In an instant, the light vanished and the surrounding scenery shifted entirely.
“Here we are, Miss Riersha. It’s a temporary camp we threw together in a hurry for our family and the Imperial Knight Order to share.”
“The Imperial Knight Order is here too?”
“Yes. This year’s Hunting Festival was a joint responsibility between the Arachrene family and the Imperial Knight Order.”
Having heard the explanation, Riersha immediately understood the situation.
Since this was a national event, it made sense that the Imperial Knight Order couldn’t simply stand aside and do nothing — they were sharing responsibility for the festival together. Even so, it rather seemed like the Arachrene family was shouldering a disproportionate amount of the burden.
“If the Imperial Knight Order hadn’t been involved, the situation would have been resolved long ago.”
“Huh? Aren’t you glad they’re here?”
“Hardly.”
Rosinante let out a hollow laugh and shook his head. Then he gestured toward the table positioned at the very center of the tent.
“…Dad?”
The duchy’s people were gathered there — Pernoa among them.
The word had barely left Riersha’s lips before Pernoa caught her gaze. He looked at her briefly, then gave a slight nod that told her to wait.
And with that, he returned to receiving reports from his commanders.
Something must not be resolving cleanly.
Riersha slowed her eager steps and glanced around the tent. She spotted a lone chair tucked away in one corner and quickly climbed up to sit in it.
Everyone looked busy, and sitting there alone felt a little awkward. Still, there was another pair seated side by side nearby, so it wasn’t entirely uncomfortable.
Actually — she’d correct that.
Not quite side by side. One empty chair sat between them, carefully managing the distance.
Who are those two? They look like nobles. Given how they’re dressed, maybe they’re nobles who were rescued from the forest?
Neither appeared injured, so they must have been found in time.
“Do you know who they are?” Riersha asked quietly.
Rosinante clicked his tongue. “Those two are engaged to be married. But when the monsters appeared in the forest… it seems they got a rather clear look at each other’s true colors.”
“What do you mean?”
“The man tried to flee and leave the young lady behind in the carriage to save himself. Unfortunately for him, Lord Pernoa dealt with the monsters at just the right moment, and everything came to light.”
“Oh no.”
Of all the things to happen.
No wonder a bitter chill seemed to hang between them.
“Something about it strikes me as odd, though,” Rosinante added.
“What does?”
“That young man is the third son of Count Triat’s family. They say he’s been holding a sword since childhood, yet his form is still so sloppy that his actual skill is considered quite poor.”
Rosinante continued murmuring close to Riersha’s ear, his expression thoughtful.
“And yet — had the monster incident not occurred — that young lord was apparently on course to place first in the competition.”
“How is that possible?”
“It isn’t.”
“Suspicious.”
“You think so too, Miss?”
“Mm.”
Riersha gave a firm nod.
Rosinante allowed himself a faint smile before pressing on with his explanation.
“The young lord seems to share that suspicion… but without any concrete evidence, he couldn’t press the matter. For now, they’re simply being held here. We can keep them in this camp for roughly twelve hours — until someone from Count Triat’s family arrives.”
In other words, they had twelve hours to uncover whatever was wrong with the Triat son.
Riersha narrowed her eyes and studied him from across the tent.
He was jittery — leg bouncing, gnawing at his fingernails, eyes darting restlessly around the space. Every time someone entered through the tent’s entrance, he shot to his feet, only to sink back down again with a look of disappointment. Over and over.
He was desperate to get out of there, that much was plain.
“If I were him, I’d dread the family showing up most of all. He ran off and left his fiancée behind — and survived. How would he ever face them?”
The thought of returning to the Triat household seemed mortifying. This kind of incident, at its worst, could mean formal censure from the family itself. And beyond that — any noble house currently in talks of a marriage arrangement with the Triats would almost certainly take a step back and find reason to complain. At worst, the marriage prospects of the family’s other heirs could be cancelled entirely.
Looking at the full picture, there was really only one path available to Cedric Triat: do everything in his power to be seen as useful in the aftermath of this crisis and claim whatever credit he could. Beyond that, make every effort to smooth things over with the fiancée sitting beside him, and pray desperately that the rumors spreading about him would be as mild as possible.
But Cedric Triat showed no signs of any such intention whatsoever.
“If it were me, I’d be trying to work things out with her somehow. Even if she wouldn’t forgive me right away.”
“You’re suggesting that Cedric Triat has no intention of continuing to live in the Declair Empire?”
“Mm.”
“Which means if he’s returned to the count’s household… he may already be preparing to flee the country.”
Without the ability to fully enjoy the privileges of his noble station, perhaps — but with enough money, a person could live comfortably anywhere. And the Triat household was known to be among the wealthiest in the entire empire.
“What if we just let him go?”
Riersha stared steadily at Cedric Triat as she spoke.
“Isn’t that a bit hasty?”
“But as things stand now, it doesn’t look like we’d gain anything from holding him.”
Rosinante’s expression shifted to one of genuine deliberation.
She had a point.
Right now, Cedric Triat was far too guarded. He’d even snapped furiously at anyone who so much as glanced at his belongings, making a scene over every small thing.
“If we let him go and wait for him to lower his guard, that might be better. We can’t just press him openly — he’s a noble.”
Better to wait until he did something suspicious, then catch him in the act.
“Understood. I’ll relay that suggestion to the young lord.”
“Mm.”
Riersha nodded, looking quietly pleased with herself.
Then, almost immediately, her expression turned serious again.
Something about that sudden leap in ability just doesn’t sit right.
It was as though he’d used magic. A person with sloppy, untrained form had no business suddenly performing well enough to win the Hunting Festival. That was simply impossible under any natural circumstances.
Unless, of course, they had been reborn.
Better to release Cedric Triat and follow him instead.
That thought was still turning in her mind when —
A wave of noise erupted from just outside the tent entrance.
Crash — bang — thud!
Someone came hurtling through the tent opening with a tremendous racket, thrown in roughly from outside.
The sudden violence of it made Rosinante’s eyes narrow sharply.
Of all the times for something like this to happen.
“What is this commotion?” he demanded, striding toward the entrance.
The person crumpled on the ground was a face Riersha recognized immediately.
“Wait — isn’t that…”
It was the boy who had competed against Isierd just moments ago.
