The Burrow Duchy (1)

The moment I finished reading the quest the sloppy Chief God had handed down, what rose to the surface of my mind was a story I'd heard back in the Patran Duchy, back when the Duke had pulled me aside for a private word.

A plea for aid had come from House Burrow, and he had rushed over in haste — only to find, upon arrival, that nothing whatsoever was wrong.

When the Duke first told me that story, I hadn't thought much of it. This was, after all, a great archmage whose power approached the finest in the kingdom, a man hailed as the pride of the nation.

If any real problem had existed, there was no way he of all people would have missed it. So I chalked it up to some error somewhere and let it go.

That was my mistake. Because he was, unmistakably, a variable.

Had anything happened to House Burrow during the first-semester break? Had there been even so much as ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a passing explanation buried in the background story?

No. There had not.

Not once.

In the game, a major crisis did eventually strike one of the territories under the Burrow Duchy's administration — but that came two years after the game's start.

At the very earliest, nothing was supposed to go wrong until I reached my third year.

Which meant that House Burrow, despite its share of noisy rumors, ought to be sitting in perfect calm right now. And yet a problem had emerged.

A variable had appeared.

Back then, I never stopped to think deeply about what that variable meant. I tried not to.

You stupid fool.

Fine — maybe I was exhausted after everything that happened at the duchy. But I should have doubled back to check once I'd rested. If I had, then by now—

"Haaah."

I had been grinding my teeth, but seeing that lamenting changed absolutely nothing, I swept my hair back from my face.

Calm down. Priority one is hearing from Karia what exactly is going on.

'Is something the matter?'

"Stop chattering and explain it to me nice and quiet, you old spinster. What's going on?"

"Word is Duke Burrow has fallen gravely ill. That's the reason the Second Queen paid a visit ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to his estate, too."

Duke Burrow, in critical condition.

The man could not rise from his bed.

His condition was reportedly serious enough that he was refusing to receive even a single visitor.

The family physician was treating him at the estate even now, but he didn't seem to be showing much improvement.

"Young Lord Burrow is staying there as well, looking after his father."

I tapped my chin as I listened to Karia.

Was there any reason at all for Duke Burrow's health to fail?

Setting aside the wound to his heart from losing his eldest son in that sudden accident years ago, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the man carried no ailments whatsoever.

And naturally, in the game's story, the Duke of Burrow's health had never once been an issue.

What kind of warrior who personally led and drilled his own ducal knight order would have anything wrong with his body?

Which meant the situation in front of me had strayed far, far outside my knowledge.

Think. Consider the possibility that Duke Burrow genuinely contracted an illness severe enough to keep him bedridden.

First: some variable arose, and the Duke truly did fall ill.

In that case, there's no problem at all.

I could get my hands on a panacea and hurl it at him, or drag in someone renowned as a divine healer.

But if that's not it — if he was sickened by someone else's scheme, or if the Duke himself was fabricating his condition—

Either way, the need to verify it was exactly the same.

Having settled on that conclusion, I raised my head, and Karia smiled.

"You want me to look into it, then?"

'Yes.'

"Do wrinkles and quick wits scale together or something? You're sharp."

"Where exactly are these wrinkles on my face?!"... Ugh. Honestly. "Fine, I'll look into it. But it'll take time."

'That long?'

"What, are your legs giving out from old age? Why would it take so long?"

"This is a seriously delicate job, boss lady."

According to Karia, plenty of people were itching to know the internal affairs of House Burrow right now, but meaningful information was barely circulating at all.

The Burrow Duchy was clamping down hard from within, which made digging anything up difficult — and that, she said, meant it would take considerable time. I found myself troubled by that.

Given Karia's abilities were Karia's abilities, I didn't imagine that "considerable time" would stretch into months. The time limit was still generous enough that I could afford to wait that long.

And yet my gut felt wrong.

Look at the Menestail case. The time limit the sloppy Chief God handed down was a countdown to catastrophe.

If the problem festering in House Burrow was the same kind of thing, then I had to work out a solution as fast as humanly possible.

If every hour of delay brought the disaster closer, then in the worst case, I might drag my feet until this became something the current me couldn't handle at all.

"Sounds like you're in quite a hurry."

Karia read my expression the way she always did, fell silent in thought for a moment, then went on.

"I'll give it my best shot, but don't get your hopes up. Most of my old connections are severed, and I've lost the better part of my strength besides. There are limits to what I can do."

'...I see.'

"Hah. Don't worry yourself. What could you possibly expect from a useless old spinster?"

"Which is exactly why — if this is really so urgent, put your connections to work, boss. Ask the people gathered around you right now, and there's precious little you couldn't get done."

The word connections had never had anything to do with me.

In my past life I'd been a person without even parents to my name, and even after arriving in this world, my old karma meant all I ever did with the people around me was fight. Not once had connections ever gotten me anything.

Granted, there was that one time I received help from those around me during the Patran Duchy incident — but I wasn't the one who asked for it, now was I?

With a history like that, being told to leverage my connections only left my head in knots.

I had zero idea how I was supposed to leverage anything.

"What nonsense are you spouting. You roped in everyone around you just fine when you were clearing the Menestale Dungeon."

'That was a dungeon.'

The Menestale affair had been dungeon business.

As a hardened veteran of Soul Academy, solving dungeon-related problems was well within my wheelhouse.

Which meant I knew better than anyone alive how to drive that kind of operation forward.

But this was different.

The affair of House Burrow had nothing — nothing — to do with a dungeon.

It wasn't a field I was confident in. And so I didn't know how to maneuver through it, either.

When I laid all that out, Grandpa gave a derisive snort.

"Hah. And here I thought you were saying something worth hearing. Then think of it the other way about. There is a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠dungeon called House Burrow — and you are the one stepping through its gates."

'What is that supposed to mean?'

"Think it through. What you must do now is confirm the abnormality of House Burrow, is it not?"

'Right?'

"The easiest road to that end would be to obtain information. But judging by what Karia says, wringing information from others seems difficult — and even granting you obtained some, whether it could be trusted is doubtful at best."

Grandpa had a point. If information could be gotten hold of by any means at all, Karia wouldn't have said it would take so long.

Which meant the intelligence circulating out there simply couldn't be trusted.

"So what remains? You look upon House Burrow with your own two eyes."

'...My own eyes?'

"Aye. If you cannot trust the eyes of another, you have no choice but to see for yourself."

With my own eyes. In other words, I go to House Burrow personally, and I confirm the abnormality there myself.

"So frame it this way. There is a dungeon called House Burrow — and you are racking your brain for the means to open its doors."

Define House Burrow as a dungeon, then work out its entry conditions.

The moment I reframed the goal that way, the head I'd written off as overloaded began turning over again.

First thing to consider: if I headed to House Burrow, could I actually identify the problems festering there?

If I couldn't pin down the abnormality, then barging into the dungeon would show me nothing — I'd never get a proper look at its mechanics.

On that point, I didn't need to agonize even a little. I am a hardened veteran of Soul Academy. If something abnormal existed, there was no chance in hell I'd fail to notice it.

All the more so if it had anything to do with a dungeon.

Next problem, then. Could I actually manage a personal visit to House Burrow?

Could I meet the dungeon's entry conditions?

Karia had said it plainly: with the Duke's illness hanging over them, the Burrow Duchy was refusing all visitors.

Even if I made my intentions known, nothing would change. Would a scandal-ridden troublemaker of a noble daughter, tied to no one and nothing, even register as worth their notice?

Then what if someone other than me requested the visit, and I simply attached myself to them?

What if I wedged myself in beside a person whose standing made refusal all but impossible for House Burrow?

Arthur? No. Too weak. A prince far removed from the line of succession, with no backing to speak of, can't bring any pressure to bear on the Burrow Duchy.

Phoebe? Phoebe is a genuine possibility — but if I asked her, the Church would get tangled up in it. And that would complicate everything.

Benedict? That one I'd have to check. I had no idea whether Benedict had any connection to House Burrow at all.

And. And there was also...

Ah.

There it was.

What surfaced from all that slow churning was the reward Duke Patran had once offered me.

Back then, deciding there was nothing I needed, I'd taken instead the right to call in a favor from the Duke of Patran someday.

If I used that.

If I could tag along at Duke Patran's side and enter House Burrow — and if I could come face to face with the Duke himself.

No — honestly, I wouldn't even need to meet the Duke.

Getting inside House Burrow was the whole battle. Once in, confirming the abnormality would be no great feat.

"Have you thought of something, then?"

'Yes.'

"Then act upon it. If there is aught I can advise on, speak, and I shall tell you."