by Mamare Touno
“You’re all fluffy, aren’tcha!”
“I suppose you should wear a hat, too.”
As a result, Raynesia was walking toward Akiba’s main avenue, flanked by Marielle and Riezé.
For today’s outing, she was wearing a hip-length coat trimmed with fluffy fur.
To begin with, Raynesia wasn’t very familiar with the contents of her own wardrobe.
Because daughters of the nobility had their ladies-in-waiting select their clothes for them and changed several times a day, this wasn’t unusual, but on top of that, Raynesia wasn’t much interested in fashion, so hers was an extreme case.
After all, she was lazy. Changing clothes didn’t bring her much joy in the first place. If they’d left her to herself, she was confident that she could have spent a whole year in a linen dress.
Of course, Raynesia had received more than enough aristocratic training. Everything had its own time, place, occasion, and etiquette, and she knew quite well what sort of clothing she needed to wear.
It was a pain, but Raynesia was aware that her long silver hair was unusual. Clothing that suited that hair was also unusual, and unfortunately, pajamas weren’t on the list.
As a result, Raynesia didn’t know what sort of clothes her wardrobe held, or how many of them there were. She only thought, vaguely, that there were all kinds of things in there.
“There just isn’t much low-level cold endurance equipment, is there?”
The group was walking along in a close huddle, with Raynesia in the middle. The girl who’d spoken to her from behind was named Mikakage.
She was a sociable, cheerful girl, another of the people who attended the tea parties.
“No,” Raynesia answered, briefly.
She’d answered obediently because Mikakage was one of the people she felt indebted to. It wasn’t because she was an Adventurer. The woman was a Chef. Since she brought over all sorts of snacks at every opportunity, going against her was out of the question.
Raynesia didn’t really know the details, but apparently there were two types of Chefs among the Adventurers.
These were Chefs who had high skill values but were personally quite bad at cooking, and true Chefs whose cooking techniques matched their skill values…or so she was told. Skill values expressed the individual’s cooking prowess, and so Raynesia didn’t really understand why people talked about “letting treasures go to waste” or, on the other hand, “being well-matched.”
However, even if she didn’t understand that aspect of Adventurer culture, she knew that Mikakage was known as a “real” cook, and in fact, the snacks she brought were delicious.
These were cakes and candies so delicate she had no idea how they’d been made: truly jewel-like sweets. On the other hand, while they were brought over far less frequently than the sweets, Raynesia liked her pork miso soup and rice with mushrooms as well.
According to Mikakage, sweets were art, but other dishes were entertainment. Raynesia could only wonder about that. She thought they were delicious, with mellow flavors.
Mikakage took the muffler that Raynesia had wound around herself and hung an odd accessory from it. The little spirit that always followed Mikakage around stretched up on tiptoe, insistently trying to see. It was a little stuffed animal, a puppy, and really cute: It was roly-poly, and it looked sleepy.
“The percentage isn’t much, but what do you think? Is that a little warmer?”
“Yes. It is warm.”
The People of the Earth probably couldn’t make tiny stuffed animals this elaborate. The best they could do would be wood carving. That meant this was the first time Raynesia had worn a stuffed animal as an accessory. She thought it made her outfit much more like the Adventurers’ than wearing jewels or ribbons would have.
“Excellent.”
Mikakage nodded. Marielle, who’d peeked in from behind her, said, “Isn’t that nice!” and gave a dazzling smile.
This Marielle woman was another of the people who often came to Water Maple Manor.
She always brought all sorts of clothes to change into, so she’d thought she must be in charge of clothing and accessories for some guild somewhere, but when she listened closely, it turned out that she was one of the Round Table Council eleven. The leader of one of Akiba’s eleven governing clans.
At first, Raynesia had been very tense, but before long, she’d gotten used to her.
On hearing that she belonged to one of the town’s governing clans, she’d begun conversations as if she were talking to a member of the peerage, but every time, she found herself turned into a dress-up doll and regaled with town gossip, and it became a bit of a performance.
Marielle was thoroughly cheerful, loved parties, and was always smiling.
She’d been the first one to call Raynesia “Sia.” Raynesia had been called “Reisi” by her family, but she’d never been called “Sia” before. At first, it had bewildered her, but she’d soon grown used to that, too.
Her tea parties with the Adventurer women were already part of Raynesia’s daily routine.
And while Raynesia might be “the winter rose of Eastal,” Sia was just an inexperienced People of the Earth girl who’d been posted to the Adventurers’ town. She was a noble, of course, and a fledgling diplomat, and sometimes she played at being a merchant. But whatever she was, she wasn’t “the winter rose of Eastal.”
Raynesia realized that the girl with honey-colored hair who was walking ahead of her, matching her pace to Raynesia’s unsteady steps, had turned back. She was a girl called Riezé, and she managed the knights in D.D.D., another of the eleven guilds. She supervised Krusty, Raynesia’s archenemy. Her rank within the guild was probably high as well.
Riezé frequently attended Raynesia’s tea parties, too, and Raynesia thought she was a very clearheaded young lady. Her demeanor was the most aristocratic of all the attendees. However, even so, she was far more enlightened than the hidebound members of Eastal’s high society.
Riezé was even the one who’d taught her that word enlightened.
It meant, “Wearing clothes that don’t constrict your stomach, and being able to eat custard dorayaki,” which were little custard-and-mini pancake sandwiches.
It was a very, very good word.
From Raynesia’s perspective, all the Adventurers seemed like unprecedented beings.
This was probably true for all People of the Earth, not just for Raynesia. Even Elissa sometimes sighed, let her shoulders droop, and lamented, “Come to think of it, they are Adventurers, aren’t they…”
Adventurers were far too different from their people, and Raynesia and Elissa didn’t understand them.
Raynesia met many of People of the Earth these days, and almost every day, they asked her:
“What are the Adventurers?”
“How should we handle them?”
Since she’d been posted to the town of Akiba and was serving as an intermediary with the Adventurers, Raynesia met with People of the Earth nearly every day, and then mediated trade with the Adventurers, looked for Adventurers who would take on job requests, and often gave them advice. Personally, she didn’t think she was managing to do the job properly at all, but even so, since there was no one else, she had to do it.
Even though she was asked about the Adventurers, Raynesia didn’t know the answers either. In fact, there might be many things Raynesia knew less about than any other given Person of the Earth. And what’s more, because she was in closer contact with the Adventurers than anyone else, as the days went by, the number of things she didn’t understand kept growing.
However, she’d managed to understand a few things.
Adventurers were Adventurers.
Raynesia thought that the most fundamental mistake the People of the Earth lords had made at the lord’s council in the Ancient Court of Eternal Ice was attempting to treat the Adventurers like nobles.
The Adventurers weren’t nobles; of course trying to treat them according to the rules of the ar
istocracy wouldn’t work well. In the same way, Adventurers weren’t lords’ subjects or knights, either. They weren’t even People of the Earth. For that reason, it was a mistake to treat them according to People of the Earth rules, or to try to adapt them to fit their convenience.
Raynesia thought that had been why the conference had failed.
Adventurers were only Adventurers. They shouldn’t be classified as anything else.
However, come to think of it, Raynesia’s surroundings were bursting with people who could be labeled. Counts were counts, barons were barons, knights were knights, chamberlains were chamberlains, citizens were the residents of a city, and villagers lived in villages. Hunters hunted and woodcutters cut down trees.
People had roles, and they lived within those limits. That was only natural. Before Raynesia was Reisi, she was the granddaughter of a duke, and the winter rose princess. She’d never had a single doubt about that. Even now, she didn’t hate the idea, and she thought it was only natural.
However, she’d realized that it wasn’t possible to use those rules to understand the Adventurers. All she knew was that, even if she didn’t know the correct answer, she mustn’t try to fit them into a framework or look at them in terms of their class or role.
It would certainly have been easier if she could have gotten along with the Adventurers by putting them in broad categories, such as “members of the Crescent Moon League clan” or “guild members with cooking skills.” Like the knights in the Knights of Maihama, or the ladies-in-waiting that came to the castle to serve, or the critical young male aristocrats.
However, Marielle and Riezé and Mikakage were all too remarkable for that, and she couldn’t do it.
Every single Adventurer was like a special jewel, polished carefully by the gods. Each was unlike any other, and they sparkled and shone.
“Hmm? What’s up?”
Marielle turned back and looked at her closely, seemingly worried.
Raynesia smiled and replied, “I’m fine.” Seeing this, Mikakage asked, “Are you hungry already?” and the whole group laughed. Do I really look that hungry? Raynesia worried. The Adventurers always had little sweets in their pockets or bags, and they were constantly trying to feed them to her.
Once they were on the wide avenue, Raynesia and the others turned north.
“This way?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
Marielle and Riezé, who’d spoken to each other, were dressed comparatively lightly.
Unlike the People of the Earth, the Adventurers preferred activewear. Apparently this was true even now, in midwinter. Marielle was wearing a short skirt that exposed her tight-clad legs. She thought she really had to be cold, but the person in question didn’t seem bothered by it.
Riezé was wearing a coat and muffler, but underneath, she wore the same sort of white blouse and tight skirt she always did. Raynesia and Elissa, who was just behind her, were far more bundled up.
It was sheer coincidence that Raynesia spotted Akatsuki just then.
Because Marielle had asked Mikakage, “Is Milky Margaret over that way?” and Mikakage had trotted ahead to show the way, the two who’d been paying attention to Raynesia had moved away from her. As she gave a small, relieved sigh, she happened to look up and see Akatsuki, leaving a building through a door that seemed to lead underground.
Akatsuki was biting her lip.
The slight figure walking on the other side of the road looked like a lost child.
Suddenly, all sorts of feelings flooded Raynesia. It was the sort of mood that came from a night spent gazing up at the ceiling of a dark room for hours on end.
Raynesia tried to say something, but before it became words, it stopped, as though something had gone wrong in her throat.
She didn’t really know what it was she would try to say.
Raynesia felt like a vine that had collected rainwater in its leaves and was slowly bending. The expression Akatsuki had worn was the sort of expression that drained the strength from you and made your heart feel heavy. It was an expression she’d never seen before.
She looks like a child, somehow, she thought, out of nowhere.
Raynesia had thought of that black-haired girl as a dagger made of obsidian.
As beautiful as a jewel, with a strength she couldn’t comprehend.
Using the head even she didn’t think worked very well, Raynesia considered her next move, then gave up. Either way, Akatsuki was gone, vanished into the crowd. She hadn’t noticed Raynesia and the others. She’d just passed right by.
The thought gave Raynesia a slight, if painful, feeling of trouble in her chest.
…But this wasn’t particularly unusual.
All sorts of feelings were constantly drifting through Raynesia. Most of them weren’t guests she could welcome, but she’d known since she was small that if she curled up under a warm comforter and closed her eyes, they would melt into the darkness. She was rather confident in her ability to curl up under a comforter.
Raynesia shook her head, trying to switch gears.
This was the town of Akiba, and she was a fledgling negotiator. She had more than enough motivation and necessity to switch gears.
“Heeey, Sia! Whatcha doin’? This way!”
At the call, Raynesia broke into a delicate run on unsteady feet.
6
“Princess. Priiiincess.”
Elissa called her mistress’s name.
She’d called to her because things had seemed awfully quiet. Raynesia was on the sofa, looking down.
She seemed to be at a loss. Her spun-silver hair spilled over her small, rounded shoulders, flowing down like a waterfall. The beautiful girl wore a disconsolate aura that would have made even a stern-faced corporal whom orcs feared want to speak kindly to her and comfort her: You mustn’t get so discouraged. I’ll help you.
Madame Henrietta would probably have said she looked “like a puppy in the rain.”
In any case, she seemed fragile, lonely, and filled with melancholy.
She was the very image of the sort of frailty that made you want to run to her and hug her.
However, Elissa knew very well:
This was her “I’m tired and I don’t want to do anything else” pose.
“Prin-cess.”
“Elissa?”
Raynesia raised her chin, her gaze upturned.
Framed by cheeks as smooth as a boiled egg, her damp eyes shimmered.
Make no mistake: Her eyes weren’t damp because she’d been thinking sad thoughts, or because she was moved, but because she’d been biting back a yawn.
“Yes, yes. You’re tired, correct? I’ll prepare your bedroom shortly, so wait just a little longer, please. Would you like tea? Or perhaps something sweet?” Elissa asked.
Raynesia had a better appetite than her appearance suggested, and it had been quite some time since she’d eaten brunch with the group of Adventurers. It wouldn’t be at all strange for her to start feeling hungry soon.
She had no idea whether it was due to her constitution or something else, but no matter what or how much Princess Raynesia ate, she never gained weight. Not only that, but even when she ate meat or cake, her skin stayed as smooth and soft as a baby’s. She couldn’t fathom how rough skin could be a concept for anyone. Elissa was extremely jealous that she could eat without paying attention to her diet.
After the Catastrophe and the reformation in Akiba, an abundance of flavors had been rediscovered in foodstuffs of every variety. Now, half a year later, the reformation had permeated People of the Earth society as well, and everyone, from the aristocrats at the top to the commoners below, was enjoying that new experience.
The revolutionized food had a true depth of flavor, and people often ate too much. At this point, many People of the Earth nobles were afraid of gaining weight, but Raynesia was the exception: She didn’t gain any at all. Elissa had complicated feelings about this. Elissa carefully limited herself to one piece of cake every three days
. She was fundamentally different from superhumans like Raynesia.
“No…”
Raynesia shook her head slightly, then turned to the side, resting her cheek against the back of the sofa as though she couldn’t bear it any longer. A young apprentice knight whose heart burned with longing probably would have gotten a nosebleed from that gesture alone.
Not me, though.
Casually approaching Raynesia, Elissa lifted her slipper-clad feet and shifted them onto the sofa, bending her knees. Raynesia didn’t resist; she sat sideways on the sofa, lethargically.
For a “lovely princess of Maihama,” the position was a rather ill-mannered one. If a man had been in the room, it might have given him the wrong impression. Internal aspects aside, Raynesia had learned very well how a noble princess should carry herself, and as a rule, even her family didn’t see her in poses like this one.
Elissa was the only one who was able to see Raynesia like this.
Not that I particularly want to, mind you.
Having confirmed that Raynesia’s feet were up, she took out an indoor broom and swept under the low table and the sofa.
“Princess.”
“Hmm?”
“What did you eat today?”
“Cream stew.”
“My, my… In the style of the Adventurers?”
“They said it was Flame Boar. It was good.”
“Things have been lively lately, haven’t they?”
“They really have.”
As they conversed, Elissa continued briskly cleaning the room.
This was a guest room that was kept immaculate, as a rule. It didn’t take much work. Even if she was cleaning, there was technically no need for her to go to the lengths of lifting her mistress’s feet up onto the sofa. If she’d been dealing with an ordinary noble, no doubt they would have struck off her head. She was able to do these things precisely because she was dealing with the absentminded—or rather, tolerant—Raynesia.