Chapter 180

"—Hey there? Mikhail. You were resting in here after all!"

A cheerful greeting was tossed his way. At the same time, what came into view was a familiar head of pink hair.

"……"

Julien was standing at the door. With one hand resting behind his back, he was smiling easily. Mikhail studied Julien's appearance, then smiled the same way.

"Yeah. Hi, Julien."

But even as he answered the greeting, Mikhail ran his eyes over the things that stood out. Beneath the curved corners of Julien's eyes, his cheek trembled faintly. The collar of his clothes sat oddly askew….

"What's going on?"

Even so, Mikhail asked what had brought him over without letting any of it show. Julien thrust the hand he'd kept behind his back out in front of him.

"Ta-da! First off, take a look at this, Mikhail."

Clink.

A basket hung from Julien's outstretched hand. It was packed full of glass bottles in every color.

But the drinks the bottles held were, every one of them, strong stuff with sharp aromas.

[Body aches and hard liquor… any healer worth their salt would've keeled over on the spot.]

What Lloyd had said overlapped slowly with the scene right in front of him.

Mikhail drew his eyes from the basket Julien was holding out and spoke.

"Liquor? What's all this — why'd you buy so much?"

"Ahh… well, see."

Julien drew the hand he'd stretched out back. Then, with an awkward look, he scratched at his cheek, glancing at Mikhail before he spoke.

"I… actually came to ask you for some help."

"Help?"

When Mikhail tilted his head as if puzzled, Julien nodded and said,

"Yeah. The truth is, I really can't hold my liquor. It just doesn't taste good to me, and it's bitter…. But I can't keep ducking out every time it comes up, so I went and learned how to make cocktails this time."

"Hmm."

Mikhail folded his arms and leaned against the door frame. Julien took the sight in, then gave a slightly bashful laugh and rubbed at the back of his neck.

"But I don't have anyone who'd give me a straight opinion on the cocktails I make…. If you're open to it, do you think you could try one and tell me how it is?"

Mikhail gave small nods while Julien kept talking, and looked down into the basket.

A few of the bottles inside hadn't been touched. But several others were already open.

If it was for cocktails, he'd need to mix sweet and bitter — so why was it only the unusually strong ones that had been opened?

"All right. Let's do it."

Mikhail finally pulled his eyes from what he was watching and answered Julien.

Julien took in the answer and paused for a moment. But then he responded like someone genuinely delighted.

"Ah… really? Thank goodness! So when do you want to start? How about this evening? Or maybe tomorrow…."

"Now."

Julien's running words cut off mid-sentence. Julien froze where he stood, looking as if he'd forgotten what he was saying mid-breath.

In the meantime, Mikhail unfolded his arms and straightened up from where he'd been leaning.

Then he looked Julien in the face, and as he stepped past him, said,

"Right now. Julien."

---

"Here you are, Master Sion."

Afternoon. It was the Northern Library.

Standing in front of the front desk, Sion looked at the two books being pushed across to him, then turned to the librarian on the other side and asked,

"I was told the family head had set aside three books for me to take with me…."

"Ah. The last volume seems to be taking a little time to come up. Could I ask you to wait a moment?"

There was no rush. Sion nodded to the librarian, then ran his eyes over the view past the desk.

Ink-dark bookshelves stood packed together, holding countless books and records.

The Northern Library, which had originally been no different from any other noble household's archive, had grown and grown with the flood of documents that came in after Joseph took power….

Clack.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, Master. The last volume's been checked out as well."

The librarian's voice cut through Sion's thoughts. Sion drew his eyes from the back of the room down to the desktop.

Three books, each placed in a case inscribed with a formula.

Sion returned the bow the librarian gave him politely, tucked the books under his arm, and stepped out of the library.

"……"

Sion set foot in the corridor. Beyond the windows in front of him, fat snowflakes were falling thick and soft.

Snowflakes drifting down as silently as if someone had been pulling cotton apart and scattering it.

Sion watched the falling snow for a moment, then walked on along the passage that led to his room. He climbed the stairs and followed the straight stretch.

Creak.

On the table inside his room sat a large traveling bag. It looked like the servants had finished the preparations he'd asked them for.

Sion opened the compartment on the front of the bag and slid the books he'd just gotten from the library inside.

Click.

The two halves of the bag's clasp met and shut, and with that the room fell quiet.

Sion let out a small breath where he stood. Soon enough he went to the wardrobe, opened its closed doors, and pulled out a coat.

It had been nearly two years since he'd last seen his elder brother. And even that last meeting had been an argument, the two of them on opposite sides of a table with a packed travel bag on it….

[Shut up. I don't want to hear it. Sion.]

[I know you've been deeply upset over the long stretch with no contact. But Lord Joseph must have had his reasons too, hasn't he? What I'm saying is, for both your sakes, we could work out the timing—]

[I told you to shut up.]

[Brother. I'm begging you. At least until Lord Joseph's strength comes back, please stay here. As for school, you could always start the next term—]

—Slam!

[Hah, this is touching enough to make me cry. If you're so capable, why not be the heir yourself instead of me? A son of a bitch who'll grovel flat no matter what's said to him — Father would like that much better, wouldn't he?]

[What did you say? Did you… are you finished? Do you think it's easy for me to even be saying this?]

That was where things stood… and what could he possibly start with, in front of a brother he hadn't seen in so long?

While that uneasy worry filled his head, what surfaced in one corner of Sion's mind was something Joseph had said.

【Since it's been ages since you've seen Mikhail, how about picking out a gift?】

Sion put the coat on and stepped out of his room, then made his way to the castle stables.

The groom who tended the horses brightened the moment he saw Sion and bowed his head.

Sion traded a few words with the groom about how things had been. Then, climbing onto the back of the black horse the man brought out, he rode off along the path that led out of the castle.

His destination was the nearby town. As Joseph had said, he meant to pick up something he could hand Mikhail.

But… what should I buy?

Sion sank into thought as the saddle rocked beneath him.

While the horse moved along the road, what came to mind was the Mikhail he'd seen in his childhood.

[What are you looking at.]

From the very first time they met, Mikhail had worn a sullen face. He was awkward in conversation and short-tempered in everything.

But from what Sion had seen while hovering around him, Mikhail wasn't the kind to throw fits over things the way other children his age did.

He didn't ask for wooden puppets that moved on their own, and he had no interest in clothes or shoes with shiny buttons.

[……]

More often, he simply stood gazing blankly out the window, or flipped through book pages, or — for reasons no one could pin down — flew into a wild temper. But every so often, in between all that—

[Sion. Look at what I drew. What does this look like to you?]

[A… a cat? Or a lion…? The sun?]

[No! Wrong! All wrong! Didn't you say you came from somewhere far out on the coast? Then how can you not know what this is?]

[Mm… but this is a bit…]

He'd push some impossibly simple, free-form… drawing in front of Sion and hammer him with fervent questions.

[Sion. I can't go out this time either. Dad… said no.]

He'd come knocking on Sion's door, sniffling.

[Sion. Someday you'll be able to go outside the castle, right? When you do, you have to—]

And then, on the other hand, he'd stare out the window for a long while, turn, and start a conversation….

Snort.

It happened then. The horse, which had been clopping steadily forward, gave a snort and stopped.

Sion startled and lifted his head. The view that spread before him wasn't the one he'd expected.

"This is…."

The place he'd ended up was the residential area beside the town center. Around the road, instead of shops, there were only rows of houses.

But not far ahead, maybe a few paces away, an old man was sitting in front of a small stall.

"Whoa… whoa, easy."

Sion pulled on the reins, brought the horse to a stop, dismounted, and walked over to the old man.

Even if this area was relatively quiet before sunset, it was still a road where horses and carts went through.

Sitting out in the open like that was dangerous.

"Sir."

The old man was curled up where he sat, nodding in and out of sleep. Sion cleared his throat, bent his knee, and raised his voice a little.

"Sir! Can you hear me?"

"Whoa!"

Only then did the old man jolt awake and turn his head to look at Sion.

He blinked at Sion with a startled look. Facing him, Sion softened the corners of his eyes and spoke in a friendly tone.

"This is a road where horses and carts come through. It's not safe to be sitting here. How about moving in toward the side?"

"Ah. I see."

The old man answered with an awkward little tone, then reached out and began gathering up the items on his stall.

Sion helped him, picking up the stall and the items spread across it, and straightened from his crouch.

"I'll help you. Would somewhere around here do?"

"Yes. My house is right nearby anyway — anywhere that's off the cart road is fine."

Sion nodded as he sized up the old man's appearance. From the look of the clothes and winter gear he was wearing, he didn't seem to have been driven into the street by poverty.

"You're not in the best shape — how did you make it all the way out here?"

"The grandchildren who used to listen to my stories have gone off to school… sitting in the room with just the hearth fire for company got stifling, so I came out."

The old man chuckled and moved along, leaning on his cane.

Walking alongside him, Sion dropped his eyes to the items that had been on the stall.

A pendant with a leather cord. A distinctive pattern had been carved into the mottled wood.

Top-grade sea-pine wood… and that's a tradition from the northern coast.

Sion drew his eyes from what he'd been studying and turned his head toward the old man behind him.

"This pendant isn't the kind of thing you'd see anywhere but on the northern borderlands. The materials and the carving style are unique to that area, aren't they."

"Oh. You've got a good eye. So — could it be that you're from out that way yourself, young man?"

The old man brightened and asked. As Sion let out a small acknowledging sound, a lonely smile flickered at his mouth and was gone.

"There was a time when that might have been true… but not now."

"Hm?"

The old man searched Sion's face with a puzzled look, but soon his expression eased and he nodded.

"Sounds like you've got some story behind it…. Either way, I'm glad you recognized them."

Sion curved his mouth at the old man — who didn't press any further — and looked again at the pendant swaying between them.

He knew every meaning carved into the piece.

Hoping for a good catch for fishermen. Praying for a safe delivery for expectant mothers. Wishing for an eternal love with one's partner….

And every single one of these was something you wouldn't find anywhere on the northern interior.

Sion looked at the pendant and slowly opened his mouth.

"Sir. Do you, by any chance… take commissions as well?"

"Hm? Commissions?"

The old man blinked his wrinkled eyes and asked back, but soon his face brightened and he said,

"No trouble at all. Got plenty of good stock left."

Sion smiled, small. Then, calling up Joseph's eyes fixed on something far off and the tremor of longing for what lay ahead in Mikhail's voice, he opened his mouth.

"In that case, the pattern I'd like to ask you for is—"

---

Step.

Mikhail walked three or four paces ahead of Julien.

He passed down the path stretching toward the outskirts of the dormitories with his usual gait, and once he reached the quiet woodland trail, he spotted a wide bench, walked over, and sat down on it.

Mikhail looked up at Julien, who had trailed behind him and now stood right in front.

Julien was talking in a notably bright voice as he glanced around.

"Ahh, here? You picked a good spot. People passing by can't really see in either. Not bad, huh?"

Mikhail watched in silence as Julien's eyes darted in every direction, letting out a faint breath inside.

Pitching his voice high, even forcing a smile as though everything about the situation were perfectly normal….

He still couldn't hide his fingertips gone white from how hard he was gripping, or the unusually quick movements of his eyes.

Rustle—.

A single thread of breeze had just passed by. Mikhail set his hand on the spot beside him and spoke to Julien.

"Sit."