The Dream of the Lion King

by Tappei Nagatsuki

  A summons from Fourier meant they would be headed to the prince’s rooms at the royal residence. They strode boldly along the road that went straight to the castle, as was the well-known privilege of the royal guard.

  “His Highness asks for you often. You two must be pretty close.”

  “Well, we’ve known each other a long time. It’s going on…eight years meow? It gives Ferri a lot of power, you know…” He gave Julius a nasty smirk as they walked the road between the garrison and the castle. But Julius only smiled ruefully.

  “You don’t have to pretend. I don’t sense anything calculating in your relationship with His Highness. We’ve known each other for a brief time, and even I can tell that. Both you and the prince seem to value each other greatly.”

  “…It’s kind of embarrassing to hear someone say it. Anyway, mew say there’s nothing calculating, but I got into the royal guard because of His Highness, didn’t I? You don’t think that’s taking advantage of his position?”

  “I apologize for saying such a rude thing to you at our first meeting. But within a week after you joined…I don’t think there were any of us left who doubted you were capable enough to be part of the guard.”

  Julius bowed his head in apology, to which Ferris responded by giving him a karate chop. Gently, of course. As Julius looked up again, Ferris smiled. “Well, I’m glad you guys think so. If Ferri had screwed up, it wouldn’t just be embarrassing for Ferri, meow. All the people who backed me would look bad, too…”

  “I think you’ve done more than enough to justify your recommendations by now. Happily, you even had a chance to show off what you’re really good at—I guess none of us are a match for the captain yet.”

  “Guess not,” Ferris said lightly, but inside he was nodding furiously.

  Lacking skill with the sword, the only way Ferris could prove himself to the other guardsmen was to show that he had some talent in something else. In his case, that would certainly be healing magic, and luckily for him, he’d had plenty of opportunities to show what he could do that week. That was because at the practice field, Captain Marcus had decided to personally train his subordinates. As he healed each of the carefully calculated injuries, Ferris was grateful for the captain’s rather unorthodox way of showing kindness. As a result, everyone recognized Ferris’s abilities, and while it wasn’t possible to silence what people said behind closed doors, public objections to his entry into the guard ceased.

  “That made my life a lot easier. Meowbe I should thank the captain.”

  “Of course, he’d just dodge you if you said anything.”

  “Yeah, he’s evasive that way. For such a hard worker, he sure has odd quirks. What a pain.”

  He could just picture the artless Captain Marcus pretending not to understand what he was being thanked for. It was a disappointing scene. Beside Ferris, Julius was nodding as though he understood exactly what was going through the cat-boy’s mind.

  “Even so,” Julius said, “to go back to our original subject, you said you’ve been friends with His Highness for eight years now. I’m very curious what the two of you were like as children. Would you mind my asking?”

  “No, but I don’t think the stories are meowy interesting. Eight years ago, Ferri was just cute lil’ Ferri, and His Highness was His Highness… We were exactly the same, really.” Ferris put a hand to his mouth and laughed. He was remembering bits and pieces from the whole span of their friendship. Fourier had grown into a strapping young man, but deep down, he was the same as he’d ever been. “Y’know, I think I respect that about His Highness.”

  “If Prince Fourier’s virtues haven’t changed, that’s what counts. Eight years… Once childhood ends, not everyone is able to remain the same.” In contrast to Ferris’s suppressed laughter, Julius looked somehow melancholy. Ferris noticed this and gave him a questioning look.

  “Come to think of it, I haven’t heard much about you, Julius.”

  “That’s because, unfortunately, my life has not been rich enough to warrant any stories. It has been perfectly ordinary, boring as a bedtime tale.”

  “Bleh. If you really don’t want to talk about it, I won’t ask… Have you known Reinhard a long time, though? You seem closer to him than most of us.” At the Sword Saint’s name, all the sadness vanished from Julius’s face.

  “Reinhard? He and I have a long history, much like you and your prince.” He brushed his bangs aside and looked into the distance as if thinking back. “It’s almost ten years since we first met. But it was only after we both became knights that we grew to be friends. We aren’t blessed with quite as many good memories as you and His Highness.”

  “You mean you just knew each other in passing, as fellow nobles?”

  “Maybe, maybe not. I knew who he was, but I’m not sure he knew who I was. Because he was so special to me, I was particularly happy to be able to become friends with him.”

  “Special, huh…?”

  There was nothing deeper in the friendship between Julius and Reinhard. And yet, neither was it quite possible to declare it mere friendship. But Ferris was not yet close enough to Julius to ask about such things. Ferris was very eager to avoid accidentally alienating him by saying the wrong thing—that was how much he valued Julius Juukulius.

  The two of them found they had chatted all the way to the castle. They greeted the guards and the officials on duty, and then they came to the staircase that led to the castle’s upper levels, where Fourier and the other members of the royal family lived. They told the men guarding the staircase who they were and where they were going and were quickly allowed in.

  They ascended the stairs that led to the royal chambers and proceeded down a carpeted hallway. Ferris found the room they wanted and used the door knocker.

  “Your Highness!” he said in a singsong tone. “Just as you asked, your dear Ferri has arrived!”

  The greeting caused Julius to put his palm to his forehead.

  “Ferris, however close you may be, that’s… Well, I suppose it’s too late now.”

  He shrugged, and at the same instant, the door opened.

  “Are you going to let him off that easy? That means trouble for me! If that’s all you’re going to do, why even have you keeping an eye on him?”

  Bounding out of the room came a young man with golden hair and clear scarlet eyes: Fourier Lugunica, fourth prince of the kingdom. He looked from Ferris to Julius, then laughed, showing his teeth.

  “Ahh, never mind! Welcome, both of you. Are you both in good health?”

  “I have been most well, my lord. Your consideration humbles me.”

  “…says Julius,” Ferris remarked. “But we just saw you two days ago, didn’t we? We’ve hardly had long enough to get sick!”

  “I see, maybe so. But if you’re well, that’s all that matters. Anyway, there’s much to talk about, but let’s not do it out here. Come in, both of you.” Fourier gestured them into his room. He was equally generous with both the deferential Julius and the happily impertinent Ferris.

  Fourier’s room was so sparse it was hard to believe it belonged to a member of royalty. Not that Ferris had been in a lot of other royal chambers for reference—but Fourier’s quarters were almost as simple as Crusch’s. Perhaps her distaste for excess had affected him.

  “You seem kind of antsy, Your Highness,” Ferris said, sitting on the sofa in the reception area. “What’s going on?”

  “You get straight to it! And on what basis do you say I seem antsy?”

  “You can’t trick Ferri’s ears. There’s a tremble in your voice, your pulse is faster than usual, and you’ve swallowed several times trying to calm them both down.”

  “Goodness! Your ears can even hear my heartbeat?”

  “Nuh-uh. Just bluffing,” Ferris said innocently. Fourier slumped into a chair. His reaction was proof enough that he was keeping something from them. Julius shot Ferris a stern look for being disrespectful to such an august person as Fourier, but Ferris simply igno
red him.

  “All right, I know you’re doing everything you can to hold out on us, but really, what’s going on? The way mew’ve chased out all the maids and servants so you and Ferri and Julius can talk alone gives me a meowy bad feeling.”

  “Yes, well noticed. I should have expected as much of you, Ferris. Before that, though, there’s one thing I want to be sure of. You, Julius.” Fourier’s gaze settled on the knight. For a moment, Julius raised an eyebrow in surprise, but the respectful deference soon came back into his face. He answered with a nod.

  “Yes, Your Highness. Ask me anything you wish.”

  “A good answer—Can you look me in the eye and tell me that you are Ferris’s friend? If so, you may stay for this discussion, but if not… Well, I will need to ask you to leave the room.”

  “Your Highness is quite direct…”

  Fourier was incapable of trickery or artifice. It could be irritating at times, but it was unquestionably one of his good traits. Julius responded to the question by placing a hand to his chest, assuming a formal expression.

  “I have known Ferris for but a few days, and our fellowship is not deep enough for me to unabashedly call him a friend. However, I sincerely hope that as time goes on, we will only become closer. Does this answer please Your Highness?”

  “Yikes,” Ferris said, “talk about direct…”

  Julius had perhaps not been as frank as the prince, but it was clear that he spoke from his heart. That meant he was deliberately entering into a potentially risky situation—pretty overbearing for a brand-new friend. He was overbearing, likely to go against the tide—but Ferris liked that just fine.

  Fourier seemed to feel the same way, because he nodded repeatedly and then gave Ferris a happy smile. “Looks like you’ve found a good companion, Ferris! I see it was worth my while to recommend you for the royal guard. You mustn’t turn up your nose at Julius’s friendship!”

  “Your Highneeess, it sounds like I just joined the guards to make friends when you put it that way and it’s not very flattering…”

  “Yes, yes, dear,” Fourier said with a smile at Ferris’s rapid attempt to hide his embarrassment. But then his expression tightened. “—Now, to business.”

  Ferris’s ears picked up an immediate change in the air. The source of it was none other than Fourier.

  “Your Highness…?” He let the words slip out in an attempt to make sure this was still Fourier, that the young man who sat before him looking impossibly grim was still the friend he knew.

  Fourier didn’t respond to Ferris’s prompting but slowly began to speak in a quiet voice.

  “First of all, I am telling you both about this on my own prerogative. Crusch told me not to speak of it, so I really shouldn’t be telling anyone…”

  “Lady Crusch told you…?” When his mistress’s name came up, Ferris grew even more uncomfortable. For her to tell Fourier not to speak of something didn’t bode well, especially if she couldn’t even confide it to Ferris.

  “Ill rumors have been circulating about a particular place in the Karsten domain. Private investigations have been ongoing, but I’ve received word that Crusch has gone to inspect the place herself.”

  “…Is that it?” Ferris had been so worried by Fourier’s opening that when he heard what was actually going on, he was almost disappointed. Crusch knew how to handle herself. There was no need to worry about her, even if she ran into a little trouble on her tour.

  “And if they were already investigating it,” Ferris went on, “then I don’t think Lady Crusch could be caught off guard. She’s more than a match for any ordinary opponent. Your Highness should know that better than anyone.”

  “Mm…I can’t imagine her losing to anyone but me, and yet…” This was apparently the best answer Fourier could muster.

  To judge by what had been said so far, Ferris could not understand the source of Fourier’s concern. But even when the things the prince said seemed baseless, they often turned out to be much more than idle speculation. Perhaps this was another one of his unpleasant premonitions…

  “Your Highness, if I may?” As the two of them sat there silently, Julius broke in.

  “Mm. Go ahead.”

  “I haven’t met the Duchess of Karsten personally, so I can offer no judgment there, but…since you’ve called Ferris here, may I presume you have something in mind?”

  “Julius, you should know that His Highness often does things for no real reason…”

  “No, not this time. This time I have a basis for my actions. For my…worries,” Fourier said, not quite able to look up.

  This caught Ferris by surprise. But, to be fair, he had not been paying full attention. Perhaps because he hadn’t wanted to believe that Crusch could be in danger. And if Fourier’s last words had been a surprise, his next words were an absolute shock.

  “The place all these rumors are about? It’s your home, Ferris. House of Argyle.”

  3

  —There were dark things afoot at the House of Argyle.

  Word had first reached Crusch at the beginning of that year, almost two months earlier. The first thing she thought of when she heard the name Argyle was none other than Ferris. Her meeting with her beloved servant could never have come about without the House of Argyle, where he had been born.

  But that did not mean Crusch was grateful to the Argyles. She was thankful they had brought the person named Felix Argyle into the world, but what they had then done to him during his youth was difficult to forgive.

  As a result, ever since she had rescued Ferris from his family and taken him under her wing, Crusch had endeavored to have as little contact as possible with the Argyle family. Ferris didn’t raise the issue, either; they were effectively on the same page on this matter. So when she received a report about the House of Argyle for the first time in nearly a decade, Crusch found herself uncharacteristically troubled.

  “Something untoward is happening at the House of Argyle…?”

  “For the time being, milady, we’re trying to keep Ferris from hearing about it, but…what shall we do?”

  They were in her office. Crusch’s arms were crossed. The official reporting to her had a pained look on his face. He was one of the phalanx of retainers she had inherited from her father, Meckart, along with the duchy. He had known Crusch since she was a baby, and Ferris since he had come to the House of Karsten. Someone who had been so close to them and the family for so long naturally shared Crusch’s concerns.

  “You’re right, I’d rather Ferris not find out,” Crusch said. “But it depends on what exactly is going on. There may be a natural need to tell him.”

  “That’s true, milady. According to the report, Bean Argyle—Ferris’s father—has been inviting a suspicious character into his home over these past several months. He may be a slaver.”

  “A slaver…?”

  Crusch’s brow furrowed slightly at the word. Officially, the Kingdom of Lugunica didn’t have slaves. Anyone who worked was to be compensated; the relationship between nobles and their servants was one of employer and employee. Perhaps some people were treated no better than slaves—but on paper, slavery did not exist under the laws of the kingdom.

  By the same token, then, the slave trade could not be allowed to go on within Lugunica’s borders, either.

  “And yet there is no end of people who want to sully their hands with that kind of business… Is the claim that the House of Argyle is working with the slaver to sell off the people of our domain to other kingdoms? That would mean…”

  That would mean they were traitors. And responsibility for the problem fell to Crusch, who ruled this area. An immediate investigation would bring the facts to light. If the charges were true, the head of the household would be punished, and the House of Argyle itself would most likely cease to exist. If that happened, it would be difficult for Ferris to avoid repercussions.

  “‘What the parents sow, the children reap.’ This is no joke. What are the Argyles thinking?” In he
r mind, Crusch found herself reliving the day she had first met Ferris.

  He had been nothing but skin and bones, nearly black with dirt and grime, a boy so weak he could barely talk. Was it not enough for the Argyles that they had squandered the first half of Ferris’s life? Crusch found herself filled with such roiling anger that she bit her lip to hold it back, a most unusual gesture from her.

  But the official met her rage by saying, “Please wait, milady. There is more to the report. Don’t make your decision until you’ve heard the whole thing.”

  “…I’m sorry. I got a bit agitated.”

  “Completely understandable. You and I are both affected by anything that concerns Ferris. Regardless, as far as the House of Argyle goes, it appears to be more than simple slave trading.”

  “More?”

  “Yes. The details aren’t certain yet, but it appears that rather than selling slaves to the trader, the Argyles are buying every slave they can get their hands on.”

  “Buying them?”

  She gave the man a look of incomprehension. Because slavery didn’t officially exist in Lugunica, people engaging in the slave trade in the kingdom could not, in principle, have any other objective but selling slaves to other nations. To buy slaves as laborers would hardly appear different from hiring them normally and wouldn’t arouse any ugly rumors.

  “The question is whether the House of Argyle is up to anything that would move them to purchase slaves,” the official said, voicing the same question Crusch had been entertaining.

  The decline of the House of Argyle had begun nine years ago, when the House of Karsten had become aware of Ferris, and had subsequently meted out its wrath upon his family for their transgressions. Bean Argyle was a noble without court rank, the overseer of a collection of towns and villages within the Karsten domain, and he was valued for his work. But that changed after the incident with Ferris, and ultimately the House of Argyle lost any and all trust.

  Bean had made a number of attempts to recover after that, but all ended in failure, and now the only assets the family had left were their house and a parcel of uncultivated land. They had had to let all their servants go, and the last anyone had heard of them, Ferris’s mother and father were living at best a modest existence.