“Ha-ha-ha! Did you see that? How I pretended to snivel and cry in order to win my opponent’s sympathy and buy myself enough time for Ferris to heal me? Just another of my fearsomely clever calculations…!”
“Your knees don’t agree, Your Highness,” Ferris pointed out. Despite the smile Fourier had carefully arranged on his face, his knees were shaking. It only served to highlight how refined and gallant Crusch looked in comparison. She had taken off her jacket, revealing her slender frame. She held her weapon at the ready and stood so straight she could have been mistaken for a sword herself.
“Now, compare that to His Highness…”
“I can hear you, Ferris! Save your praises of me until the battle is over!”
“You know what I love about you, Your Highness? Your irrepressible optimism.”
Fourier turned his back on Ferris’s gentle jibe, closing the distance to Crusch in a rush. In that moment, he seemed to forget that his opponent was also the woman he loved. But she turned aside his blow, and his own momentum sent him tumbling through the grass once again. Pain followed a moment later, causing him to cough violently as he tried to stand up.
There was a tremendous difference in their abilities, but it wasn’t Fourier’s fault. Ferris was somewhat biased in his evaluation, but Fourier was far more skilled then the average noble dilettante of his age. His desire to defeat Crusch, combined with many years of these duels, had turned him from a coddled princeling into a man who could hold his own with a blade. That he still couldn’t best Crusch spoke to her talent and how hard she had worked.
“Do you wish to continue, my lord? I fear my father’s heart might break if I beat you any harder.”
“Of course I shall continue! You take me too lightly, Crusch! And I don’t think Meckart’s heart is as fragile as you suggest, either. Come at me with all you’ve got!”
True to form, his declaration was asking a little much.
This battle was taking place out in the center garden, and servants with nothing else to do were spectating. There was someone else there as well, someone looking rather ill at the sight of the entire spectacle: Meckart himself. He came out every time this happened, even though the stress of it was enough to make his cheeks sunken. Well, he doesn’t have to watch.
“Oh, why are they so much more serious than usual?” Meckart fretted. “But if His Highness were to win…”
Meckart grimaced from the pain in his stomach, torn between what he hoped for as a father and what he wished as a duke. At that moment, Ferris knew all too well what Meckart was feeling.
I don’t even know if I want Crusch to win or lose right now!
“Yaaah! Crusch, wear a dreeeesssss!” It might be too generous to call this a battle cry, but with those words Fourier rushed in again, and again he was beaten. When she saw Fourier rise again after being folded double, Crusch narrowed her eyes.
“Your Highness seems less inclined than usual to concede. What is driving you?”
“You, of course! You make me this way… No, at the heart of the matter, I make me this way! I have foisted this on you, so now I must play my part!”
“…Your Highness?”
Fourier, his handsome face smeared with dirt and sweat, shook his head. “I shall not forget how foolish I was those five years ago, how little I knew my place. Not knowing my strength, I bound you to an impulsive promise. I made you swear that so long as I failed to best you with the sword, you would wear no women’s clothes but dress as a man—I know now what a cruel act that was.”
Making this confession seemed to pain him greatly, but of course he was wrong about the five years. It was six. But Fourier’s words referred to the promise they had made on that day Ferris remembered so well…
“Do you remember your fifteenth birthday, two years ago?” Fourier asked. “You had grown up so beautifully. In full regalia that night, I know you would have been more stunning than any flower. Yet you kept your promise. I shall never forget the sight of a young maiden walking under the moonlight in military dress. You were impossibly handsome…but that was a feeling inspired by the sword at your side. It is not a feeling I want to receive from a young woman who should outdo the blossoms in beauty!”
Crusch was silent.
“That night, I realized what my thoughtlessness had wrought. It was I, and I alone, who stole the joy of being resplendently dressed from a young woman and forced her to hide herself during what should have been her most glorious moment! I must take responsibility for that!”
In all the time they had known each other, Ferris had never seen Fourier like this. The immense emotion that burned in his scarlet eyes touched something in Ferris’s chest, made his throat tight. The audience, too, from Meckart to the servants, was at a loss for words. They knew now why Fourier fought these battles and heard him express what he’d never been able to express before.
But he was wrong. Mistaken. His resolve was tremendous, but it was misplaced.
The promise he and Crusch had made was real enough. When, six years before, Crusch had declared that she would wear only men’s clothing for the rest of her life, Fourier had responded that he would allow her to do so just until he defeated her in a sword duel. The pretext that she was keeping her promise to the prince was the reason Meckart had not been able to object more strongly.
Fourier had been nursing regret about it all this time. Somewhere along the line, he had begun to believe that Crusch didn’t want to wear men’s clothes but was doing so because of the promise they had made. And, with a combination of honesty and foolishness, he felt responsible.
“I’m a fool…”
Watching Fourier from behind as he raised his sword, Ferris unconsciously put a hand to his mouth. He had always taken Fourier’s improvement in combat to be a result of repeated duels and simple tenacity. But there was more. All this time, he had been motivated by regret for his own outburst.
He’s been fighting to let the woman he loves, the woman he bound with a promise, be a woman.
“Crusch! Love flowers! Appreciate poetry! Put on makeup, wear dresses and jewelry, and let me see that innocent smile! You don’t have to repress yourself anymore! I permit it! Here, today, I will make right my foolishness and allow you to be a true woman!”
“Y-Your Highness…?”
It may have been a misunderstanding, but Fourier was ready to make good on it. He charged at Crusch.
The hard sound echoed through the garden, and Crusch was clearly shaken by the impact.
“Your Highness!”
“Prince Fourier!”
“Your Highness, help our lady!”
These were cries from the servants, many of them red-eyed and with a tremble in their voices. They had known Crusch since she was young, and they wanted to encourage the prince in his resolve. Fourier pressed his attack, and Crusch looked more shaken still.
His sword rose and fell in an arc; Crusch was completely occupied with defending. For a battle against her to be so one-sided was unprecedented. That was simply how impassioned Fourier’s blows were. His attack was, in its way, his suit to Crusch’s heart. His clear dedication may have sprung from a misunderstanding, but it touched many people present.
“—I shall entrust this to His Highness,” Meckart murmured. When had he come up beside Ferris?
The cat-boy looked up at him, and Meckart nodded. Ferris knew immediately what it meant. He joined his hands in front of his chest as if in prayer and waited to see how the battle would turn out.
“A dress! Makeup! And jewelry! Flowers and cooking!”
“—ngh.”
“Crusch! Kneel before meeeee!” The wooden swords groaned with the force of his blow, splinters flying from the blades. Both weapons were at their limits. But the fight would be decided by which of the participants gave out first.
Fourier bellowed as he pushed Crusch back step by step, blow by blow. His lovely face was red. What did Crusch see when she looked at his gallant form bearing down on her? Perhaps she sa
w herself in his scarlet eyes, a woman being pressed to do her utmost.
“…Ah.”
As she found herself pushed up against a wall, Crusch cast her amber eyes on Ferris. They looked at each other, and it seemed to him like she was asking for something, but he didn’t know what.
“Lady…Crusch…” Fat tears rolled from his round eyes and down his cheeks.
The next moment, there was a crack as the wooden sword finally gave way, and part of the broken blade skittered across the ground. The one blade that remained more or less intact was pointed at the chest of the loser.
“…All that, and still I cannot outdo you.”
Fourier spoke with strained breath, still holding what was left of the hilt of his sword. He looked at the ground, his shoulders trembling. He might have been crying.
A sigh. Disappointed, but not despairing. But everyone’s shoulders slumped as they realized he had not prevailed.
But then—
“No, Your Highness. I’ve lost.”
Crusch shook her head gently. The sword in her hand was broken down the middle as well. She tossed the useless blade to the ground.
“You still hold your blade, Your Highness, while I have cast mine aside. The victor should be clear…indeed, has been clear since your battle cry shook my spirit—I have lost this contest.”
“—”
Fourier was absolutely silent. Crusch knelt down, ignoring the dirt that got on her, and placed her hands on the ground. The gesture was that of offering a sword—it was one of utmost respect and loyalty.
“You have indeed fulfilled your former promise. I, Crusch Karsten, have met Your Highness Fourier Lugunica in combat with the sword and have been bested. I shall put on women’s clothing, then.”
“Er…ahem. Will you, now? I…I see.” Fourier’s response to Crusch’s solemn words was halting and unsteady. He nodded once, and then his tall frame began to lean backward, until finally he fell spread-eagle on the ground.
“Your Highness?! Oh no! Felix, tend to His Highness!”
Ferris was rushing over to Fourier long before the astonished Meckart ordered him to do so. He slid his knees under the head of the collapsed young man, supporting the prince’s body weight as he used his healing magic.
“Your Highness, Your Highness! Stay with me—! Your Highness!”
“Heh-heh! Did you see it, Ferris? Did you see my…great…victory…?”
Healing magic would cure his wounds, but it wouldn’t restore the strength he had lost. Fourier had spent every ounce of his endurance, and now the familiar easygoing smile came over his face just before he slipped into a deep sleep. Ferris was amazed to hear the calm, even rhythm of Fourier’s breathing.
“Ferris.”
“Oh, uh, yes, Lady Crusch. Um, Ferri, I mean—What can Ferri say…?”
“I’m sorry for being so selfish.” Crusch smiled gently as she watched Ferris tend to the unconscious prince. As her words sunk in, the tears started streaming down Ferris’s cheeks again. He looked up, wiping furiously at his eyes.
“I…I’m the one who hasn’t been fair to you…! Lady Crusch, you… You and Prince Fourier are always rescuing me…”
“Are we? Then you’ve amply returned the favor. Your presence is a constant salvation for me. And I am only just now realizing that the prince saved me as well. I suppose it goes to show how ill-bred I really am.”
“Ill-bred…? Lady Crusch, no…! You’re wonderful…!”
“All the more reason I must strive to live up to your and His Highness’s estimation of me.”
Ferris continued sniffling, not quite able to speak. Crusch patted his head lovingly as she stood. Then she went over to Meckart, who watched agape.
What she said to him, Ferris didn’t know. He couldn’t hear over Fourier’s snores and his own weeping.
6
“I did all the work to make this possible—and yet I don’t get to see Crusch in her dress until the party? Most unorthodox!”
“Well, you know. Lady Crusch has a lot to deal with. She has to get ready mentally and physically. Plus, it’s not easy to find the exact perfect dress for Lady Crusch!”
“I know you’ll do everything you can for her, Ferris. Very heartening!”
Ferris gave a dark smile. Across from him, Fourier laughed easily. They were in Ferris’s personal chambers at the Karsten mansion. His Highness had shown up there as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Ferris had personally made tea and was now entertaining the prince. Perhaps he ought to have been a touch more intimidated—but neither Ferris nor the prince seemed to be holding back. They were old friends, if it was not too audacious to consider oneself as an old friend to royalty.
“The two weeks since that battle have been truly vexing. By the time I woke up, I was already in a dragon carriage on the way home. Being sent away before I even got to speak to Crusch? I have never before been subjected to such a ploy.”
“You simply wouldn’t wake up, Your Highness, you were so tired. And besides, you could hardly stay at our meownsion for ten whole days until the party. I know your station isn’t very demanding, but surely even mew have some duties to attend to?”
“Indeed, I am in great demand! But one thing worries me. I recall subduing Crusch with my sword, and then comforting her as she wept, but…”
“…Guess we’ll see where this goes…”
Events seemed to have become rather more dramatic in Fourier’s imagination, but Ferris was not going to correct him. After all, it had probably been Ferris’s own weeping that had inspired this flight of fancy.
“Though thrilled to have accomplished my goal, I collapsed from fatigue, and what happened after that, I know not. What became of Crusch? Did she say anything about me?”
“She lay in bed, her pillow soaked with tears of regret over her loss to you. She might have said something about murdering you in your sleep…”
“Ha-ha-ha! An amusing diversion. But I know you’re joking. Crusch would never say such a thing. She would certainly challenge me face-to-face. A simple matter, to see through your little japes… You are joking, aren’t you?”
“If you’re going to act that confident, at least stay confident until you’re finished. It was a joke, though.” He could never deceive someone who had known Crusch even longer than he had. With a small sigh, Ferris winked at Fourier, who wouldn’t stop glancing at him for confirmation.
“Relax, Your Highness,” he said. “Lady Crusch knows she was beaten. I think she sees you in a new light, the way you overcame her through sheer determination. Although she hasn’t spoken of you once since then.”
“She’s angry—I knew it! What do you think?! Tell me what you think, Ferris!” He leaned over and shook the cat-boy emphatically.
“Eek, don’t pull on me, you’ll stretch my clothes out! I know it’s just the two of us, but—!” Ferris shoved the prince away and hugged himself, his eyes swimming. A shaken Fourier sat back, and an awkward silence descended on the room.
“I’m called here, and what do I find? Ferris, you must not tease His Highness so cruelly.” The door opened, and Crusch peeked in.
“Eeeewhooa!” Fourier let out an unusual cry and spun around. Ferris, who found this rather gratifying, waved at Crusch.
“Right on time, Lady Crusch. We were waiting for you!”
“You told me to come in without announcing myself. Was this your goal? Your Highness, I see Ferris has been most disrespectful to you. But are you so astonished to see my face?”
“No! It has nothing to do with your face! Which is beautiful as always! A picture! You should be more confident; I give you my royal guarantee, you look wonderful!”
“You are too kind, Your Highness. Though I am a touch embarrassed.”
Crusch wore a wry smile; Fourier had red cheeks. Despite their sword fight, despite the two weeks of separation, now things went on as if they had never been apart.
“Looks like Ferri’s done it again… My skill as a st
rategist is almost scary…”
“What are you muttering about over there, Ferris? And you, Crusch!” Fourier stood and pointed at his friend, who stood just inside the door. “Why do you still wear men’s clothes even now? Where’s your skirt?! Your dress?! What about our promise that you would adorn your hair with precious gems, surround yourself with flowers?”
“Your Highness, Your Highness, that promise is taking on a life of its own!” Ferris protested.
“My apologies, Your Highness. It is very true that the events of two weeks past remain firmly in my heart. But I have spent so long in men’s outfits. I hope you will give me some time to ready myself. And of course, for my birthday celebration tomorrow—I do promise.”
“Hmm… I have your word on that?”
“That depends on whether you believe I’m one to betray my promises to Your Highness.”
Fourier was left with no choice but to back down. Crusch sat easily next to Ferris, across from Fourier, who was adjusting his position on the sofa.
“You’ve very much put your heart into this, haven’t you, Your Highness?” she said. “I don’t just mean our battle. You’re staying overnight here.”
“I was just terrified I might oversleep if I stayed at the castle, so instead I couldn’t get to sleep at all! Here at the mansion, I’ll have plenty of time no matter how late I sleep. How’s that for a bit of princely wisdom?”
“Seems like overkill. Like planning to meet up with someone and then camping out there the day before,” Ferris said lightly, earning a smirk from Crusch. The bond among the three of them was such that not even a turning point like the sword battle would keep them from getting along.
“On that note, what do you plan to do for the birthday celebration, Ferris?” Fourier asked. “Going to wear a dress?”
“Oh my, Your Highness, is Lady Crusch not enough for you? Got your eye on Ferri, too? Anyway, sorry. You can look forward to finding out tomorrow.”
“A dress, yes… A dress… Say, Ferris, my father seemed more than happy with the dress you picked out, but I worry it won’t quite be appropriate for me…”
The Dream of the Lion King Page 7
