Rikuson sighed when he returned to his office.
“There has to be malice behind it,” he whispered, as he brushed sand and dirt off his soiled clothes.
It had been some time since Rikuson brought up his desire to see the farming village. Gyoku’ou had finally given him permission a couple of days ago, and it was today when he returned in a hurry, harbouring a sense of foreboding.
“Even though I heard their departure was greatly delayed.”
This was about the visitors from the capital. He was told they would probably arrive in ten days. Thus, he took a five day sabbatical and headed for the farming village, but…
It rained sand when he patted down his outer wear. As much as he wanted to, he had no time to take a bath. It didn’t seem like he had time to give his body a wipedown either. With no other choice, he smeared incense paste onto his nape. Fragrances came in two types in the Western Capital: incense paste and perfume, but Rikuson only had two on hand. One was the perfume Gyoku’ou had given him as a joke, and the other was the incense paste he had been pressured to buy while strolling around town.
He picked the product he had been forced to buy. The fragrances of the Western Capital were all cloying, so a fragrance that was slightly cheaper but with a lighter scent was perfect. Moreover, he couldn’t imagine himself wearing something he got from Gyoku’ou.
As Rikuson smeared on enough perfume to mask the smell of sweat, he plastered on a smile.
Smiles are essential for a merchant. It must never go out when facing customers.
He recalled his mother’s words.
What kind of expression would Gyoku’ou make to Rikuson’s earlier than expected return? He felt a little uneasy as his former boss at the venue, but there was nothing he could do about it.
Rikuson tightened his sash, then left the room.
.
.
.
“It has been a while.”
Rikuson entered the parlour naturally after all. Gyoku’ou, his subordinates, and the guests were enjoying the meal lightly. Servers came in turns, laying down dishes.
It was still early for dinner, but it was quite an extravagant affair.
There was no way Rikuson would forget the faces of the guests.
The clean-shaven man with a monocle was Rakan. Suffice to say it was his former boss. The adjutant beside him was Onsou(音繰, Yin Sao). The man had been with Rakan a fair bit longer than Riksuon. Rikuson recalled how the other man had thanked him with tears in his eyes when Rikuson became adjutant. In the end, Rikuson couldn’t possibly stay with Rakan forever, so it hadn’t been rare for Onsou to be the attendant.
Onsou was a capable person, but he was the type to end up with the short end of the stick every now and then. Those were when he was under Rakan, so he had no other choice than to resign himself to it.
It seems Onson had noticed Rikuson. The man greeted him with a look and a nod, then whispered into Rakan’s ears.
Rakan was as usual. He looked over blankly. It was likely that if Onsou never informed him, he wouldn’t have noticed Rikuson. Occasionally Rikuson wanted to ask what Rakan saw him as.
Although Rakan waved his hand at Rikuson to come over, Rikuson peeked at Gyoku’ou, wondering if it would be imprudent to approach his former boss. The regent lord of the western capital, who was the centre of the table, waved his hand generously, telling him to go give his greetings.
It felt uncomfortable either way. Onsou had an inexplicable expression when he looked at Rikuson, but between his boss and his former boss, position-wise, Rikuson knew who took precedence.
As for Rakan, he was eating fried food, paying no attention to it. Behind him, a female attendant, whom Rikuson had never seen before, was putting food in her mouth, then passing a barely sufficient amount over to Rakan.
Rikuson heard the imperial brother came as well, but that person wasn’t around. The dinner meeting didn’t seem to be public either, so Rakan, the invited, must have come without thinking. Seeing Onsou’s wandering gaze, Rikuson understood that they were supposed to have turned it down.
“Ummm… Rikuson, I want to eat that steamed bun.”
For a moment Rikuson thought that his name had been forgotten, but he was mistaken. And, speaking of that steamed bun…
“Onsou said he doesn’t know what steamed bun it is. Even though I said it’s that steamed bun.”
No, you wouldn’t know with just that steamed bun for a description.
Rikuson looked through his memories. “It’s sweet, right?
“Yes,” Rakan answered.
“Does it have filling?”
“I don’t think so.”
It seems the filling wasn’t sweet.
“Did the dish have some sauce or something?”
“It does, it does. That white sauce was delicious.”
Rikuson figured it out. “Rakan-sama, it’s the fried steamed bun from Liu Liu Restaurant.”
“I think so.”
It was something he was made to buy many times after eating there once in the past.
“Onsou-dono, please fry up a twisted roll with sugar and drizzle some condensed milk over it.”
“Understood,” Onsou said.
The twisted rolls must have jogged Rakan’s memories of it.
“Fried bun with condensed milk. Sounds delicious.” The eyes of the female attendant, who seemed to be the food taster, shone. She didn’t really look like a female attendant; was she yet another person Rakan-sama picked up?
Rikuson thought, from this first conversation after a long time, that Rakan hasn’t changed.
“Rakan-sama, it will be prepared with tomorrow’s dim sum.”
“I want to eat it for dinner tonight.”
“Please don’t be unreasonable. It’s a dining meet.” Onsou, in hesitation, said in a small voice. When Rikuson gave him a sidelong glance of pity, the other man tensely glared back.
“Looks like it’s as usual.” Rikuson spoke to Onsou to smooth it over.
“Yes, it hasn’t changed. You seem awfully influenced by the Western Capital.”
It seems Onsou noticed Rikuson’s tanned skin and perfume. He never lit any incense during his time at the capital.
“Rikuson had barely just returned from an expedition. Forgive him.”
Gyoku’ou chided Onsou as he ate a bite of meat. It seems he overheard their conversation.
“I-is that so?” Onsou paled when Gyoku’ou suddenly spoke to him. He didn’t think that he would be spoken to.
“Does the cooking suit your palate? If there’s anything you want, we can make it now,” Gyoku’ou asked Rakan.
“Do you have Liu Liu Restaurant’s fried buns?” Rakan said, without reservation.
“Hoh, what kind of fried bun?”
Gyoku’ou was asking, so it was Rikuson’s job to explain.
His belly started to hurt.
Thinking that this mood will continue for a while longer, Rikuson exhaled, concerned about what will come next.
