A Letter Left Behind

"So Bayul received Aidan's letter and left for Carrington?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Did you learn what the matter was?"

"I thought it might be difficult to answer, so I did not ask — but judging from Rita's grumbling, it seems a friend of the young master is shut up at home, working himself to the bone."

"Shut up at home, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠working?"

Duke Randert's brow furrowed. Aidan was Count Leonett's grandson. That the richest family in the empire would put a young grandson to manual labor over his vacation was something the Duke found hard to swallow.

"It appears he wrote to the young master as though begging to be rescued. Perhaps Rita is sore that she couldn't stay in Hamilton any longer — she was muttering complaints to herself the whole time."

"And it's serious enough that he'd ask to be rescued?"

The Duke, returning to Hamilton after a long and grueling itinerary in the imperial capital, had been more eager and expectant for this journey home than ever before. A single fact had made it so: that Bayul was waiting for him.

Yet when he arrived at the castle, his son was gone, and only a letter greeted him. It would have been a lie to say he wasn't disappointed. There were a good four months to go until the boy's so-called winter break, and the realization that he would not see his son until then left him deeply disheartened.

"If he's sending letters even during his break, they must be exceptionally close. He seemed genuinely worried for his friend. And you know the young master — he'd been counting the days ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠until your return. It was a choice he had no choice but to make."

"Are you consoling me right now?"

"I am merely informing you that the young master was just as eager to see you, my lord."

"Isn't that the same thing? My face must have given me away."

Duke Randert let out a dry chuckle and read his son's letter once more, from beginning to end. It wasn't especially long, but thinking of the boy laboring over every line made his heart ache with fondness — and swelled with pride all the same.

"You are aware you have yet to win a single time, are you not?"

"...I'm letting him have it. For the sake of my one and only son's pride."

Head Butler Cunning barely managed to swallow the laugh rising in his chest. How long had it been since his lord last joked like this? The mending of the bond between father and son had changed so much within the castle walls — and nothing delighted him more than moments like this one.

How long had he waited to see his lord smile again?

A full two years.

Ever since the young master Bail had passed, the entire castle had languished under a pall of gloom. Only now was it beginning to find its footing again. If everything continued to unfold as smoothly as it was now, he would ask for nothing more.

"So, what did Bayul help with while I was away? Did he sign off on my paperwork?"

"Of course. Even when I told him to rest, he worked with remarkable diligence."

"Then my workload must have lightened considerably."

That, of course, was a highly subjective matter — depending entirely on who was doing the judging.

"......"

When Head Butler Cunning hesitated instead of answering, the Duke's expression hardened.

"So it doesn't, apparently."

"...There is something I have yet to report. It is urgent, but I thought it best you read the young master's letter first, so I held it back for a moment."

The butler's bearing turned grave all at once. He had never been a lighthearted man, but where his earlier report had been routine, his voice now carried real weight. Duke Randert knew at once that this was no ordinary matter.

"It concerns Young Master Derek."

"Derek? You mean Liam's son, Derek?"

The Duke was momentarily baffled — why would his nephew's name surface here of all places?

"Yes, my lord. Please do not be alarmed. Some time ago, there was an accident at the ice mine — a tunnel collapsed."

"Wh-what did you say? The tunnel collapsed?"

Despite the warning, the Duke's eyes went wide as saucers.

"The injured — where are the wounded now? Were there any deaths? To report something so grave only now is unlike you!"

At the dizzying news of a collapsed mine, fury crept into the Duke's voice.

"By grace of fortune, not a single life was lost. All of the injured received treatment promptly and have either fully recovered or are well on the mend."

"Well, that much is a relief, at least."

"And every bit of that was thanks to the young master's swift response. The moment word of the accident reached him, he ran to the ice mine and directed the rescue himself. That is the only reason it did not spiral into a far greater tragedy."

"Bayul went to the ice mine? Not Derek?"

The story had begun with Derek. When the Duke and Liam were both away from the territory, Derek was the one who stepped in to manage the mine's affairs — so naturally, the Duke had assumed the boy would be the one handling the accident as well.

"That is... how shall I put this......"

He had to convey the truth, but given the young man's standing, the words would not come easily.

Knock, knock.

"Your Grace, it is Sadad."

Just then, the Duke's personal knight Sadad rapped on the office door.

"I thought I ordered you to rest. What is it now?"

The man had only just arrived after being run ragged alongside the Duke in the capital for weeks. Having been explicitly ordered to rest until tomorrow morning, his reappearance drew an irritable glance from his lord.

"I heard on my way through the knights' quarters. They say Young Master Derek caused an accident?"

"...An accident?"

"You haven't heard yet, Your Grace?"

"I was just about to tell you, sir knight."

Duke Randert shot Head Butler Cunning a look that hovered somewhere between exasperation and disbelief. An accident, of all things. Now he absolutely had to hear what exactly his nephew had been tangled up in.

"...Young Master Derek has been smuggling minerals out of the ice mine."

"......!"

"They say the collapse itself happened because he forced the laborers into overnight shifts without rest, and one of them nodded off at the wheel. The young master uncovered it all during his investigation, after he went in to rescue the workers."

"The evidence?"

"Confessions from the laborers who were bribed, and from Young Master Derek himself. Sir Ian and Father Juan were present at the scene when it all came out."

"...And where is Derek now?"

"He has been confined to his residence. Orders were also given to the Full Moon Knight Order to keep watch over him, in case he should attempt to flee."

"And Bayul gave all of those orders himself?"

"Yes, my lord. He was in great distress over it."

Derek was no stranger — he was a cousin. For a boy of Bayul's temperament, it could not have been an easy decision to make.

"Impressive."

"My sentiments exactly."

Sadad, who had been listening in silence, jumped in on the young master's side.

"The young master made that kind of judgment call in Your Grace's absence and then handled the matter flawlessly from start to finish — honestly, it sent chills right down my spine!"

Which was why he had come running the moment he'd heard the news upon entering the quarters. He had, as it happened, a letter freshly arrived from Carrington that he was duty-bound to deliver as well.

"Imprisoning him outright must have felt excessive to you."

"Well — cousin or not, sir. I can't imagine what possessed Young Master Derek to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠commit a crime that serious."

In truth, Sadad had already unloaded a colorful string of curses back at the quarters, but he could hardly bring himself to do the same in the Duke's presence. Derek was the only son of Liam, his lord's one and only brother.

"How do you intend to handle it?"

"And why, exactly, are you asking me that?"

"He is your nephew, after all, Your Grace."

"So. You want me to go easy on him?"

"No, sir. If I speak honestly, I would rather you did not. But surely Your Grace's feelings in the matter cannot be quite the same as when you judge an ordinary subject of the territory? That is the only reason I ask."

"They are exactly the same."

The Duke did not waver for so much as an instant. He was startled that his nephew had committed such a crime, true — but he had no intention whatsoever of sparing the boy. Anyone who expected otherwise, or hoped for it, simply did not know their Duke.

"There are no exceptions for family."

"But will Lord Liam really stay quiet about this?"

"He'll think exactly as I do. There's no need to worry."

Duke Randert cut Sadad's concern off at the root. His younger brother was, like himself, utterly scrupulous in separating duty from sentiment. His son's crime would wound his heart, no doubt — but it was not the kind of thing a man of his standing could ever wave away lightly.

"Then I will set that matter aside. Here — take this letter, Your Grace."

Somehow deflated by the Duke's flat verdict, Sadad produced his other errand.

"It's from Senior Ian."

"He's barely been gone for Carrington. What could possibly warrant a dispatch so soon?"

"His orders are to withdraw every agent we had watching Chairman Rayegar."

"...Withdraw them?"

"Yes, sir. I had been quietly turning the matter over in my mind for some time, and I've only now found the reason."

"What reason? What have you been chewing on without reporting it?"

The workload in the capital had left no room for a separate briefing. Sadad belatedly explained the history of the chasers they had been setting on Chairman Rayegar.

"...In short, the chasers either vanished outright, ended up crippled, got caught by the Chairman himself — all manner of mishaps. And as it turns out, the man is a mage. A highly skilled one, at that — a high-rank mage of at least the sixth circle."

"...What a day for unexpected news."

Robbed of his minerals by a trusted nephew, and now the true identity of that deeply suspicious Chairman turned out to be a mage.

"The fact that none of us ever knew he was sixth circle or above means he was concealing his strength with magic, doesn't it?"

"Yes, Your Grace. That's why Senior Ian specified 'at least.'"

"But knowing he's a mage doesn't resolve the question of where his money comes from. If anything, the fact that he's a mage makes me all the more suspicious."

It was customary for high-rank mages to register with the state and be managed under its oversight. Under full state patronage, they could pursue abundant research — but by the same token, avoiding the government's interference became all but impossible.

Some mages, disliking precisely that, registered and then wall themselves off from the world to live as they pleased. But the suspicion such a life invited was a debt the mage in question was obligated to repay on his own.

"Here is Senior Ian's letter. Read it for yourself, Your Grace."

"No need. I'll read it later. It seems I have a visitor."

"We shall take our leave, then."

Head Butler Cunning and Sadad were both quick on the uptake. Only one person in the entire world would come calling on the Duke at this hour of the day.

"Brother. It is I."

A moment later, the one who stepped into the Duke's office was, exactly as they had predicted, Liam. He had come to the main castle still dressed in the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠clothes he'd worn on the train. And his face wore the grim resolve of a man marching toward his final battle.