TFCF 08

TFCF

Posted by Zoe, Released on September 17, 2025

Chapter 08…

Helen was swiftly sorting through papers in her office when she spoke.

“Shall we test this out, then? What should I ask… ah.”

She pulled out a document.

“Ayla, I’ve been having a headache over this canal issue. It’s the one between Sir Ermen’s and Sir Hutt’s territories. The argument is over who’s responsible for repairing it.”

“If it’s between Ermen and Hutt… you mean the Trout Canal?”

“Oh? Is that what it was called?”

“Yes. When that canal was built, golden trout swam upstream, so it’s called the Trout Canal. They even carved a trout at the bottom of the starting point as a commemoration. You can check it there.”

“I see. Then what about the repairs?” Helen asked.

The name mattered less than the problem.

“According to the documents, Sir Ermen carried out the repairs. So now he’s demanding the repair costs from Sir Hutt. But then Sir Hutt claimed he should handle the repairs himself… and now they’re even fighting over the right to use the canal.”

“The owner of the Trout Canal is Solarun. Since it runs between two territories, ownership disputes used to get very messy—especially since its usage wasn’t clearly defined.”

“It’s ours?”

“Yes. Solarun funded the construction of the canal. So fees for using it are to be paid directly to Solarun. Any maintenance or repairs are also funded by Solarun.”

“…I see.”

“Just three generations ago, Ermen and Hutt used to alternate the repairs.”

As the words flowed effortlessly out of Ayla’s mouth, Helen gaped.

She glanced back down at the papers and said,

“But I don’t see anything about those expenses here.”

“After it was named the Trout Canal, the ‘canal usage fee’ was renamed the ‘trout tax.’ Isn’t there any record of the trout tax?”

So that’s why names were important!

Helen dug through the documents again and cried out.

“Here it is! Trout tax! Huh? But they’re actually paying with real trout?”

“Well, two generations ago, the Hutt line was continued not by the direct heir but by a collateral branch. Maybe that’s when they forgot about it.”

Helen stared blankly at her younger sister.

“Ayla, are you a genius? No, how do you even know all this?”

Ayla glanced around, then tiptoed up to her sister and whispered in her ear.

“I was worried that if people asked me something and I couldn’t answer, they’d say I really was a fake… so I studied hard.”

“My goodness, Ayla…”

Helen couldn’t help herself—she hugged her little sister tightly. From within her arms came the sound of giggling laughter.

“At least it’s helping you, Sister. I’m glad.”

“It’s more than just help—it’s a lifesaver.”

Helen had never received a proper handover after their father’s sudden death.

Some retainers were loyal, but not all. Even the loyal ones, if they thought their lord was ignorant, could be tempted to line their own pockets.

On top of that, Helen, being underage, was in a precarious position. Ayla’s help was like a rope thrown down from the heavens.

“You really are a genius, Ayla.”

“No, you’re the genius, Sister.”

Helen laughed brightly.

“Alright, then. Sit down here. I’m going to ask you everything I’ve been wondering about.”

The sisters’ questions and answers went on and on until Lady Poppy brought in dinner.

That evening, Helen finally pushed aside a stack of processed documents with a relieved face and rose from her chair.

“Ayla, you saved me. Truly. If it weren’t for you, it would’ve taken ages. Is there anything you want? Shall I buy you something?”

Ayla waved her hands in denial, but then shyly said,

“Um… could I perhaps take swimming and riding lessons?”

She remembered Sada shouting at her—how could she not know how to swim when they had a lake?

Riding, too, was an essential skill for any noble. But Ayla had never properly learned.

After all, wasn’t a lady supposed to travel gracefully by carriage? She had been busy acting the part of the delicate girl who said, “Oh, I’m scared of horses~.”

But in truth, if she wanted to join in with the camaraderie of men, surely she had to at least know how to swim and ride.

Helen’s eyes widened.

“You haven’t learned riding yet? Of course you should. And swimming, too—it’s useful.”

“Master.”

Lady Poppy, who had come to clear away the dishes, frowned. But Helen spoke leisurely,

“There’s a lake on our lands—why shouldn’t she learn to swim? We might even go to the seaside someday. Oh, of course, I don’t mean she should actually swim in our lake.”

Ayla nodded obediently. She herself had no intention of splashing about in front of the whole household.

Helen added,

“Since you’re still going about in such comfortable clothes, it’s a good time to learn what you can. Who knows? It might even save your life someday.”

Lady Poppy tilted her head, then nodded.

“That’s true.”

“Right? I’ll speak to the steward about it.”

“Thank you, Sister.”

“It’s nothing. Compared to what you’ve done for me, this is trivial. Our Ayla, so clever, so clever.”

Helen laughed and praised her once more.

Ayla, overjoyed that she had truly been of help, beamed brightly.

The Fish Ornament

Once, the queen of the West was Rose Solarun.

At the Solarun governor’s mansion, balls and parties were held constantly, and Rose reveled in them all.

But after her husband died, everything stopped.

Rose had no intention of staying secluded for three years.

It had been a year since the funeral—surely it was time to reappear in society.

Though she hadn’t yet shed her mourning clothes, Rose began showing her face again in western society.

Rather than plunging straight into grand balls, she started slowly—visiting salons and concerts to announce her return.

She never wore gray mourning clothes.

Rose believed gray made her complexion look deathly, so she dressed in black or purple. Purple, in particular, suited her well.

Clad in deep violet mourning attire and wearing a sorrowful expression, Rose Solarun was captivating—setting many men’s hearts aflutter.

Her generous pension certainly helped, too.

For Rose, this first outing in a year felt like breathing again.

When her husband Alec was alive, their mansion had always been the center of a ball, and she, its shining star.

Even now, Rose enjoyed arriving late, drawing every gaze. Just as in her youth, she felt satisfaction seeing men’s faces melt under her sorrowful smile and long, fluttering lashes.

That is—until she heard the news.

Her foolish daughter would be attending the Crown Prince’s sage lessons.

“I’d heard your third daughter was frail. She must have recovered.”

“Haha… yes, that’s right.”

The words caught in her throat.

The ghastly image of Ayla, with her hair crudely chopped short, flashed before her eyes.

Rose excused herself from the salon, citing ill health.

The moment she arrived back at the Sun Mansion, she cried out,

“Ayla! Ayla Solarun!”

The butler looked bewildered.

Rose violently tore the shawl from her shoulders and shouted,

“Bring Ayla here at once!”