardless, Zenjirou was not from a country with ties to the Northern Continent, so he was nothing more than self-proclaimed royalty from the south as far as the locals were concerned. Even if he accompanied her, he would be of no assistance. Quite the contrary, in fact.

“Never mind, then.” He shrugged.

The dining room was—even to Zenjirou, who was used to dining in the palace—impressively lavish. The floor and walls were formed of stone that looked like marble. The tables were covered with pure white cloths, and there were several chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. They were filled with large amounts of candles, and you could fairly easily see at least the people you were sharing a table with. In Capua, so many candles were only ever lit simultaneously for events at the palace.

Perhaps the Northern Continent farms bees? Zenjirou mused as he took his seat.

Freya had told him that Capuan table manners wouldn’t cause an issue. After all, even on the Northern Continent, different countries had slightly different table manners. Therefore, as long as they didn’t diverge too far from the host country’s, it was taken as a touch of national character.

While it was a nice thing for Zenjirou, the table was lined with processed meats like sausage and ham. It wasn’t a common type of meal for Capua. They were rather salty compared to his homeland’s norms, but considering how long it had been since he had eaten such meals, he still enjoyed them.

If Zenjirou had to come down on one side of the debate, he was usually one to eat slowly and savor his food. However, neither Freya nor Lucretia were here to talk with him, and the longer he took, the later his guards and maids would have to eat.

He was drinking the herbal tea served as an after-dinner drink as quickly as he could without it looking like he was rushing when an aging man who looked like staff of some sort came over.

“What is it?” Zenjirou asked.

The man gestured smoothly to Zenjirou’s left before speaking. “My apologies for disturbing your relaxation. The guest over there wishes to join you. Would you be willing?”

“Join me?” Zenjirou asked, not hiding his look of doubt. He glanced in the direction indicated and saw what appeared to be a man sitting at another table. Seeming to sense his gaze, the figure raised a hand in greeting.

Who was it? It went without saying that Zenjirou knew absolutely no one on this continent outside of the people he had shared a ship with to get there. However, that didn’t mean he couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to speak with him. The ship’s arrival this morning would have caused an appreciable stir throughout the port town. When Freya had arranged their rooms, she hadn’t hidden her lineage, registering them as “Princess Freya of the Kingdom of Uppasala and guests.”

Additionally, she had constantly treated Zenjirou as someone of higher standing. Anyone who had seen it would likely be at least somewhat interested in him.

Zenjirou considered it for a moment. The main goal of his journey was to gain permission to take Freya as his concubine. However, there was a supplementary objective to gather information on the continent as a whole. In that respect, this was perhaps good fortune for him as well.

He looked back at the employee and asked a question with a self-evident answer. “I presume that only people able to prove their standing are able to stay here?”

“Indeed.”

He was less asking for confirmation and more a reminder. There was implied blame towards the establishment if the man in question caused an issue. The employee understood that, but his answer was immediate.

“Very well. I have existing plans, so I will be unable to entertain for overly long,” he told him, surveying the stranger as the figure drew close enough to the table for his features to become visible in the chandelier light.

“My name is Yan. I lead a small mercenary group. I offer my gratitude for your willingness to entertain my disrespectful request.”

He was a man of medium build who appeared to be roughly in his thirties. Then again, due to being of medium build in Zenjirou’s estimation, he may have been classed as “slight” by the norms of the continent. He had brown hair and facial hair of the same color. His eyes were blue-gray, but Zenjirou could only see the right one. His left was covered by a dark eyepatch. He must have lost the other.

There was an old-looking scar snaking out from under the eyepatch along his face. Considering he had called himself a mercenary, it was probably a battle scar.

That was the only thing about him that seemed to match the claim, though. The man was scrupulously groomed and fit right in with the high-class atmosphere. His clothes were not particularly extravagant, but they were slightly more refined than most nobles’ casual wear. His hair and facial hair were both neatly trimmed.

With Zenjirou’s acknowledgment, the man took a seat opposite him.

“I will take a liquor,” Yan stated. “Would you as well?”

“Just the one,” Zenjirou replied.

There was a dual meaning to the agreement. He would socialize with the man for the duration of the drink, and once that drink was over, so would the conversation be.

“What did you want to discuss?” Zenjirou asked, purposefully forgoing his introduction and speaking from a superior position. He wouldn’t be able to hide his status regardless, but that didn’t mean he would spread it around either. If the man insisted on finding out his name and providence, then Zenjirou would simply cut the conversation short and return to his room.

The man seemed to intuit that and grinned, not commenting on the lack of introduction before speaking. “It is nothing particularly important,” he claimed. “I simply prefer to remain on top of information due to my work. You are from the Southern Continent, are you not?”

As he spoke, the man’s eye flicked between Zenjirou and Natalio and Ines behind him. The two standing there had skin dark enough that they would struggle to call themselves from this continent. Zenjirou was in the same boat, although his skin was somewhat paler.

Being a port town, there were many tanned people around, but it was easy to tell tanned and naturally dark skin apart. There were also too many differences in eye color, facial structure, and general build between the people from each continent.

“I am. Still, I would have thought that remaining on top of such information was more the domain of merchants?”

Yan gave an oddly charming smile. “Well, I am hardly on that level. Still, not listening for information and keeping abreast of events and moving accordingly can be life and death.” As he answered, the mercenary lifted the drink to his mouth.

“I see. That makes sense. I thought you were looking for an employer. A shame.”

“Oh? A shame? May I hear why you seem to evaluate me so highly on our first meeting?” Yan asked, raising his visible eyebrow in intrigue.

Zenjirou responded without any real fire. “A mercenary allowed to stay here has proven himself to have much worth already.”

Yan was treated as a guest of the establishment, and the staff had been willing to act as an intermediary for someone a royal was treating as a superior. It was evident that their hosts put quite a lot of trust in him.

The man’s expression shifted to a rueful look. “That is somewhat of an overestimation. I cannot stay here under my own name. I am simply here under another’s employ and using their prestige to stay over.”

“So you are already employed. Should you not be fulfilling your role rather than talking with me here?”

The one-eyed man answered easily. “I am, in fact, hard at work fulfilling my duties.”

Zenjirou made a slight noise of confusion before understanding what he meant. “I see,” he said, as his expression closed up.

From most people’s perspective, Zenjirou was a complete unknown here. With Freya, the first princess of the Kingdom of Uppasala, vouching for him, they could be relatively sure of his innocuous nature, but a guard would want to eliminate all uncertainty. Therefore he had approached Zenjirou to feel him out. The fact that he had done so openly and admitted to it meant it was unlikely there was any malice being directed his way.

“I trust it has proven fruitful,” Zenjirou added.

The mercenary’s eye narrowed as he grinned. “Indeed it has. I have nothing to report to my employer.”

“Nothing to report” meant he didn’t see Zenjirou as necessary to keep an eye on. Of course, taking the man at face value was risky, but observing him for a while made it possible to see that in terms of both ability and tendency, he was unlikely to cause harm.

“I am glad to hear it. Would you be willing to share your employer’s name?”

The mercenary nodded after a moment of thought. “I would. We are not particularly hiding things. My employer is called Yan.”

“Yan?” Zenjirou parroted, his voice clearly stressing that the man had said that was his name.

The fellow’s grin widened. “We do indeed have the same name. It is a rather common name in my homeland, though, so it is a simple coincidence. Of course, he is far from a mercenary like myself. He is a fine priest.”

A priest. On the Northern Continent, that meant a priest of the church. In the south of the continent, there were countries where priests were superior to the nobility. They had power in name—and in some cases actual power—within those regions.

“Oh? That is impressive.” There was a hint of tension in his voice as his mind raced.

Freya was from one of the few animistic countries rather than one that followed the church, and Zenjirou was here under her authority from the Southern Continent. A priest from the church was someone to be wary of when you were in that position.

The one-eyed man’s expression was somewhat proud as he replied plainly, “Ah, you need not worry. He isn’t so hardheaded. If he was, he would hardly have friendly relations with the commonwealth.”

The Nobles’ Commonwealth of Złota Wolność was one of the few countries on the continent that guaranteed religious freedom within its borders. While around ninety percent of its citizens followed the church’s teachings, there were no problems with people believing in the spirits or other faiths.

“I see. He sounds like a sensible man.”

“I can vouch for that. I shall take my leave, then.” He slowly rose from his chair. His movements must have sent the air in Zenjirou’s direction, because the scent surrounding the man drifted towards his nose. It was something he had smelled before. An almost nostalgic smell, even.

“Of course. It was good to speak with you.”

“I am immensely happy you would say so.”

While Zenjirou absently exchanged farewells with the man and watched him leave, he searched through his memories for the scent. He’d been in university. It was summer at the beach. They were playing around...with fireworks.

The sequence of associations eventually led him to fireworks.

The man smelled of fireworks, Zenjirou thought to himself in sudden realization. As soon as he understood that, he stood from his seat, his face drawn.

“Sir Zenjirou, are you returning to your room?”

He gave a perfunctory nod in response to the question before striding off rather quickly.

“Sir Zenjirou?”

“Ah, my apologies. There is something on my mind,” he said, slowing his pace and relaxing. His thoughts were still whirling.

Fireworks certainly didn’t exist on the Southern Continent, so discussing it with a knight or maid would be no help. The Glasir’s Leaf was cutting-edge technology and didn’t have such things either, so he had assumed they did not exist even on the Northern Continent. That might have been a foolish assumption, though.

He would have to talk to Freya when she got back. How common were weapons that used black powder here?

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆

Freya had yet to return even after breakfast. That was not particularly surprising. She likely had things to discuss. With someone of her status having arrived, they may well have wanted to detain her somewhat.

Zenjirou had found himself unoccupied. Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do. His appearance set him apart here, and carelessly wandering would increase the burden on his guards. He also couldn’t use teleportation to go back to Capua. He would have no excuse for Freya if she was finished with the lord before he returned.

Fortunately, though, he had returned to Capua during their stay on the uninhabited island, so he was much refreshed. He should have been thinking more about showing appreciation to his subordinates than about himself.

He had requested by word from a maid that the manager come to his room. The gentleman was a somewhat rotund man and looked just under fifty. His figure and constant smile made him rather easy to talk to.

“Good day. May I ask what you need of me?” the manager spoke. His politeness despite this effectively being their first meeting was either due to Freya’s influence or his general disposition. Regardless, he was still the one most likely to be able to grant Zenjirou’s request.

“I would like money that can be spent in this country. Unfortunately, I only have money from my homeland. Would it be possible to make an exchange for the local currency?” he asked with a signal to Ines.

“If I may inspect them first?” The manager took the bag of silver coins from Ines and removed one with an air of familiarity as he inspected it.

The money he had brought with him was mainly large silver coins. They were larger and thicker than the coins commonly used in Capua. These were used mainly for trade, or sometimes for agreements between royalty and nobility. They were the most important type of currency, and the silver content hadn’t dropped a gram even during the war, while the standard coins got blacker and blacker.

They held an unquestionable value within the country for that reason. Naturally, they couldn’t be spent in Tucale or the Twin Kingdoms, but the exchange rate had remained almost constant even during the war.

Fortunately, they were valuable on the Northern Continent as well.

“These are wonderful. I may not be an expert, but even I can tell. They contain more silver than this country’s coins and the size and weight alone proves their value,” the manager said.

Zenjirou let out a relieved breath at his valuation. “I see. Then would it be possible to exchange them for this country’s currency?”

The man’s expression darkened at his request. “That would be rather difficult. Our establishment does indeed allow for the exchange of currencies. However, it is a service we provide, so we match the official trade exchange rates to make neither a profit nor a loss. However, there is no official rate for your homeland’s currency.”

“That would indeed be a problem,” Zenjirou said in understanding.

He frowned. If a place that maintained official rates was to allow an exchange for which no rate officially existed, it was entirely possible that it would become the effective rate in the future. The world wasn’t simple enough that this alone would cement a rate, but it would definitely become an initial index. That was fine if the rate was fair, but favoring either Capua or the commonwealth would harm the establishment’s reputation.

“Then what to do?” Zenjirou pondered.

The manager offered a shrewd suggestion. “Allow me to confirm, sir, but you need this country’s currency, correct?”

“I do.”

“It is not an extreme amount, and you are prepared to let those wonderful coins go?”

“Indeed.”

The manager’s expression was just as friendly as earlier now that he had his confirmation. “Then perhaps I could personally buy some of those coins? Silver coins that are only tender in a small part of the Southern Continent will have value as a collector’s item.”

It was a lifeline for Zenjirou. There was nothing incorrect about what had been said. If it was sold to a collector, it wouldn’t lead to issues even if they were sold for a price far from the market value.

Northern ships had called in Valentia before, so there would be at least some of their currency on this continent as well. The large coins were only used by royalty for international trade or deals with other nobles, though. Even if there were some examples on this continent, there would be very few, so it would hold a high value for a period.

“I would appreciate that,” he replied.

“Understood.” The manager offered a perfect bow that belied his bulk.

Before long, Zenjirou had a decent chunk of local currency in hand. He handed over part of it to his guards and maids, giving them free time in turn. While he was staying there, he would manage with the bare minimum himself. It was less than half a day off for each of them, but both groups aided in either his protection or comfort.

He knew from his time as an office worker that time away from work would be valuable to them in refreshing themselves. The men grinned, beaming, when he told them. Of course, half of the reason for their smiles was likely the unexpected windfall of spending money. Either way, the first to take a break was Margarette.

“I shall take you up on your offer, Sir Zenjirou.”

“Good. We don’t have enough time for you to really take it easy, but relax as much as you can.”

With that exchange, Margarette left the room. She was one of very few people in Capua to have blonde hair, green eyes, and pale skin, which meant that she didn’t stand out here. She headed down to the reception and asked for some clothes to be arranged. Once they had been delivered, she returned to her assigned room and changed out of her maid uniform.

Any lodgings over a certain level would be able to deal with their guests’ wardrobe needs during their stay, hence such clothing being readily available for purchase. The particular outfit was an elegant dress. The cloth and tailoring were both refined, but the color and cut were rather plain.

Personally, she preferred showier and slightly shorter dresses. Standing out wasn’t to her benefit here, though, so the style was convenient, if anything.

The doorman saw her out onto the streets of Pomorskie.

“Thank you,” she said.

It seemed the doormen weren’t there to address the guests, however, as he simply gave a polite bow of his head.

The bright sunlight shone on the white paving stones as the salty breeze filled her nose. Part of it might have been due to its role as a port, but the town was constructed rather similarly to Valentia. Zenjirou had called it several levels above the latter port in every way when they’d arrived, and Margarette agreed.

According to the people she had spoken to at their lodgings, the area around the establishment was safe enough for an unaccompanied woman even at night. With Capua only having been at peace for a few years, there were unfortunately very few places that were so safe.

This meant that when she caught sight of a rather scruffy youth, she was not particularly surprised. He wore shabby-looking pants and a sack for a shirt, which had holes for his arms and head. His feet were clad in wound, threadbare cloth rather than anything that could really be called shoes. He was dirty and grimy enough that she could imagine the wind turning would carry the stench of his body odor, and his hair was slick with grease.

He was, in short, the very image of a street urchin. He was flitting from shadow to shadow, clearly following her.

A pickpocket? she wondered. He doesn’t move like it.

She decided to feign ignorance for a while and entered a nearby clothing store. Those in the area were, naturally, high-class shops. It wasn’t somewhere a vagrant like the boy could enter, but Margarette’s clothing and the way she carried herself let her blend in with the clientele.

“Welcome,” a clerk greeted her.

“I do not have the time to request a fitting. Would you be able to show me the various cloths you have?”

Clothing stores—outside of secondhand shops—only ever had a few outfits to serve as display pieces. Instead, they kept a stock of cloth and tailored it to suit each customer. Shops in a port town like this would have many chance customers, so nothing she said would ring particularly false, as many of them would merely buy the cloth.

“Of course. Please wait a moment,” the clerk answered before immediately bringing out several bolts of fabric and unfurling them in front of her. “This is the store’s bestseller. The base is common flax, but take a closer look at the vivid red. It is a new dye that our dye crafters have developed very recently. It is created from a specific flower, which leads to not only the vivid color but to a long-lasting dye...”

The clerk was—as one would expect—proficient in talking around selling points, and with Margarette’s love of shopping, she allowed herself to temporarily forget her duties and enjoy it. She ended up buying a handkerchief for each of the maids of the inner palace as a souvenir, along with both the red flax the clerk had recommended and white silk, enough for an outfit in each before leaving the store.

She had used most of her allowance there, but she was very much satisfied with her purchases. She had a happy look on her face as she left before spotting the youth darting back across the road.

I spent a lot of time shopping, but he’s still waiting? He definitely has business with me, then.

A pickpocket after a mark wouldn’t wait for so long before moving on to another. Margarette had only just arrived, though, so she couldn’t imagine anyone specifically seeking her out. She had technically been born here but hadn’t been on the Northern Continent since she was three years old. It was essentially impossible that anyone would both know her and be able to pick her out in an instant. At least twenty years had passed, so recognizing her would be less a feat of memory and more likely some sort of spell.

Is he after a link to Sir Zenjirou? Perhaps I should draw him out.

Fortunately, the boy looked to be a complete amateur as far as she was concerned. She was confident she could take him down one-on-one, whatever weapons he was concealing.

Margarette made her way to a quieter area to lure him out. Just in case, she stayed close enough to the main streets that she could yell and be heard. If he couldn’t be tempted out that easily, she would give up on it.

Fortunately, that didn’t seem to be necessary.

“E-Excuse me!”

She hadn’t moved too far away from the main street when the call and the soft patter of feet announced a small figure’s approach.

“Are you talking to me?” she asked, injecting a note of surprise into her voice. She turned and acted as if she had only just noticed him. As she had expected, the boy was in front of her now.

He looked to be around eight or nine. He wasn’t as old as ten, certainly. Of course, many street children had poor nutrition, so his growth might have been somewhat stunted. She couldn’t have been too far off the mark, then.

“Did you need something?”

The boy gave her a surprised look before seeming to come to some decision and addressing her with a tense voice.

“Miss, are you staying at the Ancient Arbor?”

The Ancient Arbor was the name of the place where Zenjirou—and therefore she—was staying.

“I am,” she answered leadingly.

He stepped forward. “I’ve got a request, then. There’s a priest staying there, right? I want to meet him. I need to tell him something! I know a street rat asking you is stupid, but I can’t just leave it!” He was getting more agitated as he spoke. The final sentence was more of a yell than a mere request.

Her training as a spy meant that she had been instructed on how to pick apart someone’s expression, eyeline, and tone—and the changes in all of them—to determine whether they were lying. It was a technique that could fail even with complete amateurs, but he didn’t seem to be lying in her estimation.

She decided to humor him. “A priest?”

The boy grew more panicked at her playing dumb. “Yeah, a priest. He’s staying at the same place; you must have seen him? He’s called Yan.”

Margarette did know the name. Priest Yan. That was the name of the person employing the mercenary of the same name who had approached Zenjirou the night prior. The priests of the church on this continent were considered rather elevated citizens, so they shouldn’t have been familiar to some random street urchin.

“You know Priest Yan?” she asked.

The boy nodded several times, explaining. “Yeah, I do. Well, he came to preach in my village while it was still there. He’s different, though! He said to tell him if I ever needed him! That he might not be able to help, but he would at least listen!”

The priest had apparently made quite an impression. It heightened Margarette’s wariness. The mercenary had vouched for the man’s personality as well, to her recollection. She had not really paid it any heed before, but the one-eyed man’s emotional response had seemed too excessive for someone who took money to serve another.

She could have honestly told the boy that she knew nothing and left the conversation there. She was technically only a maid, so she couldn’t bring such a topic to the priest. It was a good chance to acquire information on the Northern Continent, though.

She gave him an apologetic look. “Unfortunately, I am nothing more than an attendant to someone staying there. I cannot personally speak with the priest, but I will convey the message to my lord. If he does not wish to pursue it, that will be the end of it. Even if he does, the priest may not want to hear it and the same will happen. Is that acceptable?”

The boy nodded, almost a reflex. “I don’t mind. Thanks, miss!”

Just the possibility of word reaching the priest must have been massive to him. Margarette then nonchalantly asked a question, remembering how their interaction had started.

“You are welcome. I wouldn’t go so far as to say ‘in exchange,’ but when I first replied, you seemed surprised at first. Then you seemed to realize something. Would you tell me what that was about?”

The boy didn’t hesitate before answering. “Wow, that was well spotted. I was just surprised. Normally, a pretty woman like you would get nervous if a dirty brat like me speaks to them. They get all frowny. You didn’t even step back, though; you just smiled?”

Margarette internally chided herself for not playing the role well enough. The boy’s next words caused that self-chiding to grow even stronger.

“It makes sense, though. You’re not just some maid; you’re a bodyguard, right?”

She couldn’t suppress a raised eyebrow. “Why would you think that?” She felt the urge to pin him with a glare but managed to control herself and maintain a gentle smile as she tilted her head at him.

“Well, you just looked off. You don’t walk or turn like a normal woman, I guess? It felt like I’d seen it before. I figured it out, then. You don’t walk around like a posh lady; you’re like a knight or soldier.”

“I see...”

She studied the boy more closely again. He still looked like a completely untrained youth. She found it hard to imagine that he had learned how to act well enough to deceive her at his age, which meant that it was natural talent or self-training that had seen through her deception.

So he’s a diamond in the rough. It’d be hard to train him at his age, though. If he were younger I’d take him to Marquis Lara...

There was no need to speak with him further for now, she decided. “I shall take my leave. But can I ask your name?”

The boy scrubbed a hand under his nose before proudly answering, “Oops, I forgot. Ah’m Yan!”

“Yan, you say?”

“Yeah, the same as the priest. Well, it’s a super common name in my country, so it’s not that special.”

The child gave her a wave and then dashed off.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆

That night, Zenjirou received a report from the maids and guards who had taken time off that nothing had gone wrong. Of course, they didn’t need to report everything that happened on their own time, but this was a far-flung land. He wanted to hear about anything unusual or worthy of mention.

For better or worse, none of them had anything particular to report. Still, he had lent his music player to one of the maids who had gotten some high ground to take photos of the town as a whole.

“That’s good,” he told her. “I’ll tell Her Majesty when we get back. I should be able to offer a reward myself as well. Think if you want anything specific.”

“Thank you,” the tall maid said happily.

The main event would be Uppasala, so he didn’t want to use too much of the battery power beforehand. Therefore, she had only taken a few photos, and he had spent less than a minute looking at them. It would be more than enough for Aura to see what type of threat the country posed, though.

This port surpassed Valentia in every way. The elevated position of the photos meant that the pictures showed much of the overall construction of the town. Thick walls surrounded it, and the people were generally well-kept and happy. With a few exceptions, a country’s strength was reflected in the physical and mental fulfillment of its populace.

The tall maid had brought back much information, but Margarette was certainly the star that day.

“Sir Zenjirou, allow me to offer my apologies first. I have overstepped slightly. While I was in town...”

Once she had explained the details of her day, Zenjirou sat back in thought.

“I see. That certainly is overstepping a maid’s duties. There is too much around this boy to ignore, though, I agree. I shall therefore overlook it, but understand that this is the exception rather than the rule.”

“Of course. My thanks for your tolerance.”

Although there were only Capuans in the room, it was an official gathering, so he was forced to be uncomfortably stiff with his words. Regardless, he muttered to himself as he considered the information.

“This orphan has to meet the priest no matter what? Instead of a reckless attempt to do so personally, he went through Margarette, so he understands that an orphan wouldn’t be listened to. He can’t be an idiot, then. He is more intelligent than his age would imply and still feels the need to meet the priest.”

Margarette offered some more information at that point. “Sir Zenjirou, he implied that his village no longer exists. I spoke with several of the staff and none are aware of a nearby village that has recently been destroyed.”

Zenjirou gave a somewhat depressed sigh. “Which means that if he isn’t lying, he wasn’t brought up around here.”

An orphan without money for even basic necessities, let alone passage on a carriage, had made his way across a long distance to meet this priest.

“Whatever the case, he seemed insistent that bad things will happen if the meeting does not take place.”

As this was coming from a child, there was a strong possibility he was mistaken. Additionally, what might seem awful to a child was often nothing to a country. Above all else, Zenjirou wasn’t even from this continent, let alone the country. He would be leaving within ten days. There was little chance that anything awful would affect him in the slightest.

Still, his nature meant that he listened to such complaints and that his mental health would suffer if he ignored them.

“I’ll talk to the mercenary tomorrow,” he decided.

Margarette relaxed in relief at that.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆

The next morning, when Zenjirou went for breakfast, he looked for the one-eyed mercenary. More accurately, he asked a member of staff to tell the man that he wanted to speak to him when he arrived.

Fortunately, Zenjirou had managed to get the one-eyed mercenary’s attention rather easily. Unfortunately, however, the man’s response was not as he had hoped.

“What? You mean to say that Priest Yan has yet to return?”

The mercenary of the same name paused in the middle of drinking his soup—the two of them were taking breakfast at the same table—and nodded.

“Indeed. He received a welcome at the lord of Pomorskie’s estate and said that he would be unlikely to return for a while.”

“I see. That is a pity,” Zenjirou replied.

“Did you have business with him?”

Unsurprisingly for a man in his profession, there was an unmistakable wariness to his question. Zenjirou considered his options for a moment before responding honestly. Earning distrust by dissembling for the sake of a boy he had not even made acquaintances with would just be foolish.

“Nothing too serious,” he assured him. “I was asked to make an introduction for someone wishing to meet him. In fact...”

Once Zenjirou had summarized the events leading up to his question, the other man nodded. His expression had barely changed.

“I see. That is how things are, then.”

Zenjirou had been ready for some form of censure from the priest’s guard for speaking on the behalf of an orphan, and he stumbled for a second. The other man offered a smile that was something of a mix of pride and exasperation.

“It is rather worrying as a guard, but this is not a particularly rare occurrence for him. He always says, ‘If there is nothing I can do, then so be it. However, I can always lend my ears to those seeking salvation.’”

He then gave a slightly exaggerated shrug. It was far from the action of a hired sword to their employer. It was almost like concern. It made Zenjirou all the more interested in the priest named Yan, but it was convenient for him.

“I see. So he is the model of a priest, listening to the woes of those lower than him. Do you perhaps remember the boy?”

The mercenary considered it before shaking his head. “Unfortunately not. I have not been in his employ for even half a year yet. It is entirely possible they met before.”

The man’s statement pushed Zenjirou’s feelings from mere curiosity to wariness. A mercenary showing such concern towards his employer after such a short period? A youth who had met the priest on a single occasion had traveled all this way to ask for aid, so the man must have had something about him that drew people to him.

“I understand. I would like you to pass on the boy’s words when you next see the priest. Is that acceptable?”

“There will be no problem with that. There is little other answer I can give, in fact. I would like very much to object, considering my role, but I would likely garner a lecture if I prevented such voices from reaching him. I may even lose my job.”

“I see. Thank you, then.”

“Of course.”

The Southern royal and Northern mercenary had an amiable discussion afterwards as they finished their breakfasts.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆

Around an hour had passed since Zenjirou had finished his breakfast.

His plan of having Yan the mercenary introduce him to Yan the priest when the latter returned had soon crumbled.

Still, the current situation was not too bad. While the priest had not returned, Freya’s guard, Skaji, had. According to her, the negotiations with the lord had finished without incident and he wanted to extend an invitation to Zenjirou.

Of course, the invitation was somewhat unofficial in light of accepting his position as royalty from the Southern Continent. The unofficial nature of it was unavoidable. While the lord of Pomorskie was a high-ranking noble in his own right, he was not a representative of the Nobles’ Commonwealth of Złota Wolność as a whole. An official invitation would require the country to officially recognize the existence of Capua first.

Only the Sejm in the name of the king could do such a thing. The lord of Pomorskie was a member of the Sejm, but he was just that: a member. With that in mind, taking several days to make any invitation, and that invitation being unofficial at best, was practically inevitable.

Zenjirou focused on the warrior woman before him before asking for confirmation of what he already knew.

“Very well. I will gratefully accept the invitation. I heard before, but is a priest by the name of Yan currently staying with the lord?”

The tall woman answered without hesitation. “He is. I was unable to meet him myself, but he is certainly there. The lord is holding something of an informal event to welcome you, Your Majesty. I daresay this Yan will also be present.”

Which meant Zenjirou would be able to meet the priest. Unofficial though the setting was, interacting with the man while the lord was acknowledging him as royalty would mean he wouldn’t need to prove his status. It was a lifeline for him.

“I understand. Speed is of the essence, then. Is there a limit to how many may accompany me?”

She looked away awkwardly for a moment but quickly rallied. “The lord guaranteed an event worthy of your stature, for all its lack of official recognition. However, on the night itself, you will have to accompany Princess Freya, so Lady Lucretia will need some other escort if she is to attend.”

As she spoke, she directed her gaze at Lucretia, who had joined them to hear the explanation. To put things bluntly, Lucretia’s “aims” were common knowledge. Having such an opportunity monopolized by Freya was hardly something she would be pleased about.

While she kept her expression blank, it was more to avoid showing any defeat than the lack of such feelings. Of course, while the Twin Kingdoms had granted her permission to journey to the Northern Continent, she was not an official ambassador. She should not be drawing attention to herself anyway.

“My thanks for your consideration, Lady Skaji. However, I understand the position I am in, so it is ultimately unnecessary.” She smiled.

“I appreciate your understanding and offer my own thanks in place of those of my liege.”

Zenjirou had been gathering his thoughts while that conversation was taking place.

“Then I shall head to the lord’s estate once preparations are complete. Several guards and maids will remain. Those who do will be tasked with Lucy’s care.”

He was already mentally separating the people out for those tasks. He would be accompanied by Ines and the tall, young maid. Natalio and a single soldier would be his guards.

Margarette and the other knight and soldier would be remaining here. Lucretia’s only attendant was Flora. Without leaving them behind, Lucretia—practically the model of a noble girl—would be unable to do much. It would also lighten the burden on Flora.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Lucretia said with honest appreciation as he ordered the remaining maid, knight, and soldier to see to her needs.

Her side-tailed hair swayed with the bow of her head.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆

A lord’s estate was a symbol of their lineage, power, authority, and wealth.

The Pomorskie lord’s estate—the man being a leading noble in the biggest country in the region—was an utterly overwhelming example of that. Unfortunately, with his knowledge and norms being far from such things, all Zenjirou thought of it was that it was a fine mansion.

Given the event’s unofficial nature, there was no exaggerated greeting awaiting him. Still, the preparations were well and truly in place as his group was swiftly allowed inside.

There was a familiar face in the waiting room he was brought to.

“Your Majesty, I apologize for the delay.”

“Not at all, Princess Freya. My thanks for your assistance.”

Freya—clad in a blue dress—was the one to greet him. Naturally, she could hardly wear her captain’s garb in such a situation.

“I am glad to hear it. I believe you will have heard from Skaji, but Lord Pomorskie has held this event to greet you unofficially as royalty of an unaffiliated country.”

An official greeting would need the king to assemble the Sejm and for the parliament to make a decision. Zenjirou was not keen to be detained for so long.

“I believe this is almost the best solution. You have my appreciation again.”

“Thank you. While your treatment will be unofficial, however, the same cannot be said for me.”

That was true. Unlike Zenjirou—who was essentially self-proclaimed royalty from a country on the Southern Continent that this country had no ties to—Freya was, for better or worse, a princess of a country on the Northern Continent that Złota Wolność had diplomatic ties to, to say nothing of the fact that she had sailed the eye-catching sailing ship the Glasir’s Leaf into the city’s port. A lack of official documentation would be all the more suspicious and cause more issues. Zenjirou could certainly understand that.

“I suppose so, yes,” he replied.

“I shall therefore be taking the lead role tonight. You are in the somewhat complicated position of being unable to officially reveal your identity while also being my partner for the event. I hope I can rely on your cooperation in this.”

It certainly was rather bothersome. Of course, he could hardly refuse at this point, but she wanted to confirm things to avoid potential gaffes.

“I do not mind that. With the unofficial nature of this, how would I best interact with the other guests?”

He was to participate in a gathering of nobles without revealing his own standing. Should he truly be acting as if he were in a higher position due to being royalty? Unofficial affair or not, he was still Capuan royalty. Deferring to the foreign nobles could lead to further problems down the line.

When a post-facto royal like Zenjirou had such concerns, they were already solved issues for royals by birth like Freya.

“That is precisely why Lord Pomorskie will—while making no mention of your title—greet you as a person of higher standing. There are no guests of higher standing than him. Actually, there are no guests higher than myself, to be more precise.”

“I see. Very well, then.”

With the host treating him as superior, the other guests—despite not knowing his actual standing—would also have to treat him as such. In other words, Zenjirou could act the same way he always did.

“However, despite the unofficial nature of tonight, your standing still needs to be revealed to the lord. You should therefore speak briefly to him before the main event. Is that acceptable?”

“Ah, of course.”

While Freya was the main guest, that didn’t change the fact that Zenjirou was there as well. It was only polite for him to greet his host and offer his thanks.

A knock came at the door as they talked.

“Sir Zenjirou?” Ines asked. She was checking in to see how he wanted to deal with it.

Zenjirou gave his usual nod. He was, unsurprisingly, used to such things by now.

“Yes? Who am I addressing?” Ines asked.

“Excuse me,” a voice replied from through the door. “The lord of the estate has come to greet Sir Zenjirou. Would you be willing to allow entry?”

Zenjirou couldn’t hide his surprise. The very topic of their conversation had arrived. Instead of them going to the host to offer their greetings, the converse had happened? With that confusion in mind, he turned to look questioningly at Freya.

“Ah, while this is unofficial, I did mention that Lord Pomorskie is treating you as a foreign royal, did I not?”

It was hardly surprising in that case. Zenjirou was royalty, while the lord was just nobility. With the difference in their standing, the lord needed to show initiative in offering his greetings.

While Zenjirou felt this was excessively considerate, it was an unavoidable part of etiquette for royals and nobility. Frankly, he would much rather have been able to set his own schedule to go and offer his greetings. Such luxuries were impossible to ask for at this point, though.

“Very well; show him through,” he ordered, having no choice but to feign calm and proceed.

The man calling himself Lord Pomorskie was a refined, middle-aged gentleman. Around forty years old, perhaps. He was slightly taller than Zenjirou. While his body bore the signs of training, his age had led to his muscles fading to be replaced by a rounder form. Standing as he was allowed his stomach to be visible, so it was safe to say that the extra weight that came with middle age was already settling on him.

The man offered an affable smile in greeting. “My name is Lukasz and I am the current head of the Gdanski family, in charge of Pomorskie. It is an honor to be able to meet you like this.”

“I am Prince Consort Zenjirou of the Kingdom of Capua on the Southern Continent. I am in your care.”

The man’s name was Lukasz with the family name Gdanski, but his official rank was Marquis Pomorskie. On the Southern Continent, a marquis almost always had the same family name as their lands. It made things slightly more complicated, but he would just have to memorize that fact.

“Is the temperature acceptable? I have heard that the Southern Continent is much warmer and more humid than this,” the man remarked considerately.

“I appreciate your concern. It is fine, though. While there is a slight chill to the air, Her Highness’s advice was helpful in picking out clothing, and the room is pleasantly warm.”

It was the first month of the rainy season in Capua—April by Earth’s calendar. There was a chill in the air as it caressed him outside, but the room was both spacious and warm. The presence of glass windows was probably a large part of that. It blocked off the air from outside while also allowing the sunlight in. On days like today, with clear skies but low temperatures, it was pleasant.

Was Uppasala also capable of working with glass? He had—obviously—kept the fact that marbles were the best medium for magic tools from Freya, so he had never discussed glass with her before. If their marriage was made official, then perhaps he would need to do so.

Zenjirou was considering that in a corner of his mind as he talked idly with the lord. When the conversation touched on the evening’s event, he made a face as he remembered something.

“That reminds me: I heard that Priest Yan of the church was currently here. Will he also be present tonight?”

The lord was somewhat taken aback. “Priest Yan? Pardon me, Your Majesty, but are you acquaintances?”

If he had truly arrived here only a few days prior on the Glasir’s Leaf for the first time, there was no way for that to be the case. The man frowned somewhat with that doubt in mind, but Zenjirou offered an explanation.

“I have not spoken directly to him. However, I have met a mercenary who called himself the priest’s protector. Our discussions have made me rather curious about the man.”

“Ah, I see.” The answer seemed to have reassured the noble as he regained his composure. “Priest Yan is certainly a guest of mine. He will be present tonight, so I imagine you will be able to talk with him.”

“I am glad to hear it. What kind of person would you say he is? His guard’s concerns have piqued my interest in him.”

Their host offered a somewhat conflicted expression. “He is a hard man to summarize. If I had to, though...” He paused for a moment. “I would say that, for better or worse, he is simultaneously like a mountain and a storm.”

Both the words and the look on his face were almost inscrutable.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆

The event went ahead that night as planned. The first princess of Uppasala, Freya, was introduced as the guest of honor, along with her escort, Zenjirou. The host treated Freya as royalty while nonchalantly offering her escort an even higher level of treatment. None of the guests would miss what that meant.

With the woman in the blue dress at his side, Zenjirou surveyed the party. This is incredible. I wouldn’t have expected something on this level, he thought to himself.

The food, both in quality and quantity, showed the country’s strength. The profusion of fish dishes was no surprise due to the city being a port. The meat was hardly a shock to see on a noble’s table either, but the variety and amount of fruits and vegetables were proof of the country’s prosperity.

In principle, agriculture was more efficient when it was narrower in scope. The diversity of the fare on display showed that the country was strong enough to ignore those efficiency losses. Furthermore, he could smell the spices used. If Freya’s information was true, the majority of those spices could not be grown on the Northern Continent. That meant that, to one degree or another, this country had already established trade with the Southern Continent.

The tableware was another point. The majority of it was made of metal, but unless Zenjirou was mistaken, there were pieces incorporating colored glass. There were also such brilliant white pieces of tableware that he could only assume they were porcelain. While they were hardly on the same level as lacquerware, the patterns and designs were obviously foreign, even to a layperson. The country’s alliances seemed more widespread than Zenjirou had thought.

While every other guest was a new person for him, things were a little different for the princess at his side. Although they could be counted on one hand, there were a few acquaintances of hers present.

“Do you recall me, Princess Freya? We met once before when I visited Uppasala,” said an aging noble with stark white eyebrows.

Freya turned to him with a purposefully concerned expression and answered honestly. “I do apologize, but I am afraid not. Could I ask for your name once again?”

It was better not to feign awareness in these situations. It was rare, but there were certainly some ill-mannered people who would say they had “met before” when the before in question was when their conversation partner had not even been three years old. Telling someone of that ilk that you had some memories of them would just lead to embarrassment.

“Of course. I am Cezary of the Czapleski family. I hold the position of Viscount Czaple.”

“Viscount Czaple, where did we meet before?”

“In the palace of Uppasala, of course. I stayed in your lands five years ago as an ambassador.”

“An ambassador from the commonwealth... Ah, did you perhaps wear a cloak with a white valley lily?”

“You recall? I did indeed. The valley lily is the symbol of the Czapleski family.”

While there was no major connection, finding an acquaintance at this kind of event certainly moved conversation along.

As she spoke animatedly, Freya also introduced Zenjirou. “Viscount, this is Sir Zenjirou. He has been of exceptional assistance to me.”

“My name is Zenjirou,” the prince consort added, maintaining the progression of such an introduction even without offering his title. He still had to behave like royalty, so leaving that out made things rather blunt and to the point.

“It is good to meet you, Sir Zenjirou. I am Cezary, Viscount Czaple. I am honored by the opportunity to meet you.”

Zenjirou nodded. “So you were an ambassador? You must have a great deal of the king’s trust, then. Ah, actually, I suppose in this country’s case, the Sejm would appoint ambassadors?”

“Quite so. There are many who are unable to understand the governance of our lands. I see you are quite wise.”

Zenjirou waved off the blatant flattery. “It is merely some incidental knowledge I picked up. I would not claim to understand the intricacies of parliamentary government or elected kings.”

The man let out a noise of interest, looking attentively at Zenjirou. He was currently wearing the third uniform of the Capuan royal family. With his darker skin, he was clearly foreign in both country and culture. However, the viscount offered a quirk of his lips as he inspected the red clothing.

“Then perhaps you would be interested in learning?” he asked after a moment. “It could lead to the development of your homeland, were you to internalize it well.”

“I may be interested in it for the knowledge, but not internalizing it. The number and caliber of the people required to maintain such an organization are too large. Adopting it without care would just cause chaos.”

Forming a parliament required a firm base of a populace with a certain level of education. Zenjirou was certain it would be of no utility whatsoever to Capua as it was now.

“A shame. As a diplomat, I can only welcome the increase in countries sharing our values.”

“Fighting the lack of understanding of their environs is the duty that falls to the pioneers. Surrendering to such difficulties means stagnation, but being too concerned with it is no more help either.”

The viscount chuckled. “A wise saying indeed. I will continue my efforts. What would you say, Sir Zenjirou? Perhaps your country could adopt it piecemeal.”

“I appear to have stepped in a hornet’s nest here,” Zenjirou replied with a laugh of his own.

He had originally intended to keep the conversation up simply to avoid dampening the mood, but he had actually started to enjoy the discussion. There was a pleasant tempo to the back and forth, and a pleasant mood between them. Before Zenjirou knew it, he had been well and truly drawn in.

The aging man’s sharp eyes seemed to notice the chill that went through him. “My, we have certainly become engrossed. I will take my leave, Sir Zenjirou, Princess Freya,” the viscount said before swiftly walking away.

He had been taken in. Frankly, it was almost refreshing in how it had happened. He didn’t feel like he had let anything major slip, but the man’s silver tongue had still gotten him talking about matters he had not intended to discuss. On top of that, the conversation itself had been enjoyable and the other man had left before Zenjirou could regain any real wariness, making it hard to feel too bad about it.

It made sense, coming from a man who had acted as an ambassador for a long period for such a large country. A former businessman-turned-royal was hardly a fitting match for him.

Whatever the case, Zenjirou and Freya now had some free time. They spent it sampling the tables of food and drink arrayed before them. Or rather, they spoke to the servers by each table and had plates prepared for them.

“Your M— Sir Zenjirou, is olive oil an issue for you?” Freya asked, correcting her usual form of address.

The vegetables and meats flavored with olive oil were considered a regional dish even on the Northern Continent—specifically, a dish from the south. It was a type of cuisine Zenjirou had eaten on several occasions before, so it didn’t stand out as odd to him. Now that he considered it, though, pork—meat from a mammal—along with the red pepper-like vegetables, and even the olive oil itself, were all foodstuffs that didn’t exist on the Southern Continent. Any Capuan other than Zenjirou would likely hesitate before eating them.

“It is not a concern. While I do have preferences, there is very little I find distasteful.”

He had been born and raised in modern Japan, so he had a much more varied diet than average for this world. It made the breadth of the meals he could eat much wider as well, despite his not realizing it.

“I see. Perhaps a drink, then?” she asked.

“Indeed. I would be happy with something not particularly strong or sweet,” he replied before turning to the server. “Can you recommend something?”

“Of course. I would offer this white wine. If you would prefer something lacking alcohol, perhaps lime-flavored carbonated water?”

Zenjirou considered it for a moment before taking the latter of the two. He was no lightweight, but this was a place to avoid risks.

With Zenjirou having sated his hunger and thirst with the foreign food and drink, the host took it as a good opportunity to approach.

“Princess Freya, Sir Zenjirou. I trust you are enjoying yourselves?”

“We are, Marquis.”

“It has been a worthwhile night, Marquis.”

The lord gave a polite smile at their answers. “I am pleased to hear it. Incidentally, there is someone I wish to introduce. Is now a good time?”

They didn’t even need to ask who, as it was likely the man behind him. The fellow wore a plain green set of robes, which were out of place for an event such as this.

His identity was easily discernible, given who the marquis would actively bring over to introduce.

“Of course,” Zenjirou replied. “Who is this?”

With his acceptance, the marquis stepped to the side to put the two men across from each other.

“This is Priest Yan from the church, Sir Zenjirou.”

“My name is Yan, Sir Zenjirou. It is a pleasure to meet you,” the priest said, his smile deepening.