Chapter 158

Translator: Willia

The rain came and went. Just when the weather seemed about to clear, the sky would turn ashen gray again. At this rate, some morning he would surely wake to find fresh sunlight and glittering dew there to greet him.

It always seemed to rain when the seasons turned. Wasn't autumn, perhaps, gathered in every single raindrop? And so, perhaps, autumn was seeping into the world.

Ricardt sat reading a letter at the boundary of the seasons, the patter of rain coming from outside, in the place where Snake-Eye Ashtad had once stayed. It was a letter Marie had sent.

Because the Empire's manner of composing written prose allowed for nothing colloquial, the letter, unlike Marie's everyday way of speaking, carried a certain formality.

<To my dear husband,

Your letter reached me safely. It seems my reply to the one you sent from Tyujis never properly arrived.

To think you have already come as far as the vicinity of Ernburg; it feels as though I could touch you simply by stretching out my hand.

The human heart is a truly unfathomable thing. When you departed I felt the ache of parting; as time passed I missed you so terribly that I came almost to resent you; and now that you have actually drawn near, I find myself giddy one moment and, the next, seized by a foolish bashfulness that makes me want to hide.

If the heart changes so from one moment to the next, then what is a mere change of season by comparison?

Here in Adeloron the rainy season drags on day after day, and with it an unreal, almost dreamlike peace: unsettling somehow, and yet as though the war might simply come to an end just like this.

This man Grantz, unable to overwhelm us by force of arms, now seeks to isolate us through diplomacy.

He appears to be drawing the Margrave of Beringen to his side in order to threaten our rear, and for the moment that is what worries me most.

For my part I, too, have been writing letters in every direction to shore up our ties with the surrounding powers, and the Fifth Prince, unexpectedly, has been a great help. Is it because of the blood we share, I wonder, or because he is up to something of his own?

I am well aware there is a deep rift between the Knight Order and the Fifth Prince, yet it is hard simply to refuse his help outright...>

The letter described the recent state of the war in Adelivari and the things Marie was feeling.

It also gave news of Bori and Roy's family, and of the many people helping her: Markwin the mayor, Lester the ranger captain, and even Bremen, who had once been a guide and now served as an advisor and captain of the guard.

The letter closed, however, with something it was hard to tell was nagging or genuine concern.

<...You made a mistake, my husband: had the letter been intercepted along the way, your position might well have been exposed. The location of an army is a matter of secrecy, and you were rather careless.

The people here and I are doing well, so please refrain from sending letters out of needless worry.

Unlike you, my husband, I have not the slightest gift for fine writing, and so I can convey only stiff, plain words.

What matters, surely, is to meet in the flesh, to look into each other's eyes and share the warmth of reunion? I shall do nothing but wait for autumn.

With a heart full of longing, Martellia.>

It was a relief that she seemed to be doing well, but at being scolded out of nowhere, Ricardt cocked his head and scratched at his forehead.

"Tsk."

He sat thinking for a while, and the moment it struck him that this wasn't right, he pulled out a sheet of parchment, took up a pen, and started writing a letter. Even though she'd told him not to.

<To my wife,

I received your letter in good order. To hear that everyone is well sets my mind at ease.

That said, whether or not I send a letter is my own affair. As for any leaking of secrets, I am giving it more than enough thought, so do not trouble yourself, wife. Do you imagine I would have sent a letter without weighing even that much? So I will hear no more wrangling on the subject of letters...>

Having journeyed from the region of Lunadan all the way to Sinatria, having lived through astonishing experiences and attained a deep, broad heart and a lofty spirit, it seemed that with the one he loved his true nature came out all the same.

Ricardt threw in remarks he had no need to make, working himself into a sulk that wasn't quite a sulk.

When he had finished writing, he folded the letter and slipped it into an envelope, then melted red wax to seal it and pressed in his signet. After that he put the envelope back into the letter case and went outside.

The rain seemed to have stopped for the moment, but every mountain, stream, grass, and tree was heavy with water, and the foliage was green to the point of excess. The sky was full of low-hanging gray cloud.

Whether because they were deep in the mountains or because it was late summer, the wind was cool and pleasant.

The women who had suffered at the hands of the bandits still seemed wary of the Knight Order, but the children dropped their guard at once and treated the resting knights and soldiers like old friends.

There was arm-wrestling, and dice thrown to call odd or even, and the children snatched up and tossed high into the air and caught again. In truth it was closer to the soldiers simply humoring them, one-sidedly.

Perhaps because the only grown men they had ever known were ones for whom a slap was a given and who exploited them without mercy, the children clung to the soldiers as though to their own fathers.

And the soldiers, watching the children, filled their hearts with affection in place of duty and stubborn pride. Who was saving whom, there was no telling.

Ricardt walked over to the Sword Monastery's disciples, who were talking with the knights. Then, holding out the letter case, he said:

"Deliver this to Marie in Adeloron."

"Understood."

"And Ice?"

"He has gone to the monastery. He's been away for a few days now."

"Then why are you lot still here?"

"No reason, really..."

The bandits being dealt with now, the Sword Monastery's disciples seemed to have little on their minds. Even the talk they had been having with the knights was about knowledge and experience in combat and the handling of weapons.

There weren't many of them, and no reason they couldn't stay, so after thinking it over for a moment Ricardt said:

"One of you, show me the way to the manor."

The disciples blinked at Ricardt, exchanged looks among themselves, and then fixed their stares on one female disciple who looked to be about fifteen or sixteen.

Since it is the nature of any group that the moment you sense it's you, you have to step up, she stepped forward. She was a girl with her hair pulled back tight and tied. She gave her lip a small bite, then spoke.

"Please follow me."

Ricardt followed her. The knights charged with his personal protection made to come along, but Ricardt shook his head and told them it was fine.

Since there were bound to be nuns, it would hardly do to have a crowd of strange men coming and going.

As he walked along behind the Sword Monastery's female disciple, the place was a deep mountain wilderness if ever there was one. The mountain was not especially high, but it was thick with the straight, stout trees particular to the north.

The trees all looked so much alike that if anyone got lost, it would surely be the trees' fault.

The soil underfoot was on the fine side but not at all muddy, with a soft, dry give to it. It was like walking across an expensive carpet.

With all the recent rain, the fresh breath the trees gave off could be felt all the more keenly.

And after passing through such a place, the kind one would be hard pressed to find anywhere in the everyday world, a small and peaceful monastery revealed itself before long.

"Here we are."

said the female disciple who had led him there. Ricardt took in the monastery and the manor that belonged to it.

The monastery's manor was less farmland than a somewhat large kitchen garden, and no more than that. A few farmhouses stood here and there, all of them belonging to people who served the monastery.

Without so much as a draft animal, the people tilled the earth and tended the crops with their own hands. They seemed to take everything from nature and to buy almost nothing from merchants.

Someone was crouched down, digging away at a plot with what looked like a wooden trowel. A white cloth was draped over her head, but from behind she was plainly a woman.

And Ricardt thought he knew who she was.

Ricardt walked over to her and, saying nothing, simply stood beside her and watched her work the field in silence.

At that, all the people nearby turned to look, and there was truly not a single old person among them; the eldest of them was about Ricardt's own age.

The woman who had been working the garden, crouched and shuffling backward, suddenly realized that someone was standing beside her, looking down at her. So she lifted her head and looked up at Ricardt.

The one thing that hadn't changed, then or now, was those big eyes of hers, the whites smooth and clear as a peeled boiled egg.

Beads of sweat dotted her face. Perhaps she did not recognize him, for Daisy only stared blankly up at Ricardt, with his sword at his waist and a cloak about his shoulders.

"Is the fieldwork bearable?"

Ricardt was the first to speak. At that, Daisy's eyes went wide, and she whipped her face away.

"How... how did you..."

"Hadn't you heard? I'm the one who cleared out the bandits."

"No, no, that's not what I..."

Daisy's voice trembled badly. Almost as though she might cry. Then she hurriedly began wiping at her sweat, her hands flustered and clumsy, not knowing what to do with herself.

"I'll go off for a moment and come back."

She seemed embarrassed, so Ricardt said that.

"Oh, no. No. It's all right."

Daisy got to her feet. She drew a few deep breaths, steadied herself, and then turned to face Ricardt.

Though Ricardt had done nothing at all, the look in Daisy's eyes wavered wildly. She seemed on the verge of tears one moment and of laughter the next, her expression unable to settle.

And so Daisy turned her face away again.

"I... I suppose my discipline is still lacking. And here I thought I'd finally put my feelings in order."

"Sorry."

"There's nothing for you to be sorry about, Ricky."

Ricardt looked around the humble manor as he spoke. There were people here, and there was life.

"You've built something wonderful, Daisy."

"I didn't do anything... we all pulled together, that's all."

Daisy fidgeted with her hands as though at a loss for words. She could barely look at Ricardt, only stealing the occasional glance. As it had been before, the way those big eyes of hers rolled about was really quite charming.

Apart from his own family, she was the oldest tie he had. Before Marie, even before Bori, it was Daisy he had known first.

Her life had been a truly star-crossed one, and the most heartbreaking part of it, perhaps, was that she had never won Ricardt's heart.

And yet, leaving all that pain and sorrow behind her, she had built something wonderful. Whereas, no matter how Ricardt astonished the world, the only one at his side was Marie and Marie alone.

But Daisy had made for herself a family, and a large one at that.

"Oh my?"

A woman's voice, sounding faintly surprised, came from nearby, and when he turned his head he saw nuns who had only just stepped out of the monastery.

Someone had gone and fetched them, saying that a strange man had come and was talking to Daisy, Sister Miquella.

"Hello there?"

Ricardt was the first to offer a casual greeting. At that, the nuns, unable to say a word, giggled quietly among themselves and half-returned the greeting, half didn't.

In the original design, they were women who were to become the brides of the god when the god descended. Which is to say, they were women whom the Order of Judgement had spent long years educating and raising up to become the brides of Ricardt.

And so every one of them was strikingly beautiful and chaste. They were women a little older or a little younger than Ricardt, yet the way they all carried on like giddy little girls made it seem the grime of the world had never touched them.

"I only stopped by to say hello, that's all. Having come all this way, it'd be too cold to just leave without a word. But it looks like I'm making things awkward for a lot of people, so I'll be off now. Take care."

That really was the whole of Ricardt's business there. There was nothing more for him to do, and staying would only make things awkward, so he truly did mean to simply leave.

"W-wait. Wait a moment."

Daisy called out.

"Some tea, at least... I have to show a guest some hospitality... And, sisters, please don't crowd in so close."

"We're only watching, that's all."

"And that watching is exactly what's wrong."

"What are we to do, when we've got eyes? We can't very well go about with them shut."

"Honestly..."

Shaking her head, Daisy started off toward the monastery. Ricardt followed her.

The monastery building was not so very small. It was not enormous either, but it was big enough to have one structure that served for lodgings and another for storage.

And in the monastery's inner courtyard there were orphans, who came rushing up in a swarm the moment Daisy and Ricardt appeared.

"Sister! Sister! Who is he?"

"Is he your husband?"

"It's her boyfriend! It's her sweetheart!"

"Does that mean you'll stop being a nun now?"

"Children, that's enough nonsense, off you go to your studies. He's a guest. Now, do we make a guest uncomfortable, or not?"

"Nooooo, we don't!"

They answered well enough. Of course, it was a leading question of sorts, so Ricardt did not rate the caliber of the question very highly.

"Because of the bandits, the swordsmen have been away, so the children are a bit like this. Bear with them."

"So that's them slacking off, then."

"Huh?"

"Never mind."

Ricardt mumbled something noncommittal and stepped inside. When it was time to rest, one ought to rest. They'd earned it.

Being a monastery, everything about it was spare and simple. There was no extravagance whatsoever; the most ornate decoration in the place was the white light spilling through the open windows. It was a graceful, pure, and tidy place.

"Would it be all right if I went and changed for a moment? I'm all sweaty..."

"Sure, of course. Take your time changing."

"I'll be right back."

It was no parlor for receiving guests, just the dining hall where the nuns took their meals. Ricardt looked the place over, though there was nothing in it to see.

It took a good while before Daisy came back. When she did, it was plain she had washed up completely. She was dressed in a crisp black habit that covered her hair.

She brought out a tea steeped from tree bark. Its scent was like a faint, smoky note of charred wood.

"Is life at the monastery bearable?"

Ricardt took a slurping sip of the tea and asked. Unlike him, sitting at his ease, Daisy looked ill at ease, fiddling with the wooden teacup in both hands. Not that she minded it.

"...Mm. And you, Ricky?"

"Life is suffering, when you get down to it. But isn't the whole point to thrash about trying to find some joy in the middle of it?"

"I think... it is."

"Doesn't it get hard, though, when there are so many children?"

"The harder it is, the greater the joy."

"That was a foolish question, then."

"It wasn't."

With Daisy answering in nothing but short, clipped replies, Ricardt found it a little hard to keep the conversation going.

"Where's Ice gone off to?"

"Up to the peak behind the mountain. There are more swordsmen up there, you see."

"I see. Life out here is busier than I'd have thought, then."

"It is..."

"When I really think about it, there's not much between you and me, is there. You take in orphans and raise them, and I lead soldiers who've lost their way."

"That's true... it really is... But, you know, Ricky."

"Yeah."

"I think I can finally say it now."

"Say what?"

Daisy hesitated a moment. She even squeezed her eyes shut, as though steeling herself for a hard decision. Then she opened them again and said clearly the thing she had made up her mind to say.

"I'm sorry for only ever forcing my own feelings on you. I never tried to see your pain."

"My pain?"

"That day, you looked so very sad, Ricky."

"...Did I?"

"God showed me everything. I simply refused to see it. The moment I realized my own foolishness, I realized too that I had never once looked around me. My poor mother, and all the people sacrificed by the Order. I'd only ever thought of myself."

"Don't be too hard on yourself. Go out into the world and you'll find it's wall to wall with fools, anyway."

"You know, now that I look at you, you're quietly rather cynical, aren't you, Ricky?"

"It comes and goes. I've got the kind of temper that can't quite stand hypocrites or arrogant people. On the flip side, when I see someone pure-hearted, even if they're a bit dim, I want to treat them well. I'm rather self-indulgent on that score, I'll admit."

At times, Ricardt's insight cut as keen as the blade he swung. But there was no tact in it. If that was a flaw, then a flaw it was.

Whether it was the tea or not, Daisy gazed at Ricardt now with a somewhat easier heart. Then, smiling like a dainty little flower, she said:

"Hmm... now that I look at you again, I really don't think you're much of a catch as a man, Ricky."

"Huh? Where'd that come from?"

"I suppose love just had me blind back then?"

"That's a bit much, but what can you do. This is me."

Ricardt only let a faint smile slip out too. Then he tipped back the tea, and the temperature was exactly right.

"Honestly, sitting around feeling awkward like this is kind of painful. I'll be off. I'm glad you seem to be doing well. I'll try to do all right myself, I guess."

"Mm."

"Oh, and, if I leave an offering, will you put in a prayer for me? Pray for my fortunes in war, that sort of thing."

"Of course. I've got nothing against money."

"A fine attitude. The most dangerous sort are the ones who claim they've no interest in money. Thanks for the tea. I'm off. Don't see me out. It's fine."

"Huh? Oh."

Ricardt would have liked to shake her hand, or even embrace her, but she was a nun, and he didn't dare lay a finger on her. It was a shame, but this was the end of it. If he went on living, if he survived in this harsh world, would he ever see her again?

He only showed her one last smiling face, and walked out of the dining hall.

Daisy wavered, torn between following him and not, wondering whether she oughtn't at least to see him off. And while she wavered, Ricardt drew further and further away.

Still holding the teacup, half full, she felt tears spill over all at once. She'd prayed for it, always. Fool.

The rain that had seemed to pause for only a moment did not come again. The dark clouds drew back, and crisp sunlight shone on the dew gathered at the tips of the leaves.

At last, it was autumn.

Chapter 32 – At the End of Summer. End.

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