Chapter 107
Under the blue sky, a variety of flags fluttered.
Today was the first day of the tournament preliminaries, the opening event of the Harvest Festival. Knights wearing clothes emblazoned with their regional or family crests gathered at arenas set up throughout the castle.
During the festival, commoners were granted free entry into the castle during the day. Families and couples, dressed in their finest, watched the preliminaries, their cheerful laughter spreading everywhere like the wind.
“Do you think the lion will win?”
“The griffin, it’s got to be the griffin!”
More than half the tournament participants were from other regions. The people of Penmewick didn’t know the names of the knights competing in the preliminaries, but they distinguished them by the crests on their backs or chests. They made their own predictions about who would win, sometimes cheering with genuine enthusiasm.
Nerys made her rounds through the castle at a slow pace, staying alert for any trouble. Lower-ranking officials constantly ran to her with reports of unexpected incidents before dashing off again.
“Advisor, the center of arena six is too worn out. We’ll need to move the matches elsewhere while it’s being repaired.”
“Understood. If I recall, arenas two and seven finished their matches early and should be available. Move it there.”
“Advisor, Lord Fairbrunt, today’s winner, was injured and says he can’t compete in the next match. He believes he’ll be able to participate if his match is delayed as much as possible. What should we do?”
“Accommodate him if you can. Lord Fairbrunt spent three weeks in a carriage just to get here. It’d be a shame if he won the first round but couldn’t compete in the next.”
There were well over a hundred participants just on the first day of preliminaries. Naturally, incidents were frequent.
‘Still, nothing major.’
At least there hadn’t been any serious crimes or harm to spectators. Attempts to bribe were already common and continued even now.
‘They’re offering bribes as if it’s the most natural thing. That erodes trust in merit.’
That sort of thing never happened in the central region. If someone tried to give or accept a bribe in the center, they’d risk not only their position but their life.
But those not used to the center behaved differently. Vassal lords who’d come up for the festival, or minor knights participating in the tournament, tried to slip coins to everyone they saw, starting with the attendants who served them.
There was no way things could proceed by the book, and they seemed convinced they’d lose to those who gave bribes unless they offered some themselves.
Was the whole of Maindulante like this before Cledwyn took the throne? Did the central region only change because he personally kept an eye on it?
If so, the reason he held the tournament became clear. To publicize fair standards, strict justice, and the need to resolve conflicts openly according to the rules—even for participants who’d come from all over the Grand Duchy, this was the perfect event.
Balls naturally centered around the nobility, especially those of high rank, and only lords could submit apples for the competition. But the tournament allowed even lower nobility to participate freely, and the people could watch their battles. How many advantages did that have?
Nerys became lost in thought. Walking under the clear autumn sky, her figure drew the eye even beyond the , [Jeweled Eyes].
The simple dress she wore to indicate her official status was plain and dark, with little ornamentation. Yet, her graceful gait made her stand out among the bright evening dresses, like a flower petal.
Those she passed by stared without realizing it. The townspeople from the lower part of the castle, especially, found the southern lady and new advisor they’d heard so many rumors about utterly fascinating.
It wasn’t a hostile gaze. The chaotic rumors that had spread when she first arrived had long since vanished.
These days, the good rumors drew far more attention—everything from speculation that she was a direct descendant of the Hero, to assumptions that she must have held high rank even in the south, to specific praise that circulated among both castle officials and vassal lords.
Whatever the case, she was the center of conversation, and the townspeople watched her as if they were seeing a character from legend.
“Advisor! Advisooor!”
Someone pushed through the crowd, calling for Nerys. Worried that something had happened, Nerys frowned as she turned toward the voice.
It was an unfamiliar face, but she knew who he was—she’d memorized the basic appearances of the tournament participants.
He was very short, with a large mole next to his nose, making him impossible to confuse with anyone else. He dashed over as if seizing an opportunity to be recognized.
Nerys was aware that he’d requested an audience with her several times already. Despite his eagerness, there were two reasons she hadn’t actually met with him yet.
First, she had far too many audience requests and too much important work to handle them all.
Second, he had a reputation for being particularly obsessed with bribing central officials.
Every participant was assigned a lower-ranking official in charge of them, so any issues Nerys needed to know about would have been relayed already. Since he was still so desperate to meet her, it seemed likely that, once caught, it would take a lot of time and effort to shake him off.
After a moment’s hesitation, Nerys pretended not to hear his voice. She subtly changed course, slipping in among the taller knights.
“Advisooor?”
The man called out plaintively as he searched around. Nerys also glanced around, looking for somewhere to hide.
Just then, someone tugged at her hand from below.
“Advisor?”
The clear, gentle voice belonged to a child. Nerys looked down and saw Giverta, holding her hand, and smiled.
“Giverta. Where are your mother and father?”
“Father’s getting ready for his match. Mother is helping him.”
Giverta’s father, Hilbrin, was one of the first to sign up for the tournament, shouting with excitement as soon as he heard it was happening.
“Are they nearby?”
“No. I’ve been to the castle a lot, so I know my way around. I snuck out to play by myself.”
“Giverta, even if you know your way around, there are too many strangers in the castle right now…”
“It’s fine. I’m smart. Advisor, you need to hide right now, right? I know a good hiding spot. Want to come with me?”
Nerys was about to brush her off, not wanting to explain her adult troubles to a child, but Giverta’s bright, clear gaze made her reconsider.
A child might not know about the Grand Duke of Maindulante’s administrative policies or bribery, but she could see right through adult intentions. In that case, it might be better to just accept help quickly rather than waste time trying to make excuses.
“Will you help me?”
When Nerys whispered, Giverta flashed a clever grin.
“Let’s go!”
The girl interlocked her fingers tightly with Nerys’s hand, then started to run off somewhere.
The wind brushed past. Nerys followed the small back, weaving through the crowds, passing through narrow alleys and dark corners hardly ever used by adults.
They dove into a patch of tall grass.
Rustle.
“Giverta?”
Once they were hidden among grass taller than a person and thick leaves, all outside noise faded. The world turned green, and only then did Giverta release Nerys’s hand and beam.
“No one comes here.”
After all, this was the West Palace garden, and the only ones who used it were Nerys and her mother.
Now that she thought about it, it was the perfect place for children to play. Giverta, as if inviting an adventuring companion, gestured lightly to Nerys.
“If you come this way, there’s a place to sit.”
That man’s match would start soon. If she waited here a bit, she could walk around the festival again without any more interruptions.
Given her busy schedule, she should probably get back—but the child had gone out of her way to bring her here, and Nerys didn’t want to ignore that kindness. She decided to follow along for now.
‘Besides, I’d meant to visit here myself anyway.’
Shhh. The autumn breeze made the leaves rustle with a crisp, refreshing sound. The girl pressed ahead confidently, parting branches and leaves, and nimbly hopped over what looked like an old, overgrown waterway. At last, they came to a foggy glass wall.
“Here. The door’s over here.”
Giverta whispered, placing her hand on the glass and moving along it. Dozens of tall windows, taller than a person, were set in silver frames.
Nerys realized what it must be—a glass greenhouse at the far end of the West Palace garden.
“Have you come here often?”
“Yes. I found it for the first time last year. Adults never come, so you can be comfortable here too, Advisor.”
This must be the girl’s own secret place.
Nerys understood very well what it meant for a child to invite someone to their secret spot. When Giverta confidently found the greenhouse door and opened it, Nerys respectfully bent her knee at the entrance.
“Thank you.”
The girl looked extremely proud.
Little sunlight filtered through the dirty glass that had gone cloudy over the years. But glass was glass, and the inside was still bright.
It was quiet inside. Unlike outside, there were almost no plants except right along the walls. Probably rainwater couldn’t reach inside anymore.
Yet in the center, a tall, fragrant tree still stood in silent repose. And in the spot that looked best for enjoying the tree’s shade, there was a long, white bench.
Nerys narrowed her eyes as she approached the bench.
It was clearly neglected, but she could tell it was once made for a very high-ranking lady. Not something for several people, but designed for one person to recline and enjoy a nap in comfort.
Since it was in the West Palace greenhouse, it had probably belonged to the late Grand Duchess. If it were older, it would have looked even more worn.
‘Why did they leave it like this?’
Had there just not been enough staff to take care of the West Palace garden? But even when she’d said she could provide more, Cledwyn had told her it wasn’t necessary.
Did that mean he simply didn’t want it taken care of?
Why had the people in this castle left everything belonging to the late Grand Duchess untouched?
‘As if…’
As if it was something they absolutely couldn’t touch.
‘Or…’
As if they wished time would stand still.
Nerys didn’t really know, so maybe it was just a leap of logic. She knew very well there had always been a shortage of people to handle all the unused rooms and spaces in the castle.
Still, to her, this place—and the West Palace parlor she’d seen before—felt oddly strange.
Let alone the late Grand Duchess’s bedroom, which had been bound in chains.
‘Should I ask Ellen?’
But… Nerys hesitated. She was not used to prying into others’ hearts. She didn’t know how to ask about someone’s circumstances without causing pain.
In her previous life, she’d drawn people in thanks largely to her , [Jeweled Eyes]. But she couldn’t use them on Cledwyn just to ask why he hadn’t cared for the greenhouse, could she?
There was something else strange in the greenhouse. Near the bench were several things that looked like children’s toys, all dirty, as if they’d been covered in soil.
When Nerys’s gaze fell on the toys, Giverta puffed out her chest and announced,
“I dug these up!”
Dug them up?
“Where?”
“Out there.”
Giverta pointed just outside the greenhouse. It seemed someone had buried toys near here, and she’d dug them up.
“How did you know to dig there?”
“It looked like a grave, like this—like this—so I tried digging and found them. Advisor, you can play with them sometimes too. You live here, right?”
She held out her hands to show a rough estimate, about the size of an adult’s head. The toys were hers, since she’d found them, but she was generous enough to lend them.
‘No wonder they’re so dirty.’
Nerys picked up a small wooden toy sword. And on the handle, she found an initial carved there.
The letter C.
