Riersha returned to the main estate just as the last light of day was fading from the sky.
When she stepped down from the carriage, Arcmund and Pernoa filing out after her one by one, Oberon — who had come out to welcome his mistress — wore an expression of unmistakable surprise.
He clearly hadn’t anticipated finding Pernoa and Arcmund occupying the same space.
His eyes flickered for a brief moment before composure settled back over his features.
“Welcome home, Miss Riersha.”
“Mm-hm, Obewon. I’m back!”
Riersha waved cheerfully as she greeted him, and the faintest curve touched the corner of Oberon’s mouth — a ghost of a smile that came and went in an instant, but Arcmund caught it all the same.
It was the sort of warmth that had never once shown itself during all the years Oberon had served as the duke’s aide.
Riersha trotted up to Oberon and began chattering away at once.
“Harabuji and Appa bought me so many clothes today — they’re going to be delivered to my castle later!”
“Is that so?”
“Mm-hm. And also—”
The ease between them was striking. It looked like something that had been going on for a long time, not a recent development.
Arcmund’s mood soured.
More than ten years of working side by side with this man, and yet…
Was the difference in how Oberon treated the two of them really so pronounced?
“Shall we head inside first, Miss Riersha? You must be exhausted after today. I already asked them to draw a warm bath for you, so go and get some rest.”
Sona stepped smoothly in front of Arcmund and spoke in a gentle, unhurried tone.
“Okay! Then — Harabuji, Appa — good night!”
Riersha bowed her little head with a small, earnest nod.
It was endearingly proper of her.
“Get some rest. We’ll see you tomorrow, Riersha.”
Pernoa answered with a short, quiet laugh.
“Yes! Bye-bye then!”
Riersha took Sona’s hand and toddled off ahead of them.
The moment she disappeared, the smile vanished from Pernoa’s face. He tilted his head to one side, barely glancing back at Arcmund, and said:
“Then I’ll take my leave as well, Your Grace. I’d very much like to wash my hands.”
“Of all the things for you to say…”
Arcmund’s eyebrow twitched.
“Sleep well.”
Pernoa walked away without a backward glance, Rosinante at his side, leaving a chill in the air sharp enough to cut.
“Then I shall also—”
Oberon had begun his farewell when Arcmund wiped the irritation from his face and fixed him with a steady gaze. There was something quietly peculiar in it.
“You’re looking rather well, Oberon. Does the work you’re doing now suit you?”
Oberon was silent for a moment.
“Yes. Thanks to Your Grace’s consideration, I’ve been living quite comfortably.”
“You don’t need to draw it out just to hide how much you like it.”
“……”
“As though someone might come and take it from you.”
“Then — yes. I am very satisfied.”
This time, Oberon answered without hesitation, promptly and in a perfectly businesslike tone.
“So it seems. In all the ten years I’ve been coming and going, you never once came out to meet me.”
…The man Arcmund remembered Oberon to be was exactly that sort of person.
He appeared only when a situation genuinely required his presence. That meant he made few mistakes, but there were moments when he seemed almost unsettlingly lacking in warmth.
And yet, looking at him now…
He’s changed considerably.
Arcmund’s red eyes narrowed slightly.
He’s volunteering to receive Riersha’s clothing deliveries?
Taking on miscellaneous tasks he would once have dismissed without a second glance.
Arcmund felt, if he were being honest, a touch of betrayal.
“I simply step forward when I determine that something requires my involvement. My mistress is still very young, so I came out to welcome her. That is all.”
“Are you certain of that?”
“Yes. I am.”
Oberon replied with enviable shamelessness.
Arcmund let out a dry laugh.
“Fine, then. You may go.”
“Ah — before I do, there is something I should report.”
“What is it?”
“Regarding the matter you entrusted to me previously.”
The moment Oberon quietly brought up that prior assignment, Arcmund’s expression became serious without delay.
There had been an occasion when Oberon had released his mana restraints and answered a private summons from Arcmund.
A measured, solemn voice followed.
“Have you uncovered anything further about what Ian Charlotte is hiding?”
“Not in full detail, but I did find something slightly unusual.”
Arcmund pressed him.
“And what is that?”
“I’m not certain why, but… when the Crown Prince was mentioned, there was a very brief moment of agitation.”
“Explain in full.”
“I believe the decisive reason Ian Charlotte chose to aid the Empress was because of the Crown Prince. It is my assessment.”
⁂
“I never thought I’d still be alive at this point.”
Ian Charlotte murmured to himself, the words laced with quiet self-derision.
He flexed the tips of his fingers weakly, testing their response.
A body with not a single grain of mana left could collapse at any moment, and no one would find it strange.
“Was it the Empress who instructed you to harm the Duke and tamper with Miss Riersha’s mana?”
…He had thought that if he provoked them sufficiently, they would simply cut off his air. But against all expectation, Arcmund and Pernoa had proven remarkably patient.
And then, of all people, they had sent Oberon to conduct the interrogation.
Ian could make a fair guess at how things were unfolding on the outside.
The scheme — the elders using Riersha as a pretext to check the young lord, with plans to demote the relevant parties once more — had fallen apart completely, by the look of it.
In fact, the opposite seemed to have occurred…
“You haven’t answered a single thing properly. Let me change the question, then. Ian Charlotte — what did you stand to gain from all of this?”
“……”
“You don’t appear to be particularly close with Duke Kineart. You don’t seem to share any special connection with the Empress either. Your own family gains nothing. There is, in truth, no apparent reason for you to have continued colluding with the Empress.”
Oberon was direct to the point of sharpness, leaving no room to breathe.
He delivered his final words in a cold, even voice.
“And yet the Empress’s motive is entirely clear. She acts solely for the sake of Crown Prince Adrian Declair. …Is it the same for you?”
Ian flinched. He could not manage his expression in time.
They would have searched the entire estate by now… They’ve probably found it too.
He needed to die as soon as possible.
Only then would all the evidence vanish with him.
But there was no need to worry too much.
The one who will kill me will be here soon.
Someone powerful enough to slip through the boundary wards of the Arachrene estate and reach this underground cell without detection — someone who wanted Ian Charlotte dead — would be coming.
Ian smiled, certain of it.
⁂
The following morning.
Riersha woke in a state of perfect, fluffy contentment.
She had barely stepped out of the bath the night before before sleep had claimed her entirely.
“Are you awake, Miss Riersha?”
“Mm.”
“You must have been very worn out yesterday. I’ll go and have breakfast prepared right away.”
“Mm.”
Still half-wrapped in the remnants of sleep, Riersha answered each prompt with a drowsy little nod.
Sona smiled faintly at the sight.
The maid left the room to pass instructions to the dining hall, while Sona began her morning stretch routine with Riersha.
“There we are — stretch those arms and legs out, and wake up properly. You’ll digest your breakfast better if you’re fully awake.”
“Sona. …I want to eat breakfast with Isierd today.”
“Pardon?”
Sona’s expression shifted to one of quiet unease.
“…Is that truly necessary, Miss?”
“Why not?”
Riersha tilted her head and looked up at her, puzzled.
“Well…”
Sona let her voice trail off.
Truthfully, she could not quite make her peace with the idea of Riersha growing close to this prince of unknown standing.
The Imperial household and the House of Arachrene had never been on good terms — that much was well established.
And besides, Isierd was, by any account, being held at the Arachrene estate against his will.
They were cooperating for now, that much was true — but who could say how his disposition might shift later?
Once he became Crown Prince and stood as an equal to the Arachrene family, who could say what would follow?
Even so, Sona concealed those thoughts and smiled brightly.
“In that case, shall I ask them to prepare the meal at his quarters instead?”
“Before that… let’s ask Isierd if that’s okay with him first.”
“Yes, of course.”
Sona finished the last of the stretches and rose to her feet.
As she left the room and moved down the corridor, her expression had gone cool and still. A quiet murmur slipped from her lips.
“I only hope Miss Riersha doesn’t end up getting hurt.”
Perhaps it was simply the novelty of having made a friend her own age. She was showing the prince far too much affection, far too openly.
Sona exhaled slowly and stepped out of the estate into the morning air.
