Dark Tidings (1)
Miakh Ket scanned the room with his eyes.
"…Everyone, please leave us."
"Okay. Rest well, Dad—"
"You stay."
Armed, who had been backing away on quick little steps as if aware of the weight of her own words, halted in her tracks.
The Count regarded the man his daughter had brought home as her fiancé-to-be, his gaze still unsteady. Kriel stood firm behind Armed, exuding a sharp, striking presence no matter how many times one looked.
If he had a face like that, there's no way I wouldn't remember him.
The Count rummaged through his memories of past monster subjugations, searching for the name Kriel. Reports of his skill, diligent attitude, and trustworthiness lingered, but his bare face seemed like something he was seeing for the first time.
Eventually, the Count concluded that yes, this was indeed the first time he'd seen the man's face. The mercenary Kriel who had joined those subjugation campaigns had always worn a helmet and full plate armor.
He might have removed his helmet at mealtimes, but the Count had never joined the mercenaries for their meals.
"You leave as well. There's father-daughter business to discuss."
Kriel glanced at Armed. She was mumbling incoherently, looking troubled.
Armed's resolve to branch off seemed solid. He'd already asked her before coming here: even with her father awake, did she still intend to leave the territory?
She'd answered without hesitation that she had no intention of taking back words she'd already spoken aloud. And even with the Count's return, she probably figured the family rift couldn't be mended easily.
Her current fumbling was likely because she couldn't easily declare in front of her father that she was giving up her claim as heir.
For his friend's sake, Kriel spoke up.
"If I may be so bold, I have something to say, Your Lordship."
"I said I would speak with Armed."
"I did not decide on this engagement because of Armed's family or the title she might inherit. I joined hands with her solely because it was her own will that desired it. I ask that Your Lordship listen to your daughter's wishes as well."
"Are you speaking of permission for the engagement? Do you not think such flowery words already prove your greed?"
"It's not about the engagement itself. It's about the reasons and process that led Armed to desire it in the first place."
Kriel paused briefly between words, giving the Count time to ponder the meaning—and perhaps feel a spark of interest.
He shot a sidelong glance at Armed. Her cheeks were a bit flushed, but her eyes had sharpened; the rest could be left to her. He'd bought her enough time to gather her thoughts.
"My apologies for the intrusion. The rest is for Armed to unravel herself. This outsider will take his leave."
Kriel bowed and withdrew. Watching his retreating figure, the Count revised his assessment upward: A mercenary who's learned his manners, at least. But that alone wasn't enough to deem him a suitable match for his daughter.
"…Very well, Armed. What did that man mean about the reasons and process behind the engagement?"
"Uh… well, Dad."
The Count's lips curved in a faint smile at the word "Dad." Was it because they'd been especially close in her childhood, or because she took after her own mother? Armed had always treated him without formality.
He preferred her plainspoken ways over the convoluted speech of nobility—precisely because they were honest.
"The truth is, I've given up on the heir competition too?"
"…What nonsense is that, Armed?"
The Count felt a sudden deepening of his headache.
Leaving the Count's sickroom, Kriel headed straight for Lady Helbrinke Ket's room. He'd primed the conversation for Armed, so their talk would likely drag on awhile. He'd use the time to figure out how the western scrap-heaps had extended their monstrous reach all the way here.
There was already a visitor at his destination. A somewhat short stature, contrasted by a sturdy build. It was Hekedian Ket.
"Sir Kriel? What brings you here?"
He'd apparently been tending to Lady Helbrinke before entering the Count's room, as Hekedian carried a wet cloth and other caregiving tools.
"I've come about the wicked magic that's infested Lady Helbrinke's body. And you, my lord?"
"My sister's mages seem to have managed some emergency measures. But to physically extract the curse's conduit embedded in her spine, they'll need a specialist medical mage from the capital."
Hekedian sighed.
"After Father collapsed, I just thought Mother had grown especially strict. That to inherit the countship, one needed a strong will—and that her teachings were meant to forge it…."
To think it had actually been a cursed, manipulated version of her. Hekedian bit his lip, calling himself a failure as a son.
"If the capital's mages have no other options, inquire with the Western Army."
"The Western Army? The foes of the automatons?"
"The master of the wicked magic infesting the Lady's flesh is none other than the ruler of the automatons themselves."
Kriel recalled the message the Automaton Totality had left him. Its claim of ownership over Arunback's soul remnants. And the notice that they would meet again.
"Similar magics have been witnessed multiple times, so borrowing the Western Army's knowledge might enable a swifter cure. How the bastard controlled a human body rather than a machine remains a mystery, though."
He might have to return to the Western Front sooner than expected. Kriel waited for Armed to finish her talk and emerge.
The escalating family conflicts since his collapse. The sharp political jockeying over even trivial matters within the house. Now he just felt tired and wanted to step down, he'd said.
The Count listened to Armed's calm recounting. And thought:
Brother, is it…?
Stripping Helbrinke of her freedom to manipulate her words, then using Dein and Nayd to subtly widen the family rifts. It had to be the schemes of his brother, who had now discarded his old name for Arunback.
"But things will be different now. I'm back."
"No, Dad. Kriel explained it. From the county's perspective, the mage academy I've built is like an uncontrolled private army. I have no intention of leaving a source of discord behind."
The name of her prospective son-in-law slipped out naturally. The Count sighed.
"I see. That engagement—chosen to thwart my wives' attempts to drive you out through marriage. Now that I'm awake, that won't happen anymore. Do you still need to push ahead with it?"
"I already declared it publicly in front of the townsfolk at the Solidarity Festival, and accepted congratulatory gifts too."
"Congratulatory gifts? From whom?"
"The Wraith King of the Wild Hunt?"
"…?"
The Count's confusion thickened. Seeing it, Armed knew the moment had come.
"But Dad, bringing Kriel wasn't just for that reason. That guy… he's cool."
Armed told him Kriel's story. How, both last time and now, he'd stepped out alone to halt the Wild Hunt. As she spoke of Kriel, Armed's eyes sparkled.
That vibrant gaze reminded the Count of his younger self—defying his retainers' opposition to bring Armed's mother home as his bride. He must have looked just like that.
Having ignored his family's wishes to force through his own marriage, he had no intention of meddling in his daughter's engagement without cause. He simply wanted to gauge her fiancé's character as a father.
Of course, if it had been merely a pretext engagement to dodge his wives' plots, he might have advised her to end it now that he could protect her.
But his daughter saw more in this knight Kriel than a mere excuse. One couldn't quell the boiling passion of youth. The more you tried to douse it, the fiercer it burned—and the Count knew that well.
Though what that Kriel fellow said earlier seems a bit different in direction…
To be precise, Kriel's declaration had conveyed a protective resolve and steadfast friendship. It felt a touch cooler than the affection his daughter was now openly displaying.
"Armed."
"And even without Kriel, I still would've branched off."
"Hm?"
Catching up on his daughter's unexpected words, the Count missed his chance to voice the budding doubt.
"You know that territory I'm supposed to inherit? I already started building there first and pulled in funds through collateral loans? I gathered investors and tenants on the rumor they'd join the mage academy, so if I don't go, I'll go bankrupt…"
Armed peeked at her dad's expression. The Count's gaze grew far sterner than when he'd eyed her fiancé.
To salvage her careless slip, Armed hurriedly added,
"I'll just pay it back bit by bit…"
At her defense, the Count's eyes darkened further.
"Armed."
"Dad, it's really fine. I just need to relocate the academy now."
"Armed Ket."
"Yes, Father."
"When a lord makes a foolish decision, the territory's future darkens. Haven't I told you this time and again?"
Armed wanted to run away.