Chapter 114
Clois approached swiftly and, like a hawk snatching its prey, he snatched the letter from Duke Kaelun’s hand with sharp precision.
Then, without even a glance toward his longtime friend and vassals, he hurried back to his seat and examined the envelope.
Because of that, Duke Kaelun and Marquis Ragselve were left standing awkwardly. The quick-witted steward, noticing, spoke to the two men.
“Though it’s a little early, would you care for some tea before you go?”
“Then please, bring us some.”
While the steward went out to fetch tea, the two men looked toward Clois.
The Marquis rubbed his eyes for a moment when he saw him smiling so brightly, as if overjoyed by something.
Ever since their last expedition to track down Siren, he hadn’t had a chance to see Clois.
And throughout that entire pursuit, the atmosphere within the tracking party had been razor-sharp with tension.
Even ordinarily, Clois rarely smiled—but back then, he had been colder and more severe than usual.
“I couldn’t even start a conversation with him.”
Because of that, not only the Marquis but also the knights under his command had spent the whole chase in suffocating tension.
But now, just look at Clois.
All over one simple letter, he was beaming as though the sun had risen inside him. It was a smile the Marquis hadn’t seen in years.
“No, really—what kind of child could make him like this?”
He too had heard news and information about Ibi Alden. But his interest went no further than that.
“It must be because of his longing for Princess Ivbien that he decided to be that child’s guardian.”
Because he still carried a sense of debt toward Lilian, the thought of Clois pouring his affections into a child who wasn’t the princess did not sit comfortably with him.
It was childish of him, perhaps, but it felt somehow as if that child was stealing away something the princess should rightfully have received.
And yet—it wasn’t only Clois. Even Duke Kaelun, who normally carried himself as the coldest, most clear-headed man in the world, was acting utterly dazed.
“I don’t need to look far. My own son has been in an uproar, too.”
The moment Ruska returned home for vacation, he had been in a frenzy.
“More horses! Better horses!”
Like a boy possessed by a riding obsession, he went on and on about horses, gathering not only every well-bred, intelligent horse in their estate but also those praised in neighboring lands.
Not satisfied, he even rolled around the house insisting they bring back Elisha—the horse so brilliant it was being used at the Imperial stables as a model for training other steeds.
“Can’t you be quiet for once?”
“I hate you, Father!”
Though he had kicked him for being noisy, the Marquis was still, in his own way, a father who cherished his son.
And so, saying he would bring Elisha back, he had come early to the Imperial palace.
Soon the steward returned, pushing in a cart with a teapot and simple sweets.
“This will take some time, so please, sit and enjoy.”
Even his face was full of smiles.
Duke Kaelun leaned back comfortably with his teacup and asked the Marquis,
“How’s your household? Your sons still all muscle-brained?”
“What’s that supposed to mean? Ruska placed 35th in the Academy this time! How is that muscle-brained? At least my youngest, who has small hands and feet, is clever too. Thank goodness for that.”
The day Ruska had returned home waving his report card proudly, the Marquis had declared a genius was born in their family and gave all the chicken drumsticks at dinner to Ruska alone.
“And your wife? The same as always?”
“My wife? Of course. She’s away on a two-month border inspection. Driving teams of ten Northern mountain steeds without rest, galloping the whole way.”
The robust physique of House Ragselve did not belong to the Marquis alone—his wife was equally formidable.
When they occasionally clashed in opinion, it was no joke when she suggested they settle it with their fists.
“What a shame the Marchioness isn’t home. Won’t it be inconvenient for Ibi to stay in your house? Wouldn’t it be better if she remained another week at ours?”
“Nonsense. Even without my wife, do you think the Marquisate can’t host a guest?”
As the two bickered, Clois swiftly opened the envelope and began to read Ibi’s letter.
[Hello, Sir Clois! Today the sun is blazing hot again!]
The cheerful greeting, written in bold strokes, was followed by a drawing of the sun with its tongue hanging out from the heat…
“That is the sun… right?”
It was a lopsided circle with spiky rays sticking out. Well, he would accept it as the sun.
[I am having so much fun every day! Lady Irene’s house was fun, and Lady Arsel’s house is really fun too! Everyone is so very kind to me.]
Of course. Any house that treated a child coldly couldn’t be considered a decent one.
[Every morning I work in Lady Arsel’s and the Duchess’s music class. Don’t be surprised. For my work, I get paid a whole 1 gold coin per day!]
At that line, Clois turned to the Duke with a sharp look.
“Are things so bad in your house? Why are you making the child work? And one gold coin? You could afford to be more generous.”
At the sudden rebuke, Duke Kaelun stared at him in disbelief.
“Ha! Do you know how thrilled Ibi is about that money? Today she promised to buy me a lemon candy. My wife has already placed the strawberry one she got as a gift in a glass jar and won’t touch it. Arsel seems to eat them happily… even the servants carry a candy each, bragging that Ibi gave it to them…”
As he said it, he suddenly felt a little envious and even defeated, and so he fell silent.
When I get back, I’ll have to ask her for a lemon candy too.
Clois kept reading.
The letter was filled, line after line, with things she wanted to share about her joyful days, and it was accompanied by several drawings.
Watching, the Marquis finally rose from his seat, utterly baffled, and moved closer to Clois.
“What on earth is in that letter, that you’re all… Hm?”
His eyes widened as he peeked at the drawings.
“What kind of child sends pictures of a butcher?”
“Butcher?”
At his horrified words, Clois looked down at the picture and explained,
“…That’s a picture of someone carefully cutting flowers.”
“What? Then what is this dumpyard-looking picture?”
“That’s her studying in the library.”
The Marquis was speechless.
Who could possibly interpret those scribbles that way…?
Unthinkingly, he muttered,
“Seems she’s just like His Majesty—terrible at drawing.”
Clois, a prodigy in almost every field, was notoriously poor at drawing. Sometimes, when he tried to explain with sketches, it only made things more confusing.
“Indeed,” Clois agreed lightly, unconcerned.
But Duke Kaelun, who had been sipping tea quietly as he listened, set his cup down with a hardened expression.
He simply could not bring himself to ask Clois about Princess Ivbien now.
“No. I’ll review the information Riden gathered first. Better to proceed carefully than make a noisy mess.”
His eyes gleamed with resolve.
At that moment, sounds came from outside. A Ministry of Interior official burst in, panting, saying he had urgent news.
When Clois read the message, his face hardened.
“What’s wrong?” asked Duke Kaelun.
Clois held out the short letter.
[Siren confirmed to have entered the capital. Highly likely in disguise, hiding somewhere. Extreme caution advised during the Autumn Festival.]
A busy week passed, and the day came for Ibi to leave Duke Kaelun’s estate.
The maids, rising early, quietly carried her luggage downstairs so as not to wake her.
“What a shame.”
“Indeed. When will she visit again?”
“Surely during winter break?”
“When Young Master Arsel returns home every two weeks, couldn’t she come along then?”
As they whispered, one maid suddenly raised a hand, motioning for silence.
What was it?
The others fell quiet and looked around. Then they heard it—
A rhythmic pounding, like hooves striking the ground.
Their eyes widened as they turned toward the estate’s entrance road.
Through the morning mist, a figure grew clearer. And soon—
“Ibi! Arsel! I’m here!”
It was Ruska, riding a horse, his face brimming with excitement.
