Crusch was confused. “Is this not the first time Your Highness has seen me here?”
“Oh! Uh, no, it is the first time! I was just…speaking on intuition! Yes, that’s it!”
Crusch didn’t press Fourier about these strange remarks, only smiled. Quietly, she said, “If you think we see the same beauty in the same things…” Her face relaxed. “Then, my lord, when this bud blooms, may I view it with you? To find out if someone as unusual as myself shares your sensibilities?”
“Oh? Oh! You may! You certainly may. I would enjoy that!”
Fourier answered in a fit of ecstasy, turning red from the neck up at Crusch’s smiling invitation.
Only the flowers—and a single bud—bobbing in the wind stood witness to this odd but amusing exchange.
5
“So the source of young master Fourier’s heartsickness is Crusch Karsten, is that it?”
In a room of the Lugunica castle lined with bookshelves, Miklotov was receiving a report. Standing in front of the old sage was the tutor tasked with Fourier’s education. The prince had always been capricious, but lately he had been even less able to focus than usual. When the instructor told him what the problem was, Miklotov nodded and stroked his long beard.
“Mmm. I see. The daughter of the honorable Lord Meckart. I’ve heard that she’s quite an odd girl… Perhaps that is precisely what drew His Highness Fourier to her.”
“I am afraid I don’t know, sir. But it appears to be fact that the young lady and His Highness are on familiar terms. The other day, I gather they went to the garden to look at a flower together…”
“How sweet. But if this causes him to neglect his studies…”
“Er, ahem, on that note, sir.” The tutor interrupted Miklotov. The sage raised an eyebrow. “If anything, His Highness has been more focused on his studies than before. Perhaps his acquaintance with the young lady has…”
“…moved him to present himself as his best? Yes, how sweet, indeed.” Miklotov finished the tutor’s reluctant sentence.
The mood was somewhat awkward, but immediately after, Miklotov’s gaze sharpened, and he straightened up. Fixed by the old man’s stare, the tutor felt his throat go dry. Miklotov asked:
“And the young lord…? Has he shown any signs of the blood?”
“Ahem, he—no, he doesn’t appear to… At least, not that I have seen.”
Despondence crossed Miklotov’s eyes. The old sage let out a long sigh.
“Is that so? …Perhaps the second coming of the Lion King is only a dream…”
He could not hide his disappointment. The tutor, not quite able to sympathize with either the elder’s thought process or his wishes, could only remain silent.
The sage wished for the second coming of a wise ruler who had held sway in the days of the Lion Kings. But the tutor wondered what meaning there could be in that. The kingdom was secure under its pact with the dragon and the blessings it provided. The royal family needed only to carry on the bloodline; no more was asked of it.
Thus, the instructor did not report to Miklotov the more peculiar aspects of Fourier’s nature. Sometimes the boy would be seized by an unaccountable intuition. But the tutor had dismissed his flashes of insight into board games and arithmetic exercises as mere flukes. He was too much of a realist to consider these events as signs that Fourier was qualified to be the sage king.
And if he failed to sympathize with Miklotov’s reasoning, he was also unable to understand Fourier’s resourcefulness. This tutor was a gifted teacher, but no more than an ordinary citizen of the kingdom. He had reached these heights largely because there had not been enough officials to fill every vacant position.
“In that case, I hope His Highness will at least spend his days in good health. I shall exercise these old bones a little longer to be sure it is so…”
Sage though he was, Miklotov was not a mind reader. He could not know that, in his heart, the tutor actually possessed the account Miklotov longed to hear. And Fourier lived in ignorance of what others hoped of him.
It was a species of tragedy, but also one of the great ironies of destiny.
—But it would be far, far in the future before the true meaning of this would come to light.
6
After that, Fourier Lugunica found his days ever more fulfilling, never realizing that those who looked to him expectantly saw their hope slowly give way to despair.
Several days after he had made his promise to Crusch, they watched the bud bloom into a great flower. Her smile at the moment she laid eyes on the blossom was fixed clearly in Fourier’s mind.
“—It’s beautiful, isn’t it, Your Highness?”
“Indeed, it certainly is! I believe I shall never forget this.” Fourier decided to keep to himself what exactly he would commit forever to memory.
Their garden rendezvous continued frequently after that day. Crusch would visit the garden whenever she arrived at the castle, and Fourier would always be there. But Crusch was different somehow, ever since they saw that flower blossom together. As they saw each other more and more, something about her began to change.
“You no longer tie your hair back,” he remarked one day.
When they had first met, her hair had been tied up, and she had worn a dress that was the very picture of girlishness. But lately, whenever he saw her, she let her long hair hang down, and the designs of her dresses grew more refined.
“I owe it to what Your Highness said,” Crusch replied with a slight smile. But Fourier couldn’t imagine what she meant. What had he said to her to inspire such change?
“You need not understand, my lord. But I thank you just the same.”
“Hrm! But how will I be at peace without knowing? It weighs on me so!”
Crusch said nothing in reply to Fourier’s outburst but only reached down to her hip. The dagger hung there, and Fourier realized she had developed a habit of touching the lion crest. He felt suddenly as though the Lion King had taken her from him, though she was standing right there.
“You’re quite enamored with the Lion King, aren’t you?” he said.
“You misunderstand, Your Highness. I’m simply proud of my ancestor, who diligently supported his country and was recognized as the greatest servant of the king…though I understand I do this quite often.”
Her flushed cheeks betrayed her attempted excuse after noticing the prince’s sullen demeanor. Less and less happy with the situation, Fourier eyed her dagger ruefully.
“But the Lion King is no more,” he said. “Think of him as highly as you like; no one else will ever…”
“—”
“Er—no! I mean—I was speaking figuratively! I didn’t—” His inadvertent words must have struck Crusch in the heart, for she retreated into oppressive and mournful silence while Fourier frantically tried to take back what he had said. Finally, he clapped his hands and said, “Very well! If that is what you wish for, then I shall make myself into the person you seek!”
“My lord?”
“Let us see whether your love for this kingdom approaches what the Lion King saw in your honored ancestor! Why not? The Lion’s blood flows in my veins, does it not? I have every right to be the judge of this!”
Crusch’s shock at these mental gymnastics gave way to a smile.
“Hmm! Do you laugh at me? I daresay, I’ve impressed even myself with my impeccable logic!”
“N-no, I…I apologize. It is simply… Your Highness is such an amazing person…”
“Ah-ha! You wonder, do you not, whether I am as worthy of a vow of loyalty as the Lion King? Very well. Watch me closely. I shall judge your loyalty as you shall judge my worthiness. Then, we resurrect once more the bond between the Lion King and his most devoted retainer!”
“Ah—ha-ha-ha!”
“Don’t laaaugh!”
But her amusement was like a flower blooming, and soon Fourier joined her.
No one knows whether the vow they exchanged was made in seriousness. But the
two of them remained dear to each other long after, and in time another young man was added to their number. When that happened, Fourier would dream a dream, inspired by the bond this vow had started.
So this was merely the beginning of a dream—the dream of Fourier Lugunica.
FELIX ARGYLE IS A PRETTY BOY
1
“This is terrible! They say I am to attend a matchmaking meeting!”
Such were the desperate words that rang through the Karsten manor one fine afternoon. The door to the parlor flew open, and a young boy with golden hair tumbled in, still breathing hard.
He had scarlet eyes, distinctive canine teeth, and fine clothing, including an extravagant fur robe. If he could have mustered a dignified silence and a smile, no doubt he would have captured the hearts of many a girl. But alas, no one had ever seen him act that mature.
The restless young boy was named Fourier Lugunica, and he was the fourth son of the king of the Dragonfriend Kingdom of Lugunica, a bona fide prince.
“Calm down, Your Highness. How can the rest of us maintain our composure when you are so frantic?”
The source of this admonition was a young woman who showed not even a hint of panic. She had long, beautiful green hair tied with a white ribbon, her still-growing body clad in men’s clothes. Her almond-shaped amber eyes and firm features marked her as someone who would be a great beauty one day.
This was Crusch Karsten, the only daughter of the master of this house, Meckart Karsten. She would one day inherit her family’s ducal estate and was sure to become a woman of great stature. But at this time, she was still a girl of fourteen—those around her had had scant opportunity to recognize her gifts.
“You expect me to be calm at a time like this?! They’re trying to marry me off! Don’t you think that should be of great concern to you? Shouldn’t it be of great concern to her, Ferris?!”
“Ah? You’re asking Ferri?” The person in question spun and pointed to himself. The thoroughly surprised speaker was a girlish boy flicking his flaxen cat ears—Felix Argyle.
It had been five years since Felix, for his own reasons, had taken the name Ferris, begun dressing in women’s clothing, and become Crusch’s attendant. The two of them were well acquainted with Fourier since long ago and had developed the capacity to enjoy whatever apparent crises the excitable young prince brought them.
Overcoming his initial surprise, Ferris tapped a finger to his lips and said, “Mm, you’re right, Prince Fourier. But! But! You’re fourteen now… You’re not a child, so it makes sense they’d want to set up a meowtch for you.”
Fourier paled at that; his balled fists trembled. “No, absolutely not! I shall not be party to any matchmaking! I refuse!”
“But, Your Highness. As a member of the royal family, it is your duty to take a spouse and continue the royal line. The problem won’t go away simply because you don’t like it.”
“U-um, you’re not wrong, of course. It’s—I’m not objecting to the idea of marriage in general, you see. But, you know…I—I have the right to choose, don’t I? I don’t need a matchmaker to… Ahh, what are you forcing me to say?!”
“Ah, my loutish prince…” Ferris said.
As Fourier voiced his ardent resentment of the matchmaking meeting, Crusch replied with irrefutable logic. Fourier attempted to respond, but there was nothing he could say, and he soon resorted to a red-faced bout of temper.
Ferris could only shake his head and sigh. He felt the frustration born from five years of watching these two talk past each other. Fourier’s infatuation with Crusch was plain to see. It made sense he would have no interest in a matchmaking meeting when his heart had belonged to another for so long. If only he could bring himself to be honest about it. The fourth prince, Fourier, and the daughter of a duke. They were close enough in status; there would be no harm in it. But…
“Ferris, His Highness seems quite upset. Did I say something wrong? What do you think?” Crusch said, whispering to him so the prince couldn’t hear. She was totally oblivious.
Crush was Ferris’s lifelong master, the most loving girl in all the world—and she was utterly unable to discern anything more than friendly affection. There was no harm in Fourier’s romantic interest, except that Crusch herself was his last and greatest obstacle.
He wished Fourier would hurry up and find the courage to confess his feelings…
“No, Lady Crusch, you haven’t done anything wrong. It’s all His Highness. He’s made the meowstake. Lady, help me tell him to be less of a lout…”
“Hmm, very well. I suppose I can trust your assessment. Your Highness, I’m not entirely clear on this, but I offer my heartfelt request that you stop being such a lout.”
“Hrk!”
There was no bite to the words, but Fourier clapped his hands over his chest and fell to his knees because it was his beloved who had spoken. Crusch’s eyes went wide at this, and she looked reprovingly at Ferris.
“I’ll punish you for this later, Ferris.”
“Awww, but Ferri just wanted to get a smile out of you, milady!”
“Sheesh. Ever the smooth talker. I suppose you’re the only one who could sneak something like that past my blessing of wind reading. It’s just as well to be reminded that my protection isn’t all-powerful.”
“Yes! That’s all Ferri was trying to do—to remind you of that, milady.”
“I’ll pretend to believe you. But I’m still going to punish you.”
Crusch nodded sternly. Not once in her life had she ever failed to follow through on something she said she would do. Punishment was a fine-sounding word, but she didn’t pull her punches when it came to handing them out, so anyone who wanted to play a prank on her had to be prepared for the consequences.
“Oh well! Ferri will keep making jokes, that’s for sure! Just to see the lovely Lady Crusch wear that look of surprise on her face! Oh, what a rare treat!”
“Arrgh, that will be enough out of you two! When a person comes in agonized, tormented, is it not usual to comfort him?! Or do you enjoy leaving me to suffer? Oh, the loneliness!” Fourier broke in after growing quite tired of being left out.
It could be a challenge to pacify Fourier once he got into one of these childish tantrums. Crusch and Ferris turned to the task together.
It was perhaps a testament to the strength of the relationship among the three that neither of them seemed to consider this role a burden.
2
When Fourier’s temper finally cooled, the trio stayed in the parlor discussing the details of the matchmaking interview.
“The prospective match is the daughter of some relation to the archbishop of Gusteko. They say she’s nineteen! A whole five years older than me. This will not do at all. We must cancel the meeting.” Fourier already sounded thoroughly convinced of his own conclusion.
“Your Highness! Your Highness, I’m telling you, you have no proof!” Ferris attempted to remonstrate without raising the young lord’s hackles again.
The Holy Kingdom of Gusteko was one of the four great nations, known for its freezing temperatures and the blizzards it endured year-round. It was also famous for a religious outlook that could only have been produced by such harsh circumstances, a unique form of spiritualism. The archbishop Fourier had mentioned was a deeply revered person in that country.
“In Gusteko, the archbishop is almost as important as the Council of Elders is here,” Ferris said. “A meowrriage alliance with that family would be very important for Lugunica…”
“Such a match would be of tremendous import for both nations, Your Highness,” Crusch added. “This is an essential duty.”
“Wait, wait, wait, wait! We’re just going in circles. When did the both of you start siding with the Holy Kingdom? What I’m saying is I don’t want to make any matches! Help me!” Fourier clung to Ferris’s knees, nearly in tears. Ferris couldn’t help thinking how unbecoming this scene would look if anyone were to bear witness, but nonetheless he
gave the crybaby prince a pat on the head.
“If you’re that upset, Lord Fourier, then they probably won’t go through with it…but unfortunately, being bothered probably isn’t a good enough reason to turn down the meeting itself.”
“Mm, yes, I realize that myself. By which I mean, when I said as much to Miklotov, I was subjected to one of his rare fits of anger. I had no idea he could work himself into such a fury…”
Miklotov of the Council of Elders was known for his wisdom and his level head. The news that Fourier had already managed to upset the great adviser caused Ferris to put his head in his hands, then shoot a desperate look at Crusch.
“Lady Cruuusch… What should we do?”
“Good question. For the good of the kingdom I would have His Highness simply resign himself to this meeting, but as I owe a great debt to him, I am obliged to do all I can when he comes to me for help. Incidentally, Your Highness, if this marriage were to go ahead, would the young lady be coming to Lugunica?”
“No—Miklotov told me I should prepare to continue my studies somewhere chilly… I can’t do it! I hate being hot and being cold, but cold is definitely worse! You know me—even on a warm day like today, I never let my robe out of my sight.”
Fourier couldn’t bring himself to have any interest in the meeting, and he was certainly concerned about what life would be like once he was wed. He would feel bad for a young woman stuck with someone who had resisted the match so fervently. Then again, if she was anything like Fourier, it was possible she was also being forced into this.
“And that means it’s possible neither of the parties to this marriage would be happy…” he moaned.
It would have been simple enough to point out that many marriages were similar, and let the matter end there. But just as Ferris loved and respected Crusch, he felt a deep affection for Fourier as well. If it could be done, he wanted to see them both enjoy the greatest possible happiness in this life. Even if, at the worst, it left Ferris himself without a place to belong.
The Dream of the Lion King Page 3