And On — to That Stage

Late afternoon.

The sun-light beginning to redden into madder.

The Demon Lords of the Vergilia expedition had wrapped up the day's work early and gone to their own rooms.

To collect the morning's packing-results and make ready for departure.

"Want to bet on whether Merea's room is tidy, money-fiend?"

"Good. — What are we betting?"

Two of the Demon Lords, finished with their preparations earliest, were climbing the stairs to Merea's room.

"Right. — If you win, I'll do a premium spread for the first banquet after we get back from the art-city. Rare ingredients on the table. Art-city has rare foodstuffs flowing in too — if I lose, I'll source the materials."

"That — actually edible, yes?"

"Hardly that spiteful. Decent loser, me."

The two, shoulder-to-shoulder, climbing on light banter, were talking about after the art-city.

"Mm. — And if you win?"

"Right… add a touch to next month's pocket-money, no complaints."

"Plain. Good. The amount — to be negotiated mutually."

"Yes — to no-strain-on-either levels."

The two finally cleared the stair to the fifth floor.

A few steps onto the landing, into the corridor; about a dozen further, Merea's room.

The two stopped at the same beat, on a thinking growl.

The first to speak — the man in a seven-eighths-sleeve light shirt — Salman.

"Untidy — vote one."

The second, in turn — the gentleman-shaped man in flowing long-sleeve layers — Shaw.

A finger ringed several times raised, theatrical, —

"Then — long-shot vote — not untidy."

"Right — settled."

Salman, on Shaw's reply, on a grin, nodded.

The two on cue moved again. Into the corridor, down the carpet-lined slightly-more-luxe passage.

Stopping at a particular door, Salman, leading, knocked.

"Oi — in there, Merea?"

A slow — in— came back from inside, and —

"Opening."

Salman, slowly, opened the door.

Through the widening gap, they looked into the room.

Both, internally, prayed for the room-state to match their respective bet.

And —

"…Aaah—! Damn! Lost! Why is today, of all days, clean?! Marisa's still resting, no?! Knew it and bet on the side I lost—!"

"Ha, ha, ha — naive, Saru-kun. Stay sharp on information! I had already obtained intel that Lady Lilium had been doing something in Merea's room!"

"Doing what!"

"Coolly think it through. Young man and woman, in the man's room. Doing what! — Standard lay, one might predict something the twins shouldn't hear — but! One side: fossil raised on a back-of-beyond mountain. Other side: a fairly normal but lately the busiest and fatigued research-track woman! — Nope! Romantic-business, no. If anything: like an older sister coming round to look in on a low-grade younger brother — my read: worried about that eccentric maid not being around, she came round to help with packing."

"Looking flat you'd thought that far through?! Off, you!"

"With money on the line, I run full force!"

"You two are truly enjoying."

Merea, from inside, watching Salman head-in-hands and Shaw nose-up-orating — let a fed-up line out.

---

"Mind — Lilium's room is one floor down and one over, so Shaw's high-energy oration may have, in fact, been audible."

"Eh? …Pinched at the side again, perhaps, me…"

On Merea's line, Shaw, abruptly, deflated.

"Beats getting torn off."

Salman, in from the side, clapped Shaw's shoulder.

"No — but — I dressed it up some, but the substance matches the facts…"

"That's the problem."

The two from there dropped to low-volume and started muttering in their own register.

"Ah… On the contrary, consciousness of it is true, so bull's-eye-level anger is more likely… She, on her own, doesn't notice. Brilliant on records — does not, by that, prove brilliant on every part. Sharp on text-detail, perhaps; dim on her own emotions…"

"That's how it goes."

"In my room, talking without me — cut it out."

Merea, on the suddenly secretive two, head-tilted — but realising letting-it-run wasn't going to land, on the right beat threw the line.

The red eyes carried a flat-narrow register; the face an exasperated shade.

"So — about time?"

"That register."

To Merea's question, Shaw, straightening the collar, answered.

"Then — let's go."

"Yes. — The others should arrive in a bit. Carriages need a check; let's move outside."

"Right."

On Shaw's proposal, Merea finally stood. The bed creaked, kishi.

He hoisted the strap-tied large cloth-bag from on top of the desk onto his back. Travel luggage.

"Packing — done properly?"

"Asking like one asks a child."

"In point of fact, by world-common-standards you are roughly a child. Travel — barring that idiotic flight-period — first time, no?"

"What to bring is, with thinking, settleable — but —"

"But?"

Merea, a moment after saying it, scratched his head embarrassed, and after a beat continued. Confessing-shape.

"…Mostly Lilium packed it in."

"Ah — fine, then. She will have predicted the climate over there and the art-city-contingent events. … Mind, I could've taught you from zero, but it's a bother. Splendidly many competent caretakers around Merea — the young man at my side included."

"Don't lump me in."

"Right — you're the twins-specialist."

"That's also wrong!"

The two starting another sarcasm-loop, Merea, on a wry smile, pushed the two of them out of the room by the shoulders.

About to close the door behind him, Merea, briefly, turned to look back into the room.

The lately-familiar room came into view.

Looking from the door on a drift, finally — eyes lighting with a sharp will —

"— Properly — I'll come back. Here."

— alone, let the line out.

Last, Merea slowly closed the door.

---

The three stepped outside Star-Tree Castle ahead of the rest and went to inspect the carriages Shaw had had set up on the main street in front of the castle.

This trip's carriage was more luxurious than the one Shaw had bought from a passing merchant during the prior flight, and looked sturdier above all.

The horses pulling them, also, seemed larger than the ones one saw around town.

Muscle-and-bone firm, and — to handle the cold of art-city Vergilia in this season — fat in adequate measure.

"We're not running this time. This register fits. Compared to Lady Lilium's flame-horse, horsepower drops — but these horses don't drain Lady Lilium's stamina. They're plenty bright, and above all, sturdy. They'll see us back without trouble too."

"Right."

Merea walked up to the horses tied at the side of the Star-Tree Castle gate and gently stroked their necks.

A horse swung its body in gladness and pressed its nose-tip back at Merea's cheek.

"Have to take care of them."

Merea, on a smile from the horse's gesture, said it.

"Yes. — These were bought under 〈Demon Lord Alliance (Mea-Nesaia)〉 name, so once we're properly back, I'll set up a stable and run their care. — Mind, even without building one ourselves, we can borrow His Majesty Hasim's."

Watching Merea play with the horse, Shaw on a smile too.

"While we're at it, building a custom one new would be nice."

"Yes."

"Right — that we'll think about on the road back."

"Mn — that we'll do."

About then, the two casually noticed come back had been weaving through the talk often.

Merea, on it, turned the smile to a wry one and said inwardly —

— Yes — first matter is to come back.

What may happen is unknown.

Possibly nothing; possibly something unintended.

But what matters is to come back, properly.

Their place is now here.

Comrades wait at this castle.

Their master cannot, leaving them, vanish.

The will to remain a pillar everyone can lean on sat clean and bright in him.

"That said — both horse and carriage are luxurious. — Stand out, strangely, won't they?"

"Will not. Not at all."

To Merea's question, Shaw answered without a beat.

He was already crouching, checking the carriage-floor's bonding.

"Where we're headed is the art-city in season, so an austere carriage would, on the contrary, stand out."

In the art-city's so-called peak season, as Shaw had said before, surrounding-state nobles, nouveau-riche merchants, and other-continent power-brokers — the wealthy — gathered.

Some come on luxury cruisers.

Some on vain carriages.

Some, on occasion, even riding griffins. The shapes are various.

And — the people clearing Vergilia's gate in that season are, often, finely dressed.

By that, going in meagre dress or carriage stands out the more.

Too flashy is also a problem, but —

"Moderately luxurious is what the uneventful trip needs."

That was the read.

Shaw had known it from the start; on being entrusted with the outbound preparation, he had this picture in his head.

"That said — what the return leg looks like is unknown, so if we hit something unwelcome, we leave the carriage. Hand the horses to a merchant-friend of mine in Vergilia."

Shaw, moving to the rear-wheel inspection, said it.

Merea, copying, was crouching to look at the front wheel.

"At that point — Noel jumps us back."

"Yes. — Mind, that opens a different-flavour worry about coming-back-alive."

"Eh? Fun, mind. Riding a Land Dragon's leap."

"An ordinary human — thrown off — dies—!"

Shaw shivered.

He looked at Merea on an alarmed eye.

"It's fine, it's fine — Noel will adjust for that. — Worst case, drop, I catch."

"If you'd left out the worst case I'd have been more reassured. — Catch us properly, mind?!"

"Yes — leave it to me. It's all right, all right — all right."

"This man went flat-read at the end…!"

Merea was on a full-face grin and a hand-wave; to Shaw the smile read as zero reassurance.

"…Hah. At any rate — recently he's grown another notch, and on a not-too-large headcount today, all of us could ride on Noel's back. — Mind, if 〈Bewitching Queen〉 is a Demon Lord and reaches a hand to us for saving, she might also ride on his back."

"One or two more is fine."

"Yes."

"Mind, if she and Shaw fell simultaneously, I'd take Shaw — gh, to think things came to this…"

"Capitalising on a weakness for an attack, you."

"The purse-string holder is fated to have his weakness sniffed out. Push through."

"Look at your own conduct first."

While that ran, the carriage inspection wrapped.

Salman, who had been inspecting the other carriage solo, came over rolling his shoulders to release a stiff spot.

"Mine's fine. Sleeper-cabin too — no problem."

"Right — good work."

"Mind, I'd rather not use the sleeper if avoidable, but on stretches without a good inn at hand, taking it is the better play."

"Yes. We're not in flight-rush this time, but no point dragging either. By condition and situation, best play per moment."

"Yes. — Right — about the time the women arrive."

Stretching his back this time, Salman looked at Star-Tree Castle's gate.

From the windowsills facing the street, bits and pieces of light had begun leaking.

The sun nearly down, the street-lamps lit too.

In the deep-blue air, gleaming lights danced.

Merea stood up too, beside Salman, and looked up at the great Star-Tree Castle.

"On this end — by the time we're back, hope there's a harvest of some kind."

"Pray it's a good word."

"Mind — bad news will reach the art-city before we get back."

Merea, on a wry smile.

"True. — Mind, this is Lemuse. Allies-on-our-side aren't only us."

"Yes. Whatever else gets said — Hasim being in Lemuse is a large backstop. I've, properly, told Hasim we'll be away from the castle for several days from today."

"Acting like the master, you."

Salman, on a pleased sand-coloured eye widening, elbowed Merea on a light nudge.

"There's a lot of folk who go on calling me master. Ridden along."

On a joke register, Merea replied through his nose.

"Started talking like one too."

"Sarcasm I'm fairly good at, originally. — Mind, meeting twenty-one Demon Lords made it worse."

"More Demon Lords may join, mind."

"…Yes."

Merea ran his thoughts on it.

"Glad — bittersweet. That part, perhaps, never fully resolves."

"…Right."

The two cut the talk there.

And, again, in the same beat, looked up at Star-Tree Castle.

From windowsills facing the street, several Demon Lords, popping their heads out, were waving.

"Those lot, doing their own work, somehow watch the surroundings plenty."

Salman, on a smile, waved back.

Merea, copying, waved too.

Coming back from this trip, this picture would, surely, be visible again.

Merea was certain of it.

To make it be so — the strength settled in him, and the strength built by training, should be put to work — again, in his chest, surfaced.

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