“Sona, what are you doing in the garden?”
Someone called out to Sona in a familiar tone. It was Seymour, currently on duty at the ducal castle.
He had stepped outside for a brief rest in the sun-drenched garden when he spotted her and wandered over.
“Oh, Sir Seymour!”
“…And what’s in that basket?”
“I’m gathering materials.”
Materials?
Seymour tilted his head, unable to make sense of what materials one might possibly gather in a garden.
Just then, something very small rustled and moved busily at Sona’s side.
His puzzled eyes drifted toward the sound.
A moment later, Riersha emerged into view, wearing a wide-brimmed hat adorned with a white ribbon.
Both her hands were full of flower petals.
“Tona! Wook. Will Gwandpa wike it?”
“Of course he will, Lady Riersha. Come now, pop them into the basket.”
“Kay!”
Riersha swiftly dropped her gathered flowers into Sona’s basket.
Then she noticed Seymour and gave him a little wave.
“Hewwo.”
“…Yes, Lady Riersha. It’s been a while.”
It was their first meeting since the day he had seen her in the Duke’s study.
The sight of Riersha looking so utterly harmless made Seymour’s chest ache in the strangest way.
Good heavens. To think I’d be seeing scenes like this for the rest of my life inside Arachrene Castle.
He never could have dreamed it.
Seymour put conscious effort into keeping the corners of his mouth from creeping upward.
“What are you gathering those for, my lady?”
“To give pwesents to Gwandpa and Daddy.”
“To both of them?”
Seymour racked his memory with great seriousness, checking whether he had overlooked some anniversary or occasion.
No matter how hard he thought, he could not think of one.
“Lady Riersha would like to grow closer to the two of them. She was gathering materials to make them gifts,” Sona added by way of explanation.
“Oh.”
The syllable that escaped Seymour’s lips carried absolutely no comprehension whatsoever.
I don’t think she really needs to go to all that trouble.
Riersha likely didn’t know.
Arcmund, by nature, did not extend warmth to people.
And yet that very Arcmund had taken a bold and startling course of action at the recent disciplinary tribunal — one that had left everyone astonished.
“I’m sure both of them will be absolutely delighted.”
“Shh.”
“Pardon?”
“You hafta keep it a secwet, ’kay?”
Riersha pressed her index finger to her lips right in front of his face, her expression gravely serious.
Seymour stared at her with wide, round eyes — and then burst out laughing, loudly and helplessly.
“Yes, my lady. I shall keep it a secret.”
⁂
The study of Duke Arcmund Arachrene.
“It’s been a while.”
“For someone who’s walked through his own front door after four years, that’s a rather short greeting.”
Arcmund scowled and rebuked his son for the greeting that was nearly insultingly brief.
“I have no desire to look at the face of the very fool who once threatened to sever all ties with this family.”
Pernoa let out a quiet, dismissive laugh.
“That’s a curious thing to say, considering you’ve assigned Carden as Riersha’s tutor.”
“…You hear things quickly. Unnecessarily so.”
“I’m told you have Rosinante reporting to you on Riersha’s affairs all day long.”
Thanks to that, evidence of her innocence had been produced for the disciplinary tribunal in time.
Arcmund, too, had anticipated that something like this would happen.
He had been keeping his eye on Riersha long before any of this — and yet he had been pretending otherwise. Pernoa allowed himself a small snort of contempt.
Arcmund’s brow twitched, as though he felt his true feelings had been exposed.
“I only had her watched because there appeared to be some irregularity with Riersha’s awakening. What happened at the tribunal was nothing more than a fortunate coincidence.”
“Then why don’t you withdraw your interest from my daughter now. And stop running my aide ragged while you’re at it.”
“Worthless boy.”
Arcmund clicked his tongue loudly and muttered under his breath.
He found himself thinking back to the day Riersha was born.
The deep of night, when a child who had come into the world with not a trace of magical power let out a lusty, full-throated cry.
That night, Arcmund had made, for the first time in his life, a choice that went against the laws of his house.
He had granted Riersha the Arachrene name — a name she should never have been permitted to carry in the family register.
Why, of all things, did she have to be born without even a flicker of mana awakened within her?
If only she had been born with silver hair, at the very least…
From the moment of Riersha’s birth, the atmosphere within the house had grown unsettled.
Whispers began circulating that there was something wrong with the bloodline, and before long, those with other ambitions in their hearts began to emerge.
When the imperial household caught wind of the internal fractures beginning to form, they quietly approached certain branch families, making suspicious overtures of their own.
All of this had unfolded across the four years since Riersha’s birth.
“As you well know, there is no one inside this castle right now who can be trusted.”
“I know.”
Pernoa answered briefly.
He was aware that quite a few within these walls had made secret contact with the imperial household.
Knowing that, Arcmund had nonetheless been forced to turn a blind eye to the empire’s machinations — all to keep the promise he had made to Pernoa.
The promise to do everything in his power to ensure Riersha’s position never became precarious.
It was precisely because of that promise that Arcmund found his own granddaughter so deeply aggravating.
It was fortunate that she had finally awakened her power, at least — but…
If she was only going to awaken something ambiguous, it would have been better had she never awakened at all.
A child who could not properly control her own power was vulnerable in any number of ways.
And beyond that, there was a separate and more pressing concern.
If word were to spread that this child — who had not properly inherited the Arachrene bloodline — had awakened not some unremarkable ability, but something dangerous?
In every regard, Riersha’s existence was a troublesome problem.
At the same time, Arcmund found himself suddenly thinking: what fault could that small child possibly bear?
The thought crept in unbidden — that there was something pitiable about watching such a young creature strain to find her footing in a world where no one had welcomed her arrival.
That feeling had been part of what drove him to summon Pernoa when word reached him that the disciplinary tribunal would be convened.
Honestly speaking, she was his own blood’s child. He could not help but look her way.
Arcmund opened his mouth, his expression complex.
“You must have heard about Riersha’s situation. A power one cannot contain is nothing but a calamity.”
“Nothing has been confirmed yet. And I won’t allow it to come to that.”
“How laughable. What means do you have? That child’s power is beyond even you.”
It was a power that even Arcmund himself could not claim to have answers for.
As he recalled the day the girl had come to his study, the lines around his eyes deepened.
Perhaps, he thought, everything had gone wrong from the very beginning.
“Riersha was born with the channels that carry her mana twisted together.”
“…I know.”
“If it ever spirals out of control, the consequences will be irreversible. And who, exactly, would take responsibility for that?”
Many lives would be extinguished.
Their eyes met, sharp and unyielding.
Pernoa spoke first.
“And that fear is reason enough to ask me to give up on Riersha?”
“If you simply step back, both the child and the house can be kept safe.”
“You’re telling me to let Riersha spend her entire life on the outskirts?”
Pernoa let out a scoff that made clear he considered it utterly out of the question.
To have her power awakened and still be confined forever to the margins — that was nothing short of an execution by another name.
It would mean being denied every privilege that came with bearing the name Arachrene.
“That will not happen.”
“There is no reasoning with you. You’ve shown your face — now leave. I have no wish to look at you.”
Arcmund waved him off, seeing no further room for compromise.
At the dismissal, Oberon quietly opened the study door.
But Pernoa paid it no mind.
“I haven’t brought up the real reason I came yet.”
“…Are you saying your visit and your so-called greetings were nothing but a preamble?”
Arcmund’s face soured as his irritation bled through.
No matter how many years passed, Pernoa remained every bit the ungrateful son.
“I walked around the main estate for a bit and found quite a few problems.”
“So you mean to interfere in my house’s affairs. If something bothers you, become the Duke yourself and sort it out then.”
Sensing the conversation would stretch on, Oberon quietly pulled the door shut again.
Pernoa dropped his gaze briefly before speaking in an even, unhurried tone.
“Do you remember what I said years ago — that I would give up my place as young lord and leave?”
“…We agreed you would not bring that up again.”
“I’m leaving.”
For a moment, Arcmund went very still, his expression hardening.
But the words that followed made his brow crease with displeasure.
“The Arachrene main estate is not a suitable environment for a child’s upbringing.”
