The Sleeping Dragon of the Woods (4)
Back at the manor, Amelia threw open Luid's door in a handful of strides.
She had sworn to herself that this time, absolutely, she would not let it slide.
"Luid Christopher."
When Amelia called Luid by his middle name, it meant she was truly, genuinely angry.
And yet—
The very first thing she saw upon stepping into the room was Luid, cocooned in his blanket with only his eyes peeking out.
It was… fatally cute.
"…"
Amelia clamped her mouth shut.
Those round, sparkling eyes were so lovable she wanted to bite them, and the way his hair stuck out every which way doubled the cuteness all over again.
…Wait, why did I come here again?
Amelia had completely forgotten her original purpose!
"N-no, that's not it. I almost fell for it."
Kneading her own cheeks firmly with one hand, she reclaimed her reason. Then she hardened her gaze, marched up to Luid, and planted her hands on her hips.
"You. Where did you go?"
"…I've been here the whole time."
Luid averted his eyes.
Faced with such a transparent lie, Amelia sat down on the edge of the bed with a stony expression.
"Look me in the eye. You really didn't go anywhere?"
"…"
Luid couldn't bring himself to lie. He fidgeted for a moment, then confessed.
"The Tower of Pisa."
"What were you doing there?"
"…Fighting."
"What did I tell you?"
"Never to get involved."
"Then why did you get involved?"
"I got angry seeing the children locked up."
"Phew."
Amelia let out a long sigh. Her expression softening considerably, she reached out and stroked Luid's head.
"Luid. I'll take your side no matter what you do. But putting yourself in danger? That I can't approve of."
"…It wasn't dangerous, though."
"No talking back."
"Okay."
"…I mean, you're so, so strong that I suppose none of it ever feels dangerous to you."
Amelia stared calmly into Luid's eyes.
"But you're still so young. Getting mixed up in things like this can't be good for you, emotionally."
"…Yeah."
Luid hung his head, looking contrite.
Oh, so he actually feels bad about it.
Beaming with quiet pride, Amelia held out her little finger.
"Promise me. That you'll never throw yourself into anything this dangerous again."
"Okay."
Luid's small pinky hooked onto hers.
"If anything ever bothers you, tell me. I'll take care of it for you. Understood?"
"…You're forgiving me?"
Amelia shook her head.
"Of course not."
But the answer that followed was entirely different.
Luid's face went blank.
"You're grounded for a month, Luid. And even when you do go outside, you don't leave my sight."
"…!"
Allowing no room for protest, Amelia rose from the bed. Before leaving, she stole one last glance at Luid and wagged her index finger at him.
"Acting cute won't work on me. Who do you think I am? This big sister of yours sits at the very top of your head, you know."
And with the smile of a victor, she closed the door behind her.
Luid stared at the closed door for a long while, his face a picture of wounded pride.
That didn't work? Guess I'll have to come up with a different approach.
And so, the fourteenth sibling quarrel of the year went to… Amelia.
Hershey hadn't visited Luid's manor in quite some time.
Miho, perched on Hershey's shoulder, looked far more at ease these days.
"Doesn't it make you sad, not being by Luid's side very often?"
Miho spent most of her time with Hershey. It hadn't been Luid's order—rather, Miho had asked Luid herself, "Would it be all right if I stayed with Hershey for a while?" and received his blessing.
"But staying by Master's side is so boring. I was stuck inside that orb for five hundred years, you know. I want to see a little more of the world."
"Ah, that's right, isn't it."
"So Luid is a wonderful master, really. He respects my wishes. I'm always grateful."
"Mm…"
Respect his wishes? Far more likely, the man had simply forgotten she existed.
But Hershey only giggled and didn't bother saying so.
In front of the manor, Sherry was visible tending to the garden. She stopped her work and gave a brief nod of acknowledgment; Hershey nodded back, and Sherry opened the manor door for her.
"Luid…?"
Hershey stared, dumbfounded, at the sight of Luid sleeping right in the middle of the manor's red carpet, a pillow under his head and a blanket draped over him.
Sensing a presence, Luid cracked one eye open.
"Hey."
…And went right back to sleep.
Hershey crouched down in front of him with leaden steps.
"Sleeping somewhere rather unusual today, aren't you?"
"You have to change up your sleeping spot now and then if you want to sleep well."
Unable to fall back asleep, Luid opened his eyes again. He rose quietly and wrapped the blanket around himself, and Hershey trotted along at his heels.
"It's been a while."
Far too late to be saying it now, but since this was simply how Luid talked, she wasn't fazed.
"It has been a while."
It had been about five days since Hershey last came to the manor. Plenty had happened in the meantime—and the midterm exams had been wedged in there too.
Hershey being the type who never neglected her own duties, she simply hadn't had the chance to drop by.
Entering the guest room, Luid hopped up into one of the tall chairs. At some point—she hadn't even noticed her arrive—Sherry had followed them in and was brewing tea.
"Ahem."
Hershey had come today with a purpose. Clearing her throat, she made her proposal as casually as she could manage.
"I found a dessert shop nearby that's supposed to be delicious… Would you like to go with me?"
It had taken an enormous amount of courage for Hershey to say it. She had never once in her life invited someone out for dessert.
Tensely, she waited for Luid's answer.
"Sorry."
Hershey felt her heart plummet. She flailed her hands in both directions.
"N-no, it's fine! You don't need to apologize—"
"I'm grounded."
"…Pardon?"
"Grounded. No going out."
Clack.
Sherry set the teacup down without a sound. Hershey bowed her head politely.
Sherry moved to stand by the door, hands folded, rigid as a statue.
"Grounded? You, Luid?"
"I broke a promise."
Luid took a slow sip of his black tea.
Oh. So it wasn't that he didn't want to see me.
Realizing the refusal had nothing to do with her, Hershey broke into a grin.
"I did wonder why Lady Amelia looked so cross the other day. So you got into trouble, did you? Although… that surprises me."
"What does?"
"…I just never thought you'd care about that sort of thing at all."
"I care about it exactly two units' worth. Well—it's family, after all."
Luid added one more remark.
"And Windsor runs on a strict hierarchy."
"A hierarchy…?"
"Noble families all have one. Doesn't yours, Hershey?"
"N-no, of course mine does too. I just assumed Windsor would be different."
Even the Windsor family, which looked so warm and harmonious, was utterly rigid when it came to hierarchy.
Luid was a special case, but even he didn't stand outside it. First place was Mother, second was Irene, and third was Amelia.
In other words, Amelia was, quite formally, his superior. …Though she rarely received treatment befitting that rank.
In any case, Luid had no intention of defying it. To do so would be to trample on his respect for Amelia herself.
"How's the academy? I imagine all sorts of things must have come up."
"As it happens, that's exactly what I came to tell you about."
Hershey brought out the very conversation she'd been planning to have over dessert.
"It was absolute chaos. How on earth did you find the dark mages, Luid?"
Hershey launched into it—the whirlwind of events that had swept through the academy over the past week.
Or, to be precise—about the Headmaster's resignation.
Headmaster Clifford Fynance declared his resignation.
At the regular council meeting, no less, he had dropped the bombshell that he would be handing all of his authority over to Phoenicia Fynance.
"Absolutely unacceptable!"
The reaction was immediate.
The result was every professor in the academy opposing it.
"I object as well. I am still… inadequate, Headmaster."
Phoenicia was only twenty-four.
Young was an understatement—remarkably capable though she was, she hadn't even been granted the title of Vice-Headmaster yet. That seat sat empty, and while everyone tacitly regarded her as the next Vice-Headmaster, the gap in perception remained enormous. A Headmaster of the academy was expected to be a mage of considerable seasoning, or at minimum, an Archmage.
"The matter is already decided."
"Then at least tell us why!"
"Because I am a fool of an adventurer who woke a sleeping dragon."
"…Pardon?"
It was sheer riddle-talk. Only Phoenicia managed, barely, to grasp it.
"Headmaster. You demean yourself far too much."
"It is not self-deprecation."
Clifford spoke with a heavy voice.
"What is it that the Headmaster of the Imperial Academy must protect? The shaping of uncut stones. And yet I looked upon a gem already polished to perfection—and failed to see it. A blind man with his eyes open—how could such a man presume to keep this seat? I have no doubt that age has come for me at last and robbed me of my judgment. To resign before that judgment dims any further—that is my conclusion."
"…"
Clifford had been the intellectual pillar of the professors.
Granted, the old man had a somewhat foul temper, but whenever confusion reigned, he always produced a clear, decisive answer. He had been a good leader. The words of that good leader carried real weight—yet they were not easy to accept.
Least of all for Phoenicia, Clifford's youngest daughter.
"…Just a little longer."
Phoenicia lowered her head. She did not want to be caught on the verge of tears.
"Just a little longer—please, stay by my side."
A deep silence settled over the chamber.
But Clifford's resolve did not waver.
In the stillness, he set pen to paper and wrote his letter of resignation from the post of Headmaster.
It was a letter addressed to the Emperor.
Lucius sat on the imperial throne with his legs crossed, reading the letter through narrowed, skeptical eyes.
Before him, his guardian knight Gallahead Lion lay prostrate on the floor.
"So Headmaster Clifford is resigning. Is there anyone who could replace him?"
"I venture to say—no, Your Majesty."
"I thought as much. The Count Fynance family has held the Headmastership continuously since the academy's founding, after all."
The Emperor rapped the armrest of pure gold in a steady rhythm.
"Phoenicia Fynance. By my understanding, the girl ought to spend at least ten years learning the trade beneath the Headmaster before taking the seat. Is my knowledge mistaken? Speak, sir knight."
"Your Majesty's knowledge is incapable of error. For the world's center is Your Majesty—and the very laws of that world are decreed by Your Majesty's hand."
"Honestly. If you intend to grovel like every other noble, why would I bother with friendly conversation rather than a lecture?"
"…If it displeases you, I shall amend my words. BUT, I, GALLAHEAD!!! I swear it on my life—there is not a single grain of falsehood in what I say!"
"Too loud. Too loud."
"F-forgive me."
"Raise your head."
Gallahead lifted his head, looking thoroughly chastened.
Resting his chin on his hand, the Emperor spoke.
"What do you take that old man's true intention to be, sir knight?"
Lucius had always delighted in posing questions to his vassals and trading thoughts with them. Never—absolutely never—did he voice his own view first.
It was partly out of consideration: if the Emperor spoke first, his ministers would hesitate to offer an honest opinion. And partly, too, to double-check whether there was anything he himself had overlooked.
Gallahead knew this well, and so he racked his brains desperately before venturing an answer.
"W-well, at his age… surely he'd like to rest a little, wouldn't he?"
"He's a hundred and eleven. He's still in his prime, isn't he?"
"…Then when, pray tell, IS Your Majesty's retirement age??"
Gallahead asked in complete earnestness.
"One month before I die."
Heh. Lucius delivered the joke-that-was-not-a-joke with a smirk, then finally laid out his own opinion.
"He wants to put our darling Luid back into the academy, doesn't he. He believes that if he steps down, Luid will return. Knowing the old man, he'll send Luid a letter the very moment his resignation is through. Luid has a soft side to him, so he'll accept it. At the very least he'll come back to the academy—and if things go well, he might even offer to come to the academy in order to stop the Headmaster from resigning. Truly, that old man is no pushover."
"…All of this, on account of Young Master Luid?"
"That's right. A rice cake rolled right into your lap—only for it to walk out the door on its own two feet. Who wouldn't regret that? That dotard loves honor and money more than anything in this world. Leave it be, and I expect he'll go to his coffin without a single sane thought in his head."
Lucius eyed the documents with a bored expression.
Gallahead asked, puzzled.
"Then—you will not accept the resignation?"
"No. I will accept it. I happen to agree with Clifford's intentions."
Both as a matter of state and out of simple personal appetite, it was better for Luid to belong to the academy.
Having a child of the Windsor Duchy residing in the Imperial Capital for four whole years was a blessing to be celebrated.
He might even quietly push the Third Princess in and arrange a marriage while he was at it.
"Hm… though a Headmaster of twenty-four."
Lucius did not appear particularly pleased with that part.
He tossed the papers lightly into the air and rose from his seat.
"If it's come to that, wouldn't it be better to simply hand it to Luid instead? Twenty-four or twelve—it's all the same, isn't it?"
"…!"
At the Emperor's outrageous remark, Gallahead's eyes went perfectly round.