“Are you saying yes, or are you saying no?”
The princess pressed him with a serious look, though Aristine secretly hoped it would pass.
“Eh? Which do you mean?”
Mukali’s face heated crimson.
“Ahem—hemph.”
As he stammered, red with embarrassment, thankfully the door opened and the maids returned. They’d gone to fetch refreshments but taken ages, as if they’d grown the tea leaves themselves. Mukali knew why: the maids scowled at him, as though about to be sick, and averted their eyes whenever they nearly met his.
When setting the teacups before him, Mukali’s trembling hands clattered, nearly spilling tea. Hastily he placed the tray down as if discarding a monster and fled the spot. In truth, the cups were well out of reach. His wounded left eye throbbed. He pressed his palm to his left cheek, resisting the urge to press so hard it hurt—to conceal how much he cared.
“Ugh! Look at that face!”
“Like a beast, fitting for a savage.”
“Is it human or a beast? Revolting.”
In the war with Silvanus, he’d endured such jeers from boasting Silvanus knights who vomited at his feet.
‘This scar is proof of a proud warrior,’ he reminded himself. He felt neither shame nor disgrace—it marked that he had fought fiercely and emerged victorious.
But the small, precious…no, insignificant ones feared him. He’d expected the tiny princess would too.
Aristine was dismissing the maids now.
‘…Is it safe to be alone with me?’
Mukali studied Aristine with wary eyes.
‘Stay alert.’
He whispered to himself, steeling his resolve.
‘This cunning Silvanus princess may harbor foul schemes.’
Everything must be for his lord.
He snorted softly, firm in purpose.
‘Very well.’
Once alone again with Mukali, Aristine fixed him with a steady gaze. The maids had vanished at her command—fortunate, for they might otherwise have protested that she was conspiring with an Irugo soldier.
‘I can’t miss this opportunity.’
She needed outside help now. Truthfully, she’d preferred to keep her forging business secret until it was further along, much like she’d withheld details from Tarkan. But progress had stalled within the palace’s watchful walls; she required assistance.
She forgot even tea and scone as she looked at Mukali.
“So—about earlier. Did you truly come to help me?”
“Huh? You still ask that?”
Mukali snorted. Was she really ignorant? He would never aid a Silvanus princess—in the past, present, or future.
‘With the court ladies and soldiers all fawning over me, they must think our Irugo moves at my command.’
He resolved to enlighten the diminutive princess.
“Be clear in that small head of yours: I came to see you today because—”
Mukali paused mid-sentence, struck by a sudden thought. He could not have said what next felt unwise. For a hot-tempered warrior, it was a rare hesitation.
“You came to see me because…?”
At Aristine’s prompt, he resumed. He planned to rebuke her fully, but the uneasy feeling only deepened—a sense he could not ignore.
In life-or-death battle, he trusted his instincts above all. Frustrated, Mukali frowned, wrestling with the thought, until an idea brightened his face.
‘Yes. Instead of scolding her now, I’ll pretend to help and catch her in the act.’
Brilliant.
His intuition had proven reliable once more.
“I came to assist you in investigating that man,” he said.
“Exactly,” Aristine nodded. Her investigation into one person was hardly secret; Tarkan refused cooperation, so she’d used palace staff to gather information. Having her ask questions in front of him implied his tacit approval. No one dared oppose Tarkan’s wishes. Thus Mukali knew her purpose, which bothered her little.
‘But why I care, why I investigate—that remains unknown!’
She preferred to keep that private. After all, Mukali, as Tarkan’s subordinate, appeared at her side with offers of help for obvious reasons—Tarkan must have instructed him.
‘Such shyness,’ she mused. Some transparency might be necessary to secure his help. Information shared would reach Tarkan’s ears, but she accepted that—she and Tarkan were partners in this venture, and she was grateful for any aid.
She spoke to Mukali with sincerity.
“Thank you. I’ve been pondering how to proceed, given my limited freedom.”
“I see.”
“I can’t send away the maids and slip out alone to meet him. Your help is a lifeline.”
Mukali’s expression stiffened.
‘Does she truly intend for me to facilitate secret meetings with him?’
He’d said he’d help trap her in flagrante, but he found himself dismayed rather than elated.
He bowed his head.
‘Diona was right.’
His mood sank. His grim face darkened.
“The court ladies have already provided his personal details.”
Aristine lowered her voice and stepped closer, giving no hint of caution. She did not fear his grim visage, nor his potential to betray her.
A crafty Silvanus, so readily fooled by a false investigation?
A stranger, yet Tarkan’s subordinate, Mukali had come at her request—was it so simple?
Or perhaps…
‘Maybe she doesn’t care if she’s caught.’
Silvanus folk might be so reckless.
“But I have no idea what he likes, what interests him.”
“Why on earth would you need to know that?” Mukali burst out.
“Well—”
Aristine’s eyes darted; she’d intended to give only minimal information.
“To court him?”
“To court him…?”
Mukali clutched the back of his neck.
“What kind of talk is that?” he roared, red-faced. “To leave my lord for another…!”
“No—he has a different skill set than Tarkan.”
“What?! You mean to say that – that blackguard surpasses my lord?!”
“Not better—different. I too consider Tarkan a splendid partner.”
“Partner…? Surely not!”
Mukali’s remaining eye widened until it seemed about to split open.
“You mean…you two progressed that far already?”
‘They’ll wed in days. There’s no harm, yet still!’
His face burned red.
‘My lord, his love? With that tiny princess?!’
His creed held she was fit only to feed for seven meals a day.
“Huh?”
Aristine cocked her head. Mukali’s agitation puzzled her.
He must be the type who insisted his lord be the world’s greatest.
She spoke to calm him.
“He’s a blacksmith, not a warrior like Tarkan.”
“…A blacksmith?”
“Yes. Irugo boasts many master smiths. I need one.”
Aristine rubbed her brow.
‘I hadn’t planned to admit I needed a smith.’
But her words could not be retracted. She sighed.
“In Irugo, ever battling beasts, the steel industry evolved greatly. To face constantly evolving beasts, you must forge superior blades.”
“No nation rivals Irugo’s smelting and metalworking.”
Mukali, once so enraged, listened with bewildered eyes.
‘Why this sudden discourse?’
“That remarkable craft is proof of Irugo’s history of fighting plains beasts.”
“…I thought a Silvanus princess might not know that, but you do.”
Aristine agreed despite herself—what he said was undeniably true.
“How could I not? The difference is stark.”
“Indeed. Even blind, one must admit those famed blades.”
“They say they can cut through a beast’s shell in one stroke.”
“Ha! Not just shells—imbued with aura, they can cleave bone! Only Irugo blades can withstand that.”
“Truly remarkable.”
“Indeed! Yet Silvanus folk kvetch that our swords are barbaric, while they parade decorative blades.”
“Even Silvanus know the worth of Irugo blades; they just refuse to admit it. Their pride won’t let them.”
“Exactly! If they boast their pride once more—” Mukali paused mid-sentence.
‘What am I doing?!’
He, who judged that princess planning to lure another man, was enthusiastically discussing swords!
‘No—no joy here.’
How could anyone enjoy speaking to a scheming Silvanus?
‘She seems quite reasonable for a Silvanus princess…No, nonsense—she’s plotting!’
Mukali snapped himself to attention.
‘It’s all a ruse to catch her at her schemes.’
Strategy and tactic.
‘Phew—I’m truly formidable.’
He admired himself: though called simple-minded, today proved otherwise.
‘Such a terrible plot.’
This guile had bested the devious princess—she gazed at his sword with shining eyes.
In Irugo, warriors wear their blades freely.
‘She appreciates my sword! It is a fine weapon!’
Mukali unconsciously jutted his waist forward, not out of pride.
“Sir Mukali’s sword must be another such famed blade?”
With expectant flair, he drew his sword in one swift motion. The silver blade sang—a length nearly matching Aristine’s height. Even enormous Mukali carried it well.
“What do you think? Spectacular, yes?”
He swept the sword through the air; a roaring breeze rustled Aristine’s hair.
Mukali realized his mistake.
‘No matter who it is…’
He’d heard that in Silvanus, showing a blade before a lady was uncivilized, rude. There, only knights granted special privilege may bear swords within the palace.
To scare a lady with one’s “beloved blade,” ordinarily he’d have laughed at cowards.
Yet now, he felt no mirth. He did not wish to mock the frightened princess.
The reason: he must win her trust to deceive her.
Mukali hastily sheathed the sword behind his back.
“I—I was going to say…”
He floundered for words—he harbored no threat. Though he’d come to chastise her, that too was not genuine. He merely wished to show off his splendid blade…
Surely, his sword talk with the princess ended here.
At that moment…