#II. The Distorted Pearl

 Roman was one of the border regions making up the western part of Kylaq. It bordered the Grand Duchy of Granft on the outside and the south-central cities defending the royal capital on the inside. When the previous king’s queen was alive, the Count had been a notable figure even in the central court. This was because his elder sister was the previous king’s queen. A beautiful and noble queen. The brother of the most august and supreme woman in the kingdom. The power Roman wielded was as lofty as that of the central nobles. However, that was the story until just before the previous king’s queen was executed.

 Ella glanced sideways at the man who smiled good-naturedly. The hands of the man shaking hands with the knights were those of a proper civil official. The wheat-colored back of his hands that had never worn gauntlets and the visible veins above them felt unfamiliar. She dismounted from the mare and prepared to help move the servants’ luggage. As sunset fell, Roman’s high spires cast shadows. Ella felt dizzy at the knights’ procession filling the moat and corridors. Being at the very end of the procession, she shouldn’t be able to find Larque’s shadow, but Ella kept glancing toward where he was.

 “What are you doing?”

 Anita asked. Ella shook her head.

 “Just looking at the castle.”

 Ella answered. Anita laughed as if it was strange. The woman’s thick coral-colored hair fluttered over her shoulders. As dusk deepened, Roman’s grey fortress blurred in the dark evening light. After the knights disappeared into the main hall with the Count’s family, stewards came out to lead the servant girls and servants. They were assigned quarters where they could stay for tonight and tomorrow morning, then unpacked. After that, they went up to where their masters were.

 Count Julius of Roman had a generous personality for a noble. He resembled neither his elder sister who had been queen, nor his wife the Countess who was of a different type. Whether this generous personality was formed after the queen’s death or if he was originally such a person was unknown, but at least he didn’t hide his friendly smile from the knights visiting the castle.

 A banquet for the knights followed as was customary. Since they had marched without rest for half a day, it wasn’t a large-scale banquet. It was an embarrassingly modest level compared to the balls in the capital, but the Count called the gathering he had prepared a banquet.

 The Countess from the royal capital standing beside him blushed. Larque watched the maids serving the Count’s family. Endymion’s servant girl had just visited him. The woman looked pale as if tired. Endymion stroked her swollen belly and sent her back to her quarters. Seeing them made him more worried about Ella. The sound of musicians called by the Count grated his ears. He recalled what the servant had said in the evening.

 He’d said Ella was organizing luggage in her room. He furrowed his brows. Was she still in pain? Was that why she couldn’t come out of her room? Suddenly he noticed Sir Kirion’s servant girl among the maids. The woman named Anita. She walked gracefully to her master and stood beside him. Kirion conversed with the Count while holding his servant girl’s waist.

 Larque noticed she was wearing a simple dress with puff sleeves. Servant girls didn’t have puff-sleeved dresses. Given that they had changed clothes separately, it seemed the Count or Countess had commented on the servant girls’ attire.

 Larque called a servant and ordered him to find Ella. It bothered him that only Ella hadn’t appeared when other servant girls had come to show their faces to their masters. Rather than being irritated, he was worried. It hadn’t been long since her forehead injury. Any number of accidents could happen without his knowledge.

 “I heard much about Your Highness when I was in the capital.”

 Someone addressed Larque as he absently stared into space. The clear, youthful voice seemed shy and subtle. Larque looked at her without even bothering to turn his head. It was Count Roenel’s young daughter who didn’t resemble her birth father at all.

 “Yes.”

 Larque moved his lips briefly. He straightened up from leaning against the backrest and looked at the young lady. Her flowing blonde hair and clear blue eyes reminded one more of her aunt the queen than her birth parents. Though not a classic beauty, she had a rather pretty face. The woman blushed and drew her shoulders together when Larque’s gaze fell on her. There were many such women in the capital. Women who would shrink their shoulders and blush when his gaze fell on them. Those women would glance at him while wearing various dresses and accessories. Lady Roenel had a pretty face. Enough to be called cute…… But that was all. Compared to the impressively splendid noble ladies of the capital, she was just a cute country girl. Larque wasn’t moved by anything about her. She showed neither beauty nor charm enough to move him.

 Speaking of beauty, wasn’t his servant girl the most beautiful in the capital? Ella was more beautiful than the king’s queen who they said came from across the sea. When the noonday sun consumed her, her silver-like hair sparkled like beach pebbles. Rose-colored, or amethyst. Even her disheveled appearance was as brilliant as a breaking waterfall, and the colors enveloping her were impossibly diverse. She must have been born that way. While loving her, Larque thought about the bloodline of a woman said to have been born and raised in a brothel.

 The young lady was a bold maiden. He seemed to remember hearing she had just turned nineteen, but her reaching hand was as bold and reckless as her age. Was she drunk? Or pretending to be drunk? After taking a few sips of wine, she touched the scar on the back of his hand.

 “I heard the barbarians were rough. Your Highness fought them, so you must know how rough the barbarians following Remond are?”

 Larque didn’t answer. He just stared blankly. The young lady who had just turned nineteen placed her hand on the back of his hand. Larque’s eyes narrowed. He tapped the table with his finger. Suddenly the banquet hall brightened. It was strange that the hall had brightened when no servant had brought more lamps. Those engaged in conversation looked up.

 Ella was wearing a dress. A woman who didn’t expose her shoulders or wear a shawl looked awkward. Larque looked at the servant girl who stood looking at him with her hands neatly folded. Whether she had received uniform orders from the Count’s household, she too was wearing a puff-sleeved dress that covered her shoulders. Though worn, it was a proper outfit. She might be a kitchen maid compared to the young lady’s attire decorated brightly with fresh roses and amber, but…… she could be said to have beauty that lit up the hall. His servant girl drew attention wherever she went. More than the king’s legal wife, more than the noble consort who occupied the king’s knee. Being this beautiful, it was natural. Though servant girls were generally said to be beautiful, warm and lovely, the girl that the previous Duke had laid in Larque’s bed was excessive in her beauty.

 “I heard you were looking for me.”

 Larque who peeled off the young lady who had been clinging to him stared at the woman. Ella, hesitating, bowed her head. Lady Roenel  had her mouth open. She seemed surprised as well. Her expression was no different from the Count’s.

Ella looked like death. Though she couldn’t freely show her emotions as a servant girl, she seemed uncomfortable in this place. Larque gently pushed aside the young lady and stood up. The Count looked dumbfounded. The Countess, more skilled at hiding her expressions than her husband, immediately became expressionless, but her daughter was not. Shock bordering on astonishment, jealousy, envy, and pitying emotions toward a servant girl with beauty unbefitting her station were all plainly visible on her exterior. The young lady soon twisted her expression into an ugly face.

 “Helen. Are you unwell?”

 The Countess cautioned her. She seemed quite bothered by her daughter’s expression which had distorted to a pitiful degree. Larque grabbed Ella’s waist. After telling the Count and Countess he would excuse himself briefly, he moved away.

 He pushed aside the translucent curtains and went out to the terrace. Ella kept twisting her body, seemingly uncomfortable in her clothes. He released his arm from her waist. Ella stepped back three paces from him and lowered her head.

 “Where were you?”

 “I was in my quarters.”

 “Did you not receive the instruction to come up after organizing the luggage?”

 “……I apologize.”

 “Were you in pain?”

 Ella shook her head. It was stifling. He grasped her chin.

 “Ella.”

 “I asked if you were in pain. Your forehead.”

 “I’m fine.”

 She answered belatedly. The woman avoided him by keeping her eyes on the floor. The wind blowing from the riverbank stirred the two people dry in the twilight. Today especially, Ella seemed to be pushing him away.

 “Then.”

 “I forgot because I was resting a bit from exhaustion. After riding horseback all day……”

 Ella couldn’t finish her words. Instinctively, she wanted to avoid places where people gathered. She also disliked standing beside Larque in such settings. Knights enjoyed embracing and kissing their servant girls wherever they were. In Kylaq, a knight taking a servant girl was as natural as a man taking a wife. However, being such a localized custom, it would be unfamiliar to those who hadn’t lived the life of a knight — like Count Roenel, for example, who had never lived as a knight. And the same would be true for his wife and the members of his household.

 In truth, Ella was used to curious stares that bordered on hostility. Though being used to it didn’t make it any less painful. She had lived many years as a servant girl. Her master was always surrounded by people. Among the crowd were those of high rank and low rank. No one, regardless of who they were, looked kindly upon Ella. Because she was both beautiful and lowborn. Being such a contradictory existence, she always received jealousy and persecution.