MMB Chapter 81: Marakana
Chapter 81: Marakana
Three days later.
Silver-Valley. North-Western Mountain Ranges of the Lunar Kingdom.
"I don’t have a really good feeling about this," A blonde holy knight wearing black armour over a long dark shawl with an emblem of violet moon was standing beside the carriage, not far from the hillside stairs that led into the depths of clouds.
He whispered, and the knight beside him nodded. They were two carriages away from Violet’s, and Ferrey just looked at them without alerting.
"I hear he’s not that strong," another knight beside the blonde spoke.
"Emenant is strong, he’s as strong as we are, but I don’t...like his attitude," the blonde replied.
They were standing on the hillside of the jungles that aligned with the palace of Perpetual Rain, on the south side of Silver Valley, and all of them were waiting for Ymir Celestie of Lunar.
At the back of the fleet were five carriages in red, the tower master of Burnhum.
But that man didn’t utter a single word since his journey to protect the Saintess.
"Shouldn’t it be him visiting Covenant and boarding alongside our holiness, what kind of douche-"
"Shh- he’s here," the other knight cut the blonde’s words, and all of them looked forward as Ymir descended the staircase alongside a butler in a dark blue suit.
All of them stomped their feet once, and the gates of Violet’s carriage were opened slightly.
Ymir was wearing a long black coat over a black suit with no tie, and his moon-shaped earrings were the only accessory he had, not even a watch.
Ymir stopped a step away from the door and looked at both of the knights who were talking about him.
He pointed at his eyes with two fingers, and then pointed at them.
’...’
"Fu-, I told you shut up," one of them whispered, keeping a straight face.
Graves scoffed and got into the carriages at the last, while Ymir took a seat in front of Violet, who was wearing her usual purple gown, her hair loose and a faint scent of orchids filling the carriage.
"It’s a fine morning," Ymir whispered, and picked up a newsletter from the bucket attached to the doors of the carriage.
Marcus was again the headline of the newsletter.
[Whispers abound that three noble houses now vie to extend their hands in marriage toward the ever-elusive Marcus Rile.]
"...Ah, they never ask that man before publishing anything about him," Ymir murmured and threw the paper back into the bucket.
"You read those?" Violet asked, looking at the perfectly placed newsletter, even though he had just simply thrown it.
"Only the parts that I find insulting," Ymir replied.
"The ones that are skipped straight to character assassination," he continued.
"Pff...Yeah, right, it doesn’t look like it’s a bother for you," Violet said.
"Oh no, I suffer from these remarks...almost every day," Ymir replied.
"You don’t look like you’re suffering," she said.
"I suffer internally. More artistically, a man like me is a premium asset," he replied.
"Is this what scholars call narcissism?" Violet squinted.
"Self-appreciation, to be precise."
"Ahan, I see," she nodded.
The carriages moved through the plains and fine roads of the Silver Valley. A county which has been known for its fine scent and greenery, and often appearances of Mountain Lions that reside around the palace of Ymir.
"You’re oddly...calm today, that’s new," Ymir spoke.
"Mm, me?" Violet pointed at herself. "I’m always calm."
"Lady, I’m gonna beg you to differ, you’re not calm as always," He replied.
"This is the usual me, besides you were all...dominating on our first meeting, I find it easy to act like that, people get things done when you’re a little more forceful," she said.
"That’s a pretty good theory," Marcus said, and looked outside as the landscape changed.
"Marakana...was it?" He asked.
"Yes," Violet replied. "That’s where I was born,"
"You were born in Marakana? It’s a village in the Dukedom of Judea that is under the control of Beth-El Judean?"
"That is correct, you remember the names of Dukes too?" she asked.
"I can name every river, every dukedom, every duke, every county, its count, their wives, their sons, and even the amount of debt they’re in from various institutions," Ymir replied.
Violet stared at him for a moment.
"...You’re joking."
"I am not," Ymir replied calmly.
"...Name one random count’s debt then."
"Count Halvern of the Southern Ridge of Judea owes approximately thirty-two thousand gold to the merchant guild, thirteen thousand to private lenders, and an unspoken favour to Beth-El Judean that he pretends does not exist," Ymir said without pause.
"...That is impressive," Violet mumbled.
"But then again, if I just blabber out anything, you wouldn’t really have an immediate way to confirm it, would you?" Ymir said.
"Yes, I can confirm it later, and a Prince would never lie, especially to his fiancée, right?" Violet replied.
But that ’right’ felt more like a silent threat.
"Absolutely," Ymir nodded.
But then... Ymir had slight doubts, so he kept staring at her for a while.
He hummed and created many hypotheses in that moment, but he was still...curious.
"Although it feels good when you stare, what is it that’s on your mind?" Violet said, breaking his thoughts.
"It’s just..." Ymir paused.
"Your appearance isn’t usual. Violet hair, violet eyes, and even a violet name. And a skin that fair, it just...stands out even among nobles."
"There are standards even for beauty. And... It’s just odd, you’re certainly beautiful, but not just that, your appearance is something rare, not a single person here would step out and start to stand out as bright as you."
"I’ll take that as a compliment," She smiled.
"Absolutely, you should but..."
"It isn’t common, certainly not among commoners. How did no one notice someone like you?" he asked.
"People who had not witnessed holy powers and haven’t seen a woman of odd hair colour, don’t look at her like she’s a saintess outright," Violet replied.
"Hmm?" Ymir furrowed his brows.
"How would you perceive a child who looks odd, even if their parents are normal looking, and performs weird magic without a magic circuit?" she asked.
"I’d say a prodigy, a miracle,-"
"But how can a woman whose ancestors are commoners, whose husband is a commoner, has brown hair, and not a single lineage of violets, give birth to a child that...just looks odd?"
Violet took in a deep breath and shrugged her shoulders.
"To be honest, I don’t know," she continued.
Ymir didn’t say anything; he understood what had occurred with her.
"To that husband, his wife had cheated him. She must’ve been raped, or willingly had relations with some noble, and you know how some men think," Violet said.
"He beat her to death, and hid the child away so that the village doesn’t know of such a mishappening, so that his name is not tarnished," she continued.
"But...it’s all in the past. I don’t even remember those moments clearly," she said.
"I hear you," Ymir replied.
"That’s it? I expected something along the lines that... ’How dare they? I’ll burn that village or something?" She said, acting masculine in Ymir’s tone.
"I read that... years ago, the whole village was massacred because of the rift, the village was rebuilt, and considered one of the threat zones for the rift, that’s why the ground there was cheap," Ymir replied.
"...You knew about that then?" She asked.
"Not your past precisely, just a broader history-"
"Wait... Why’re you rolling the newspaper?" Ymir questioned.
.
.-.-.-.-.-.
.
The fire in the hearth had been burning since morning, the castle’s staff had simply learned over the past years of quiet observation not to change anything that Winifred himself sets.
He was sitting on his couch, can resting on the armrest.
He had a book open on his knee, and a cup of tea on the small table beside him.
Across the room, standing near the window, was a man who had never learned to sit comfortably. His name was Vael.
Younger, thirty years around, looked older in a specific way, as if his life force was drained, not aged.
His eyes were a colour almost amber, and he had black hair.
Winifred turned a page.
"The delegation left this morning," Vael said.
Winifred just listened silently. He found his place to stare at the new page.
"Early..." he murmured, staring at the letters of the page. "Ferrey doesn’t like arriving after the village has had time to form expectations."
"The tower master will be exactly where he needs to be; he’s a man of considerable integrity. Integrity is the most reliable thing in the world, never surprises." Winifred continued.
He finally reached for his tea, indulging in the aroma of strong leaves.
"Ferrey", he said in a mild tone, and then paused.
"Has decided that this is an opportunity he’s been looking for quite some time," he glanced at Vael.
"What about the Prince? Even if not strong, he’s powerful enough to hunt us down after the incident," Vael spoke.
"He’ll be disdainful of the proceedings; he’ll be exactly where men like him always are, present without being useful. He’s not a variable you should be worried about."
Vael picked up his coat from the chair near the window, put it on, and stood on the edge of the window, which was on the top floor of the castle.
"I’ll send word when it’s done," he said, and disappeared in a whip of red hue that travelled quickly into the skies.
"I’ll be waiting", Winifred murmured, taking another sip of his tea.