He could still hear the pitiful whinny the horse made when she glared up at it.
After being looked at like that, it would probably use its entire life force to run as fast as it could.
“Okay, let’s go!”
Myuri smacked the horse’s neck, and the horse dashed off into the night of Rausbourne with Col and Myuri on its back.
At this time of night in Nyohhira, things were just getting started, and in a city as big as this, the taverns would still be open for a while. Even in a district with rows of luxurious mansions, the rich were milling about on their horses to take in some fresh air to sober themselves up.
The horse, fearful of Myuri’s fangs, galloped with incredible speed, whizzing right by their noses.
“Myuri, Myuri! This is too fa—”
Col’s words flew into the air the moment they entered a busy street where a free-roaming pig was plodding along, trying to get its paltry share from a tavern, and the horse leaped over it without a moment’s hesitation. After a chilling feeling of weightlessness in his stomach, a heavy impact ran through his entire body. Running through town on Myuri’s back when she was a wolf was nothing compared to this fear.
Not only was his line of sight high from the back of a horse to begin with, and he was certain there was nothing that could save him if he fell off, the impact of the horse’s hooves hitting the flagstone shook him from deep within his rear all the way to his brain, which did not afford him the luxury of maintaining composure. All he could concentrate on was frantically keeping his grasp on the reins and clinging as hard as he could to the horse to keep himself from falling off.
The horse barely paid any attention to how haphazardly he was handling the reins, galloping at an unbelievable speed in tandem with how Myuri smacked its neck and pulled on its mane.
While not as crowded as during the daytime, the streets were still full of drunkards and passersby, and whenever the horse avoided them, Col felt as though everything in his skull would come pouring out, and every time they leaped over someone frozen with fear, he prayed for God’s protection.
All of a sudden, after all that, he pitched forward, as though he was being shoved from behind, his nose colliding right into the back of Myuri’s head.
“Hmm? C’mon, what are you doing, Brother? Get off.”
“Rgh…”
Luckily, his nose was okay, but his hands clenching the reins were tense with nerves, and it was only after Myuri hurried him along a second time that he could finally get down from the horse.
The horse stopped in front of the tax collector association hall. Torches were lit on either side of the magnificent entranceway, illuminating the banners with the royal insignia that hung out from the wall and over the street.
These tax collectors, however, were just about to be discarded by that very Kingdom.
“I hope…Miss Sharon is in.”
Col got down from the horse, encouraged himself just as his knees were about to collapse, and managed to keep steady. They came here first and not to the orphanage, where Clark might be, because they were close to the port, and if Sharon was not in, then they could go straight to Yosef to talk to him.
“I think she is. A seabird just looked at us, then went into a hole in the roof.”
It was not a watchdog but a watchbird.
“Then, we’ll go in—”
Just as he started talking, a window above them opened.
“Chicken!” Myuri shouted, not minding the stares coming from around them, and Sharon, who had poked her head out of the window, disappeared back inside and closed it without a word. As Col nudged Myuri’s head, the door soon opened.
“What do you want?”
Sharon appeared, holding a sheathed sword in her right hand. It seemed less like she had come to cut them down after being called a chicken but more that she had sensed this was a situation that required a sword.
For a moment, Col was unsure how to tell her.
“The king has sent soldiers to the city.”
There were only two possibilities that phrase could mean.
Either that war with the Church had begun or…
“To arrest the tax collectors.”
Sharon’s eyes widened for a brief moment, then immediately closed. She scrunched up her face so tightly, they could almost hear it, and she then returned to her regular expressionless look.
“The king is trying to set you all up as bad people.”
“He’d be okay with just a war with the Church; he’s afraid of the civil war the second heir will cause.”
She came to that conclusion right away. Just by looking at how this whole situation was made up, it seemed like Sharon and the tax collectors were deliberately trying to egg on the friction with the Church for the second heir, and Sharon was fully aware of that.
“However, we have orders from Heir Hyland—we are to save you. We have a boat.”
The boat, however, was wishful thinking. They were planning on borrowing money from Hans to get one.
Sharon had her gaze turned to the sky, and she slowly dropped it to look at Col.
“Save? Save who?”
Col recoiled at her question, not because he did not understand what she meant but because he knew all too well what she meant.
The tax collectors had been discarded at a young age, finally getting their hands on the tool that was a tax collection permit after maturing, obtaining a way to talk with their fathers. Yet, the cathedral kept its doors shut, trying to avoid them with deceitful means. In the end, the king himself pulled up the ladder, trying to push them into oblivion.
Col could not even begin to imagine their suffering, having been constantly toyed with by those in power.
But he had to say it.
“We’ll escape, Miss Sharon.”
You mean to kill my spirit and render me a living corpse?
That was what he imagined she would say, but he could say no more to her face.
Those were not the flames of anger in her eyes.
Those were the eyes of someone who was done with the world.
“It has been the same our entire lives. We get in the way; we’re thrown out. None of the people who’ve gathered here are allowed to have a fighting chance against their fate.”
Behind her, the windows and doors of the hall opened ever so slightly, the tax collectors inside looking out on them. This was not curiosity but protective gazes worried about a respected colleague.
They were connected not simply by money.
“But, Miss Sharon.” Col managed to speak only because he could easily guess what she was going to say next. “What can you do if you stay here? Do you think anything would change by taking sword in hand in the end and forcing your way into the cathedral?”
Then, they would be surrounded by the king’s men, arrested as rioters, and would wait for their judgment.
This society was the kind that would cut off a child’s hand for stealing a piece of bread. They could not be optimistic about what could be waiting for them.
“Nothing,” she spat out. “But I’m sure I’ll feel great when I cut off their heads.”
Her twisted smile sent a shiver down his spine.
“Ah-choo!”
Just as he whirled around at the out-of-place sneeze, Myuri shoved him and he stumbled forward.
Myuri stood before Sharon, rubbing her nose.
“Just say what you want to say already. It’ll be my job to comfort my brother when he’s tormented by regret in the future. So you can stop with the bad acting.”
Col was astonished by what she said.
His gaze darted to Sharon, and just for a brief moment, he thought he saw the gentle expression she wore with the children in the orphanage.
“Not all the tax collectors can wield swords. Some of us are orphans. If we can’t at least put our regrets into our blades, then we’ll never be able to believe in the future again.”
“But can’t you escape out into the ocean, even if
you don’t make any feints now? Mister Yosef’s boat is big and fast, you know,” Myuri said.
Col’s eyes widened when she said “feints.” They were planning on getting the soldiers’ attention by breaking into the cathedral and letting everyone else escape in the meanwhile. Her display of fanatical hate was her way of showing them there was no use in persuading her to begin with.
She had been calm from beginning to end.
“No.”
She spoke calmly and without hesitation.
“Your ship is a commercial one, isn’t it? Even with oars, it can’t get very fast with how round it is.”
The ships soldiers used in war, on the other hand, were straight and slender like barracudas, with oars packed on either side. A ship like that had caught up to them in an instant when they were escaping from the northern islands, and it had rammed into their side.
“Not to mention the large number of people on board. We’d have to divert their attention while also lessening the cargo.”
Sharon stuck her sword, sheath and all, into the ground.
Her resolve was indomitable.
Perhaps she knew that things would turn out like this one day when she decided to fight against the cathedral.
But when he saw how collected her expression was, something struck him.
That was not it.
There was something else on her face.
“Miss Sharon.” Before he could help it, he called to her, his tone imploring. “Please don’t lose hope for tomorrow.”
Myuri, who was world-class in seeing through the inner workings of the human mind, stared at him, wide-eyed.
She was like the midsummer sun, and perhaps that had not crossed her mind.
“…How?”
When she said that, he knew.
Sharon’s calm was not the result of careful calculation, that she would turn into her bird form and escape if the time called for it or that she would act out, get arrested, and be used as a warning in order to let others escape.
There was no tragic but brave resolution; he felt nothing but calm from her.
Sharon no longer expected anything of the world.
She had given up; even if she escaped by boat, all that would extend before her would be the cold land she was so used to.
“You’re only keen when it comes to stuff like this. I mean, you are a servant of God, after all.” Sharon smiled ironically and shrugged. “If I can show them that no matter how cruel the world is, there are people out there willing to risk their lives to protect them, at least others will be able to hold on to their hope. They might be able to put their hopes into the future, even if they move on somewhere else. But…I don’t know if that really means salvation, though.”
She murmured; whenever she had hope, it was crushed.
The woman’s gaze came between Myuri and himself.
By the time he realized it, Myuri was holding his hand.
“But you know, I think it does.”
She smiled peacefully and lifted up the sword in one graceful motion, pointing it at Col’s chest.
“Can I let you take care of the boat? Everything there belongs to merchants and fishermen; there are no honest men among them who would help us when we’re in danger, since we took taxes from them.”
It was almost as though Sharon’s hopes flowed through the tip of the sword.
“Of course. And you—”
The one who interrupted him was Myuri, who shook off his hand and stepped forward.
“I’ll help. You can’t do anything by yourself, chicken.”
While not as fearsome as Holo, Myuri in her wolf form was still a good match for human soldiers. She could probably escape with Sharon in her mouth if they found themselves on the brink of death.
Sharon, however, shook her head.
She shook it firmly several times.
“This is my story. Please. I want the assurance that I’ve carved my own path at least once in the end.”
She then shoved the tip of the sword harder into Col’s chest, and he stumbled backward.
Even though there were only a few steps between the two of them, he could easily mistake her for being light-years away.
He could see the faces of the tax collectors behind Sharon.
The only ones who could truly understand their pain were themselves.
“The only thing I expect of you is good news about the boat.”
That was all Sharon said before whirling on her heel and going back inside the hall. The tax collectors peeking out of the windows all pulled back at once, and they could hear Sharon shouting from the other side of the door.
They might be able to tie her up and stuff her into the boat. But they would not be able to bind her spirit; it would stay trapped in the cathedral in Rausbourne.
Col clenched the hand that Myuri had held, opened it, then clenched it again.
She was not a domestic animal that received only as it lived; she would fly through the sky with her own wings, catch her food with her own talons.
They could not overturn Sharon’s decision, and Col had a feeling that no one should.
“Myuri.” He called her name, and she wiped her face with her sleeve before turning around to face him. “Let’s go. There are still things we can and have to do.”
Even if they could not persuade Sharon, interference was the specialty of the servants of God.
Col inhaled deeply, then exhaled.
Even if Yosef agreed to help, Sharon was of the opinion they would not be able to completely escape.
However, he still had connections he could get ahold of.
“You’ve heard the phrase selling your soul to the devil, haven’t you?”
Sharon had entrusted him with a faint thread of light.
Perhaps it was to show that she still held hope, even if it was small.
Myuri opened her eyes and nodded firmly.
Just as they got on the horse and set off, the evening bell echoed throughout Rausbourne. While it was often used to signal the time and market days and to welcome nobles when they visited, it was also used to communicate danger to the city.
Word of a fire. An enemy attack.
The city council had received contact from the king, and they declared a state of emergency. The declaration was likely being read just at that moment outside of city hall.
They were headed to an eerie part of the city, made even creepier by the unearthly ringing of the bell. A place that felt even emptier when imagining how it had once thrived.
The old public wheat warehouse sat in the darkness of the night, the very shape of silence.
“Just like Miss Sharon said, Mister Yosef’s boat alone could easily be caught up to.”
“He had an oar ship, right?”
And with Eve’s connections, they should easily be able to gather ships. Ships cost money, but Eve had infinite money.
“But do you think she’ll listen to us?”
He could not answer Myuri’s quiet question.
They dashed up the stone steps and knocked on the door.
“Miss Eve! It’s me! Tote Col!”
He thought she might be out somewhere at a lively place in town for a drink, but her personality told him that she would not leave her own bed empty.
Just as he thought, a sharp gaze peered out of the peeping window.
“What do you need?”
“Everything to do with Miss Eve’s business.”
He knew saying it like that would be the most effective. The guard’s eyes widened slightly and he said, “Wait,” before disappearing inside. It was not actually all that long of a moment, but Col grew impatient, and just as he was about to knock on the door again, the door unlocked.
“Come in.”
“Thank you.”
The inside of the manor was dark and silent.
There were not even candlestands up in the hallway, and Col wondered if Eve really was in, but there was a constant breeze like there had been when they came
during the day, so he knew that a window was wide-open somewhere.
Still, he felt like there had been no wind outside, so he wondered why it was so breezy inside here…when they reached the room on the fourth floor.
Eve was on the balcony, candles and a meal on the table beside her.
She seemed to have been enjoying an abundant dinner with the umbrella girl as they gazed out to the lights of the port.
“What is it? It’s earlier than the the time we agreed on.” Eve spoke as she spat an olive pit out over the balcony.
“Miss Eve, your deal and our wishes were all but houses of cards.”
Eve, who had been sitting loosely in her large chair, adjusted her posture, now interested.
“What do you mean?”
“The king has mobilized his army. They will surround the city sometime tonight and arrest the tax collectors.”
It was possible that the knight had said “dawn” to just give him hope. Even if he did not, Lawrence had taught him that saying there was no time was an old negotiation trick.
“As…Heir Hyland was on her way to inform the king of your plot and Miss Sharon’s motives, they apparently came across communications officers, and they came to inform us. That bell is not the signal for a fire.”
After Eve stared hard at him, she turned her gaze away.
“…This isn’t just to avoid war with the Church. I guess he couldn’t stand the fear of that unruly prince starting internal conflict.”
Eve’s eyes glinted gold, illuminated by the soft, wavering light of the candles on the table.
“The kings of this country have been unreliable for generations. Kingdom of sheep, indeed.” She practically spat when she spoke, balling up her napkin and throwing it onto the table.
The umbrella girl hugged the jug of wine to her chest, shaken up by Eve’s sulkiness.
“Our feast is over. Once the king’s made up his mind, it won’t easily be overruled. Nothing good will happen to a merchant who tries to approach a ruler like that.”
A king was someone who could create things as he pleased, even the laws the people followed. Eve might be Eve, but this was not someone she could confront.
“I have to ask you a favor, Miss Eve.”
Col called out to her as she gazed across the nighttime sea, thinking.
Wolf & Parchment: New Theory Spice & Wolf, Vol. 4 Page 23