The Protagonist’s Party is Too Diligent – 36
EP.36 Interlude
Crowfield.
Despite its name, the Crowfield County wasn’t exactly swarming with crows. At least, it wasn’t named so simply because of the presence of crows.
There was a vast meadow, stretching across the land, where the green grass looked breathtakingly beautiful until autumn arrived. But to say the scenery turned ugly during autumn wouldn’t be right either. The lush green merely shifted into golden hues, never devolving into a desolate wasteland.
Compared to other territories, the city had a modest level of modernization. Though the air wasn’t thick with clouds of smoke rising from countless chimneys, there was still a distant industrial district, with a few chimneys emitting dark smoke into the sky. The small size of the territory meant that crime was not a major issue, even with the presence of the industrial zone. As a result, people who were uncomfortable with the ominous name of the area would often ask after visiting, “Why is such a lovely place called ‘Crowfield’?”
Originally, Crowfield was part of the Kingdom of Velbur. More specifically, it was once the borderland between the Kingdom of Velbur and the Aetherna Empire.
During a past war between the empire and the kingdom, one of the largest battles took place here. The land changed hands several times, and many lives were lost. Imperial soldiers, kingdom soldiers, kingdom civilians massacred by the empire, and even those who were executed by the kingdom for collaborating with the empire during its occupation—all piled up. Bodies were left scattered across the plains, and others rotted away in the forest where they had been tossed carelessly.
Crows flocked to the unclaimed corpses, feasting and breeding among the remains. For a while, the sky over that land was filled with cawing flocks of crows. The name “Crowfield” became commonly used, replacing the old name of the territory. After all, most of the original residents had long since perished.
Although many people died, the empire continued to grow larger and eventually established its current borders. Crowfield was no longer a border territory—there was now a small piece of land between Crowfield and the Kingdom of Velbur. It seemed like the days of violence in Crowfield were over. The area looked ready to continue living peacefully.
Until the Count died in a single explosion.
“…Mia.”
Some time after her father’s funeral, the Countess called Mia over.
The grieving woman wiped the tears from Mia’s face with her fingers, then pulled her into a gentle embrace, patting her back.
“This was all the Emperor’s doing.”
She whispered.
“…What?”
The official report claimed that a gas pipe explosion beneath the Count’s carriage had caused the fatal blast, killing the Count and his entourage. Accidents involving gas pipes were not unheard of, so until this moment, Mia had believed her father’s death to be a horrific tragedy born of misfortune—nothing more.
Until her mother said those words.
“The Emperor… This was his doing. Or maybe… maybe his children were behind it.”
Her mother didn’t sound certain. But it was clear that she believed this to be the truth, though Mia couldn’t understand why.
“Mother?”
“Mia, my daughter.”
Holding Mia tightly, her mother whispered into her ear.
“Never forget this fact. Though there’s nothing we can do right now…”
Speaking so softly that only her daughter could hear, ensuring no one else could, her mother continued.
“Until the day Crowfield becomes the reigning imperial family.”
*
After the death of the Count of Crowfield, his widow continued to gather information relentlessly. Some of it was accurate, while other pieces were uncertain, but it didn’t matter much to her. After all, every name on her list of enemies—those marked for revenge—would meet the same fate regardless.
Collecting information was merely a way to keep her hatred alive, and perhaps to involve others in her cause when the time came. At the very least, Crowfield would need to fight from a position of strength when seeking vengeance.
Mia also remembered that hatred. She studied hard, memorizing every detail to make sure she never forgot.
There was a rumor circulating in the empire:
“On the day a prominent figure of the Empire dies, one of the Emperor’s children disappears.”
It was just a rumor, but the Empire’s nobles seemed to believe it was true. Among the information circulating around high-ranking nobles was a list of “children who disappeared on the day an Imperial figure died.” While the rumors were based solely on circumstantial evidence, there were indeed correlations between the deaths of certain nobles and the disappearances of certain imperial children.
And yet, the Emperor made no move to suppress such rumors. If this list were true, the Emperor would have even known that the list was circulating.
For Mia Crowfield, this only deepened her hatred of the Emperor. The image of him, sitting high upon his throne, waiting as if daring anyone to challenge him. The Emperor, who had murdered her father without showing any remorse or emotion, further fueled her resentment.
The one who disappeared on the day Count Crowfield died was Sylvia Fangriffon who was twelve years old, the same age as Mia. Some nobles didn’t believe the list for that reason. The idea that a twelve-year-old could infiltrate the heavily guarded Count’s estate, plant a bomb under the carriage, and assassinate the Count was absurd. It seemed like a conspiracy theory trying to fit the facts.
Even if the information was obtained from maids and servants in the palace, it wasn’t necessarily accurate. Dates could be mistaken, or the princess might have just stayed in her room or been visiting somewhere else.
It probably that some nobles on the list had even died of natural causes.
However…
During their first training session, Sylvia Fangriffon had used explosives. Despite the close combat being extremely disadvantageous for someone using firearms, the Emperor’s daughter had remained calm, evading all of her opponent’s attacks and overpowering them.
It wasn’t a move from any textbook.
It was the kind of movement one could make only if they already knew their opponent’s next move.
Would it be difficult for someone with such abilities to infiltrate a Count’s territory?
That wasn’t the only strange thing.
When Mia received the student council’s invitation and went to the student council room, she faced Sylvia Fangriffon. Even under Mia’s murderous gaze, Sylvia didn’t flinch. Perhaps Mia’s killing intent was too weak as a mage, but Alice Fangriffon and Princess Charlotte de Velbur, sitting right next to her, showed signs of discomfort.
It was strange that Sylvia didn’t react to the killing intent directed at her, especially in front of the Imperial Princess. Sylvia Fangriffon just remained calm, as if it were completely normal.
*
Back in her room, Mia glanced at her desk. There stood a small picture frame. Inside was a black-and-white photograph of three people—Mia and her parents.
Nobles usually preferred portraits over photographs. Portraits were seen as more “elegant” and “befitting of nobility.” Taking a photograph was something only those who couldn’t afford the time to wait for a portrait or the money to hire an artist would do.
Moreover, the face depicted in a portrait was always more flattering than in a photograph. While a photograph captured reality as it was, a portrait allowed for the artist’s interpretation. And that interpretation usually aligned with the paying noble’s desires.
For that reason, Mia did not hang a family portrait in her room.
The father Mia remembered from her childhood, he was always busy, running around to help the people of the estate, and sometimes not coming home at night. He looked a bit haggard, but Mia remembered that it was because he always worked so hard.
Mia thought back to the face of Sylvia Fangriffon, who had looked her straight in the eyes without a single flinch. That expression seemed utterly devoid of guilt. Sylvia Fangriffon, calmly drinking tea with hands that had surely been stained with blood.
“…I won’t forgive her.”
Mia muttered those words, her hatred once again swelling deep within her chest.
Sylvia Fangriffon would die. She would pay for her crimes with her life. Even if Mia had to sacrifice her own life in the process.
*
Perhaps due to their shared surname, Alice Fangriffon treated Sylvia Fangriffon with a certain friendliness. Of course, despite the conversations they had, Sylvia Fangriffon’s expression rarely changed. No matter how much Alice spoke, Sylvia’s responses were usually short and to the point.
And yet, there was a strange sense of camaraderie between the two. Neither of the princesses smiled easily, and both always wore stern expressions.
How could Sylvia remain so calm?
Did she see Mia Crowfield as a naive young lady incapable of seeking revenge?
“…Ah.”
Today, however, was different.
Alice Fangriffon’s expression shifted slightly as she looked at Mia. It was different from yesterday. Yesterday, she had simply been taken aback by the killing intent Mia directed at Sylvia. Or perhaps it was precisely because of that, that her expression softened today.
Mia, if she tries to fight Alice Fangriffon without a staff, she will simply be overpowered. The princess was an excellent swordswoman, after all. So, it wasn’t likely that she was afraid of Mia’s killing intent.
Maybe she was feeling a sense of regret?
“…Mia Crowfield.”
“…Your Highness.”
At least for today, Mia decided to hide her hatred a little. No matter how much she despised someone, if she constantly radiated such feelings, she was bound to fail even at things she could succeed in.
But still, could she succeed?
“…”
Sylvia Fangriffon’s face appeared as she quietly stared at Mia. Her expressionless face was so cold that it sent chills down Mia’s spine, revealing no emotion. It was as if Sylvia felt nothing toward the existence of Mia Crowfield, as if Mia held no value at all.
“Are you hungry?”
Suddenly, Alice Fangriffon asked Sylvia Fangriffon.
The cold gaze that had been fixed on Mia now turned toward Alice.
“…”
Sylvia remained silent.
“Then let’s go quickly. You should eat breakfast. You tend to eat quite a lot in the mornings.”
“…”
Sylvia still didn’t respond.
Was Princess Alice deliberately drawing Sylvia’s attention away from Mia?
Why?
“Well then, we’ll go ahead. You need to eat three meals a day to function properly.”
“Ah, yes…”
Mia replied, her expression faltering slightly at Alice’s words. But soon, the fire within her heart reignited.
“…”
Did they truly not care about her?
If so, she would prove that this righteous anger of hers could turn into a terrifying blade that would pierce them.
Mia Crowfield stood still, glaring at the two figures walking away from her.
*
Wait, how did she know?
Did my stomach growl or something? Alice had no reason to make that assumption.
“It was written all over your face, why?”
On my face?
“……No, I don’t think so….”
When I stared at Alice intently, she averted her gaze, looking a little embarrassed.
Could her eyesight be microscopic, capable of noticing the tiniest twitches in my facial muscles that no one else would pick up on? Movements so subtle that even I wasn’t aware of them?
“…And just because someone shows hatred towards you doesn’t mean you have to accept it every time.”
“I have no intention of accepting it unconditionally.”
When Alice spoke as if offering advice, I responded firmly.
“It’s just that, considering the circumstances, her anger is understandable.”
After all, I killed her father.
On top of that, she didn’t even know the truth. Considering what happened yesterday, even if I told her directly, she wouldn’t accept it right away.
It would be better to give her a hint, so she could discover it on her own.
“……”
As I was lost in these thoughts, Alice stared at me.
She wasn’t expressionless, but it wasn’t a look I could decipher either. Her face showed a mix of emotions, all blended together, making it hard to tell what she was feeling.
…It felt a little unfair that Alice could read my expression, but I couldn’t read hers.