Episode 8
[Ugh, let go of me!]
The Duke tugged at her, but the little crow had her beak firmly clamped onto his vest.
One brow arched. This troublemaker bird just wouldn’t let go.
“No way I’m letting go. I’m gonna stick like glue!” Isadora swore to herself.
She glanced at the mountain of paperwork piled on his desk.
“Like he has time to wrestle with a tiny crow like me!”
A nervous servant stepped forward.
“Uh… shall I pry the bird off for you, my lord?”
The Duke just studied the bird in his hand—those fierce, glaring eyes, that stubborn beak, and even her little bandaged leg gripping his clothes tightly.
At last, he sighed and relaxed his hand.
“…Fine. Leave her be.”
Isadora’s eyes lit up in triumph.
“Forcing her off will just make more of a fuss.”
“Exactly! Finally, you understand me!”
She was so touched that she almost nodded like a human.
Maybe this Duke wasn’t as scary as everyone said—he seemed pretty patient, actually.
But after the servant left, he still hadn’t gone back to work. He just sat there, staring at her, clinging to him.
“…Why are you sticking to me like this?”
His face looked oddly confused, just like the first day she’d landed on his shoulder.
“Could it be…” His brows furrowed.
“…that you—”
“Huh? That I what?”
Isadora loosened her beak from his vest and looked up.
[What is it?]
Her cooing voice only made him sigh deeply.
“…What on earth are you thinking?”
[Huh?]
She asked again, but he just rubbed his chin and looked away.
Her eyes narrowed.
[Hey! Do you know what’s the most annoying thing? Starting to say something and then stopping halfway—]
“Sit still. If you keep fussing, I’ll put you back in the cage.”
Her beak snapped shut at that threat.
“…Fine. Guess I’ll behave today.”
The room was filled with the soft sound of pen on paper.
Scritch, scritch, shuffle.
Listening quietly, Isadora yawned. Her eyelids started to feel heavy.
—Knock knock.
“My lord, a letter has arrived.”
“…Come in.”
His voice was quieter than usual, making the servant hesitate before entering.
“The Marquis reports… movements from the Nordic Kingdom—”
But the report stopped mid-sentence.
The Duke was seated by the sunset-lit window. And on his lap… a small crow fast asleep.
The servant wisely just handed over the letter in silence.
Before leaving, he looked back.
Maybe it was the firelight, maybe the evening glow—but the study looked especially warm tonight, with the Duke still gazing down at the sleeping bird.
Isadora finally woke up much later.
[Huh… when did I fall asleep?]
She’d stayed up late spying on the Duke’s sleeping habits, so she’d been exhausted… but she hadn’t expected to just pass out like that.
“Wait. Why am I here?”
She remembered dozing off on the Duke’s lap, but now she was lying on a cushion on his desk.
“Did he… move me here?”
[Uh, did I… drool on your pants?]
She knew she hadn’t, but she had to check.
His eyes flicked to her for a moment, then went right back to his papers.
“…That look says ‘I don’t care at all.’”
With a shake of her feathers, she tried to wake up fully.
A few days later, she finally found out why the whole castle had been scrubbed top to bottom.
Prince Aster was coming to visit.
He was one of the few people the Duke was on good terms with—they’d even studied together at the Imperial Academy.
Aster, like Leonard, was also known as a war hero.
The steward made a careful suggestion:
“My lord… perhaps the bird should be kept in her cage while the Prince is here?”
[What the heck?! Everyone’s just trying to get in the way of my investigations!]
But this time, the Duke agreed.
“I can’t meet a prince with a crow sitting on my shoulder.”
And so, back into the cage she went.
[Ugh! I hate this!]
Since she’d come to the castle, people always treated her like a normal bird.
Which meant cage-time whenever guests arrived.
“CAAW! CAAAW! KEEEH!”
Her cries were so loud that the servants fled the room… and even stuffed blankets under the door to muffle the noise.
“Caw… caw… caaw.”
Her screeching faded. For Isadora, crying out like that wasn’t just noise—it was her way of negotiating.
They just didn’t understand.
[Hmph. You think I can’t open this lock?]
She wedged her beak into the loose latch. One twist, and—click.
The door swung open.
[That’s what you get for trying to cage me.]
Slipping through the terrace, she snuck into another room.
She peeked—yep, the servants were still guarding the Duke’s study, staring at the door like fools.
They didn’t even realize she’d escaped.
“The Duke’s probably in the reception room on the first floor.”
She crept down, but footsteps made her duck under a chair.
“…Wait. That’s the thief servant!”
The red-haired one crept in, looking around nervously.
He wasn’t alone—a new servant with cold, snake-like eyes followed.
“Good. No one will come here,” said the redhead.
“Who’s that guy? Never seen him before.”
“I let you in. My job’s done, right?” the redhead whispered.
“Wrong,” the snake-eyed man sneered.
“W-Wait! That’s not what we agreed! The client—”
“Shut up. If you try anything stupid, your family dies.”
The redhead swallowed hard.
“I… I just want to live…”
He offered a pouch of jewels, but the man didn’t take it.
“Until the Prince is dead, no one leaves.”
Isadora’s feathers puffed in shock.
“…An assassin!”
The redhead panicked, shouting louder.
“No, you don’t understand—it’ll be too late then!”
The assassin narrowed his eyes.
“Too late? What are you babbling about?”
The redhead stepped closer, desperate.
“I’ve worked here ten years! Since the old king was alive, back when this was the Tremière Kingdom!”
“So?”
“I was there… the day Leonard Caribou became the Black Duke.”
And he spilled the story:
Queen Cordelia was eaten alive by jealousy.
The king had taken a mistress, Pamela, and even had a daughter with her.
The Queen suffered, but the king ignored her and went off to war.
Then, suddenly, the Queen died in a riding accident.
Most servants didn’t care—they just wanted peace in the blood-soaked kingdom.
But when Prince Leonard returned and heard his mother was dead… everything changed.
Wearing black armor, he strode through the castle with no emotion on his face.
The king rushed to meet him—then there was a flash.
Moments later, the king’s severed head rolled on the floor.
The prince, drenched in black blood, turned toward the mistress Pamela’s quarters.
The servants hid like mice. Running away would only make them look guilty.
So they stayed, silent, and prayed.
But when the prince ordered, “Lock the gates,” they all realized too late—there was no escape.
Half the castle staff died that day.
The redhead had been one of the survivors.
“…So this time, I’ll run before the gates close again!”
The assassin sneered.
“Not my problem.”
“H-Hey! Wait!”
“Interfere again, and I’ll kill you.”
The redhead chased after him anyway.
“Then just five minutes! Let me prepare some words to say! That’s all I ask—”
WHAM!
He slammed into the assassin’s back.
“Urk—!”
“Wait. What’s that?” the assassin muttered.
“…Huh?”
“That bird. The black one.”
The redhead’s face went pale.
“T-That crow… how did it get out of the cage?”
“What’s the matter? It’s just a bird.”
But the crow stood in the middle of the hall like a guard, feathers puffed, eyes blazing.
The redhead panicked.
“No, stop! Don’t—!”
But Isadora was faster.
[EVERYONE LISTEN UP! LOOK HERE!]
“Shut it!” the redhead lunged at her.
[THIEF! ASSASSIN! COME QUICK, SOMEONE!!]
“CAAAAAW!! CAW-CAW-CAW!!”
Her shrieks thundered through the entire castle.
