“It’s not that there’s nothing between us.”
Lev, who had been flustered, answered sullenly.
“Oh?”
At the blatantly defiant look that said, “What if there is,” Guien stared at Lev as if to say, Are you crazy?
“So now you’re not even going to make excuses?”
“I don’t know what misunderstanding you’re under, Your Majesty, but as you can see, Marco is a precious friend, the only one who keeps me company.”
Lev pointed toward Marco with his eyes, as if to say he had no idea what Guien imagined about him and Marco.
Seated opposite, Marco, even while watching the Emperor’s mood, couldn’t hide how moved he was.
“Anyway, you’re insolent.”
At the coldly uttered words, Lev started and watched his face. For some reason, the Emperor was gazing at him steadily. It was a look that said, How shall I deal with this right now?
Lev rolled his eyes here and there to avoid meeting them. But as the pressure mounted with time, he finally spoke first.
“I’ll keep my head down and not cause trouble. So please don’t concern yourself.”
It was exactly what the Emperor had said to Lev.
But no sooner had he finished than the Emperor’s brows lifted. Thinking that somehow this wasn’t enough, Lev added:
“Well, whoever it is—you said you were meeting someone? I’m fine with that too. I’m not a real consort anyway. If I just faithfully do my part…”
If the two of them met on their own and developed their relationship, Lev would have nothing more to wish for.
Yeah, so what if the original story gets a little bent? As long as the two protagonists are happy.
Then he could truly end as just a walk-on who stayed for a moment and left.
After that he wanted to board a ship and leave for another continent altogether.
In Lev’s mind flashed a deep blue sea and exotic scenery. Long-stretching palm trees and sand so white it hurt the eyes. Even the vision of himself savoring juice in a café brimming with foreign charm.
While Lev had somehow wandered into contemplating the future, the Emperor tossed out a remark.
“Then from now on you can devote yourself to the consort’s proper duties.”
“Sorry?”
What was he telling him to do now?
When Lev asked blankly, the Emperor added calmly, with a look as if observing a pitiful creature.
“You said you would be faithful to your role. So do that.”
“What do you mean by that…?”
He had certainly heard correctly, but Lev still couldn’t grasp what the Emperor meant. What was there he could do now? Night had already fallen pitch-black. What could one do at such an hour.
No, wait a minute.
What had the Emperor said just now? To be faithful to the consort’s duties?
“Consort” and “duties.”
As he rolled those two words around in his head trying to grasp the Emperor’s meaning, Lev’s face flushed hot.
No way. It couldn’t be that, could it? Come on, no way. The more he denied it, the hotter he felt.
Lev touched his own cheek and looked at the Emperor with a hopeful gaze, wishing for an answer that it wasn’t what he imagined.
Somehow, seeing the crooked smile tugging at the Emperor’s lips, all he could think was that it was exactly that.
“No way…!”
Seeing Lev’s complexion change by the second, to the point he wrapped both arms around himself, Guien stared at him in disbelief and signaled to the page to stand.
Marco, who had been fidgeting, half-rising off his seat for a while now, sprang to his feet.
Guien calmly took the empty seat and sat, meeting Lev’s eyes across from him.
“Still hesitating? Think about it. What do the pages and maids outside think is happening right now?”
And he kindly tossed a hint to Lev, who was still floundering in confusion.
Only then did Lev catch on to what the Emperor wanted. In other words, he wanted to spread the rumor.
That he had spent the night with his consort.
But seeing that the Emperor was sitting over there, it didn’t seem to be what he had imagined earlier—rolling around together on a bed.
Still, for Lev it was an extremely awkward, difficult situation. What could they expect of a born-single gay man who had never even properly kissed, much less slept with someone!
“How about this instead?”
Lev pointed with the index finger that had been scratching his reddened cheek to the game board.
The Emperor looked down at it and raised the corner of his mouth as if amused.
“You must be confident?”
“No. It’s just… the time passes well.”
Whatever they did, wasn’t the point simply to pass the time?
“Fine. Not bad.”
He had meant it that way, and unexpectedly, the Emperor agreed readily.
“But just playing is dull. Shall we make a wager?”
He even offered a suggestion enthusiastically.
“What kind of wager?”
Feeling uneasy, Lev eyed him warily. The smile hooked at the Emperor’s lips felt ominous. Whenever he wore that expression, it always brought results bad for Lev.
“Clothes—how about that. One piece off for every loss.”
As expected. His hunch hadn’t been wrong. What on earth was in that head. It hardly seemed like something that should come from the mouth of His Imperial Majesty.
Then again, perhaps it was the kind of bet an Emperor and his consort would make.
What the…
It was, if anything, thoroughly primitive. Grumbling inwardly, Lev quickly offered another proposal.
“Just something normal, like granting a wish. Is that too boring?”
“Well, that’s not bad either.”
The Emperor’s ready acceptance was suspicious in its own way.
But he couldn’t deliberate further. The Emperor was already placing the white stones, which had been in disarray, in the center of the board.
Lev briefly resented him for simply taking white as he pleased but quietly arranged the black stones. If the Emperor said he would do that, who was he to object.
But that soon turned to regret.
Emperor or no, I should have argued!
Lev chewed his lips and studied the board. The game was one-sided. The Emperor spent his pieces freely with the sole aim of getting his king out. Thanks to that, Lev could do nothing but desperately chase after the king’s tail.
Really, no conscience! If he had taken the advantageous white, he might at least show some mercy.
Of course, the Emperor neither knew nor would care about such circumstances. Lev grumbled inwardly again as he looked at the white king on the verge of escape.
“What wish are you going to ask for?”
How to block that. Lev rolled his eyes as he considered various moves that didn’t look very effective.
A wish, huh.
In truth, he hadn’t prepared anything. It had just popped out as an ad hoc response when the Emperor proposed such an absurd bet.
“If I win, I’ll say it then.”
Again Lev chose to leave himself room. In any case, judging by the current state, it didn’t look like he’d win.
“And Your Majesty?”
Lev set down the black stone he was holding and asked. It was a signal he had lost this round.
He saw the Emperor’s gaze sweep him up and down. A creeping foreboding rose again.
“You’ll keep the wager, won’t you?”
The Emperor said with a smile. It was an order disguised as a wish.
To think that would be the “wish”!
When Lev shot him a look asking if he was serious, the Emperor even folded his arms, showing he had no intention of backing down.
Lev wore a look of utter despair. The Emperor watched his consort with eyes touched by laughter.
For a while Lev couldn’t bring himself to move his hands, groping in empty air. At last, his hesitant fingers reached his silk socks.
“There, satisfied?”
Lev whisked off both socks and lifted his head again. Nothing specified what to remove. His expression said plainly this should do.
“All right, let’s see you keep going like that.”
Guien, looking down at Lev’s white feet, gave a most ominous reply.
Lev wanted to end it there. But the Emperor was already restoring the white stones to their places.
The second game, too, ended in Lev’s glorious defeat. Come to think of it, in Hnefatafl1 it was advantageous to be the one escaping.
Besides, the Emperor was famed as a genius of tactics even on the battlefield. He was not an opponent a mere ex–sergeant like Lev could beat.
Still, Lev, who had run the game to his advantage against Marco, wore a thoroughly aggrieved face.
“What are you doing? Keep going.”
As before, the Emperor folded his arms and looked at Lev. The problem was that Lev had dressed lightly for comfort.
Still, the saving grace was that he had a thin undershirt beneath his top. Lev squeezed his eyes shut, yanked off his shirt, and cried out,
“This is unfair!”
“Unfair? What is?”
But before Lev could explain, the Emperor seemed to understand and, ah, spoke in a most generous tone:
“Is that so? Then choose what you want. I’ll yield this time.”
Lev had no reason to refuse. There was nowhere left to retreat. He answered without hesitation.
“I’ll take white.”
As expected. As if to say, will that really let you win, the Emperor nodded with a derisive look.
Lev fell into thought. He had originally planned to get his king out through the upper-right corner, but the Emperor had read that and blocked it with all his forces. No matter how he looked, a frontal breakthrough was not the answer.
It had been a fairly crafty route. How had he seen through it. His intuition was truly uncanny.
That was how he had tracked him all the way to the lord’s castle in the middle of the night. If not for that, he would by now be living well somewhere.
After cursing the Emperor inwardly to his fill, Lev decided to feint as if taking a more circuitous escape route.
“Giving up on this side?”
As the white king changed course, Guien trailed close behind and asked.
“You’ve blocked it so tightly there’s no way.”
Even as he answered, Lev’s intensely focused gaze never left the board; thanks to that, he did not notice the Emperor watching him with interest.
In fact, this side of Lev surprised Guien. Quick to sense things, bold, good at judging a situation and resolving it.
It might be experience gained from having done many kinds of work, as he had said, but inborn qualities could not be ignored.
From seeing him talk with the page in that secluded garden, he seemed to have a fair head for trade as well.
The current Minister of Finance, Marquis d’Albret, was greedy. He aimed not only to distribute tea but to seize the commercial sphere as well.
On top of that, he was constantly eyeing the position of imperial in-law, which was no small headache. That was why he had rushed over at the news of a consort being taken.
In his crown prince days, with no faction of his own, Guien had once received help from Marquis d’Albret. Now he had become a nuisance.
Rather than a sly and grasping marquis, this kind of upfront, forthright attitude was preferable.
“A pity.”
It would be better if he worked under me, Guien thought unconsciously—the thought of a man who wanted many things.
“Huh?”
As Lev finally decided and advanced a piece, he looked at the Emperor as if to ask what he had said. Guien said it was nothing and moved a black stone after the white king.
After several exchanges, Lev’s king finally broke near the corner. It was Guien’s defeat, having withdrawn all his forces to the rear expecting him to retreat elsewhere.
Lev edged one square closer to the escape route, lifted his head with a smile, and his eyes sparkled as he looked at the Emperor.
“Looks like I’ve won.”
Just one square. If he reached that point, the white king would escape. With no black stones to block him front, side, or rear, it was Lev’s victory.
“Yes. I’ve lost.”
The Emperor admitted it without protest.
“What do you want?”
After briefly savoring the joy of not having to undress, Lev thought for a moment and answered.
“I want to work.”
“Work?”
“Yes.”
“What kind of work?”
The Emperor, as if hearing the most useless wish in the world, posed an indifferent question.
“Why? Do you need money? Is that why you picked up the button?”
It meant: when your clothing, food, and even lodging are all provided, why would you want to do such a thing?
True, that was so. But Lev had his reasons.
“Just… I want to do something.”
More than that… honestly, he was bored. Walking, chatting with Marco, playing games—none of it was bad. But that was for a day or two. He would have to be here for months, and he had no idea how to fill that long stretch.
“Normally at such times, people put effort into society, don’t they?”
You really ask for unusual things, the Emperor looked at his consort as if to say. Lev only gave a clumsy smile. For a moment he recalled the things the villain uke had done in the original.
“He ordered some fifty outfits from a tailor.”
“While strolling the garden he quarreled with noble scions and got into a fistfight.”
“He ordered a jeweler summoned, then said nothing pleased him and told them to prepare again by tomorrow.”
“He said lunch tasted bad and had the head chef called to complain.”
Come to think of it, those were exactly villain-uke deeds. How could one so steadily chip away at his own reputation.
What would he even do with fifty outfits? what was with the food tantrum? why pick fights? Honestly.
It’s better to work and save money—less fallout, more rewarding. Above all…
“I don’t think you’d want me building connections with nobles, would you?”
Oh? Look at this.
When Lev asked so boldly, Guien smirked.
Do I look too insolent?
As Lev belatedly flinched and carefully watched him, Guien erased the crooked smile and spoke.
“All right. What work do you want?”
At the offhand question, Lev felt relieved and answered quickly.
“Nothing comes to mind immediately, but I’ll think about it.”
He left room, intending to consult with Marco once the Emperor left.
Of course, Marco might jump up asking why he would do such a thing. Then he could invoke the Emperor.
- Hnefatafl (“King’s Table”) is an ancient Scandinavian board game whose variants were played all over medieval Europe before chess was even invented. ↩︎
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