Chapter 10: The Cultural Exchange Delegation (6)
“I will explain everything in detail as we walk.”
Hashana pointed toward the road lined on both sides with soldiers. The moment she gestured, the soldiers all bowed their heads deeply in salute. Then, with a flourish, they swept back their ceremonial cloaks and extended their right arms. As the heavy cloaks—white cloth densely embroidered with gold thread—flared out, a few members of the delegation let out low, unguarded exclamations of awe.
Standing side by side with Iskandel, Hashana stepped forward between the soldiers’ arms, which were extended at a perfectly measured angle. The soldiers’ eyes, gleaming as they watched for any chance to cut his throat, clung savagely to Iskandel’s neck. Irritated by their stares, Iskandel deliberately closed the polite distance he had kept and moved closer to Hashana’s side.
Overwhelmed by the soldiers’ imposing presence, the delegation also lengthened its strides to follow closely behind the two of them. Once they passed through the gate’s entrance, where the soldiers had been lined up endlessly, eyes like drawn blades, a small, empty square appeared. At the same time, they heard the sound of the soldiers dispersing in formation somewhere behind them.
“Normally, after passing through the gatehouse, the soldiers would search your bodies and luggage here. Since you are honored guests, I told them that I would personally conduct today’s inspection.”
“Inspection?”
“It is called an inspection, but in truth, we only go through the motions to humor Rsanda’s stubbornness. So, we will be spending a little pointless time in this square before we move on.”
With a distinctly sour feeling, Iskandel and the delegation looked around. The fortress, built from stone a shade lighter than what they had seen from outside, was constructed with an obsessive symmetry. They had expected ornate craftsmanship inside the walls, as the arched bridge Hashana had crossed earlier, but the interior of the fortress was nothing but straight lines, without any decoration or embellishment at all.
As the sound of the soldiers’ synchronized footsteps faded into the distance, only the delegation’s awkward shuffling and murmurs remained in the small square. Only then did Hashana, looking somewhat embarrassed, explain.
“So, when I said earlier that I was joking with Your Highness… I meant the part about running away together,” she continued, “A story about a saintess running away with a handsome prince. I heard that kind of pulp novel is all the rage in the Capital these days.”
He still did not respond, only staring fixedly at her. For Iskandel, who the courts of royals and nobles had jaded, Hashana was a person who defied easy categorization.
They say she is a saintess forged from the hottest flames gathered from the forge where holy steel is refined.
He had dismissed that as ridiculous exaggeration, but Hashana’s appearance was proof that the rumor was true: she looked like a work of art crafted with the utmost care by a hypersensitive god.
Her platinum-blond hair was so clear and bright it seemed almost transparent. Her blue eyes resembled the color of a clear sea. Her smooth cheeks were tinged with a faint blush, and her red lips were constantly curved in a smile.
Her slender hands looked soft and smooth, like those of someone who had never once touched soil. Anyone could see she was someone born noble, who had grown up with only the finest things—a person endlessly pure and bright.
If I judge purely by whether she is useful or not, she is obviously useful. And if I judge by whether she is dangerous or not, she is certainly dangerous.
Up to that point, the conclusion was obvious. However, when it came to whether there was malice in Hashana’s words and actions, things became much harder to classify. Her honesty, which seemed to lack not only malice but any hidden agenda, was disconcerting.
As Iskandel continued to stare at her in silence, Hashana confessed as if making a confession of conscience.
“I do not agree with Rsanda’s claims in the slightest.”
“…Is that so.”
“Yes. Truly.”
She smiled brightly and answered without hesitation, as if she did not care in the least whether Iskandel analyzed her with that dry gaze or not.
“On the contrary, I see this delegation sent by the Empire as a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I have been sincerely looking forward to your arrival. Which is why—”
Leaning against the shadowed wall, she pushed off with a light tap of her heel and took a few quick steps to stand facing Iskandel. He had no intention of moving and merely followed her with his eyes.
Reading both displeasure and curiosity in his gaze, Hashana carefully stepped closer until their toes were almost touching. Then she raised a hand beside her lips, rose up on tiptoe, and whispered in his ear.
“I would like Your Highness to play along with me.”
“And by play along you mean…?”
“I would like you to state first that you are not some spy sent by the emperor. Instead, please take the stance that you have come here to give Durgtah your full support.”
Iskandel’s lips parted slightly, then closed again. After opening and closing his mouth like that a few times, he finally let his barely restrained irritation show, running his eyes up and down her form.
“Saintess, I am having a little trouble understanding you at the moment.”
“Ah… Was that too difficult? To put it more simply, I am asking you to help us prepare for war.”
The delegation, who had been eavesdropping with their ears pricked, clapped their hands over their mouths. Hashana waved lightly at the near-accusatory looks directed at her and laughed.
“Of course, we are not actually preparing for a real war. When Rsanda gets worked up, the entire citizenry suffers, so I am asking you to join in a bit of theater to prevent such an unfortunate situation. I have absolutely no intention of waging war. Truly, I swear it, with all my heart.”
Iskandel’s eyes, now completely devoid of any trace of a smile, fixed on her beaming face. Meeting that cutting gaze head-on, Hashana confided in him a secret she had never told anyone.
“I may be the Saintess of War, but I am a pacifist.”
Iskandel’s eyebrow twitched. It sounded insane, but she did not seem to be lying. Which meant there had to be some hidden meaning behind her words.
There is no way someone called the Saintess of War would say this and mean it. I should take it as both a warning that she has already seen through me and an open declaration that she intends to keep me under surveillance.
Normally, once a spy was exposed, it led to imprisonment, interrogation, and torture. And of course, torture ended in death. Interpreting Hashana’s proposal as a threat—If you do not want to die, cooperate—he nodded dryly.
“If our delegation can be of help to you, saintess, we will gladly assist in any way we can.”
“Oh! Then may I help as well?”
A very thin man in the delegation shot his hand up.
“I am a playwright who joined this long journey in search of inspiration for a new play. From what you have said, saintess, you—”
The man, as gaunt as a stick in a drought-stricken field, dragged out his words and slowly raked his eyes over Hashana with an exaggerated expression. Unable to overcome her visceral disgust, Hashana frowned.
Looking at this so-called playwright, I can clearly see just how restrained the prince has been in his treatment of me.
Barely suppressing her contempt, she turned her head away. Unlike Iskandel’s attitude, the playwright’s gaze was not just uncomfortable; it was downright filthy. Unable to stand it any longer, Iskandel extended an arm to block the playwright’s line of sight.
“That is enough. What I want is praise for having brought a delegation of the finest artists. I have no desire to be criticized for leading a band of boors.”
“Oh dear, my apologies! I committed a grave discourtesy while agonizing over how best to describe the saintess in writing.”
Cut the crap.
Standing in front of Hashana, Iskandel mouthed the threat without sound, and the playwright nodded as if frightened. Even after retreating with a cough, he continued to stare at Hashana persistently as he raised his voice.
“So the saintess intends to pass off a perfectly ordinary, peaceful daily life as the process of preparing for war, yes? To deceive Rsanda.”
“Yes, that is right.”
“If you would kindly tell me what actions you wish to disguise and how, I can embellish them into something quite convincing. Starting this very evening, if you like.”
“Yes. I will arrange a time.”
Answering with not a shred of sincerity, she, out of sheer spite, sharply increased the concentration of divine power around her body. The soft radiance that had gently enveloped her flared to a threatening intensity, and the unprepared members of the delegation hastily covered their faces, groaning.
“Ugh!”
Hashana watched the richly dressed men stagger for a brief moment, then, feigning alarm, slowly drew back her divine power.
“My goodness. That was almost a disaster. Sometimes, when I am in too good a mood, this happens. Are your eyes all right? If anyone cannot see properly, please tell me now, and I will heal you.”
Iskandel, who had been shielding his eyes with his hand, looked at her as if he could not believe what he was seeing. It was hard enough to accept that she could emit divine power strong enough to blind someone, but it was even harder to believe how casually she spoke of restoring lost sight.
Even the high priest of the imperial palace can barely manage detoxification or healing minor scrapes… How can such divine power exist?
Iskandel and the delegation exchanged quick glances. Paying them no mind, Hashana kept asking if everyone’s eyes were all right, then cleared her throat and returned to the original topic.
“Then I will take it that the delegation will actively cooperate with my fake war preparations. I will make up something suitable for Rsanda, so do not worry about that. Please relax and freely display your talents and specialties in the right place at the right time.”
The delegation nodded reluctantly. The gate had already been closed for some time. Without Hashana’s divine power, they could not even cross the moat that surrounded the fortress-city.
She sets up a situation where refusal is impossible, then pretends she is asking for a favor. For all that bright, lovely face, she is black-hearted inside.
As he mentally sorted through the increasingly twisted situation, Iskandel leaned toward Hashana and asked, “What would you like me to help with?”
“Ah, as for Your Highness, I would simply ask that you stay right by my side.”
“Do nothing at all?”
It was a rather blunt question. Contrary to Iskandel’s expectation that she would immediately offer some excuse, Hashana did not deny it, simply meeting his question with a smile.
