"It's nothing more than a succession dispute."
Maomao was strangely hung up on those words.
*(It's not "nothing more.")*
It didn't seem as simple as Suzume made it sound.
*(Well then, moving on.)*
Now that various problems had been resolved right before her eyes, Maomao could head back to the Western Capital—but the inside of the carriage was dreadfully dull.
Xiaohong, who was riding along with her, was asleep.
Suzume was up on the driver's seat, so all Maomao could do was gaze blankly out the window.
*(Let me get my thoughts in order.)*
Maomao thought about the four siblings of the Western Capital, who might or might not prove useful.
Yuying's eldest son, Chixiao.
He had received an elite education but lacked the drive himself, and was now running an escort agency.
If only the man had the motivation, there would be no succession dispute, and everything would seem to fall into place.
He wasn't as bad a person as the rumors suggested, but at the same time, he struck her as rather vacant.
The eldest daughter—was her name Yinxing?
Xiaohong's mother. A woman who seemed strong-willed, but she appeared to be suffocating while trying to live in Xuxi Province.
Maomao had asked the escort guards who'd parted ways to make contact, but how had that turned out?
She'd put them to wasted trouble, and the pearl fragments she'd handed over felt like a loss—maybe she could demand compensation from Chixiao later?
As the only woman among the four siblings, she seemed quite dissatisfied with how the inheritance was being divided.
The second son, Feilong.
Perhaps the polar opposite of his elder brother, he seemed to be an exceedingly serious man.
They'd only met a handful of times and never had a real conversation, but Maomao hadn't heard any strange rumors about him either.
And lastly, the third son—
Hulang.
It was unusual for Maomao to remember a name. She could almost compliment herself for it. She had found him a bit suspicious, but this time his seedy side had been brought to the fore. Looking back now, it seemed that most of the trouble since Gyokuō's death had been brought about by the third son. On the surface, he had presented himself as someone who supported the second son. So the explanation for why he would target the eldest son's life did seem convincing.
(But Suzaku said it was about the succession dispute.)
Indeed, if it was a succession dispute between the eldest and second sons, the story made sense. The third son, as someone on the second son's side, had tried to take down the eldest son. The explanation held water, but—
(There's something oddly ambiguous about it.)
Maomao wrote the names on the carriage floor, troubled.
(None of the four brothers have names with "jewel" in them.)
It seemed that the new Yang family had its own naming conventions.
Boys got animal names, girls got color names, perhaps. It was straightforward, and one could say it was fairly common.
(If the eldest son had discarded the "jewel" name on his own, then it makes sense. Otherwise, you couldn't name someone Chishō.)
Chishō—the alternative name for an owl, but it could also refer to a "vicious person." In a way, the eldest son seemed to have wanted to play the villain himself.
If his father, Gyokuō, had convinced himself that he was
Takeō
then the son would walk the opposite path. That too was a cautionary tale. On the other hand, Maomao thought that even though he put on a villainous act, his straightforward personality made him far more suited to being Takeō than Gyokuō had ever been.
(He didn't purposely barge in at a spot where I'd be chased around, did he?)
His manner of entering had been like the climax of a play.
The second son's name, Hiryū. This was a common name—a name expressing the wish that the son would soar like a dragon and rise in the world.
But what about the third son?
Korō—like Chishō, the name carried little positive meaning. It mostly conveyed greed and cruelty.
(Could the connotation be different in the Central Capital versus Saisei Province?)
No. Among nomadic herders who grazed sheep and goats, wolves would hardly carry a positive meaning.
Maomao poked her head out the window and watched Suzaku, who was humming a tune.
"Suzaku, Suzaku."
"Maomao, Maomao, what is it?"
Suzaku didn't look away, keeping hold of the reins. The wind made it a little hard to hear.
"Is there a custom in Saisei Province of giving unpleasant names to the youngest child?"
"Well, I don't think there was such a custom. I don't believe people gave unpleasant names to children just to keep them from dying young."
Suzaku was surprisingly well-read for how she looked. Maomao had heard something about it too — the idea being that if a child was too cute, the heavens would take a liking to them and snatch them away early, so parents would deliberately give them ugly names. Apparently, some were even named after bodily excretions.
"What made you think of that?"
"Well, the name Korou seems like something you'd give a villain."
"Oh, that. I heard the first wife chose it because he was the youngest son and the least suited to become head of the household."
(The first wife?)
Come to think of it, Maomao had never once seen her. She couldn't even remember whether the woman had been present at Gyokuou's funeral. People from the West were said to be reserved, but wasn't this taking it a bit too far?
"How is the first wife these days?"
"She's someone who no longer appears in public. She told me once, remember? That she'd be spending several years abroad during a sea voyage."
"Oh, now that you mention it, I think I heard something about that."
Apparently, that was the reason she was so far apart in age from the other three siblings.
"It seems like a lot of things broke down during that time. After she gave birth to Korou, she apparently couldn't do anything anymore."
"I see."
A stray thought suddenly crossed Maomao's mind.
(What if Korou isn't Gyokuou's child?)
If he was a child conceived with someone from a foreign land, that would be reason enough to give him a name with a bad connotation.
Debating whether to say it or not, Maomao ultimately decided that now was as good a time as any to ask.
"Could it be that Korou isn't actually Gyokuou's son?"
"Pff!"
For some reason, this sent Suzaku into an unprecedented fit of laughter. She usually just had a pleasant smile on her face, but this was the first time Maomao had seen her doubled over clutching her belly. And yet, she held the reins firmly the whole time — impressive horsmanship indeed.
"Ha ha ha, pardon me. Th-that is absolutely not the case."
"What makes you so sure?"
"He was born a full year after the first wife returned, so there's no way she came back carrying a foreigner's child. Ah, of course, it would be a different story if she'd had an affair within the estate."
Suzaku found something terribly amusing and broke into laughter all over again. Her sense of humor didn't quite align with Maomao's, and she couldn't see what was so funny about any of it.
(Well, so that's not it.)
Maomao closed the window. There was still a long time to be rocked around in the carriage. She decided she might as well sleep.
It would take several days to reach the Western Capital. Since they had a much larger party than on the way there, they decided to camp overnight rather than stop at any towns along the way. Many of them seemed to be former nomads, so camping came naturally to them, and once inside the simple tents, it was quite comfortable.
Shikou was in charge of everything. Maomao and Xiaohong, of course, and even Suzaku were just watching like guests.
"Uncle, that's amazing!"
Xiaohong's eyes were sparkling. The way she drank warmed goat's milk was that of a child her age.
(Maybe Xiaohong is the biggest contributor this time.)
All things considered, it was nice to have a child who would listen to everything she had to say. So many adults couldn't even do what they were told, yet she did it all. Maomao entertained the wicked thought that it might be interesting to bring her back to the central capital and raise her as a pharmacist.
"Maomao, you're thinking something rather unsettling, aren't you?"
"Suzaku, I'm not thinking about anything at all."
Maomao played innocent. Apparently, she couldn't just go around picking up every stray she found.
"Still, you're very skilled. I didn't expect the food to taste this good at a campsite."
On top of the slightly toasted
bread,
she placed cheese grilled over
fire.
The stretchy cheese's saltiness went perfectly with the bread and was delicious. The soup had hardly any ingredients either, but they seemed to be using broth made from livestock bones, which stimulated the appetite.
"I wish they'd give us a bit more, though. I haven't had a proper meal in a while."
When Suzaku had been playing the part of a female bodyguard, she ate normal portions. If she had been eating as usual, Maomao might have caught onto her identity sooner.
"Surely you can't eat your fill at a campsite?"
"But they're feeding the bandits properly too, you know. They should give that portion to Suzaku instead."
"Well, even criminals get hungry."
"Yes. Since they'll be hanged anyway, might as well get it over with in one go."
Suzaku's words were harsher than her bright tone suggested.
(She'll definitely be hanged, won't she.)
Conquering a town, killing and enslaving its residents, and then attempting to kidnap dignitaries from a foreign country—there was absolutely no room for excuses.
So the grunts were hanged right away in the neighboring town. The leader Kuma-o and several others were being transported to the Western Capital, but—
"What will happen to the townspeople who were forced to help with the banditry?"
"Hmm. They can't be declared completely innocent, I'd say. There's room for leniency, considering the circumstances, but..."
(That
old master—
it's going to be tough for him, isn't it.)
The townspeople had survived in such numbers thanks to the old master. But in the process, he had sorted the living from the dead based on whether they shared his faith or followed a different creed. And on top of that, he chose the path of compliance so he wouldn't be killed.
"What will happen to the old master?"
"He won't be declared innocent. And even if he's punished and sent back, there won't be a place for him. After all, they won't restore his former position to a man who let heretics die."
"I see."
Maomao felt a helpless weight settle in her chest. It couldn't be helped, but the human heart doesn't work that simply.
"There's no need for you to worry about it, Maomao. He's not the kind of man who would ever regret protecting his own faith, no matter what happens."
Sparrow was being oddly philosophical.
"More than anything, this whole mess happened because Shikyō was too soft-handed. Last time, he should have blinded them in both eyes instead of just one. And this time too—he should have just handed the criminals over to the Western Capital officials and dealt with them right then and there."
"Uncle's so kind."
Xiaohong glared at Sparrow a little. She seemed to think her uncle was being badmouthed.
"I think uncle would be the best fit for head of the household."
"I'm rooting for uncle!"
Maomao drank the goat's milk.
"Well, he is kind, and he's the sort of person who leads others, so he might actually suit being the head of house. But he's not suited to be the heir."
"Isn't that a contradiction?"
"It's not a contradiction."
Sparrow reluctantly licked the breadcrumbs from her fingertip, then drained the rest of the goat's milk.