Marquess Lilys
The blame had landed on Knox without warning, but he obeyed the Duke’s command without argument, lowering himself to the floor.
“I’m kneeling, Your Grace. May I ask why?”
“A child who used to throw herself at me the moment I appeared has gone stiff as a board. Whatever you said to her, you’re going to fix it.”
“I may have pressed her, but not to the degree that would cause —”
Oh no.
“Uncle~!”
Aisha had already processed the situation. She mustered every last scrap of acting ability she possessed and flung herself at him like a proper five-year-old.
“Anyway, where are you going? That coat looks incredibly warm.”
Topic change, hard and fast. Calypse watched her for a moment with an indistinct expression, then let out a quiet breath.
“Beast clearing.”
She’d already guessed — wolf fur and battle gear said enough. This time of year, the head of House Krost always went to drive back the magical creatures.
He didn’t look like a man with time to spare.
“I’ll be gone about a week. After I return, there will be a succession trial, and I plan to introduce you there. Be prepared.”
“…You’re introducing me? But I don’t have the Ice Affinity.”
She blinked in genuine confusion.
House Foss had told her to focus on the succession trial, but she’d assumed that was impossible — she had no Affinity to qualify for it.
“I’m presenting you as the direct-line daughter, not naming you as heir.”
“…Oh.”
She gave a small nod without much enthusiasm.
I was already planning to prepare — working on swordsmanship befitting a Krost daughter, learning the proper way to greet the retainers…
But “a week” was nowhere near enough time for any of that. And here was the succession trial already waiting.
Calypse, regardless of her private spiral, looked as busy as he sounded. He gathered her up briefly as he rose.
“Knox. Come with me. I need a brief council session before I leave — the Lilys Marquess situation.”
Knox sighed and glanced at Aisha.
“You’re bringing the child as well?”
“She’ll be quiet. She won’t be in the way.”
This was the moment.
“That’s right, I’ll be perfectly quiet!”
She didn’t know much about Marquess Lilys and his son, but she knew enough — they were trouble, and she might be useful. She jumped into the conversation before she could stop herself.
“We can’t know that, can we?” Knox said, with a thin, sideways look. “She might be sitting there smiling and memorizing classified information.”
Calypse stiffened. “…You’re saying that to a child?”
Exactly. To a child. Have you no shame?
Even if she was a spy by training, she had shown him everything — she had handed over the House Foss message herself.
At least I have the Duke on my side. As long as I stay close, Knox can’t do anything.
She fixed Knox with her most assertive stare from the safety of Calypse’s arms —
“……”
And made direct eye contact.
Knox noticed. He adjusted his monocle with a measured air.
Then, very deliberately:
“…There is also the matter of His Grace needing to break a certain habit.”
“Which habit?”
“Bringing children into working spaces. I believe I read somewhere — at some inn or other — that it is not conducive to a young child’s emotional development.”
“…!”
Calypse’s arms went very still.
“…Uncle?”
Surely he wasn’t taking that seriously. The man couldn’t genuinely be citing inn gossip.
She looked up at him, as pleadingly as she could manage.
“…Aisha. Go finish your meal.”
He had capitulated to inn gossip.
She was lowered back into her chair with excruciating gentleness.
“…Uncle?”
Then —
“…I’m sorry.”
A single murmured apology, his eyes squeezed shut — and he walked out the door.
“Uncle —!”
Knox’s quiet victory smile and Aisha’s despairing wail rang through the castle in equal measure.
But the next morning —
“Oh, so you’re the Duke’s little one, are you?”
“…Yes?”
She looked up at the middle-aged nobleman smiling at her with studied pleasantness, and understood, all at once, the real reason Knox had kept her out.
* * *
That day, as on all the days before it, Knox was watching her.
The high ceilings of the corridor echoed with the dainty patter of small feet.
Pitter-patter, pitter-patter —
Aisha, having consumed her daily ration of carbohydrates, protein, and fat, was making her way to the garden with great determination.
“…Do all children this age walk like that? Like little waddling ducklings? Or is it particular to this one?”
Knox’s question landed on Head Housekeeper May, who answered with some reluctance.
“They all do, more or less.”
“Do they? There’s a reason for it, you know.”
“Hmm?”
Knox pushed up his monocle.
“Research has shown that young creatures appear endearing for self-protective reasons. They cannot yet hunt for themselves and require care, so they have evolved to win affection through cuteness.”
“…I see.”
“Therefore, when that child appears charming, it is — that is to say, I never called her charming. That is not what I said. What I mean is: be cautious.”
“…Right, yes…”
There he went again.
Knox and his obsessive Aisha Observation Log.
Since Calypse had left for the beast clearing, Knox had taken his surveillance duties to a new extreme. He was there when she woke up, when she ate, when she sat in a daze waiting for the Duke’s return, when she walked in the garden. If she wasn’t in her bedroom, he was beside her.
I can’t live like this.
Even now, Knox was murmuring something to May and staring at her. She couldn’t suppress a sigh.
She needed to earn his approval as soon as possible. Or at least make herself sufficiently un-threatening that he stopped needing to watch her.
How, though?
Just then.
“Lord Knox!”
A servant came rushing toward them, breathless.
“What is it?”
“Marquess Lilys — he’s arrived — he’s here unannounced —”
Marquess Lilys?
Her ears pricked up at exactly the same moment Knox’s expression soured.
“The regular council isn’t for another week. Tell him to come back.”
“That’s — the thing is —”
“Already inside, are we? I only wanted a cup of tea.”
Behind the flustered servant, a lean middle-aged man materialized with an oily grin.
So this was Marquess Lilys.
She studied him quietly.
He looks exactly as greedy as the original described.
Elaborate ruffled cuffs. Gemstone rings on every finger. Where Calypse was built like a knight and dressed like one, this man had been poured directly out of a court ballroom.
House Lilys was a cadet branch of House Krost — not particularly distinguished in its own right. The only reason this man could walk unannounced into the Duke’s castle was:
His son has the Ice Affinity.
She shifted her gaze to the boy standing beside the Marquess, slouching with studied nonchalance.
That must be Tex — the Affinity carrier.
The cadet lines all traced back to House Krost eventually, and when an Ice Affinity manifested in House Lilys for the first time, the Marquess had behaved as though he had already been handed the duchy. He had spent every moment since pushing his son as the obvious candidate for Krost’s next heir.
“I happened to be passing and thought I’d pay my respects to His Grace. Wherever might he be?”
A pause settled over the corridor. Knox answered with a constrained expression.
“…His Grace is away on beast-clearing duties.”
“Oh, is he? I had absolutely no idea.”
“Is that so?”
“Of course. Am I his keeper? How would I know his schedule? Since I’m here anyway, I’d love a cup of tea before I go.”
The sheer impudence of it drew a reaction out of her before she could think.
“…Even I know that beast-clearing season is mid-month,” she said, from between Knox’s legs.
Every head in the corridor turned to look at her at once.
“Even the royal court doesn’t send correspondence to House Krost’s lord during this period.”
She hadn’t wanted to get involved. But —
He truly said that out loud. He walked into the Duke’s castle knowing perfectly well the Duke was gone, and then claimed complete ignorance. The nerve of it.
She couldn’t stop herself. She leaned out from the cover of Knox’s leg and finished the thought.
“While the Duke is away clearing beasts for the kingdom, the Marquess is in his castle having tea. I imagine His Grace would be very pleased to hear it.”
“……?”
The Marquess’s face went red. Behind him, two of the maids turned their heads; their shoulders were shaking.
“That — what — “—
He was at a loss. He looked around, evidently expecting someone to reprimand her. No one did. His composure fractured at last.
“Who is this child! Why is no one correcting such insolence toward me!”
Knox stepped smoothly in front of her.
“This is House Krost’s direct-line daughter.”
“…The — what?”
