The Baron's Gift (4)
It was late at night, long after the banquet had ended.
The air in the baron’s study felt so thick it could choke a man—as if the room itself had been stripped of breath.
Cliv Greenhilt and Benjamin Biswald sat facing each other, the two most powerful nobles currently under the mansion’s roof, their expressions grim as they locked eyes.
The baron spoke first.
“I failed to raise my son properly and allowed him to commit a grave discourtesy. I offer my sincerest apologies.”
The words were an apology, yet his face said nothing of the kind. It was more like a veiled threat: You would do well to accept this apology without fuss.
“Ah, think nothing of it. My maid must have done something to deserve it. Surely he wouldn’t have treated a completely blameless child that way.”
Benjamin’s reply sounded, on the surface, like understanding of Eric’s actions. Beneath it, however, lay a sharp thorn. Anyone foolish enough to take the words at face value and believe the matter settled would find those jaws closing around his throat in an instant.
So the baron kept his posture low.
“I have thoroughly reprimanded the boy. He will remain confined to his room for the time being and reflect on his conduct. As for the injured child—would you permit me to offer separate compensation?”
“No need for that. Leave her side of things to me; I’ll handle it myself. More importantly—why did your son fly into such a rage?”
“......”
“If I may offer a word of advice: no matter how angry he was, he should have restrained himself on a day like today. How many pairs of eyes were watching? If a maid displeased him, he ought to have summoned her privately and disciplined her there—or, if that proved difficult, given me a quiet word. I would have handled the matter for him.”
A maid was not a slave. She was not even a commoner of the lowest rank; she was bound by a proper contract and paid her wages in full. Even so, in practice she belonged to Benjamin. The relationship was unmistakably one of superior and subordinate, and the gulf in rank between them was vast.
To mistreat the property of a noble higher than oneself could easily be taken as an insult to the master. It was something that must never be done. In other words, the other nobles might well interpret Eric’s assault not as violence against a maid, but as an affront to Benjamin himself.
The baron fought to bury the fury rising from deep within his chest. Being lectured on facts he already knew—both as lord of these lands and as Eric’s father—left a bitter taste.
All the while Benjamin continued, unabashed.
“You and I are family, are we not? It makes no difference to me. The trouble is that others do not see it that way. How many nobles witnessed today’s events?”
“...I am ashamed.”
“Hmm... don’t look so grim. If you wish it, I will meet each of the nobles still remaining in the mansion one by one and make certain they understand the maid was gravely at fault.”
“......?”
“What? You object?”
“Ah—no. If you would do that for us... I would be grateful, of course, but why...?”
Benjamin was the son of that viper of a margrave. The baron was certain some scheme lay coiled beneath the offer.
“Look after my little sister Sissel for me. When the marriage took place I was... preoccupied, and I fear I treated you with less courtesy than you deserved. Late though it is, allow me to apologize now.”
“Ah, not at all.”
“It’s fine. I heard from Sissel that you felt slighted. I cannot say what sort of relationship we will build from here, but better things remain better. I look forward to working with you.”
“The honor is mine.”
“Then, if you’ll forgive the imposition, I shall remain in the mansion one more day. I must clear up the misunderstandings before I leave.”
“You are a busy man—there is no need to go so far...”
“Nonsense. The matter is already decided. Leaving things as they are would leave a bad taste in my own mouth, so pay it no mind.”
Benjamin left the study wearing a thin, satisfied smile. Everything was proceeding according to plan. Of course, he allowed no one else to see the expression.
Alone once more, the baron found his thoughts in turmoil. He still could not grasp what the man truly wanted. Benjamin’s offer to stay an extra day and speak with the other nobles was, on its face, a kindness—yet from the baron’s perspective it created a debt. If Benjamin later came with some difficult request, the situation could become exceedingly awkward.
Damn it all...
In his mind’s eye rose the faces of Eric and Jerry, of Anna and Roy, and even of the infant son who had not yet turned one.
I can only pray my choices have not been wrong.
Midnight had already passed, yet the baron remained in the study a long while longer.
Two nights after Roy’s birthday party, the baron summoned him to the study.
By then the distant guests had all vacated the annex and returned to their own homes.
Has the time finally come?
Roy knocked on the study door with a light heart, certain he was about to receive the travel permit he had been waiting for. For the past two days the baron’s expression had been so dark that Roy had scarcely dared to speak to him—doubtless because of that night’s incident. From his own room, nodding off between snatches of eavesdropping magic, Roy had overheard the entire conversation between Benjamin and the baron. Since Eric was the one at fault, the baron had had no real choice but to apologize. Roy had felt a twinge of pity for his father’s position.
“Come in.”
“You called for me at so late an hour?”
Dinner was long past; the servants had all retired, and the mansion lay wrapped in silence. The clamor of the previous days felt almost like a lie, leaving even a trace of loneliness in the air.
“You’ll understand the reason soon enough. More importantly—where is Geren?”
“Pardon?”
“I asked what he is doing at this moment.”
“He has gone to bed, of course. Look at the hour.”
“Then the basement is empty.”
“Yes.”
“We are going there.”
“......?”
“What? Have you hidden something you don’t want me to see?”
“Ah—no. It’s simply so sudden, and so late.”
“Come. I have been too busy of late to keep an eye on your progress. You said you had something to tell me as well. I will hear it underground.”
Still puzzled, Roy followed the baron down to the basement.
He couldn’t have noticed... how carefully did I cover those things?
The large quantity of solution he had quietly diverted. He could no longer remember whether he had hidden it thoroughly enough.
The research laboratory door stood firmly shut. It had been some time since the baron last visited.
“Hm?”
The baron tried the door as usual. It did not budge.
“Ah—there is a security measure in place. You cannot open it, Father.”
“What!?”
“Pardon me a moment.”
Roy laid his palm over the engraved handprint; the sealed door swung open. A magic circle that responded only to registered mana was concealed within the door, so that no unregistered person could pass.
“This is...”
“At present only three people are registered: myself, Master Geren, and Marek.”
“This is my house!”
“Please don’t worry. I will add you as well. Guests have been arriving so frequently of late that I created the security in haste and have not yet reported it. I apologize. Though I must note that whenever I tried to speak of it, it was you who avoided me.”
“Ahem...”
Roy hurriedly produced a magic circle he had prepared in advance and registered the baron’s mana. Watching the process, the baron could not suppress a private surge of admiration. Where on earth had this remarkable child come from? Even seeing him with his own eyes still felt unreal.
“It is done. Your registration on the laboratory door is complete. From now on the door will open in response to your mana.”
“I see...”
“May I now speak of the matters I have been wanting to discuss?”
“Do not rush. The night is long.”
The night may be long, but does that mean we skip sleep?
Roy forced the retort back down. The baron casually drew up a chair and settled into it, then gestured for Roy to sit opposite him.
A moment later their eyes met beneath the soft lamplight, and the heavy conversation began.
“What do you make of your eldest brother’s actions?”
Here we go again. What is he scheming this time?
Roy sharpened his focus. A careless word now could sour the baron’s regard and wreck his own purpose.
“I believe there must have been a reason. I do not know my brother well, yet I do not think he is the sort to act without cause.”
“Indeed. He claims the maids insulted him.”
“......”
“Being compared to the margrave’s bloodline—and to you, young as you are—must have stung him deeply.”
Roy’s eyes widened. He had not expected the baron already to know what Misha had told him. And yet the baron had still behaved that way before Benjamin? Well, admitting in front of the margrave’s son that he had struck someone in a fit of rage over a comparison of bloodlines would have been rather ridiculous.
“It was certainly cause enough for anger. Yet the boy committed a grave error. Do you know what it was?”
“That he chose the wrong time, place, and method?”
“Exactly. Had he thought calmly, he could have inflicted a far more fitting punishment upon those maids. Instead he allowed emotion to drive him into reckless action, creating a situation that might have brought shame not only upon Eric himself but upon the entire house. Had it not been for Lord Benjamin, those maids who insulted Eric would have left as victims, unharmed and free to return home.”
Thanks to Benjamin’s intervention, the story surrounding Eric had been neatly resolved in the maids’ favor—or rather, against them. The man handled subordinates with the skill one expected of a great noble’s son.
“......”
“But that very incident handed Lord Benjamin a powerful pretext.”
“A pretext, you say?”
Roy fixed his full attention on the baron’s words.
“Do you remember the conversation we had a few days ago?”
“Regarding the margrave’s health and the succession... yes?”
“Correct. As you said then, Lord Benjamin came here with a purpose. I, too, believed—as you did—that he intended to draw our house into his faction.”
“Was that not the case?”
That seemed odd. Then what had been the point of using the maids to pull Eric in? Had it not been to place the baron in his debt?
Roy waited, face full of questions, for the explanation.
“I cannot say it was entirely wrong, yet he harbored another purpose as well.”
“Another purpose?”
“Yes.”
The baron recounted the conversation he and Benjamin had shared in the study. Roy already knew every word from his eavesdropping, yet he wore an expression of deep offense and wounded pride—the only proper reaction for one who shared Greenhilt blood.
“Was that not simply an attempt to place you in his debt, Father?”
“Half of it was. But that was not all.”
“What?”
“Until the moment he left the mansion, Lord Benjamin summoned the nobles one by one to his chambers and spoke with each of them.”
“Was that not to clear Eric’s name?”
“The world of nobility is never so simple.”
“......?”
Roy’s face showed complete bewilderment. The baron continued his explanation with an expression of the utmost gravity.