I Have No Father
I Have No Father
The moment Camilla arrived at Wagon headquarters, she summoned the head of the intelligence division—the agent she had planted inside House Perdes.
"Ivan is the duke's illegitimate son?"
"Yes. Even within the ducal residence, the matter has been kept strictly confidential. We have only just confirmed it ourselves."
"So that's why Haran, the first knight-captain of House Perdes, was dispatched to the provinces."
Camilla murmured to herself, turning over earlier reports in her mind.
"How did I not notice?"
She recalled Ivan's hair color from the restaurant.
That deep black—darker than anyone else's—the hallmark of House Perdes.
She had seen it. And still the thought that Ivan might be Duke Perdes's bastard son had never once crossed her mind.
The reason was simple enough.
She had been utterly absorbed in the food.
Every ounce of attention I had was fixed on Lucas.
The thought of him made her heart give a sudden thump.
What was he doing right now?
At this hour, probably bustling about, welcoming customers.
The steady sizzle of oil, the mouthwatering smell of meat on the griddle threading through the air, the cheerful uproar of people and the click and clatter of bowls.
The owner of a knight restaurant that had hooked its customers completely, running himself ragged.
I want to eat it.
She wanted to wrap up everything and hurry back down to Britten.
Diana would follow, of course—but she wasn't without ways to shake her off.
Unlike herself, a merchant free to roam, Diana was a small sovereign of the Imperial Household. She could not simply move as she pleased.
The thought of ditching her and eating his food alone tugged the corners of her lips upward unbidden.
She wasn't planning to just eat and leave this time.
For example, she could make a pretense of investment and linger at the shop for a while.
Or call Lucas aside under the guise of seeking advice on the local geography.
And if not that—
I could always claim I want to try working there and stay at the restaurant for a bit. That works.
"Um, Guildmaster?"
Camilla, who had been grinning broadly, snapped back to attention.
"Ahem. What is it?"
"What were you just thinking about?"
"Hm?"
"Your expression a moment ago... Ah, never mind."
"..."
Anyway—did Lucas already know?
That Ivan was a bastard of House Perdes.
No.
He couldn't have known.
If he had, he wouldn't have worked the man so ruthlessly.
Bastard or not, he was still Perdes blood.
Who knew what might come of that later.
Though, when he found out I was the master of the Golden Wagon, his attitude toward me didn't change one bit.
She thought back to Lucas's reaction the first time he learned who she was.
"In that case, might I trouble your company to supply ingredients to our order's kitchen? The current merchant group we deal with has been wholly unsatisfactory."
Nothing special about it whatsoever.
No reverent look directed at her, no greedy impulse to use the guildmaster for his own gain.
Just—
The relief of having found a new supplier for ingredients.
That was all.
And that was probably the reason she had started visiting Lucas's kitchen so often.
Part of it was being charmed by her first taste of doenjang-jjigae, but being treated in a way she had never been treated before had also felt—not bad at all.
Because Lucas had looked at Camilla Wagon. Not at Camilla of the Golden Wagon.
So even if Lucas had known Ivan was a Perdes, it wouldn't have made a difference.
He was a man utterly unreadable.
Even now.
"Duke Perdes must be quite pressed."
"It seems the existing candidates for succession have displeased him. He means to bring in a bastard son and stir up fresh turmoil."
"And our intelligence chief sees this as a matter of waking the current heirs to their senses?"
"That is our best assessment."
Camilla laughed softly.
"I think you've read it completely wrong."
"Pardon?"
"This isn't a summons meant to sharpen the heirs. Do you think Duke Perdes doesn't know what Ivan is capable of by now? He's probably been kept fully informed."
"Then..."
"In truth, he's already chosen Ivan as his successor. This summons is the opening shot."
"I see."
"We'll have to watch closely to see how things develop."
Knock knock.
"Lady Camilla, a guest has arrived."
"A guest?"
"He introduced himself as Riman."
The man she had sent to Lucas. Why was he here?
"Show him in."
Riman entered.
Wearing an expression far brighter than when he had departed.
***
"What? Say it again."
Duke Biyod Perdes glared at his bastard son Ivan, who stood before him alongside Knight-Captain Haran.
He had summoned Ivan directly to confirm whether the reports were true—reports that the boy had grown strong enough to nearly rival a Sword Master.
If he truly had reached a realm close to Sword Master, the duke intended to enter him into the Perdes family register and raise him as heir.
The moment Ivan arrived, the duke ordered him and Haran to cross blades.
Sword energy flared, vivid and unmistakable.
The boy was twenty-two this year, they said.
Twenty-two years old, and not only could he rouse sword energy, but he fought on equal footing with Haran, the first knight-captain. That alone had already proven his ability. For the first time, the duke felt a possessive urge.
A child of mine, carrying talent like this.
He wanted Ivan as his heir.
And no wonder.
His current children were hopelessly incompetent.
Once Princess Diana ascended the throne and he himself eventually departed this world, he was certain those useless offspring would bring House Perdes to ruin.
They'll flail around with half-hearted force and lose every advantage the house holds.
Merial Perdes, the first son—lost to drink and gambling.
Promo Perdes, the second son—diligent but utterly inept.
Sia Perdes, the first daughter—sharp-minded but far too faint-hearted to lead a ducal house.
The third son, Rical Perdes, showed promise, but he was still far too young.
Blood ties meant he would not cast them aside immediately. He would give them every opportunity to the very end.
But House Perdes is what matters.
The foremost house of the empire, a line unbroken since the ancestors. To see it squandered in the next generation was something Duke Biyod Perdes could never accept—even if it meant bearing the disgrace of naming a bastard his heir.
And yet.
"I said I have no interest in being the heir to your dukedom."
"What could possibly make you think that?"
"Unlike your words, Your Grace—I have no father."
"That is not so. You are unquestionably my son. That is a fact you cannot deny."
"No. My father is dead. He died long ago, the same day my mother passed."
Duke Perdes clenched his teeth.
This insolent answer from the bastard boy who dared defy him was not the response he had anticipated.
He had offered to take in a child with no foundation—to bestow a new life, far from the wretched existence the boy now led.
And the response was: no.
Why?
"Haran surely told you that black hair belongs to House Perdes."
"He did. But I have never forgotten the words my mother spoke until the moment she died."
"What?"
"Until her last breath, my mother longed for my father. Her final wish went unfulfilled to the end. So I buried it together with her in my heart."
"...And for that, you refuse to become part of House Perdes?"
"There is no reason to become one."
The duke closed his eyes and spoke.
"Had that been your answer, you could have simply sent word through Haran. Why travel here in person?"
At the duke's words, Ivan let out a breath.
"My master told me I should at least meet you face-to-face and hear you out. Hear what you think of my mother—what you think of me."
"..."
"Now that I have heard, I am even more certain that this is no place for me."
Ivan lowered his head.
"I hope this will be our final meeting, Your Grace."
"..."
The duke could not understand.
How could anyone refuse the House of Perdes?
Save for the emperor himself, it was no exaggeration to say the house stood at the apex of power. Anything one desired could be had.
The chivalry Ivan spoke of—that, too, was naturally within reach.
Whatever House Perdes decreed would become chivalry itself.
To refuse such a position because his mother had been treated like a servant—
It was incomprehensible.
No. He did not want to comprehend it.
Because such things were utterly useless for raising House Perdes higher.
Nevertheless.
Setting that aside, Ivan's ability was deeply covetable.
He called out to Ivan as the young man turned to leave the reception room.
"We will see each other again before long. The eyes and hands of House Perdes reach everywhere."
"...Next time, I will not be so courteous."
BANG!
Ivan left, cold and final, as if he had not a shred of lingering desire for a duke's seat—leaving behind a Duke Perdes whose face still wore an expression of utter incomprehension.
***
"This is the place."
Andy Warmaiden, vice-captain of the Princess's Knight Order, drove her horse toward the distant form of the Britten territory.
Her Highness's indication that Lucas would be in Lilyan had unfortunately been incorrect. She had searched through restaurant after restaurant across the city, but Lucas's establishment was nowhere to be found.
—You mean the restaurant that invented Coco-doritang? That's not in Lilyan. All of those are frauds.
A patron had told her as much.
He said the original could be found if she went to Britten.
So she had ridden hard, all the way to Britten.
Up until two years ago, this was a backwater.
Much had changed since the last time she had laid eyes on it.
A rural holding once nearly empty of people now hummed with visitors who had come seeking this place. The numbers were still nothing compared to a city like Lilyan, of course. But it was unmistakably different from the Britten she had known.
Andy had visited the territory once before.
Years ago, the Princess's Knight Order had conducted a tour of the southern provinces alongside Princess Diana—an inspection meant to survey local conditions and identify regions of high potential.
—Far from the front lines, broad plains, and it touches the sea. Why has a territory like this been left undeveloped as a mere village?
Diana had studied Britten with open bafflement.
The land held clear promise. But the western nobles already held the granaries in a firm grip, and the southern nobles wielded far less influence by comparison. The western nobles, led by figures like Count Velosa, wanted to monopolize grain and food supplies—one of their chief sources of income—and the western breadbasket, being much closer to the capital, could shoulder the empire's food needs on its own. There was little pressure to develop the south.
On top of that—
—Didn't the southern nobles stage a rebellion once, long ago?
When the first emperor unified the continent, the south had been the final region to submit. A legend persisted: back when mermaids were still more than legend, the southern nobles had taken up arms alongside them against the empire.
Scholars mostly argued that the allies had been various other non-human races, not mermaids, but the fact of the southern rebellion was true. Even now, centuries later, the south lagged behind the west for a host of political reasons.
—To keep the western nobles in check, we'll need to build up the south.
Andy recalled Princess Diana speaking those words as she looked out over the wide grain plains.
Had Lucas been there then?
Given his vital role in handling meals, he probably had.
So this is the place he chose as a candidate.
She urged her horse into the inner bounds of Britten town. The soldiers, catching sight of her badge bearing the seal of the Princess's Knight Order, hastily cleared the road; one of them scrambled to inform the lord.
The lord was not her concern, so she ignored him.
She was after exactly one thing.
—Find Lucas's restaurant. And deliver my message to him.
Find Lucas and convey the will of Crown Princess Diana.
At last, she spotted a shop with an enormous sign painted in letters she had never seen before.
The words were familiar to her.
Knight Restaurant.
She had once, by chance, glimpsed the notebook of Lucas, the cook-knight of the Princess's Knight Order.
—What is this?
—The name of the restaurant I'll open someday.
—I've never seen letters like these. Is it a drawing?
—No, they're letters. It means "Knight Restaurant."
—Knight Restaurant? A restaurant for knights?
—...Something like that.
—You cooked for knights even here, and you mean to go on cooking for them once you leave?
—This is all I've ever learned to do.
Lucas himself had taught her the name back then.
Knight Restaurant.
Andy was certain now.
Inside that restaurant was the man Her Highness the Crown Princess was so desperately searching for.