Lu Sun
glided his
quill
smoothly across the parchment. His signature, written in the abbreviated, hurried script meant for shorthand—
how many of those had he already penned? Occasionally he compared his latest with the first to check whether the form had changed.
When he had been in the capital, he only had to press a seal, so his hand had never grown this tired. Between documents, he shook out his wrists while reviewing the paperwork.
"Lord Lu Sun. Could I trouble you with this one?"
A civil official brought new documents over. This was his fifth posting in total, and from his minimal accent, he was likely from Huayang Province. His earlobes were large—the kind said to bring good fortune. Perhaps from always carrying loads on his right side, his body listed noticeably to the right.
"Thank you. Then here you go."
"Understood."
The documents he had been handed could only be called menial work. At least, that was what the provincial lord here considered them.
The vast majority of Xuxi Province's population was concentrated in the towns along the east-west trade route.
What was called "menial work" here meant the grievances of people living on lands distant from that trade route—more villages and settlements than towns. Most were engaged in pastoral herding or the cultivation of drought-resistant crops like grapes. Requests ranged from wanting irrigation canals dug to complaints about bandits frequently stealing livestock.
"Ha ha ha."
He laughed out loud before he could stop himself, earning a puzzled look from the official who had been about to leave.
It had been over half a year since he was summoned from the royal capital to the western capital. Lu Sun had come under the pretext that they needed someone who understood
governance,
yet every task handed to him was
menial work—
the only thing that had changed since the beginning was perhaps the sheer volume of it all.
"Doesn't seem like they trust me very much."
He muttered to himself in the office that had been assigned to him.
While moving his right hand—on its way to developing tendinitis—
he continued reviewing the documents.
Even someone like Rikuson, reviewing vast quantities of documents every day, eventually starts to pick up on patterns. He'd like to think he has at least some minor talents beyond memorizing people's faces.
"I am filing proper reports, you know."
The one assigning the work is
Gyokuyō.
If you fail to report what you've noticed, there's a chance you'll be made the scapegoat if something goes wrong.
He can't help but suspect that Rikuson was deliberately summoned for precisely this reason.
Gyokuyō—the current provisional head of Seito. If
Gyokuen,
who has gone to the Central Capital, does not return, he, as the eldest son, would succeed him.
"Pardon the intrusion."
Another civil official arrives with documents. This time it's not additional paperwork, but the return of documents Rikuson had submitted to his superiors. The official serves directly under Gyokuyō, and Rikuson has crossed paths with him twice before. The first time was during last year's journey to the west, and the second was when he went to pay his respects to Gyokuyō.
"Here are your documents back."
Nothing was written on the documents. There was neither a signature nor a seal.
"So it's been denied, then."
"Yes. It may well be necessary, but there are more important tasks to attend to. I was told to have you set your priorities accordingly."
The message is delivered with crisp, unmistakable clarity.
Rikuson raised the corners of his mouth as he placed the returned documents into his drawer.
"One more thing."
"What might that be?"
"Lord Gyokuyō requests your presence. Not immediately, but after the morning duties are concluded, he'd like to hold a tea gathering. How would that suit you?"
The phrasing is a question, but there is no option to decline.
"Understood. Shall I head to the
pavilion
in the inner garden before the afternoon bell?"
"Yes."
The civil official left with a composed expression.
It was the place where Gyokuyō always held his tea gatherings.
The water source
was just nearby, a spot cooler than the rest. The insect-repelling incense burned from morning before the tea gatherings made it easy to tell.
Gyokuyō was no incompetent. Being the son of a powerful man, he had received a thorough education. Perhaps owing to the influence of Gyoen, who had once been a merchant, even Rikuson could clearly sense his drive to develop the Western Capital.
In his eyes was an ambition-like resolve that had not wavered since his youth.
Perhaps because of that, there were times it even felt perilous.
"...Is this also within my jurisdiction?"
Having taken to secluding himself in his office more often, his conversations with others had dwindled. It was no wonder he had developed a habit of muttering to himself.
"I really wish I could talk to more people, though."
The special knack of remembering people's faces was at the same time a hobby. Never forgetting a face once seen meant that seeing the same people all the time grew tedious.
What came out were invoices for decorative goods—silk, gemstones, and the like. As a trading post, the prices were certainly far cheaper than buying in the capital, but the sums were still on another level entirely. It was easy to guess what they had been spent on.
When Rikuson had first come west, he had crossed paths with a young woman. She was fifteen or sixteen.
Gyokuyou
—a girl with an air remarkably similar to the consort's.
When he asked the official who had been guiding him, he was told she was Gyokuyō's daughter.
"They don't look alike," the official murmured—but perhaps it was wise of him not to say anything further.
"He truly is ambitious."
Rikuson gave a slight upturn of his lips, and once more his
brush
swept freely across the paper.
The man with the jet-black beard had features and a build that did not resemble a typical resident of the Western Capital, aside from his tanned skin. Though his features held a certain depth, they were fundamentally
Rei
—the typical look of someone from that land. His hair was straight, his face rather round, and his build appeared leaner than the average resident of the Western Capital.
If one were to ask who it was, it was none other than Gyokuyō, the man standing before Rikuson.
He was past forty, but among the residents of the Western Capital—where it was easy to grow paunchy from drink—he looked a good ten years younger. His bright, white smile would certainly leave a favorable impression.
When he saw the straight, prominent canines, Rikuson quietly averted his gaze.
"Thank you for the invitation."
Rikuson slowly bowed his head.
"No, no—there's no need to be so formal. Please, sit down."
A servant pulled up a rattan chair. Once Rikuson took his seat, a glass of fruit water was placed on the table.
"Would you have preferred tea?"
"No. The work of a civil official makes one crave something sweet."
Had it been chilled with underground water? Condensation clung to the glass vessel.
"You're awfully stiff. Don't tell me you think there's some ulterior motive?"
"Ha ha ha. I can't help but feel nervous."
He smiled as he took a sip of the fruit water.
"I couldn't help but feel uneasy—worried that you might be disappointed that someone as unworthy as myself was dispatched from the royal capital."
"Haha. Father's selection was surely not wrong. More than anything, you who worked under—"
"Rakan—"
"—could never be incompetent."
Lord Rakan, then.
Rikuson set down his glass. At the center of the table, an array of colorful fruits was arranged.
"By the way—"
Gyokuyō rose to his feet and turned around. In his line of sight, a cluster of merchants came into view.
"Is there anyone in that group you recognize?"
"Three, yes. Two of them organize the trading caravans that come to the capital every year. The other conducts trade primarily along maritime routes."
A servant approached and placed writing implements before Rikuson. Rikuson wrote down the names and handed them over.
"I only remember two of their names. The rest are faces I've never seen before."
"Understood. I'll cross-reference them."
Was it to check for any suspicious individuals, or merely to test Rikuson's special talent?
After a while, the civil official who had returned whispered something to Gyokuyou.
"Hmm."
Whether the answer had satisfied him or not, Gyokuyou stroked his beard.
"As expected. That's correct."
"...I merely happened to recognize them."
She bowed her head slowly in modesty.
"It's remarkable, truly. With dozens, even hundreds of faces passing by each day, you still remember them all? Could it be that you share blood with the Ra clan, who are rumored to possess supernatural abilities in the capital? That would explain why you served Lord Rakan."
"W-Well..."
For the first time today, Rikuson smiled. Perhaps this was the most amusing conversation she'd had since coming to the Western Capital.
To think someone would suspect her of being related to the Ra clan — it was funnier than any traveling performer's joke.
"That clan is full of people who defy all expectations. As for me... well, I suppose it's become more of a habit by now?"
"A habit?"
"Yes. My mother taught me that I must never forget a person's face."
"Now that you mention it, you did say you came from a merchant family."
"Yes. She said, 'If you forget your customers' faces, it will hinder your business. Realize that you won't be able to survive.'"
Perhaps the laughter had eased her tension, because words began to flow freely from her mouth.
"Your mother sounds like she was a strict woman."
"Yes."
Rikuson paused to take a sip of her fruit water. As she thought about how the strategist had also been fond of fruit water, Gyokuyou said something surprising.
"Would Lord Rakan enjoy a flavor like this as well?"
"Did you know that Lord Rakan is a lightweight?"
"That's common knowledge."
Rikuson knew that all too well. The aftermath of wherever that man had passed through was left in a state of devastation, as if a typhoon had swept through.
"When he visits the Western Capital, I'll make sure to prepare fruit water — including this one."
"When he visits the Western Capital?"
Rikuson couldn't help but chew on those words. A lukewarm sweat broke out across his skin.
"Oh my, you're tensing up again. That's right — first time hearing this? Let me tell you something good."
As if to say that what came next was the real thing.
"Lord Rakkan is coming to the Western Capital. And amazingly, the Imperial Prince will be joining him."
He said it as though the imperial family member were nothing more than an afterthought.
Rikuson forced the corners of his mouth upward, and let out a deep sigh in his heart.