Chapter 7
The Will of Sol-Lapis
Ezekiel, who had been silent for a moment as if giving me time to respond, spoke again in a lower, rougher voice than before.
“All of eternity is tied to this child’s place and life. In this situation, do you really think there’s anyone here without ulterior motives?”
“His Majesty the Emperor has already approved this matter.”
“Ridiculous!”
Finally, he exploded in a shout. Reflexively, my body trembled. My hands, resting on my knees, gripped my skirt tightly without realizing it.
‘Scary.’
This wasn’t because I, as a child, was unaccustomed to shouting or anger. It was entirely my problem. Because I was Beatrice, my instincts couldn’t suppress the fear that surged through me. Memories of long-standing abuse still gripped part of me.
In the needle-like silence that followed, Marquis Mafilda finally spoke.
“This is in accordance with the Duke’s last wishes.”
“What?”
Ezekiel’s expression contorted as if he’d just heard the most absurd thing. Not in anger, but in disbelief at the ridiculousness. My tense shoulders relaxed slightly at the sight.
‘…relief.’
And yet, now that I felt relief, I was angry at myself. That I was still affected by his emotions, still afraid—it burned in my bones.
I exhaled quietly, thinking of my mother.
Would she know now what Ezekiel had done to me? If she were resurrected in that state… what would she do? If she were here in this room…
‘She wouldn’t leave that man alive.’
‘She’d flay him from head to toe and hang him outside the castle walls…’
Even though Ezekiel Ricard was a monstrous mage known as the “Exterminator,” my mother—who defended the borders against demons—was not lacking in strength herself.
The thought of my mother, charging like a demon while Ezekiel had to dodge attacks just to survive, made me feel slightly better.
But it seemed I wasn’t the only one thinking about my mother.
“That woman, really…”
Ezekiel muttered something under his breath, but stopped when he noticed me staring at him. Even he wouldn’t speak ill of a deceased mother in front of a three-year-old. I was no longer Beatrice.
…Enough of pointless thoughts. For now, I held back the tears, eyes wide, and it had been worth it.
“Phew.”
Perhaps to calm the fire inside him, Ezekiel exhaled slowly.
“…I need to know the contents of that will.”
I could see Marquis Mafilda’s cheeks puff slightly as he smiled. His clear, sonorous voice followed.
“Of course. I must warn you, Princess, though I’m sure you understand: whenever attending the reading of a will, one assumes a moral responsibility to assist in carrying out the deceased’s wishes. Sometimes… it may go beyond mere morality.”
Wait, that sounded odd. It didn’t seem like simple advice…
‘It’s more like a legal warning to avoid liability while cheating someone.’
Ezekiel, probably experiencing this absurd situation for the first time, seemed to realize the same.
“You orchestrated this whole thing just to trap me, didn’t you?”
His voice was dangerously close to growling, clearly upset at being played according to Marquis Mafilda’s plan.
“As expected, ever insightful.”
But Marquis Mafilda didn’t flinch.
‘Wow.’
To think someone born perfect in every way, who prided themselves on their own greatness, could be so confidently challenged and teased…
‘…I have to learn from this!’
A surge of motivation rose within me. But that could wait—there was something more important right now.
‘Mother left a separate will.’
The official will covering property and succession had already been delivered to the palace and read in front of the retainers before the funeral. This one, however, was surely more private and personal.
My heart thumped with excitement. Another trace of my mother remained in this world.
‘What does it say? I want to hear it already. But when do we retrieve the will? Who brings it?’
Instead of producing a stored document, Marquis Mafilda simply waved elegantly through the air. A scattering of light followed his gesture, like a tiny fairy dancing.
Where the light dissipated… a rolled-up scroll appeared.
‘Wait, this is—’
Though I’d never seen it, it resembled something I had studied before.
‘—Could it be the Sol-Lapis Oath?’
Seeing me silently surprised, Marquis Mafilda knelt first.
“My apologies for the delay, Princess. This was ordered by the late Duke. He instructed that the child’s biological father must be present to acknowledge the will. Furthermore, Duke Ricard was appointed as the second executor, so we had no choice but to wait for his arrival.”
Though the words seemed directed at me, they were actually aimed at Ezekiel.
Sol-Lapis was a type of magic oath that activated after the person who swore it died. It contained instructions for fulfilling their final wish and designated an executor—a proxy—to carry it out in their stead.
When the designated executor is present as the seal is opened…
‘The executor binds themselves to assist in fulfilling the will.’
As fragmented knowledge of this law whirled in my mind, Marquis Mafilda knelt once more, bowing to me before turning to Ezekiel.
“When unsealing the Oath of Rosalind Hennessy Caledro, the one who added a drop of blood to the seal—myself, Elin Turmara Mafilda—acting as the witness to this sacred promise and the first executor carrying out the will beyond death, I ask you, Ezekiel Ricard, appointed as second executor…”
He placed his hand on the blood-tinted wax seal, his voice calm yet firm.
“Shall the seal be broken?”
“If I say no… will you still do it?”
Instead of answering, his rounded cheeks curved slightly as he smiled. The moment his fingertips touched the seal, the blood-colored wax began melting and disappearing.
In an instant, the shining scroll unrolled like a stream, hitting the floor and trailing for a long length.
Even at a glance, there were no blank spaces; every inch was densely filled with writing in small letters. So dense that it almost looked like a patterned design rather than text.
‘M-Mom… isn’t this a bit… too much?’
Even I, seeing a Sol-Lapis Oath for the first time, could tell it was far from ordinary.
Her will meticulously accounted for every possible scenario after her death, aiming to crush undesired events before they could occur. Her determination was evident even in the sheer volume of writing.
