Spice and Wolf, Vol. 11: Side Colors II by Isuna Hasekura & Jyuu Ayakura & Jyuu Ayakura

Author:Isuna Hasekura & Jyuu Ayakura & Jyuu Ayakura
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Yen On
Published: 2017-04-24T16:00:00+00:00

Former nobility. The noble in name only. The true nobility.

Whatever their nature, those who strode grandly about, ready to give their famous names at any moment, were less uncommon than one might think.

Most of them clung to the past or used their name to eke out a living. Of course for those like Fleur, whose failing houses were bought up by wealthy merchants, name and all, only to have those merchants fail in turn—their names wound up being only a burden.

So Fleur hid her face behind a scarf and rarely gave her name. She relied on Olar’s old connections for work, and while she was occasionally recognized, most people spared her some measure of sympathy and kept quiet.

This time, however, Fleur had received an introduction to Milton thanks to her own hard work, so the fact of her former nobility had presumably remained a secret.

And yet.

“Haven’t we met? At a banquet, I think,” said Milton Post, immediately after shaking her hand upon receiving her for their meeting.

The young man’s blond hair was neatly combed, with clothes that were none too fine. But it was clear that some effort had gone into their arrangement, and had he not walked two steps forward to take her hand, no one would have had any trouble believing him to be from a good family.

It occurred to Fleur that her hands no longer had the pure white softness of someone who wore only silken gloves. Compared with Bertra, of course, they still obviously belonged to a maiden who only ever picked flowers, so surely her hands alone had not given her away.

Fleur was flustered and at a loss for words, so Milton continued. “Ah, that’s right. At Lord Milton’s banquet.”

“Ah—” she blurted, since that was the name of the nobleman who had hosted one of the few banquets she’d attended.

“We only met the once, though. It seems you don’t remember.”

Young girls of marriageable age who attended banquets shook hands more often than they reached for bread. Even if the touches were light ones, their hands were red and swollen by the time they returned home in the evening.

“I suppose it’s no surprise, though. Your attention was always so hoped for.”

This had all happened when her family still held the manor, before their fortunes had declined too far. Back when she was just the sort of girl whose hand in marriage might be sought.

“As I recall, your name is—”

“Fleur Bolan.” She hadn’t given her name in so long, the sound of it was at once nostalgic and tinged with shame. The shame was less from the name itself as it was having spoken it here, in a tavern facing the docks.

“That’s right. The daughter of the Bolan family—the one who that famously nasty Lady Duan slapped.”

“Ah!” She gave clear voice to her surprise, but fortunately this was not a formal dining hall. Her voice was immediately swallowed by the bustle around them, and all that remained was Milton’s smile.

“I seem to recall many an apprentice knight seeking your favor after that.

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