Chapter 62

She tilted her head, puzzled.

"It's not as lively as I'd thought it would be."

"I'd say so."

She'd assumed that since this was a relatively developed territory, things would be bustling — what was this?

Maybe deeper in it would be different, she thought, and they kept walking.

After a while they came to a plaza, and there really wasn't a soul.

Apart from the beggars asking for coin.

"…Hmm."

She'd heard the extortion was bad, but was it this bad?

The only people moving around were beggars.

"How do we get to the market?"

Figuring the market was where foot traffic would be, Lyssel stopped one of the beggars to ask.

"Keep going that way. You're outsiders, by the look of it."

The man asked.

"Yes, we are."

"I don't know what brought you here, but the village isn't in a good state, so you'd be better off leaving quickly."

"…Has something happened?"

The man, looking weary to the bone, said nothing more — just told them they'd see for themselves and went on his way.

Iberin and Lyssel watched his retreating back for a long moment, then walked on, a little tenser than before.

---

Heading toward the market, things did feel slightly more alive than back at the plaza.

The vendors had their goods laid out on stalls, and people were milling around, browsing.

"Oh — there are at least a few people at the market."

There weren't a lot of them, but just in case, Lyssel held out a hand.

"Your hand."

When Iberin just stared at him blankly, he asked.

"Can I hold it?"

"Oh."

Only then did she slowly slide her hand over his.

"It's not that crowded, though…?"

"I want to hold it."

"Sorry?"

"What?"

Iberin looked up, startled, and Lyssel just blinked back at her like what's the problem.

"It's not crowded, but you never know what might happen, so I figured we should be careful — that's what I meant."

"Ah, you wanted to hold my hand because you were worried about me!"

"That too, yes."

"What's the other reason?"

{"Just because I want to."}(#emj8x29ao9st)

"Uh…"

When Iberin stalled, Lyssel added,

"I'm not saying it to put any pressure on you."

"……"

"Take it as easy as you like. Whatever you do, Iberin — even if you fell in love with someone else and left — I'd understand."

Iberin was thrown by Lyssel's approach.

She'd pushed him away that one time, after all.

She'd thought it was the right thing to do back when she could die any day, but ever since then, the staff's campaign to glue them together had quieted down.

Lyssel hadn't pressed her for anything either, and she'd thought the whole thing had been laid to rest — apparently not.

But if asked what she meant to do going forward, honestly, she didn't know.

What the right thing to do even was.

"Why are you looking at me like that. Should we not hold hands?"

"…No."

"That's all right?"

"Yes…."

Something uneasy sat in her chest, but Iberin decided to let it be.

---

She hadn't gotten to wander a market in the capital either.

Her health had been so bad that she'd spent almost all her time at the residence.

Walking through one now, she thought it would have been nice if the kids could have come too.

But the vendors weren't exactly working hard to sell their goods.

There didn't seem to be a lot of buyers, either.

Iberin looked around, distracted by everything.

"Something smells good."

"Want to eat?"

It was about that time.

"Should we?"

She asked, her face lighting up.

"How about that one?"

She pointed, and her finger landed on a skewered-meat stand.

"Sounds good."

Lyssel nodded without much thought and walked over.

"Welcome!"

The owner greeted them with a bright smile.

"Can I help you?"

Iberin looked at the skewers grilling on the stone.

"Yes — what's good?"

"They're all good, but the pork skewers are the best sellers, and the chicken comes second."

"I'll take one of each. Lyssel, what about you?"

"I'll have the chicken."

They decided to eat while they walked, and as Iberin took her skewers and started to let go of his hand, Lyssel said he'd carry one and took it from her.

The vendor watched all this with a fond expression.

"You two must be sweethearts — you look so close."

Iberin's face went red.

"We're married."

Under the robe, she couldn't see what Lyssel's expression was, but his voice was perfectly matter-of-fact.

"Oh my! How lovely!"

"Thank you."

The corner of his mouth seemed to be turned up where she could just see it.

The vendor told them several times how nice they looked together, and even threw in extras on the house.

People here weren't as stingy as she'd expected.

So they took the skewers, nibbled on them, and made the rounds of the market.

"I'm done. I'll hold the rest, Lyssel, so eat some too."

"Yes."

Apparently really not wanting to let go of her hand, Lyssel had been carrying his skewer the whole time Iberin was eating.

It was ridiculous enough that she laughed, but it didn't put her in a bad mood.

"Should we get gifts for the kids?"

She had the feeling they'd be glaring daggers at her when she got back.

They'd managed to slip out unnoticed, but the kids always sought her out after training, so by now they'd surely figured it out.

Thinking of Rotte and Pons being on the receiving end of it, she felt a little guilty and decided to grab gifts for them too.

"Things you can't find back in our territory… well, not finding anything would probably be the bigger surprise…"

It had been harder to find things they did have.

This market alone made that clear.

"It'll get better. With time."

"Yeah!"

Carrying on the conversation softly, the two of them thought about what to bring back.

"Should we stop at the weapons shop?"

"Good idea."

Ether and Kal were deep into sword training.

They were so young that they were still working with practice swords, but at some point they'd need real blades.

"Lyssel, pick up one for yourself while we're at it."

"Me?"

Lyssel did use a sword, but it wasn't often that he actually drew it.

A glance, though, told her his was old enough to look battered.

"It looked like you've had yours a long time."

"…I have."

"When did you get it?"

"I don't remember exactly, but the butler had it brought in from the capital about ten years ago."

"Ten years?!"

"Yes. I don't tend to replace my things."

"Then it's time. I'll get it for you as a gift."

"…In that case, I'll accept."

Lyssel didn't hesitate to agree.

Even at the weapons shop in the territory, the better goods were apparently being requisitioned by the viscount — there were hardly any decent weapons left.

Then again, in a backwater this remote, you couldn't really expect to find quality blades.

"For practice, this one should do."

She managed to find something usable for the kids.

Lyssel picked out a reasonable one for himself.

It wasn't even a particularly good sword, but Lyssel couldn't take his eyes off it the moment he had it in his hand.

He looked so pleased that Iberin felt a little embarrassed.

"Though — when I say I'm getting it for you, it's all coming out of the territory anyway. Isn't it the same as your own money?"

"No. Who the money belongs to doesn't matter. You thought to get me one — that's the part that counts. And you're my wife, Iberin, so it's fine."

"Just to be clear, you'd better actually use it, not put it on a shelf because it's too nice to touch."

Lyssel hesitated a little on that one, but soon agreed he would.

That settled, with gifts for Rozelia, Rotte, and Pons rounded out neatly, the two of them wrapped up their market tour.

---

They'd come ostensibly to do a little spying, so when they decided they ought to look around every corner of the place, they pushed past the market and went deeper.

Apparently they'd come into the slums — a foul smell hit them, and they could see houses crammed so close together they looked ready to fall down.

The people coming and going at the market had at least been middle-class — well enough off to get by.

The slums were a different story.

The only people in sight were small children, and every one of them was listless from lack of food. Iberin's brow creased before she even thought about it.

She didn't know when this had started, but they all looked rough.

"This is worse than the plaza area."

"…Yes."

Iberin's answer came out bitter.

Just then, a child staggered over and bumped into her.

"Whoa — are you all right?"

She caught the child in alarm.

The child mumbled something that might have been yes through sunken eyes and tried to keep stumbling forward.

When Iberin wouldn't let go, the child's eyes darted around nervously.

"You look very hungry."

"Y-yes… I-I'm fine."

She'd been about to offer to buy them something, but she hesitated, worried unwanted kindness might make things worse for the child.

In the end she let go — and Lyssel grabbed the same child by the arm again.

"Wh-why are you doing that?"

The child looked spooked.

Iberin blinked at Lyssel, baffled. Then Lyssel pulled a pouch out of the child's clothes.

The coin purse Iberin had been carrying, and the package of gifts they'd bought.

"Oh!"

She turned, startled, and the child screwed up his face like he'd been caught dead to rights and tried to wrench out of Lyssel's grip.

"Let go!"

The child flailed, and Lyssel watched the whole thing with completely unmoved eyes before opening his hand.

The child went straight down onto the ground with a hard thud.

"Are you okay?"

The fall had looked harsh, and Iberin asked in alarm. The child, who'd looked too weak to stand a minute ago, glared up at her with a hostile expression and shouted,

"You're nobles, aren't you? Why are you here? Come to take more of our stuff?!"

So this lunatic viscount had apparently run out of places to squeeze and turned on the slums too.

Was he really that out of his mind.

Iberin was so stunned she couldn't even manage a dry laugh.

---

Neither Iberin nor Lyssel quite knew how things ended up like this.

It was just that the boy yelling at them, all skin and bone, looked so pitiful.

"Tasty?"

So they'd bought a few things to eat and pressed them into his hands, and every kid in the area swarmed over.

They really had been hungry. Even with a fair amount of food, it vanished as fast as crabs ducking into holes, and they were staring with bright eyes like they wanted more.

The boy who'd first tried to lift Iberin's coin purse went wary again the moment he'd finished eating.

But before long he dropped his head, looking resigned.

His whole attitude said whatever happens, happens.

"You taking me away now?"

"What?"

"…You're nobles."

"And?"

"…You're not taking me?"

"Take you where, to do what. And I'm not a noble of this place."

"Ah…"

Something almost like disappointment passed through the boy's eyes.

"So you'll be leaving, then?"

"That's right. I'm heading out today."

She'd arrived today, too.

The boy seemed to take them for travelers passing through; the disappointment cleared from his face, and he gave a polite little bow.

"Thank you. For the food. You all say thank you, too."

"Tha-ank you-u-u."

Lyssel watched the children quietly for a moment, then asked,

"Why aren't there any adults around?"

Now that he mentioned it — it was strange.

There were this many children, but no adults in sight at all.

With this smell of food drifting everywhere, you'd think hunger alone would draw at least one of them out, but not a single grown-up had shown.

At that, the children started to tear up.

The boy who'd tried to lift Iberin's purse first looked like the oldest in the slums.

"They were all taken."

"What?"