* * *

Spring seemed a terribly fickle season. Just when the weather seemed to be warming up, a day would suddenly turn as cold as the depths of winter.

The adults said it was because winter envied the spring flowers. In that case, contrary to appearances, winter must not be very cool about things. Its time had already passed, yet it still lingered, reluctant to let go and consumed by jealousy.

It was an overcast day. Dark clouds covered the entire expanse of sky. Would it rain? Or would it snow?

In the early morning, Valeri stood gazing up at that cloud-filled sky. White mist puffed from his mouth with every breath.

“Wid.”

At the sound of his name, Valeri looked away from the sky and turned. Harald was just emerging from the castle into the courtyard. He wore a belt over his fur coat, with even a sword at his waist. Blacken might be within the earldom, but they would still be leaving the lands under the earl’s direct control, so he had dressed for the occasion.

He was also carrying what looked like a garment.

“Put this on.”

Valeri looked to see what it was: a dark blue gambeson. Its quilting was sturdy and meticulously stitched, and its softness suggested that it was stuffed with good-quality wool.

He considered declining, but Harald had already brought it out. Refusing now would only make things more troublesome. So he simply took the gambeson and put it on.

As might be expected of something worn by an earl’s son, its soft lining put it in an entirely different class from the ordinary gambesons commoners wore.

Valeri slipped the leather ties through their holes one by one. He had almost finished fastening the front when he felt someone watching him.

Following that sensation, he looked up and met the countess’s eyes at an upper-story window. In the early morning light she was only a dim silhouette, but he could tell it was her.

The moment their eyes met, she stepped away. A realization flashed through his mind. Ah. She had made this.

For noblewomen, spinning thread and weaving cloth were both important accomplishments and part of their daily work. They used that cloth to make their lands’ banners, as well as surcoats and other garments for their husbands, sons, knights, and squires.

The gambeson Valeri now wore was one such garment. Spinning the thread, weaving the fabric, cutting it, filling it with wool, and carefully stitching it together—the countess’s hands had touched every stage.

And every touch would have held her tender love for her son, Harald.

Having met her eyes, Valeri could hardly have felt more uncomfortable. He awkwardly fingered the gambeson’s hem, wondering whether he should take it off even now.

“Aren’t you ready yet?”

Harald had already mounted his own horse. He was riding it to Blacken, and Valeri would have to sit behind him.

A week had passed since Earl Æthelred gave his instructions. They had spent that time keeping the horses in good condition, and today they were taking them to be sold.

Gidwin and Tommy were riding Roden and Kale, the two horses they were to sell. Like Harald, both wore swords at their waists.

For some reason, Hakon sat behind Gidwin with his helmet on. He had said he wanted to come, so Harald was bringing him along. They were already waiting near the castle gate.

Valeri stepped onto the mounting block and climbed up behind Harald.

“Let’s go.”

Harald nudged the horse’s flanks with his heels. He led the way out through the gate, with Gidwin and Tommy following.

Though it was morning, the clouds crowding the sky made it as dark as evening.

Having left the castle early that morning, Valeri and the others alternated between riding hard and resting, reaching Blacken around noon.

The dark clouds had yet to clear, leaving the world gray. Even so, the horse market was easy to spot from a distance.

Long rows of temporary stables had been set up outside the town. Owners led the horses they had brought to sell at a walk or a run, showing off their merchandise. A haze of dust hung over the grounds, though it was not too thick, and even from a distance the dull drumming of hooves could faintly be heard.

The people crowding around the horse market evidently included more than horse sellers. Some had come to sell snacks or other wares; others were simply there to look around.

Whether they were bees drawn to flowers or flies drawn to a dung heap, people inevitably flocked wherever money gathered.

“Let’s go,” Harald said.

They headed into the horse market. Once they arrived, everyone but Harald dismounted, and the people nearby turned to look at the newcomers.

Remaining mounted where anyone would ordinarily dismount marked a person as a noble. And here, that effectively meant the earl—or his wife or son.

Clothing was the quickest way to judge someone’s status, followed by a confident gaze and bearing with a hint of haughtiness. People quickly realized, almost by instinct, that Harald was the earl’s son.

Not that any of this was necessary. Someone there already knew him.

“Why, isn’t that the young master?”

A man approached in recognition. His pointed cloth hat drooped to one side, its tip almost reaching his shoulder. He was one of the merchants who lived in town.

Harald merely inclined his head from horseback. It was Gidwin who answered the greeting.

“We’ve come to sell horses. Not the one the young master is riding. This stallion and mare here.”

“Have you? The horse dealers are over there. If you don’t intend to sell today, you can leave the horses at the official residence. Keeping them in the temporary stables costs money, after all, and someone has to stand watch over them.”

“Understood.”

Gidwin’s answer was curt. He took the reins of Harald’s horse and walked on.

Tommy was leading Roden and Kale when he met several pairs of eyes watching him from the crowd. Rekton’s gang. Those thugs who, on Valeri’s birthday, had been boasting about beating someone up and taking a sword from them in town.

“Looks like Rekton’s boys.”

Mounted as he was, Harald had a clear view of the surroundings and had spotted them too.

“Stay beside me, Tommy. They won’t dare touch you then.”

Harald seemed to mean it as reassurance, but Tommy looked decidedly unhappy. Whether out of anxiety or confidence was unclear.

“No, young master. I can beat them all on my own. Give me a moment and I’ll go deal with them.”

“Hey. Shut your mouth before I kill you myself, never mind those fucking bastards.”

Gidwin turned and snarled at Tommy. His foremost duty was to protect Harald, and with so many things demanding his attention, he seemed to be growing tense.

Surely a few town thugs would never dare harm the earl’s only son. Still, nobles sometimes died after being gored by boars on a hunt, and assassinations did happen. He could not afford to feel entirely safe.

“I’ll do the bargaining. Give me the reins. Hakon, come beside me. Tommy, you stay over there.”

Valeri sent Tommy to the far side of Harald’s horse, where the animal would at least screen him somewhat from view.

He took the reins from Tommy and kept Hakon, who was busy looking at everything around him, close at his side as they walked. All these measures were intended to reduce the number of things Gidwin had to worry about.

“Thanks.”

Gidwin spoke quietly, apparently understanding what he was doing.

Valeri had not done it for recognition, so he merely nodded.

When they reached the horse dealers, they found people busily trading packhorses and the like, with a separate area for better-bred animals. Valeri headed that way.

Several horses were circling inside a large fenced enclosure. An experienced rider regulated their pace by striking a whip against the ground.

CRACK! CRACK!

Outside the fence sat a man who looked like the chief of a band of mounted bandits. Despite the cold, his clothes hung open at the front, exposing his thick chest hair.

Even when he saw Harald, who was plainly a noble, he simply kept crunching his apple as though to ask what of it.

“We’ve come to sell these two horses.”

Valeri stepped forward to speak. His grown-up manner of speaking sat a little oddly with his still-boyish looks.

The horse dealer showed no sign of looking down on him, however. He merely surveyed Valeri and his companions before speaking.

“The stallion’s too old even to serve as a stud, and the mare’s breeding isn’t good enough for producing foals. One gold coin for the pair.”

His assessment was accurate, his price a lowball offer. Neither flustered nor intimidated, Valeri replied,

“That trick of driving down the price, then offering a little extra on the last market day as though you’re doing us a favor, won’t work. As you can see, these horses were fed and trained by the earl’s household. They’ll earn their keep as packhorses, and they’re good for riding lessons too. We’ll need four gold coins.”

“... Sounds like you’ve picked up a thing or two somewhere, but the buyer decides what to do with the horses. An old stallion that can’t serve as a stud and a young mare of poor breeding. Two gold coins.”

At that, Valeri approached Harald and whispered,

“I’m not thrilled, but it isn’t that low an offer. If you consider what a few days’ lodging, food, and stabling would cost, it isn’t bad.”

“Really? But we won’t have to pay for lodging, will we? We can stay at the official residence. And we won’t have to pay for stabling either.”

He was, after all, the lord’s heir. He could simply stay at the town’s official residence for free.

Valeri nodded, then returned to the dealer.

“Make it two gold coins and five silver.”

“Look, you can’t be so coldhearted when you’re doing business. You have to consider that we’re buying them to sell on. You think feeding them costs nothing? Who knows when they’ll sell?”

Valeri was about to ask why they should care about the dealer’s circumstances when a powerful neigh suddenly rang out.

NEIGH!

Everyone reflexively turned toward the sound. A large black horse was running wild.

“The bastard’s at it again!”

“Don’t let go! Hold tight!”

“Bring more rope!”

People were shouting. It was not far away, so they went closer. The black horse thrashing about had an impressive build, though it was somewhat thin.

Several people had ropes around its neck and its forelegs and hind legs, trying to restrain it. It was fighting so violently that they were clearly having trouble.

“Damn it! That bastard’s at it again!” the dealer they had been bargaining with snapped.

“Is that horse for sale?” Valeri asked.

The dealer gave a dismissive snort.

“It’s a man-eater. Eats people. We can’t sell it until it’s broken in.”

“A man-eating horse?”

Hakon stepped forward to ask, evidently intensely curious.

“It doesn’t actually eat them. But it’s bitten faces and limbs and crippled a fair few people.”

“Eek...”

The black horse had grown a little thin from being kept restrained, but judging by its height, length, and musculature, it appeared a match for any warhorse. No—one would be lucky to see a horse this fine even once in a lifetime.

Yet a warhorse needed more than a good natural build. Courage, discipline, and loyalty were just as important if it was to fight on a battlefield filled with spears, swords, corpses, and blood.

That was why warhorse bloodlines were so strictly managed. This horse might have plenty of aggression, but loyalty and discipline seemed too much to hope for. What use was it if its owner got hurt before even meeting the enemy?

It seemed to be a wild horse. A pity, but unless it could be tamed, it was useless.

Then Valeri climbed over the fence and approached the black horse.

“Wid!”

“Hey! What are you doing?”

“It’s dangerous!”

Harald cried out in alarm, and the people nearby shouted in surprise too. Valeri kept approaching as though he had not heard.

As he drew near, the black horse snapped its teeth and thrust its great mouth toward him as if to tear into him. Valeri showed no fear. Little by little, he kept moving closer.

The people restraining it with looped ropes held on with all their strength. The horse kept struggling to break free, seemingly tireless.

Valeri raised a hand to stroke it, and each time the horse tried to bite his hand as well. He evaded its snapping jaws and remained calm.

That calm radiated from his unwavering eyes. Gradually it seemed to reach the horse too. Fixing its gaze solely on his eyes, it began to settle.

Valeri carefully covered the black horse’s eyes and whispered in its ear.

“You don’t rebel because you’re vicious. It’s because you’re sensitive. Isn’t it?”

Then he removed his hand and met its eyes again.

The whole sequence was so fantastical, so impossible to believe, that his companions and everyone else there could only stare, struck speechless.

Then snow fell. At last, snow began to drift silently from the sky that had been overcast all day. A boy, a horse, and snow. It was like a painting.

That was when it happened.

“Agh!”

A sharp cry rang out. Turning to see what had happened, they saw Tommy staggering, clutching his side.

“Kill him! Fuck!”

It all happened in an instant. Rekton’s gang was charging at Tommy.

“You villains!”

Harald shouted as fiercely as he could, but there was no authority in it. If anything, the concern was whether he might fall from his startled horse.

Valeri immediately ran toward his companions. The black horse began thrashing again.

NEIGH!

Acting fast, Gidwin used his bulk to charge into Rekton’s gang like a bull. Then he drew his sword—awkwardly, given the circumstances—and shouted,

“You bastards have lost your fucking minds!”

The gang scattered in alarm, and Gidwin hurriedly turned to check on Tommy.

Amid the chaos, Hakon had covered Tommy with his own body to protect him and put his helmet on him. He was trembling all over.

Then came the rapid clatter of approaching horses.

Everything had happened so quickly that no one could make sense of it. Now a sharp cry came from Harald’s direction.

“Agh!”

Valeri and Gidwin turned in horror, but Harald was no longer where he should have been. His horse’s back was empty.

A scraping sound drew their eyes to Harald being dragged along the ground, a looped rope pinning his arms to his body. Someone had ridden up and snatched him off his horse with a rope in an instant.

A word so terrifying he dreaded even thinking it flashed through Valeri’s mind. Kidnapping.

Something impossible, something that must never happen, had happened in the blink of an eye. Gidwin panicked and froze on the spot. More precisely, it was not his body that had failed him, but his mind.

They were already too far away to pursue on foot, and the distance kept growing.

Once they had opened up a considerable gap, the kidnappers briefly stopped their horses, dismounted, and covered Harald with a cloth. Then they loaded him onto a horse.

Harald was not completely unconscious, but the impact of the fall had apparently left him so dazed that he could not resist at all.

NEIGH!

Another powerful neigh rang out, almost a roar. The black horse had finally freed itself from the ropes binding it and shot away like lightning.

At the sight, Valeri acted without conscious thought. He sprang off the fence and vaulted onto its back. There was no saddle, no stirrups, no reins.

Holding on with only the strength of his legs and his hands clenched in its mane, he urgently shouted as he rode,

“Gidwin! Your sword!”

Gidwin finally snapped out of his stupor and threw his sword. Even as he hurtled away, Valeri caught it cleanly.

Bound and covered with a cloth, Harald was being carried on the horse of one of the three kidnappers. That made their objective clear: they meant to take him alive, not kill him.

The kidnappers split off in three directions. Valeri went straight after the one carrying Harald.

The black horse raced with explosive speed, as though releasing all its pent-up fury. Swirling snow stung Valeri’s face.

THUD-DRUM! THUD-DRUM! THUD-DRUM! THUD-DRUM!

The black horse was so fast that, despite the considerable head start, it almost caught the kidnapper in moments.

He had enough speed. All he needed was the right timing. But he was a little short on strength.

So Valeri decided to trust the black horse. Without saddle, stirrups, or reins, he straightened his back, found his balance, and gripped the sword in both hands. It was precarious. The slightest change of direction from the horse, the slightest loss of balance, could send him tumbling.

Hearing hoofbeats rapidly closing in behind him, the kidnapper hastily looked back. It was already too late.

All he saw was a flash of steel. At precisely the right moment, Valeri swung his sword and severed his neck.

THWACK! CLANG!

The severed head spun through the air, spraying blood in a circle. Blood fountained from the stump of the headless body.

But although the timing of the strike had been perfect, the timing of the slicing motion had not. Gidwin’s sword broke.

That did not matter now. Valeri quickly pushed away the headless kidnapper’s toppling body and caught the reins of the horse carrying Harald.

“You’re safe now, Harald!”

“W-Wid...?”

He had Harald back. All that remained was to return. But the other two kidnappers belatedly realized what had happened to their companion and rushed at Valeri in alarm.

They came from both sides. One was farther away, the other close.

With his sword broken, he appeared helpless against them. But in a flash of improvisation, Valeri discarded the broken blade and drew the sword at Harald’s waist in a reverse grip.

The nearer kidnapper reached him just then. Valeri leaned sideways and swept the reverse-held sword around.

The kidnapper swung his own sword too, but his skill was abysmal. Wherever he had learned to use a lasso, that seemed to be all he had learned. He managed to swing his weapon in his haste, but both his timing and his aim were off.

The two swords crossed, barely grazing each other.

Valeri’s blade struck the enemy’s mouth. The keen edge cut through lips and teeth, splitting his face halfway through and continuing to the back of his head.

The top of the kidnapper’s head flopped sideways like an opening lid. His horse swept past Valeri without slowing and kept running.

CLOP-CLOP! CLOP-CLOP! CLOP-CLOP! CLOP-CLOP!

Valeri swiftly shifted to a normal grip and turned toward the next enemy.

His gaze was so fierce, so intense, that the last kidnapper’s heart lurched when their eyes met.

For an instant, a terror worse than death seemed to overwhelm him. His body would not obey. Mercifully, his horse turned of its own accord, allowing him to flee.

Receding hoofbeats. Drifting snow. Looking after Harald came first, so Valeri did not pursue. Still mounted on the black horse, he led the horse carrying Harald back to the market.

The vast crowd stared at him, mouths hanging open. An icy command thundered down upon them.

“Everyone, kneel and put your hands on your heads! Do not move! Anyone who disobeys will be killed on the spot!”

Blood spattered his face. From horseback, Valeri glared and leveled his sword as he shouted. He looked every inch an evil spirit.

He had no idea what might happen next. He intended to bring his surroundings entirely under his control.

No sooner had the words left his mouth than everyone dropped to their knees and placed their hands on their heads. The motion spread like a ripple, as though they were bowing before a king.

“Gidwin. See to Harald first.”

Gidwin, who had knelt with his hands on his head like everyone else, abruptly came to his senses. What had he been doing?

Still rattled, he scrambled to lower Harald gently from the horse to the ground. He removed the cloth and cut away the ropes binding him with a dagger.

Remarkably, Harald had not lost consciousness entirely. His eyes looked hazy, as though he were sleepy.

Valeri rode around, making certain that his commanding presence kept everyone subdued, then returned to Harald. He dismounted and examined him.

Harald looked up at him in a dreamlike daze.

Behind Valeri, great, unseasonable snowflakes were pouring from the gray sky. To Harald, it looked as though tufts of pure white cloud were spreading around him.

“... Snow,” Harald said. “Snow would be good.”

“Huh?”

“That black horse. Snow would be a good name. It’s a present. I never cared about Father’s instructions in the first place.”

If he had the presence of mind to say that, fortunately he did not seem seriously injured.

Whether from his own relief or a wish to reassure Harald, Valeri stroked his hair and smiled without realizing it.

“All right.”

In that moment, Harald thought Valeri truly looked like an angel descended from heaven.

Valeri’s expression was ordinarily indifferent or cold. With a smile on his lips, he was dazzlingly beautiful. Even the blood spattered across his face looked like deliberately applied makeup.

In fact, this was the first time Harald had ever seen him smile. Perhaps that was why, instead, he felt as though he were the one who had received a gift. A gift infinitely precious, for which he was deeply grateful.

Perhaps jealousy was not the only reason winter sometimes returned in spring. There were other things mingled in its reluctance to let go. Like snow falling in spring.

Part 1 – Winter’s Lingering Attachment. End.