One of the young soldiers noticed Erica and Grace walking through the garden and whistled at them, teasing. Erica, apparently an acquaintance, stuck her tongue out mockingly in return. It roused a laugh out of the group.
But Gilthunder alone, straight-faced, turned his gaze elsewhere.
When Grace absently followed his line of sight, she was surprised by what she found.
Gilthunder was looking at the tower built into the west wing of the castle, all the way across the garden.
Grace could see a figure in the tower’s small window. Princess Margaret…
Her long platinum-blond hair was unmistakable even from far away. She was wearing the dark blue dress that Grace had helped her into that morning.
The princess was staring straight back at Gilthunder. Her expression was unreadable from the garden, but there was no mistaking that she was looking this way.
A crow on the castle wall cawed hoarsely. As if the call had reproached him, Gilthunder broke his gaze away from Margaret.
Grace hastily averted her eyes as well.
“Hmm? Something the matter?”
“No, it’s nothing.”
When Erica cocked her head, Grace just smiled reassuringly. She felt like she shouldn’t share what she’d just seen.
The pair continued out the castle’s west gate and down into the surrounding town.
“What will you do for the Summer Solstice Festival? Are you working?” Erica asked as they walked along the brick road.
The summer solstice was next week, on the 22nd of the month. Various festivities were held around the castle town to enjoy the longest day of the year, starting on the 21st and lasting for three days.
“No,” replied Grace, “they let me excuse myself from duty starting the afternoon of the solstice. My older sister, who moved to Vaizel when she married, is coming home to visit and bringing her child, so I’d like to go see a play with her.”
“Wow, sounds nice. I took the day off, too! Oh, look, they’ve already set up some of the stalls.”
Just as Erica said, decorating and preparations for the festival had already begun. Liones Kingdom banners hung from the eaves of the stores along the main road. Some shopkeepers had set up tables in front of their stores, where they were selling special sweets and clothes and odds and ends that people would need while preparing for the festival.
“ ‘In celebration of Princess Elizabeth’s birthday,’ it says.”
In front of a confectionery shop, a stand adorned with a portrait of Princess Elizabeth was selling bags of candy. The 12th of that month had been the third princess’ birthday. Representing her age, this year the little bags held nine pieces each.
“It used to be that starting from Princess Elizabeth’s birthday, lasting through the solstice, and on until Princess Margaret’s the next month, a stream of visitors would come to the castle; it was very lively. But that stopped two years ago like everything else.” Erica let out a long, disappointed sigh. “These days the talk at the castle is all wretched and nothing bright. Ghosts popping up and such.”
“What?!” Grace inadvertently shouted. Erica shushed her.
“You haven’t heard? They say Princess Margaret is being haunted by some sort of ghost.”
“What—why…?”
“Well, in the past, the lady’s maid on duty in the morning would open Princess Margaret’s bedroom door and wake her up. I mean, I had one of the lowest positions, so I was never assigned, but…”
“Is that so?”
“Mm-hm. Back then, someone of your position wouldn’t have even been allowed in her dressing room. But that’s no longer the case, since there aren’t as many lady’s maids now.”
“…”
“Anyway, two years ago, Princess Margaret suddenly started disliking it when attendants came into her room—even to clean. Now Agatha the head housekeeper does the cleaning alone, and only on days the princess specifies.”
Now that Grace thought about it, that was true. A job like that, especially, should have come around to a low-ranking attendant like herself, but it never did.
“People say they’ve heard the princess sobbing in her room in the middle of the night, or that they’ve sensed the presence of some sort of big creature. Some of the more fainthearted attendants quit because of it. If the princess were her old self, she surely would have kept them from leaving. But even when Clara, who had been in her service for quite some time, said she was resigning, the princess just said, ‘I see,’ and let her go.”
“But…what would want to haunt Princess Margaret?”
“That, I don’t know. It’s just a rumor, after all. I’ve never seen the thing.” Erica cackled. She herself didn’t seem to believe it. Grace was slightly taken aback.
“You’re fond of stories like that, aren’t you, Miss Erica.”
Erica didn’t seem to mind the comment at all, even coming from her junior. “I love ’em! I mean, stuff like this is what makes working at the castle so fun!”
Something in the distance caught her eye and she pointed. “Oh, look! The minstrel is here! He’s sort of good-looking, isn’t he?”
A cluster of about a dozen people had gathered in the small square up ahead. In their center, a young man sat on a curb, strumming a lute.
“Ah, it seems more young ladies have come by. In that case, I think it’s time for a love song.”
The minstrel spotted Grace and Erica immediately as they joined the little crowd, and sent them a playful wink. Erica squealed and waved.
“You’re too kind, miss. Now then…let’s see…” he said while nimbly tuning the strings of his lute. “I found this poem handwritten into a book I purchased here in the capital of Liones, when I was passing through for the Summer Solstice Festival last year. I don’t know who wrote it or where it’s from, but for some reason it touched my heart, and I decided to give it a melody. If by some chance any of you fine citizens know who wrote it, I would be much obliged if you could tell me. Now then…”
And with that, he started to sing.
A clear, resonant tenor flowed from his perfect lips. “ ‘The beach suspended in moonlight is like your pale white arms. Coming in and out of sight in the dark waves, revealing the truth’…”
The beach suspended in moonlight is like your pale white arms
Coming in and out of sight in the dark waves, revealing the truth
The shadow of the mountains reflected in the lake is like your noble profile
It wavers in the light and wind; I stretch out my arms but I cannot reach
This lone old palace on its tiny island feels like a stone cell that holds me bound
My body is cursed and torn apart by the fates of the day and the night
It stands here still as stone, it sighs
Oh, that I might be allowed just to sing about you here
Though my hands might never touch you and my voice you never hear
Because standing here remembering you and singing your praises
Is the only thing that I can do
“How dreamy…” Erica said, spellbound. The rest of the women in the crowd looked charmed as well, all listening with rapt attention.
Grace, too, had closed her eyes and was lost in his voice.
But for some reason, what appeared in her mind was the scene that she had witnessed earlier.
The princess and her beautiful knight, separated by a hundred feet, gazing at each other for just a moment.
They had been close childhood friends—perhaps even engaged to be married. What in heaven could have come between them?
It was hard for Grace to believe that they had simply had a falling-out.
Surely, there’s some reason. As a lady’s maid, she was of course not permitted to pry into her mistress’ private affairs. She had been strictly told so when she started service at the castle.
But there must be something—something she could do.
Listening to the minstrel sing his love song, Grace sunk de
ep down in thought.
3
That morning, Margaret woke with tears on her cheeks again.
But it hadn’t been a bad dream. This one had been wonderfully happy.
A dream of the past—she hadn’t known anything back then.
On my honor as a knight, I’ll protect you as long as I live, her kind childhood friend had sworn.
A dream about several years ago, when she childishly believed that her days would continue forever just as they were.
“Gilthunder…” She couldn’t resist whispering his name.
When she did, she felt that big presence next to her bed rear its head.
“Oh, shush! Go away! I know!” Was she not even allowed to whisper his name in private? Margaret bit her lip and sat up.
She doubted the monster had any volition or intelligence of its own.
It was just reacting to certain words and people.
Margaret and Gilthunder. The two who knew the secret weren’t allowed to seek help from anyone, or comfort each other, or even take their own lives. But this monster wasn’t the one who had decided thus—that woman had.
The secret:
That the Seven Deadly Sins hadn’t been the ones who killed Zaratras.
They had simply been caught in a trap and wrongfully accused.
And the real murderers were none other than the two who were currently sharing the role of Captain of the Holy Knights.
But even so, there was nothing that Margaret could do.
She took a deep breath, put on her shawl, and, as usual, opened her bedroom door herself, acting as if nothing was wrong.
“Good morning.”
“Good morning, Princess Margaret.” It was Grace who stood up from the sofa and bowed her head.
“Hmm? Wasn’t Erica on duty today?”
“Yes, she was, but…I asked her to switch.”
“Oh? Why?”
Grace smiled vaguely and didn’t answer. But once Margaret had sat down in front of the mirror, the lady’s maid reminded hesitantly, “It’s almost time for the festival.”
The Summer Solstice Festival was three days away.
“Mm-hm.”
“I heard that Princess Veronica and the others are going with their escorts. Won’t you attend too, Princess Margaret?”
“Mmm—I’m not a fan of crowds, so…” Margaret said with a laugh.
Grace’s face fell, but she was determined. “Perhaps…would you go with Lord Gilthunder?”
Margaret’s breath caught at the sudden mention of Gilthunder’s name. She froze, trying to detect that presence. “…Why would I?”
“Er, I heard from Erica that you used to be close.”
“That was back when we were children.” She was trying with all her might to keep her voice from shaking. She couldn’t feel the monster’s presence. It probably didn’t respond to her lady’s maid’s voice.
“I haven’t even spoken to him in a very long time,” Margaret said, keeping her eyes downcast.
Grace opened her mouth, but closed it after a moment without speaking. Instead, she pulled a little folded-up piece of paper from her maid’s uniform.
“Um, here.”
“…What is it?”
Grace gently closed Margaret’s hand around the paper. “A minstrel was in town for the solstice festival, and this is a song he sang. It was so lovely I had to write it down. Your Highness, if you don’t mind, I think you should read it too.”
Margaret opened up the note with her pale fingers to reveal hastily scribbled lyrics.
It was a love poem that a man had addressed to the woman who held his heart.
“ ‘The beach suspended in moonlight is like your pale white arms. Coming in and out of sight in the dark waves, revealing the truth’…”
Tears welled in Margaret’s eyes as she absorbed the words.
—This lone old palace on its tiny island feels like a stone cell that holds me bound…
When she read that verse, a particular landscape came to her mind.
Stony mountains, their peaks wrapped in perpetual snow. A lake reflecting them on its calm surface.
An old castle stood on a small island in the middle of the lake, across from a white beach.
Our royal villa in the north…
Years ago, back when Margaret’s mother was still alive, they had all gone there on holiday.
Her little sister Veronica had been two or three; her youngest sister, Elizabeth, an infant.
Zaratras and his brother Dreyfus had both come with their families as well.
I played with Gilthunder in that castle’s garden and on the beach…
Could the image in this poem be about that same castle?
Or was it just some other, similar place?
Margaret bowed her head and pressed the piece of paper to her heart. Tears drip-dropped onto her knees.
Oh, that I might be allowed just to sing about you here
Though my hands might never touch you and my voice you never hear
Because standing here remembering you and singing your praises
Is the only thing that I can do
Grace handed her a handkerchief and opened her mouth, carefully picking her words. “I hope I’m not being impertinent, but I just wanted to say…there are ways to let him know how you feel, even without meeting in person. Though it’s not my place to meddle.” She bowed her head apologetically.
Margaret slowly shook her head. “Not at all…Thank you. Really.”
Grace is right, Margaret thought.
She had felt as though she and Gilthunder were little birds trapped in two separate, invisible cages.
They would gaze at each other from far away, meeting each other’s eyes only for brief moments.
They would hold still and listen whenever they heard the other’s voice drifting over from somewhere, making sure to keep out of sight.
And that was all they could hope for. All they were allowed to hope for.
Surely, as long as they kept up their act, that woman would think they had drifted apart.
Margaret had already started to resign herself, little by little, to such a fate. She realized that.
But—maybe there is a way to show him that my feelings haven’t changed.
Surely there was. And without being noticed by that woman—or the two Captains of the Holy Knights.
“Thank you so much, Grace,” Margaret said, taking hold of her attendant’s hand and raising it to her forehead in gratitude.
“You’re welcome, but…Please let go of my hand!”
Grace repeated herself several times, embarrassed, but Margaret did not let go.
Chapter Two
The Boy and His Spear
—from King
At dusk, the Black Cat’s Yawn was bustling with people taking an early supper.
“Your order, sir!”
A plump, middle-aged woman—she looked like she must be the proprietress—set down a plate on one of the outdoor tables. It was laden with the tavern’s specialty: white fish filet boiled with vegetables and topped with melted cheese.
“Thanks.”
A pair clad in knight’s armor smiled up at her. One of them was a boy with blond hair that stuck out in all directions; the other, a heavy-set adult.
“Looks delicious,” said the boy, darting his fork out to skewer the filet.
“Stop that!” said the older man. “This is my order! Wait for your pork sauté!”
“Come on, just a little. You can have some of mine.”
“Whenever you say that, Chief, you just take everything! I don’t even like pork. Anyway, this one is mine!” The man picked up his plate with both hands and held it above his head.
At the same time, a small black shape pranced lightly off the low brick wall between the seating area and the garden.
“Yikes!”
The shape landed for a moment on the man’s plate, then hopped nimbly to the ground.
“Augh! Hot, hot, hot!” Th
e man was so surprised he let go of his plate, spilling sauce and cheese all over his head.
“Whoa!” The boy pointed to the floor. “Hey, King, that cat got you good.”
The man, King, turned around to find a big black cat. The fish that had been on King’s plate a moment before was dangling from its mouth.
“Hey! Give that back!”
“What’re you gonna do if you get it back?” the boy said, laughing. “You can’t eat it now.”
The black cat stared up at King with a mine now look plastered on its face.
“A stray cat like this needs to get some sense beaten into it.” Furious, King stood up and advanced toward the cat, his face still covered in cheese. But the cat didn’t run. On the contrary, it suddenly turned towards him and charged.
“?!”
It happened in the blink of an eye. The cat ran up King’s legs and onto his shoulder, forcefully dug its claws into his face, and jumped back onto the wall.
“Aughhh!!” King’s scream echoed through the tavern. The other diners, who’d been watching attentively, burst into peals of laughter.
1
About a dozen people were gathered on a stretch of bare, rocky land a mile away from the royal capital of Liones Kingdom.
The majority were young Holy Knight apprentices, clad in light practice armor. They were lined up in a semi-circle observing a boy who stood in the center.
The boy must have been about thirteen or fourteen. He held a club at an angle in front of his face and stared straight ahead with a determined look in his eyes. The object of his gaze was a large boulder resting on the ground, so big that even four adults wouldn’t be able to wrap their arms around it.
The boy lowered the tip of his club down almost to the ground and a whirlwind rose up from the spot with a fwoosh.
He slowly waved his club, articulating a horizontal figure eight with the tip. The whirlwind gradually grew bigger and started to spin faster.
The Seven Deadly Sins Page 2
