Chapter 48 - 4-12
Ghost stories are a staple of historic castles, and Malfa Castle is no exception.
For instance, the "White Lady."
They say that if you are climbing the great hall stairs alone at midnight, you might pass a beautiful woman dressed in white. But when you startle and look back, no one is there.
Ever since hearing that story, whenever Gilma Rigardie's work extends into the late hours and he returns to his room, he always uses the great hall stairs.
It is not that he makes light of ghost stories.
—At least, not if she appears before me.
He hopes that the White Lady might show herself.
If she is a beauty, he would like to meet her.
More than that, a paranormal phenomenon like a ghost should be considered a "sign." For example, a precursor to a natural disaster. If the dead have wandered back into the living world because they wish to convey an ill omen,
—Then first, they should tell me.
Droughts or earthquakes are serious matters, but they are still manageable. As Prime Minister, he can deal with them. He can predict the disaster and prepare without fail. There is no other way to handle such things.
Not those kinds of disasters, but some unpredictable, sudden calamity. Gilma secretly feared that.
Gilma does not own a mansion in the city, nor does he have a room in a detached palace; he rents a room in Malfa Castle. This is because he wishes to be agile in the face of emergencies.
The room he resides in is on the second floor of the main palace.
Because Gilma is slouch-backed, when he walks, he adopts a posture that thrusts out his large, sharp nose.
The moment he touched the handle of his room's door, he felt a chill run down his spine.
When he looked back, there was unmistakably a human silhouette. He let out a scream—"Ooh-aaah-uuu!" The scream echoed through the midnight castle, lingering for a while.
"Count," a voice said.
"Ooh, ooh-aaah, uuu."
"Count."
The silhouette timidly approached within the range of the light cast by the hand-candle.
"Lian, is that you?"
He felt as if he couldn't even breathe due to terror.
Lian Belghiyo wore an ambiguous smile. As always, he had a flat, featureless face.
"To think you'd come! You haven't aged at all!"
His voice became louder than necessary.
"Hello. It seems I've startled you."
"I thought you were a ghost!"
Lian burst out laughing. "A ghost? There's no such thing, Count."
"I know!"
Regardless, he invited Lian into his room.
He was greeted by a young manservant. Perhaps having heard the scream from before, the servant had a worried expression. Gilma ordered wine.
Wine and duck meat were laid out on the dining table.
Gilma Rigardie gestured for Lian to take a seat. His heart finally began to settle.
Average height and build, a voice that induced sleepiness, and ordinary features. Lian possessed a faintness of presence, as if he were draped in a mist even while standing there.
"This is Malfa Castle, you know. How did you get in?"
"Oh, nothing," Lian said, scratching his head sheepishly. "Nothing in particular. Everyone was just so kind."
Gilma thought that he should probably overhaul the security.
Lian Belghiyo was an Eberian spy whom Gilma had used as a subordinate in his youth. It would be fair to call them comrades.
He poured some wine.
"I can't seem to settle down. Sedias Thora is coming and going, isn't he? In this castle."
The southeastern border of the Kingdom of Eber borders Delroy. To Eber, Delroy is a dangerous opponent whose movements must be closely monitored.
Lian had been embedded in Delroy for a long time. He had even boldly served as a horse-attendant for the Lord of Delroy, Sedias Thora.
"Rest easy. The opponent this time isn't Sedias. It's the Eastern Lords."
"The Eastern Lords of Siddim? Why that?"
"Lian. When I said I would swear loyalty to the King of Siddim, you made a displeased face."
"I did indeed."
"Making Siddim wealthy and prosperous. That will benefit Eber. When I explained it that way, you argued, didn't you?"
"Because Siddim is the enemy."
"At that time, I said you would understand someday."
"And I asked, 'When is someday?'"
"Now is the time. The Kosa people might come."
"..."
"I intend to use Siddim to defeat the Kosa army."
Lian downed his wine. "Using whom?"
"Sedias Thora, of course," Gilma answered. "I will gather all of Siddim's forces under Sedias and hurl them at the Kosa people. Siddim must always be strong and keep watch in all four directions. Eber can simply hide in its shadow."
"That general might just scatter the Kosa people if things go well. Then, what if he returns his horse and heads for Eber?"
"As long as I am here, that won't happen. I'll take measures. Besides, the Marquis of Delroy is old. This will be his final war. The problem, you see, is the lords of Eastern Siddim."
—It seems those fellows are plotting something.
Gilma told him he wanted that investigated.
"Plotting, for example?"
"That's exactly what I don't know. Perhaps they've used the Church to reach out to Kosa. There is one person who seems likely to have done such a thing."
Lian remained silent for a while.
Gilma poured more wine.
"The Count is quite sly,"
Lian said.
Gilma was the Prime Minister of Siddim, but he was also the lord of the Corpes territory in the Kingdom of Eber. That was why Lian called him Count.
Corpes was a tiny piece of land, and Gilma intended to present it to the King of Eber when the time came. The Rigardie family were, so to speak, upstarts, and Corpes was not ancestral land. There were no ties, and Gilma, who spent most of his time in royal service, felt no attachment to it. Letting go of the territory would, on the contrary, be refreshing.
Gilma intended to die as a man of Siddim.
If asked whether he would choose his homeland of Eber or the foreign land of Siddim, he would answer Siddim instantly. This resolve was likely something neither Eberians nor Siddimians would understand. It wasn't that he loved Siddim. Nor was it that he hated his home country. It was a matter of principle. Gilma had sworn loyalty to the Alish family.
But if one were to strike the very bottom of his gut, what sound would it make?
The true reason for devoting himself to the Kingdom of Siddim was not solely for the sake of the Siddimians. Gilma's far-reaching gaze was aimed at something slightly larger. At least as long as he remained Prime Minister, it was equivalent to Eber and Siddim having a covenant relationship. He would protect Eber for free using the power of Siddim. In exchange, the King of Siddim would, through Gilma, control certain parts of Eber.
This system.
This system would become the foundation for a thousand years of peace established in the North.
Lian, an Eberian patriot, saw through Gilma's thoughts to the very marrow.
"Count, I came here intending to refuse. I cannot work for the Prime Minister of Siddim. However, when you mention the Kosa people, I can't exactly pretend not to know them. So, what happens? Will it be like in the time of the Great King Aframa?"
"That's what I want us to investigate."
"For the sake of the King of Siddim?"
"Of course not," Gilma laughed. "For my sake."
Lian shook his head. "You really are quite sly."
The morning after drinking with Prime Minister Gilma Rigardie, Lian prepared his travel gear and headed east. Walking like a wanderer, he luckily encountered a troupe of traveling performers on the first day. Lian showcased his acrobatics. The performers accepted him with lukewarm smiles. These kinds of people do not question the background of new members as long as they have a skill.
Lian treated himself as if he were a faceless doll.
If the performers treated him as an acrobat, then Lian was undoubtedly an acrobat. In reality, he might not be an acrobat; he might be a sick stray dog, or an angel. He might be an earthworm writhing on a road after the rain.
—No matter how much I think about myself, I'll never understand.
Having given up on that, he didn't care about himself. No matter how much he tried to know himself, no answer came, and above all, he found himself boring. He wasn't interesting.
What was interesting were other people.
The men and women of all ages gathered in the world, shouting nonsense, some raising their arms, some shaking their breasts, some gritting their teeth in grief and indignation. Every single one of them was lying. Everyone was a liar. The lies of others could be entertainment in and of themselves. It was an entertainment similar to solving a riddle or uncovering a secret. In the first place, why did they lie? In Lian's philosophy, the reason was—
—To hide a truth they didn't want anyone to know.
In other words, there was one truth per person.
The radiance of truth that he could not find within himself existed within others. There was nothing more precious than this. That truth was sometimes terrifying, and sometimes beautiful. It was often ugly. But it was never ordinary. Lian did not recognize boring facts as truth.
The troupe of performers traveled the eastern highways, putting on shows in the major towns.
By accompanying them, he realized that the East was currently boiling with a construction fever. It was the construction of forts. The sound of hammers echoed everywhere, accompanied by spirited shouts. The dust at the construction sites seemed to have no time to settle. While laborers hurled words at each other as if shouting, women and children carried soil in baskets. The economy must be good; the people's expressions were bright.
The spectacle shows were profitable. Huge crowds gathered. At night, the taverns profited. Lian treated various people to drinks and spoke with them. It seemed that technicians were being gathered from various places. In the first place, stonemasons are often migratory craftsmen.
"What do you think of the castle design they're doing?"
Whenever he found a fortification expert, Lian plied them with drink thoroughly.
The answer was always the same.
"It'll make a fine fort."
Everyone answered this.
Lian was dissatisfied. It wasn't interesting.
Certainly, the earthworks of all the new forts were of a height that made one look up. Looking down into the moats, they were deep enough to make one's legs tremble.
With this, could they win against the Kosa people?
Lian asked about such things without hesitation. No one said, "We can win." They only gave answers like "I don't know" or "Who knows." It was natural. They probably really didn't know.
Most likely, no one knew.
This lack of transparency regarding the future would eventually be shared by the group, quickly grow into anxiety, and might produce a great swell in the tide of the times.
He caught one big fish. A middle-aged fortification engineer from the South. He was apparently one of the supervisors for the fortification increase plan in Eastern Siddim.
Lian immediately became acquainted with him and invited him for drinks. Once he was moderately drunk, the Southerner sent him a meaningful look.
Lian ended up embracing this man naked inside a stable.
He had no hobby of sleeping with men, but if this man with copper-colored skin treated Lian as a partner in pederasty, then Lian was a practitioner of pederasty. Since it wasn't his first time, he satisfied the man to his heart's content.
"Thanks to you, a splendid group of fortresses will be built in the East,"
Lian said after everything was finished.
He spoke in Enagamo, a language used as a common tongue by the people of the South and East.
"Yeah. It looks like it'll be a good one."
"Is everything all right?"
"There are no problems. Though the layout is a bit strange."
The engineer said this and reached out a hairy hand.
The next day, Lian bid farewell to the performers and left the troupe. He toured the East alone and marked the positions of the new forts on a map.
—The layout is a bit strange.
The copper-skinned engineer had said that. If he put the layout of the castles on a map, he might understand something.
While traveling, he noticed that the feelings of the Eastern people toward the West were not good. It was purely atmospheric; there was no intensity that would split the country into East and West. The exception was the Thora family. The hatred toward the Thora family was deep. This seemed to be rooted throughout the entire East.
Lian folded the map small, hid it in his underwear, and returned to Malfa City. Field inspection was sufficient. It was time to close in on the core.
As soon as he returned, it began to snow. It seemed winter had finally settled in the North.
Lian was familiar with Malfa City. He had many acquaintances.
First, he visited Svenna's shop. It was located on a street lined with stores dealing in luxury goods for nobles. Lian was led to a room that seemed to be a reception area.
Eventually, Svenna arrived.
"Oh my, Itachi-chan. You were alive?"
When they first met, Svenna had been a voluptuous older woman. She had aged, as expected. Now she was an old woman.
They embraced, rejoicing at the reunion. She was a woman who knew Lian from when he was foolish and arrogant. He was happy just that she was alive. He felt a deep emotion just that she had become an old person. Svenna had grown quite fat, but she seemed energetic.
"To think you've become the mistress of such a splendid shop, Big Sister. One cannot know the will of the Tenshu-sama."
"God doesn't actually dislike clever women that much."
Lian sat in an armchair and placed a small pouch containing gold coins on the table.
Svenna tucked the pouch into her bosom as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She had been a brazen woman since long ago, but this also meant she would accept any job.
Svenna was an employment agent. She dispatched servants, cooks, gardeners, and the like to the mansions of Malfa City. Depending on the case, she could even find technicians, intellectuals, or psychics. Her business was to divert surplus human resources to where they were lacking.
They did not pretend to chat about recent events. Regardless of Svenna, Lian could not tell the truth no matter what he was asked.
"I want to do a break-in."
Though tasteless, he got straight to the point.
"Four skilled people from this city. One who can handle rough work. One woman who can seduce a man. As for the remaining two, I want people who can do a bit of everything. If one of them has the skill of lockpicking, that would be perfect."
"Where are you breaking into?"
"I can't say where yet. But think of it as a noble's mansion."
"Noble houses always call trusted people from their home provinces to make them servants. Employment agents aren't welcome."
"That's why I want a woman who can seduce the middleman."
"How will you hook them?"
"Well, probably a gambling den."
"Servants these days are cautious. The only ones who'd fall for that are from the deep countryside—"
"I don't want you prying."
Old woman Svenna thought for a while. "Itachi-chan, what about lodging?"
"Not decided."
"Then stay here. I'll gather the best ones by the day after tomorrow."
It had been worth trusting old woman Svenna.
Two days later, Lian was introduced to four villains. Two middle-aged men, one youth, and one woman.
He rented a house on a poor street in the lower town. It was a district where no one cared if suspicious people came and went.
There, Lian revealed the name of the target.
Marquis Kraff, Laiel Gilmond.
The goal was to sneak Lian into Marquis Kraff's mansion.
He repeated question-and-answer sessions with the villains. Judging by the appropriateness of their questions, they seemed like reliable fellows.
About ten days after they began the preliminary stakeout.
"Itachi-san, some strange fellows are coming and going from Iron Helmet's place."
A youth named Jeri reported. He was a talent from the slums of Malfa City who had seriously dedicated himself to evil since childhood.
Iron Helmet was the nickname given to Marquis Gilmond.
"What kind of people?" Lian asked.
"Brats. They come often. One of their companions frequently sneaks into the detached palace. Those guys are kind of weird."
The identity of the boys coming and going from Marquis Kraff's mansion was nothing more than Marquis Kraff's grandchildren.
Old man Gilmond was apparently bedridden with illness. The grandchildren were coming to visit him.
—I wonder if the amount of inheritance differs.
Lian Belghiyo thought with interest.
—Laiel Gilmond's lifespan is not long.
The one who brought this information was one of the companions, Karla. A beauty with jet-black hair whose age was unclear. She was always sighing.
"Itachi-san, I... slept with Tsugumi,"
when Karla said this, Lian was surprised by her efficiency.
Tsugumi was a manservant working at Marquis Kraff's mansion. The nickname Tsugumi was given by Lian. Thirty-two years old, with a wife and children.
Since it was Karla's role to seduce him, sleeping with him was fine. However, he wished she had followed a bit more of a procedure. If it was as easy as with a prostitute, he might be suspected.
"How was it?" Lian asked.
"He is quite a lovely gentleman."
Ordinary manservants live in sheds in the corners of the mansion grounds. Tsugumi lived in a rented house outside the city walls with his family. Tsugumi was a manservant permitted to commute.
It could be assumed that he held the master's deep trust.
Without moving his honest-looking thick eyebrows, he came to the mansion every morning. However, this man did not go straight home on his way back. He had a bad habit. He loved gambling.
"If you're too easy, men lose interest,"
Lian said, and the woman sighed, shaking her wet-looking black hair. She looked up at Lian resentfully.
"That's cruel. We met in a fateful way, things heated up... and then we looked into each other's eyes, and it led to that... that's all."
"I get it. Then I have no complaint. You're okay, right?"
"I'm always fast up to this point. But from here, it takes time for me..."
"You're sure you're okay?"
"I don't know. I'll stay away from Tsugumi for four or five days and think about it."
Karla said whatever she pleased and truly did not show her face for five days.
On the sixth day, she came to the hideout and,
"Yesterday, I ended up sleeping with Tsugumi again..."
she reported with a voluptuous sigh.
The one monitoring the manservant was Jeri. According to Jeri, Tsugumi had been touring taverns since yesterday evening. He had apparently been searching for Karla.
He probably couldn't forget Karla's body, Jeri said.
—That lady trapped him well.
Lian received such a report.
"Seems you've made Tsugumi obsessed with you."
"I hope so..."
"Did you manage to hear anything?"
—About Iron Helmet.
Karla began to speak.
In a room on the second floor of a tavern, inside the bedchamber.
After finishing their business, the two had apparently talked about Laiel Gilmond. Old man Gilmond's illness was critical. His aged body was only wasting away, and recovery was hopeless.
"Is that true?"
Karla nodded.
"Tsugumi says that man is seeking comfort. I stroked his hair and listened to his complaints. Then, he talked about Iron Helmet... haah."
"I see," Lian thought, crossing his arms. "It'll be a problem if he dies. Seems we should hurry."
Karla replied with a troubled sigh.
Karla would likely melt that honest-looking manservant and make him spineless with her graceful techniques. When the time was right, she would guide the manservant to a new gambling den. At that gambling den, Lian's companion, the con artist Pan, would be waiting.
At first, he would win big. That was the plan.
Gradually he would start losing and incur a small debt. That debt would instantly swell into a massive liability, weighing down on the manservant's shoulders.
One of the companions, Darzek, was scheduled to disguise himself as a fierce debt collector. Darzek would corner Tsugumi. He would stalk him and keep shouting at him day after day. Tsugumi's spirit would shrink in terror, and he would become unable to make normal judgments. If threatened using his family as leverage, he would become a puppet who did whatever he was told.
The problem was Laiel Gilmond. It wouldn't be strange if he dropped dead tomorrow.
And the brats—old man Gilmond's grandchildren—were also a concern. They might be moving under Iron Helmet's orders.
Jeri, Karla, Pan, and Darzek all had roles. It seemed Lian would have to deal with the brats himself.