Rescue

A horse was carrying me, its movement jolting me with a dull, pulsing impact every time it broke into a rough trot.

Wrapped in cloth as I was, I couldn't see a thing around me. All I could do was feel myself being bounced about and carried who-knows-where.

...Wait?

My eyelids won't move?

It hit me that the opening and closing of my eyes had been caused entirely by the jolting of the horse, and that I could no longer even blink of my own will. A chill crept up the back of my neck as I realized there wasn't a single part of me I could still control.

With all my senses gone, a thought drifted unbidden into my mind—what if I just died like this? Given my current state, that seemed disturbingly plausible, and I fought frantically to shake off the terrifying notion.

...No, no, that black-clad figure said things like "take her to the carriage" and "that person will be pleased," so they wouldn't have given me a lethal drug, right?

It was strange to cling to the words of an enemy, but in this slow sensation of creeping toward death, even an enemy's words became a lifeline—like a drowning person grasping at a straw.

They had only drugged me to keep me from resisting. They had no intention of killing me. Those gray eyes had been cold, treating me like an object, but they hadn't held killing intent. If they'd wanted me dead, the surest way would have been to do it right there.

Just keep telling yourself it'll be fine, it'll be fine, I whispered inwardly, and was just beginning to find a sliver of peace when yet another terrible premonition surfaced.

...It's safe for other people, but it wouldn't be a lethal dose for me specifically, would it?

I fought back the worst-case scenario that had just risen to the surface—that it very well could be.

I was still on the castle grounds. If Wilfried and the others had made it back to the main building and reported the attack, rescue should be on its way any minute.

...They'd go toward the northern wing where the attack had happened, hear about Charlotte's kidnapping, and then come this way...

I traced the likely path of rescue through my mind, cold sweat trickling down.

But would the rescuers reach me in time? Would they even notice a horse crashing through a densely wooded forest? Would they get here before the drug completely stopped my breathing?

...Maybe the Chief Priest could make it in time.

Even if I'd been poisoned, the Chief Priest—a mad scientist when it came to medicine—would surely find a way to save me. I believed in the Chief Priest's omnipotence with all my heart.

...Chief Priest, help me!

A deafening explosion ripped through the air.

The horse, which had been running with steady hoofbeats until now, startled at the blast nearby and reared up violently on its hind legs, letting out what sounded like a scream.

Bound like cargo, I was simply tossed about, but the man riding the horse was clearly shaken by both the explosion and the horse's sudden rearing. He let out a shriek.

"Whaaaaa!"

Perhaps further spooked by his voice, the horse went berserk and bolted wildly. The second horse running alongside it must have gone mad too—I could hear its thundering hooves veering off in a different direction.

"Steady! Whoa!"

The jolting grew worse as the panicked horse ran wild, and I could hear the rider's panicked, cracking voice trying to regain control. But the scenery before my eyes, the situation, remained unchanged.

The forest night, so quiet that only hoofbeats had been audible, erupted into chaos in the wake of the deafening blast. Birds and beasts were crying out in alarm, scattering in all directions.

And then, despite being wrapped tightly in cloth, a roar so powerful it made my entire body tremble rang out through the air.

"You imbecile who dared kidnap my only granddaughter! Is it you?!"

The air rushing into my ears was vibrating, and my heart—already stripped of nearly all sensation—clenched tight. That thunderous voice and its contents told me exactly who had come to my rescue.

...Grandpa?!

The fury in that voice, even deeper and louder than the explosion, made the horse rear up again, and this time it froze entirely.

...Huh? The horse stopped standing up?

Then, slowly, the horse toppled over. I felt it rolling onto its side, and my blood ran cold. Depending on how it fell, I—tied up as I was—would end up crushed underneath.

...Grandpa, please hold back!

I let out a sound that was less a scream and more a wordless shriek. Just then, the bonds securing me to the horse were sliced away, and I was swiftly lifted up by someone.

"Rozemyne! Are you still in here?"

Lifting the cloth, shaking it without ceremony, and calling out to check whether I was alive—that could only be Grandpa. But with my body completely unresponsive, I couldn't answer him or even complain.

...Grandpa, I'm upside down! I can't feel it, but the blood's rushing to my head! Stop it! Stop shaking me!

"No response! Could she be—dead?! Rozemyne, I'm getting you out right now!"

No sooner had those words left his mouth than the position of my body shifted from upside-down to sideways. But my relief lasted only a moment.

Grandpa grabbed the end of the cloth and let out a forceful grunt. I felt the cloth whipping through the air as he tried to flail it open, and I screamed silently in my mind: Stop!

If Grandpa swung that cloth with full force, I would go flying—no question about it.

...Wait, wait, stop! Someone, stop Grandpa! I'll die!

My silent screams, of course, never reached him. Thinking only of getting me out of the cloth as quickly as possible, Grandpa seized it and flung it hard.

In the next instant, my body spun round and round at dizzying speed, following the motion of the cloth. I shot free of it and—as I had anticipated—was hurled forcefully into the air.

Spinning laterally at high speed, my body sailed through the air.

"Whaaaaaaaaa!"

"Rozemyne?! Whoa!"

I heard Grandpa's panicked shout at the same moment that someone caught me with a firm grip.

"Lord Bonifatius! Did Karstedt not tell you that she could die if handled incorrectly?! Rozemyne's eyes are rolling back in her head!"

"...Ferdinand. She isn't dead, is she?"

Grandpa's voice came through, sounding a little deflated after being yelled at.

The Chief Priest tapped my cheek lightly, took my pulse, and answered coolly.

"She shows no response whatsoever, so I can't confirm she's unharmed. But she does have a pulse."

...The Chief Priest is my lifesaver.

After Grandpa's rough handling, the Chief Priest's care felt incomparably gentle and meticulous. I was overflowing with gratitude toward Father for keeping Grandpa away from me all this time.

"Really now. I understand you're worried, but that kind of handling could kill even a healthy person. Are you all right, Rozemyne?"

Speaking briskly, the Chief Priest examined my condition with efficient precision. After checking my temperature and pulse, he brought his face very close. I could feel his breath near my mouth.

"There's the smell of a drug."

I sensed the tension ripple outward from those words. Rustling sounds, and then something like a piece of paper was shoved into my mouth. After that, the Chief Priest murmured in a low voice, laced with anger: "Of all things... they used that one."

"...This is bad."

"What is it, Ferdinand?"

"If she isn't given an antidote immediately, Rozemyne will die as she is."

"What?!"

Grandpa's exclamation and my own silent scream came at the exact same moment. I had feared this might happen, but hearing the Chief Priest state it so definitively transformed it from a possibility into an undeniable, imminent reality.

The Chief Priest clinked with the sound of metal. A moment later, the smell of medicine surged into my nose. He had pulled out one of the medicine pouches at his waist, I realized—and then my mouth was pried open and a cloth soaked in medicine was stuffed inside.

To be precise, the Chief Priest had wound the medicine-soaked cloth around his index finger and thrust it into my mouth, smearing medicine all over the inside like he was giving me the worst dental cleaning of my life.

"Gah-gah-gah!"

"This only weakens and suppresses the drug's effects—it's merely buying time. There's no antidote without going to the workshop."

With the cloth still stuffed in my mouth, the Chief Priest withdrew only his finger.

"Then, we should call the physician immediately—"

"No. I know Rozemyne's frail constitution and proper dosage better than anyone. We'll perform treatment and recovery in the Temple workshop."

With that, the Chief Priest wrapped me in the cloth once more. I could feel air against my face, so he hadn't bundled me up like an object this time. Then he lifted me into his arms. He adjusted the position of my head, making it easier to breathe, and I felt a wave of relief.

"The Temple?! You want to treat Rozemyne in a place like that...?"

For nobles, the Temple was hardly a place one willingly set foot in. That must have been why Grandpa was reluctant about treatment there. But for me, it was a place of comfort—where my Attendants were at ease, where the jureve I had designed was kept, far more welcoming than the castle.

"At the very least, there's no risk of unnecessary nobles showing up, which makes it superior to the castle. Time is precious—forgive me."

"Ferdinand, wait! Rozemyne will be cared for in my household!"

"The only person who can save Rozemyne right now is me! Don't get in my way!"

Discarding all pretense of courtesy, the Chief Priest shouted at Grandpa. The fury behind those words sent a chill through my heart.

If the Chief Priest and Grandpa started fighting right now, I was as good as dead.

I felt the arms holding me tighten.

"Grandfather, please leave Rozemyne to Lord Ferdinand. Lord Ferdinand—take this. It's Rozemyne's magic stone."

It was Brother Cornelius's voice. He had apparently picked up the magic stone meant for my riding beast. I felt it being fastened to the clasp at my waist.

I tried to move my mouth to thank him, but my mouth still wouldn't obey.

"Rozemyne... I'm sorry I couldn't protect you."

I felt Brother Cornelius stroke my cheek. He'd already saved Charlotte and Angelica, and that should have been enough, but his voice was heavy with guilt. I wanted to tell him not to worry, but the inability to even speak was agonizing.

"Cornelius, if you're truly sorry, then catch the person who harmed Rozemyne. The culprit was likely a noble. The man Grandfather Bonifatius crushed back there was just a common underling—not the noble themselves."

The Chief Priest's voice was icy. The rage simmering behind it came through in waves.

"...Grandfather, the horse I heard had two sets of hoofbeats. There should be one more person somewhere in the forest."

"I also ask that you apprehend the culprit who put Rozemyne through this. Please capture them in a state where we can still extract information. Whatever you do, don't crush their head like that man over there—we won't be able to search their memories anymore."

At the Chief Priest's words, I was genuinely grateful that my eyes had been closed. I had no desire to see a man whose head Grandpa had caved in.

"Understood. Let's go, Cornelius! Ferdinand—look after my granddaughter."

"I accept the responsibility."

Grandpa immediately dashed off to "capture the culprit." Brother Cornelius, who had been told by the Chief Priest that "a grandfather's rampage should be stopped by his granddaughter," hurried after him.

I felt the Chief Priest shift, adjusting his hold on me. Moments later, I heard the flap of wings. His riding beast had taken off.

"Rozemyne, I will save you. So fight the drug until the very end."

From the motion of the cloth still in my mouth, I could tell we were racing toward the Temple at a terrifying speed.

At a pace no one else could hope to match, the Chief Priest returned to the Temple.

He strode forward with long, brisk steps, and the faint, drifting scent of incense told me I had truly come back to the Temple.

The seventh bell had already finished ringing. Inside the Temple, there was almost no trace of people—it was utterly silent. Only the Chief Priest's footsteps echoed through the stillness: click, click, click.

"Open it."

At the Chief Priest's command, there was a gasp and the hurried sound of a door swinging open. When he said "Fran," I knew we were in the High Priest's chambers.

"Chief Priest, what in the world happened to—Lady Rozemyne?!"

Fran had apparently been keeping vigil in the room, and his voice rose in shock. The Chief Priest handed me over to Fran while explaining.

"She was ambushed and poisoned. I'm going to administer an antidote now. Go fetch medicine from the workshop. In the meantime, change her into white clothes. And don't remove the handkerchief in her mouth—it's soaked in a drug to suppress the poison's progression."

"Understood."

Fran held me with one arm while ringing the bell for Attendants with his other hand. In no time, footsteps hurried in and the Attendants gathered.

"Nicola, Monica! Change Lady Rozemyne into white clothes immediately. Zium, Fritz, Gil—adjust the lighting and temperature of the room."

"Yes!"

With my body completely without strength, it was impossible for Nicola and Monica alone to change me. Fran supported me while the buttons on my back were undone and my hair ornament was removed.

"Lady Rozemyne, please hang in there!"

"Fran, is Lady Rozemyne going to be all right?"

Since I showed no response whatsoever, Nicola and Monica asked Fran with concern.

"The Chief Priest is here."

Even Fran's answering voice was stiff, and I could feel his hands trembling slightly as he held me.

"I'm coming in."

He announced himself and entered before the Attendants could even reply. I heard him setting various items down on a table with a clatter.

Unconscious as I was, the Chief Priest showed no regard whatsoever for the fact that the room's occupant was in the middle of changing. That urgency seemed to underscore just how grave my condition was, and I felt my heart quicken.

"Ah, leave the undergarments as they are. Wrap her in cloth to keep her warm. Time is precious. Once the antidote is done, we'll be using jureve anyway."

True to his word, I was bundled in cloth for warmth. Then I heard: "Lend her to me, Fran."

I was passed to the Chief Priest, who was seated in a chair. The handkerchief was pulled from my mouth and replaced with a long, thin stick—like a dropper. Medicine flowed into my mouth in small increments. It had no taste at all.

...Does the medicine have no flavor, or have I lost my sense of taste? Which is it?

When he finished administering the medicine, the Chief Priest took my pulse and let out a soft breath.

"She still has a pulse. I believe we made it in time. ...Fran, support her in this position without letting it shift until the medicine takes effect. If her tongue moves into the wrong position, she won't be able to breathe—stay vigilant."

"Understood."

Fran took me back from the Chief Priest, carefully supporting me while being mindful of my head and body position.

"I'm going to prepare the jureve."

I could hear the Chief Priest's footsteps receding.

I leaned limply against Fran as several presences drew near.

"Fran, is Lady Rozemyne going to be all right?"

"She received the Chief Priest's medicine, so of course she will. The Chief Priest said he made it in time."

Fran's voice, trusting the Chief Priest, was somewhat softer. And because he had spoken with such conviction, the heavy atmosphere around us seemed to lighten just a little.

"I'll read you a book. So please get better, Lady Rozemyne."

With that, Gil began reading a picture book aloud. My heart warmed and relaxed, and somewhere in that comfort, the Chief Priest's medicine began to take hold. My lips moved just a fraction.

"Hey! Lady Rozemyne is smiling, Gil! I think she can hear you!"

Nicola's voice was bright with joy. Gil's reading grew a little louder. And with a small measure of relief, Nicola and Monica began tidying the hair ornament and other items.

By the time Gil finished one picture book, my mouth could move slightly, and a bit of strength returned to my eyelids. I strained several times before I finally managed to open my eyes.

"Lady Rozemyne!"

Thank goodness—I could see the faces of my Attendants gathered around me in relief. My lips were still sluggish, but I tried my hardest to produce a sound.

"...Don't...worry..."

"Please don't push yourself!"

"Just stay still until the medicine finishes working!"

I was happy for the warmth of my Attendants fussing over me, and I felt genuine relief that the harsh environment I'd been in was far behind me now.

"...I can...sort of talk now."

"Your body still can't move, so please stay like this for a while longer."

Leaning against Fran, I managed a "yes." If I tried to nod, my head would drop like a stone, and I wouldn't be able to lift it back up on my own.

"Hey, Fran. I'll be using jureve soon, won't I?"

"That's what the Chief Priest said, so yes."

The Chief Priest had told me that using jureve would render me unconscious for a while. If that was the case, I should give my instructions before it happened.

"Then please deliver the letters I prepared to everyone in the lower city. Also, ask the Chief Priest to bring my exclusive retainers back from the castle to the Temple. ...As for the Temple, it'll be the same as when I went to the castle for an extended absence. My Attendants are excellent, so I'm sure things will run smoothly even while I'm using jureve, but I'd appreciate your help regardless."

"Leave it to me."

Having passed along my instructions, I decided it was time to head to the hidden room.

The antidote was gradually restoring movement to my body, but my Magic Power within was barely responding. It might have been an unearned self-diagnosis, but I didn't think my condition was good.

"Fran, I'd like to go to the hidden room. I hate to ask, but would you carry me? If you're with me, you should be able to enter."

"Of course."

Fran lifted me into his arms. I reached out with my still-trembling hand—hand I couldn't yet control—and touched the magic stone on the hidden door. I could feel Magic Power trickling through, but it wasn't flowing like usual.

"Chief Priest, Lady Rozemyne has awakened."

Managing to open the hidden door, I found the Chief Priest filling a white tub—could have been a bath, could have been a coffin—with jureve from a white pitcher.

"Chief Priest, my Magic Power isn't moving much. It feels like it's starting to congeal."

"Drink the jureve at once."

The Chief Priest's expression darkened. He poured jureve into a cup and handed it to Fran. Supporting my hand—still not fully under my control—I touched the cup gently and, with Fran's help, drank. The faint sweetness told me that my sense of taste was returning.

Even while I drank, the Chief Priest kept pouring jureve from the white pitcher. It wasn't a large pitcher, yet the stream never stopped—and though no one had touched the tub, I had the sense that its contents were decreasing.

"It's as if they're connected."

"Not 'as if'—they are connected. ...That should be enough."

With that, the Chief Priest set the pitcher down with a soft clink. He then lifted me and seated me in the white tub filled with jureve. Inside the tub, a magic circle was inscribed, and the moment I sat down, lines of Magic Power glowed red across my body.

"The magic circle appears to be functioning properly. ...However, your Magic Power..."

He murmured low, watching the flow along my arms and neck. As he conducted his examination, my eyelids grew heavier and heavier.

"...I'm getting sleepy, Chief Priest."

"Yes, the medicine must be taking effect. Go to sleep right here. Good night, Rozemyne."

"Good night, Chief Priest. I'm entrusting everything to you."

"Yes. Anyone who disturbs your rest, I will eliminate. Sleep peacefully."

The Chief Priest's large hand covered my eyes. At the same moment, my consciousness sank away like a sigh. I could feel my body being slowly lowered into the jureve.

The sensation of being immersed in the gently swaying liquid was inexplicably familiar—deeply, profoundly comforting.

Dangerous, but rescued.

Next is the final chapter, followed by an afterword, bringing Part Three to a close.