Misgivings

Scalding tea sent up wisps of white steam, filling the carriage with the fresh scent of beans. Baron Bird lifted his cup and took a small sip, then glanced out the window.

His personal guards stood around the carriage. Their sharp longswords, gleaming armor, and unwavering gazes spoke to their strict discipline and dependable fighting strength.

Across from the guards stood the guests Buster had mentioned.

There were two of them. One was a man in a dark gray coat, with black hair and black eyes. He looked relaxed as he studied the crest on the carriage with apparent interest.

He must be an Outlander, Bird judged, his eyes flickering. He must be fairly strong, or he couldn't have traveled through the apocalypse without a scratch. Around the Threefold Pilgrimage, I'd say. Perhaps he can bring me some interesting stories, or goods from a foreign land. That would make him a valuable guest indeed.

The other was a young woman in a tattered black cloak. She seemed to be the man's attendant. A dark red mask covered her face, and a few strands of gray-blue hair hung beside her ears.

What dreadful clothes. She looks like a bandit from before the apocalypse. Bird's mouth twitched. Who dresses like that? She has no taste at all.

The next moment, Bird's face stiffened.

Wait. Gray-blue hair?

His hand trembled around his cup. A terrifying, absurd suspicion rose in his mind—could this young woman be Princess Renee?

Bird couldn't help wanting a closer look, but at that instant, the man turned sharply and met his gaze!

Bird froze, then quietly looked away. The man did the same.

Bird fell silent for a moment, then made up his mind.

Whether or not the gray-blue-haired young woman was Princess Renee, he ought to pretend he