Episode 6
My fork gently sank into the chicken, which the chef had meticulously cut into bite-sized pieces. I knew it would be delicious even without trying it, so I excitedly shoveled the meat into my mouth, kicking my leg. Nyaam.
“Ugh, let’s drink!”
“……ha.”
A sigh of astonishment escaped His Excellency, who had become a screen, but it was none of my business. As I began to attack the second small carrot, the Marquis Mafilda spoke in a pleased voice.
“You’re truly remarkable. For someone so young, you can eat perfectly on your own without needing any help.”
“Mafilda, are you out of your mind?”
“You’re not even a picky eater. How admirable.”
“For a child who recently lost his guardian, you don’t even think that’s abnormal, do you?”
For the first time, a crack appeared in the expression of the Marquis Mafilda, who had always seemed gentle and kind.
“Oh my.”
But I wasn’t particularly surprised. Ezequiel Ricard was not one to be swayed by words, even in vain. And something like “abnormal appetite” was nothing compared to the harsh criticism I’d heard in my past life.
But for Marquis Mafilda, the daughter of the nanny who raised my mother and the nanny who fed me, it was natural for her to roll her eyes.
“How dare you—”
“Is that how my mother always did?”
Before the inevitable happened, I quickly intervened. Ezequiel’s gaze, already on the verge of sullenness, turned to me.
“Eating well is the basic principle.”
I wiped the sauce from my lips with a napkin and continued.
“You have to eat while you can. Don’t miss the opportunity. And they say food goes bad if you waste it.”
“That’s just like Rosalind.”
“Yes. They say people can only think properly when they’re full.”
“Asha, listen carefully.”
My mother’s voice, constantly reassuring me, was still vivid.
“Eating well is fundamental. You should eat when you can. People are simpler than you think, and in some ways, they’re more like animals or machines. Just as machines need magic to function, people need a full stomach to think properly.”
… How long will I be able to vividly recall that voice?
“That woman always maintained that she’d never seen a man fight properly on the battlefield without being picky about food.”
“Mom doesn’t speak so elegantly.”
I put down my fork and looked straight at Ezequiel Ricard.
“They say the one who complains at the dinner table is the one who gets eaten first.”
Beatrice Ricard’s harsh words, ones she wouldn’t utter even if her mouth were torn open, were copied without a single change. It was, of course, deliberate.
“I’m no longer Beatrice Ricard.”
This was both a pledge to myself and a declaration against the ill-fated relationship from my past life.
I’m Sha. My mother calls me Asha. Sha means “sunshine” in the ancient Pilgrimage language. My mother said that when I was born, upon first seeing my golden hair, she unconsciously covered my forehead, wondering, “Why is the sunlight so strong in the delivery room?” The midwife smiled and said,
“You were born with a little ray of sunshine.”
“That’s right.”
My mother, meeting me for the first time, looked at me as if mesmerized and said,
“Asha is here.”
I escaped Beatrice through death, and only then, the moment my mother first met me, did I become Asha—a little ray of sunshine.
Not your troublesome Riche, but my mother’s little ray of sunshine.
That was my only pride. It was a shining shield protecting me, a spear pointing straight toward the past.
Ezekiel’s gaze narrowed slightly as he watched me stare intently. He muttered.
“…You really don’t resemble me even this much.”
“Thanks for the compliment!”
“Not a compliment.”
“I suppose it’s a compliment to me, though?”
Ezekiel shook his head, watching me retort angrily. He seemed determined not to deal with her any further, as he was such a noble gentleman. That was exactly what I was aiming for.
As expected, Ezekiel turned to the Marquis of Mafilda and asked,
“Rosalind may be a collateral, but she holds the right of succession, so the Day of the Believer will naturally be held at the palace. Who will guard the party?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“…What?”
Ezekiel’s thick eyebrows twitched with alarm. But this time, I couldn’t laugh. I was equally surprised.
“No guard yet?”
Everyone in the empire knew that a wizard’s body must be sent to the island where the Magic Tower was located to die, to prevent it from falling into demonic hands.
“Even I know this, so even a three-year-old knows it.”
Therefore, failing to send a dead wizard to the Magic Tower or smuggling their body was a serious crime punishable by death, depending on the severity of the crime.
Furthermore, every lord or governor had a duty to escort any wizard who died in their lands on their journey back to the Source Fire and to provide all necessary comforts.
Moreover, my mother wasn’t just any ordinary wizard. Although a collateral branch, the Grand Duke Khaledro family was undeniably a part of the royal lineage.
The current imperial family possesses the closest bloodline to the secrets of magic, so those who inherited that bloodline had to undergo special procedures at the palace after their death.
“I think we wouldn’t need to do it if we were a collateral line.”
The current emperor’s grandfather’s younger brother was the first Grand Duke Khaled, and my mother was the third generation. In other words, even considering kinship with the imperial family is now meaningless. If the imperial family hadn’t been so precious for generations, my mother and I wouldn’t even be considered collateral, let alone have the right to succession…
“Anyway, since we have the right to succession, they’re telling us to do it at the palace, so that’s what we should do.”
According to this custom, the Origin Fire is only removed from the Magic Tower when a royal magician dies.
So, considering all these factors…
“Of course, the imperial family would have offered to send their own guards.”
My thoughts were exactly the same.
But Marquis Mafilda shook his head with a calm smile.
“Yes. But he won’t come. I told him there was no need.”
“What the—”
Oh, this is dangerous.
Ezekiel, already in a bad mood, finally grew a chill.
“Explain what you’re talking about, from beginning to end.”
A low, dark voice, tinged with murder.
“This is the corpse of a wizard, once known as the North’s last fortress and the ultimate weapon. It’s a grave matter, with the possibility of demons greater than the commander appearing. And of course, this child is here.”
“The only direct lineage left by Grand Duke Khaledro, the first in line of succession, before his death. Do you think that’s all? The current imperial family lacks the Empress, and Her Majesty’s will for her is clear. Compared to those two, the blood of Richard, which I passed on to that child, pales in comparison.”
The usually reserved Ezekiel’s increasing chatter was certainly not a good sign. Sure enough, the blood was pulsing in his smooth forehead and clavicle.
“Has anyone ever shared the same line of succession as Richard, Khaledro, and the House of Lohengrandz? Never will. A three-year-old of unprecedented nobility. He must deal not only with demons, but with the entire human race of the empire. Am I wrong?”
Marquis Mafilda didn’t deny it. It was as if he were admitting it wasn’t wrong.
