Let's Go Home - 2
Perhaps because I had given advance notice of our arrival, a welcoming crowd had gathered all the way out to the front gate of the lord’s castle. Yet among that throng, one figure who ought to have been visible was nowhere to be found.
Where did the head of the family go?
No matter how carefully I scanned the faces, the family head was absent. It was a strangely awkward situation—father and daughter-in-law arriving, and the actual master of the house nowhere in sight.
Odd. If he had stayed out of sight during last summer’s break as well, I might have assumed he had simply handed every guest-reception duty over to Mother. But vanishing at precisely this moment?
Even during the New Year’s Audience period, when we had held the formal introductions, the family head had worn a reasonably calm expression. He had not seemed dissatisfied with my partners; even if he harbored private reservations, he was not the sort of man who would make a statement by simply no-showing.
“He said he had business with the Speaker. He should be back by the end of the day at the latest.”
Mother must have noticed my confusion; she spoke in her usual gentle tone.
Ah.
Once I knew the reason, a pang of sympathy replaced the suspicion. He had simply been too busy with work to come.
“He must be terribly busy.”
“What can one do? A Diet member being swamped at the New Year is nothing new.”
When she put it that way, the civil servant who had actually taken leave to come home felt a little awkward.
In this empire, however, the New Year was the one season when legislative officials were crushed under far heavier loads than their administrative counterparts. So I simply closed my mouth.
My future.
A faintly bitter feeling settled over me. The title of Imperial Count came bundled with a Diet seat by default; the moment I inherited the rank I would automatically become a member.
Of course, to prevent one person from being buried under too much work, anyone who reached the level of a ministry section chief or a senior military commander could send a blood relative as proxy. But sending a proxy would only mean I had failed to retire by then.
Terrifying thought. Was my fate truly to work myself to death?
Black Cow Karl Crassius…
If I was the Black Cow, the matching Yellow Cow was almost certainly the Crown Prince. No wonder the bastard had golden hair.
“Welcome home. Was the journey difficult?”
I pushed the bitterness down and exchanged the proper greetings. Mother’s eyes then lit up as she stepped toward Margeta.
“No, we came by teleportation, so it was quite comfortable.”
Margeta answered with a bright smile. Mother’s gaze shifted to Beatrix—and even that look held more affection and warmth than any awkwardness.
“Thanks to Beatrix we were able to see our daughters-in-law that much sooner. Thank you.”
“I wanted to see you as soon as possible myself, so there is no need for thanks.”
A countess addressing a duke by her given name—bold by any standard. Yet the conversation itself remained warm and easy. Both parties had already agreed to it, after all.
Having accepted the reality of receiving the Magic Lord as a daughter-in-law, Mother had offered a compromise during the introductions: she was not yet ready for casual speech, but she would use Beatrix’s true name and a comfortable tone. Beatrix, for her part, had no intention of demanding everything at once and had cheerfully consented.
That’s how familiarity grows.
Once you start calling someone by name, half the distance is already gone. Names breed familiarity, and familiarity breeds closeness—just as calling a senior by name in the army gradually turns him into a peer.
Leaving Mother to greet the rest of the daughters-in-law, I walked over to Erich.
“You been well?”
“Me? Nothing much happens out here.”
I merely nodded at his indifferent reply. True enough—what trouble could befall a boy who never left the territory?
“Sera, it’s been a long time. Almost three years, isn’t it?”
I patted Erich’s shoulder, then turned to the young woman beside him. The memory was hazy, but golden hair and blue eyes made her Sera by process of elimination.
Besides, the face I half-remembered from years ago seemed to overlay the one before me. Thankfully she had grown up gracefully rather than turning into someone unrecognizable. The daughter of the head maid would naturally turn out well.
“Yes, I think it’s about that long.”
“Sorry. I should have at least shown my face more often. I’ve been far too neglectful.”
“It’s all right. Erich came often enough for both of you.”
Sera gave a small shake of her head, smiled, and took Erich’s hand. At a glance the gesture looked natural; on closer look her fingers trembled faintly.
Oh.
That shy little motion told me at once: Sera had feelings for Erich.
Whether those feelings were still at the “like” stage or had already reached “love,” I could not say—but what woman casually holds the hand of a man she feels nothing for? If even I, seeing her after three years, could notice it, everyone nearby must have realized long ago. It was that obvious.
Yes. When someone shows it this openly and you still miss it, you are not merely dense—you are missing a brain.
…And he is missing one.
One glance at Erich’s face confirmed it. The idiot had no brain for this.
Strange. An invisible wall seemed to stand between them. Sera was full of bashful, budding affection, yet Erich held her hand with a completely blank expression, as if it meant nothing at all.
You absolute fool—smile, for heaven’s sake. Keep that face and Sera is going to cry.
He was always like this, wasn’t he?
Frustration and a weary resignation arrived together. After Luise rejected him he had managed to look almost normal, so I had forgotten: when it came to his own romances, this boy’s perception and intelligence had always been tragically lacking.
Apparently the defect applied to women other than Luise as well…
At least there’s no competition.
The silver lining was that, unlike the Luise situation, this was a clean one-on-one with no rivals. Even his current denseness and lack of wit would not deal a fatal blow.
It would only leave Sera’s heart burning hot. I had heard she was finally recovering her health; I only hoped she would not collapse from heartache instead.
“I’m glad you two seem to be getting along well.”
“We’re childhood friends. This much is only natural.”
At Erich’s words Sera’s expression flickered between joy and quiet disappointment. The remark cherished her—and at the same time drew a firm line labeled “friend.”
“Once term starts Sera will be lonely. We’ll have to spend plenty of time together until then.”
Watching her complicated face, I casually opened my mouth. Having unintentionally stolen Erich’s first love, I figured I owed him at least this much help.
Fortunately there was no rival and they already shared a lifetime of childhood memories, so there was no need to rush. Just meet as often as possible and keep bumping into each other until even Erich noticed her feelings—
“Ah, Sera’s enrolling at the Academy too.”
…until he noticed?
“Enrolling?”
“I’ve decided to enter as a second-year this time.”
Sera’s follow-up left me nodding blankly.
She’s recovered that much?
That was genuinely surprising. A child who had spent nearly her entire life confined to bed was now healthy enough for Academy life? I had thought she was only well enough for brief outings.
“Then we’ll see each other often at the Academy. Please look after me, Oppa.”
“Uh, sure.”
“I heard you’re the Baking Club advisor. I’d love it if we could meet there too.”
“Right…”
Well, an old acquaintance recovering her health was hardly bad news.
Looks like I’ll be updating the club roster again after a long time…
A lake near the Imperial Capital. A quiet retreat known only to those in the know—where fellow Diet members came to catch their breath.
“The day’s against us.”
“Perhaps the fish are hibernating.”
A fishing spot unanimously praised by the members. Today three of them had gathered at this refuge-turned-famous-spot to enjoy a bit of winter fishing.
Truth be told, today was the day Karl was bringing his daughters-in-law to the territory, so it was hardly the time for this. The problem was that this fishing appointment had been made long in advance.
Of course I could have explained the situation and postponed, but one of the parties—Count Bardon—had always been the sort who quietly nursed a grudge when plans were delayed. Age had mellowed him somewhat, yet toward an old friend the habit remained intact. That was the issue.
So I had told my wife I would be a little late because of work and come to the lake.
This counts as work, in a way.
Socializing with Speaker Bardon as a fellow Diet member. Anyone could see it was part of the job. I trusted my wife would understand.
“I didn’t want to resort to this…”
Count Bardon—Walter—stared at his lifeless rod, then pulled something from his coat.
“What is that?”
“An artifact charged with Thunderbolt magic. If I toss it into the lake—”
“Stop that nonsense and put it away. Do you plan to fish here once and never return?”
At that, Walter clicked his tongue in regret and returned the artifact to his coat.
“You’ve grown even madder since last I saw you. The Diet really is no place to linger too long.”
Watching the scene, the former Count of Horfelt—Georg—burst into laughter. The thick mockery and sense of superiority in that laugh were not my imagination.
“Aren’t you ashamed of being pushed into the back room while still in your prime?”
“Loading all that burden onto a daughter barely twenty. There are black sheep, and then there is you.”
Walter had clearly felt the same irritation; together we launched a fierce counter-attack—
“I intend to live as an unashamed black sheep, so you two just keep doing your best.”
One line from the victor shut our mouths.
It still astonished me. Who would have guessed that a man in his prime would hand the title to his then-nineteen-year-old daughter and retire? The sudden retirement of a colleague had thrown the Diet into an uproar, but when that retirement was the Emperor’s own will, what could anyone do?
“Jealous?”
“Shut it before I bring the gavel down on your head.”
“Oh my, how frightening.”
Walter, seething at Georg’s provocation, pulled the Thunderbolt artifact out again.
Yes—better to use it on that man than on the lake.
“By the way, Wilhelm. Should you really be here?”
At the sight of the artifact, Georg hastily changed the subject. The ploy was transparent, but hauling an electrocuted friend home would be a nuisance, so I played along.
“It bothers me that I couldn’t greet them on arrival, yet he is not the sort of boy to take offense over something like that.”
“Unlike a certain someone. You two must have aged in reverse.”
When Georg and I both looked at Walter, the man raised his voice as if his feet had suddenly gone numb.
“If I’d known my son was coming I would of course have rescheduled!”
“Anyone can say that.”
Georg’s remark made me nod without thinking, and Walter’s face turned red. The fact that he did not deny it suggested even he half-agreed.
“Anyway, congratulations. I was worried the boy seemed to have no interest in marriage at all, yet who would have guessed he had already gathered six of them behind the scenes.”
After laughing for quite a while, Georg composed his expression and spoke more seriously.
“So now it’s Erich’s turn to find a match.”
“That is for the boy himself to decide.”
My firm reply drew a dissatisfied hum from Georg.
This fellow was persistent. Matches appear on their own given time. When parents force the issue, the only result is usually the opposite of what they want.
And the girl is busy enough as it is.
Moreover, the young woman Georg wanted to link with Erich was his own daughter—a girl who, at nineteen, had already become both Imperial Count and a Diet member and was therefore drowning in work.
Of course she and Erich had known each other since childhood, but leaping from that friendship straight to marriage was far too hasty. Forcing a bond that might have remained simple friendship into marriage would only create a karmic burden no one could bear.
“But Zenobia herself said she would be fine with Erich…”
“Then the two of them will meet of their own accord. Don’t meddle unnecessarily.”
“Always so rigid.”
And so the conversation about Erich faded naturally. Only when Walter, at the end of his patience, was about to hurl the artifact into the lake were we finally able to call an end to the fishing.