TM 09

Chapter 09…

 A Man’s Territory

“Can’t I go riding too?”

Lorelia put on a deliberately sulky expression.

“The city’s safe, isn’t it? And it’s much easier to get around on horseback than in a carriage.”

Though she complained, she wasn’t actually expecting permission. She was just envious of her father, who would soon be galloping off on his horse, wearing sleek trousers, knee-high boots, and a fluttering cloak. Truthfully, she was also feeling a little petulant.

“A carriage is far more suitable for a lady—it’s dignified,” her father said.

“That’s unfair. I can ride just as well as you can, Father.”

“That doesn’t sound very convincing.”

“If I were allowed to wear trousers, I’d ride better than my brother.”

“If Leder heard you, he’d leap out of his skin.”

“It’s not fair, Father. It’s not my fault I was born a girl.”

“Lori.”

Lancelot’s voice was almost a sigh. Lorelia knew that whenever he called her by the nickname he’d used when she was a baby, he was trying to soothe her.

“When men ride, they carry weapons,” he said. “Because no one knows when a fight might break out.”

Instead of replying, she looked at the sword hanging at his waist. The leather-sheathed blade with its silver guard was well over a meter long. She remembered how, as a child, she used to measure her height against that very sword.

“When a man rides and wields a sword, it’s to protect women,” he said.

“Not to protect their territory?”

“Women are a man’s territory. They are his wife, his home, and the mother of his children.”

He stopped for a moment after saying that, studying his daughter’s face. She was pouting, but he knew she wasn’t truly upset. His beloved youngest daughter had always been as bright and sunny as a summer sky; she’d rarely shown real anger, whether as a child or now.

“That’s why you must take care of yourself,” he said gently. “Because one day, you’ll be someone’s territory, too.”

Lancelot reached out. His calloused palm—hardened from a lifetime of wielding a sword—gently caressed her small, delicate face. Looking into her sparkling eyes, he smiled faintly.

“You’ll ride in a safe carriage, Lorelia. Fighting on horseback is your future husband’s task.”

He tapped her cheek lightly with his fingertips.

“I’ll be off, then.”

“Wait a moment, Father.”

Lorelia grabbed his arm and turned him back toward her. Then she fixed the slightly askew button of his cloak. The large button, embossed with a fox’s face, was made of silver—Lorelia’s homeland had always been rich in silver.

“Take care.”

Her father smiled and strode out, leaving Lorelia alone in his room. Lancelot had said he would tour the city of Isen with his retainers. As the largest and most advanced city on the continent, it had much to learn from.

Isen was home to many inventions. It was the first city to bury its sewers underground, eliminating filth and stench. It was also where books first began to be printed with movable type instead of copied by hand. The ideas born in Isen spread throughout the continent and became part of everyone’s daily lives.

People who longed for advanced civilization often wanted to live in Isen more than in the royal capital, Kingsburg. Northerners and central people grumbled that southerners were arrogant, but Lorelia felt their pride was well deserved.

“Young Lady?”

Alicia cautiously opened the door and came in, her eyebrows drooping as she smiled. Too bad you failed. I told you it wouldn’t work. Lorelia read the expression perfectly and puffed out her chest like a bird.

“Well, it’s not like I really expected it to work.”

She sighed deeply and gave a wry smile.

“Shall I prepare the carriage then?”

“Yes. How is Mother?”

“She’s much better than yesterday.”

“I hope she recovers quickly.”

Marilyn had come down with a slight cold after the long journey. The moment the owner of the mansion heard, he sent his personal physician. The impressive doctor diagnosed it as simple fatigue and prescribed nourishing remedies, assuring them she’d recover with a day or two of rest.

After the doctor left, the butler came by to convey his master’s concern and deliver gifts—rare fruits and flowers from the south. I’ve never seen anything like these before. The patient smiled with satisfaction, and Lorelia was touched by the man’s thoughtfulness and care.

I wonder what he’s doing right now…

“Then I’ll go have the carriage brought around. Please wait here for a bit, Young Lady.”

“All right.”

After Alicia left, Lorelia once again found herself alone. The room prepared for her father was much simpler than the mother and daughter’s quarters—a subtle accommodation to suit his tastes. Thinking of this, Lorelia recalled the butler.

Claudel Renier. He seemed so stiff from his excessive politeness, but he must actually be quite meticulous. They say the competence and honor of the subordinates reflect their lord; the butler’s attention to detail must stem from his master.

Lorelia looked around the room and stepped out onto the balcony.

This balcony faced the courtyard rather than the sea. The mansion’s main building was shaped like a horseshoe, with a large garden between its right and left wings. Lorelia leaned against the railing, gazing down at the garden.

Water gushed from a large fountain and cascaded downward. The fountain was one of Trisen’s inventions.

“Women are a man’s territory.”

Lorelia looked up at the statue of an angel atop the fountain. The marble angel, carved in gleaming white, was blowing a golden trumpet. She could almost hear its “Bwooo” ringing in her ears. The southern sunlight on her forehead was warm and soft.

Everywhere her eyes fell was beautiful: the lush greenery of the garden under the blue sky, the sparkling streams of water leaping upward, the crystal-like droplets glimmering as they fell.

Then, suddenly, Lorelia realized something. The sun wasn’t golden after all. The light flooding the courtyard was dazzling white—brilliant, radiant white, like shining platinum.

Just like his hair…

“Because one day, you’ll be someone’s territory, too.”

She tilted her face up toward the southern sun. The sunlight poured over her closed eyelids. It was hard to believe that while her homeland was preparing for winter, this place was so bright and warm.

With her eyes closed, the scents of the garden grew sharper. The smell of grass and trees. The fragrance of roses. The warm scent of sunlight.

The scent of the white sun.

I wonder what he’s doing right now. Lorelia kept thinking over and over with her eyes closed.

When they reached the bustling district, the carriage slowed down. The skilled coachman expertly guided the four horses. Clop clop went the hooves. Clatter clatter went the wheels. Listening to those cheerful sounds, Lorelia flung open the window and stuck her head out.

Had Marilyn been with her, such behavior would have been unthinkable. Lorelia felt a tiny bit guilty as she enjoyed the freedom—It’s lucky Mother caught a cold, she thought. She tilted her chin up to the sky, counted the floors of a tall building—six stories!—and gasped again at the sight of the roof tiles.

Roof tiles were usually made by firing clay, so they were always red. In every city Lorelia had visited—Mendel, where she lived; Windberg, where her sister was married; and Kingsburg, the royal capital—the roofs were red. But here, they were the most beautiful blue.

“Wow…”

She leaned out even further in awe, gripping the window frame for support and lifting her hips slightly off the seat. One by one, unique yet harmonious buildings stretched side by side.

Each solid brick building had its own blue roof. It must be a magnificent view from above, she thought, her mouth hanging open.

“Young Lady, please sit properly! It’s dangerous!” Alicia gasped beside her, but Lorelia pretended not to hear. With her head out the window, she took in the lively scenery rushing past. She pushed her windswept hair back with one hand and stretched her arms out, savoring the rushing wind. It felt almost as exhilarating as galloping on horseback. Lorelia laughed aloud, swept away by the thrilling sense of freedom.

People on the streets glanced at her. Some stared openly. A luxurious carriage carrying a beautiful young woman naturally drew attention—and when that woman was leaning halfway out the window, waving her arms like a jester, no passerby could ignore it.

As the carriage slowed at an intersection, Lorelia noticed a young boy pointing at her. She smiled brightly at him. The boy beamed back and shouted something, but she couldn’t understand the southern dialect. Although Trisen had adopted the kingdom’s common tongue as its official language, the commoners still spoke their native language.

“Ahh, it feels like I’ve had a good gallop on horseback,” she said, leaning back into the plush seat with a grin. Alicia, who had been on edge the entire ride, let out a long sigh of relief.

“That was far too dangerous. If Madam had seen you, you’d be in trouble.”

“Luckily, Mother’s back at the mansion.”

“Young Lady!”

“It’s just the two of us, Alicia. As long as you keep quiet, no one will know.”

Lorelia gave her a cheeky grin and turned back toward the open window.

The carriage bore the crest of House Ferbrante. People who recognized the golden sun emblem whispered among themselves with curious expressions. A beautiful young woman in the lord’s carriage—Lorelia drew gazes filled with admiration and respect.

Then, a mounted knight suddenly appeared, blocking the open window.

“Young Lady Hayes.”

Startled by the unfamiliar voice, Lorelia lifted her gaze. It wasn’t until she looked all the way up that her eyes met those of the knight on horseback. A stranger. An unfamiliar young man.

He wore a silver half-plate armor and carried a long sword. When their eyes met, he gave her a polite bow. He had glossy black hair and a composed demeanor.

“My name is Axel Fritz. I serve as a knight of Lord Ferbrante’s personal guard.”

Lorelia tried to keep her expression steady.

His knight? Since when has he been following us? Then he must have seen everything… Me leaning out the window, waving my arms like a clown…

Oh no. She nearly shut her eyes tight in embarrassment.