Children of the Gorge (5): Father's Handsome Face, Filthy Temper
Crimson Gibraltar, Margrave of Gibraltar—that is, my father—didn't have the best personality. It might sound redundant, but it was truly awful.
'Where do you think Noir and Letar got their tempers from?'
Not just my father, but the Gibraltar men for generations had rotten personalities. Still, Father ranked among the worst.
A man whose sword moved faster than his words. When something displeased him, he struck first with steel rather than scolding. It had been that way since his academy days, and everyone in the mansion knew it well. So they took pains not to provoke him. Unless they were utter madmen.
"You must want to die."
Father glared at Ethan. Sunlight streamed through the windows, brightly illuminating the drawing room, but the atmosphere was chillingly murderous. Father looked down at Ethan impassively, while Ethan stood at attention, hands behind his back, staring straight ahead. The other orphanage cadets froze rigidly at parade rest, and I lounged leisurely on the sofa, the prime seat for the show.
How did things end up like this? Oh, right. The final batch of orphanage cadets had come to pay their respects to Father.
'Father's better at gauging knightly talent anyway.'
Father always personally inspected the children entering the orphanage. He could tell if mana flowed through their bodies or if they'd already awakened it. And it wasn't just mana—he assessed their build, bones, posture, everything to judge their potential.
I'd joined this time not just for Ethan, but because Father and I had business right after the greetings.
—If even the last batch yields nothing, the orphanage budget gets cut.
Father had laid down the threat in advance, then eyed the kids one by one. And now, the finale. His gaze lingered on Ethan.
"General Sezar's grandson. Yes. I've heard the reports."
When the final recommended list for the orphanage came out, I'd consulted Father about Ethan.
"Grey, you said since he's from a military family, he must have some skill."
That was true. With no foreknowledge from the future, I'd simply laid out the plain facts as they stood.
"Taking you in means directly defying the royal family's power? Fine. Whatever."
The others didn't know. Father had already resolved to rebel, so adopting Sezar's descendant didn't faze him much.
"Ethan Sezar. When I asked what you want to become here, what was your answer?"
The air grew heavy. His right hand rested on the hilt at his waist.
"Speak."
"I want to become Letar Lady's guard knight."
Ethan spoke. Unlike the emotional display he'd shown me last night, he answered calmly, suppressing his feelings. Was this courage or arrogance? The outcome depended on Father's choice.
'A normal father could never forgive a man touching his daughter.'
Fathers with daughters don't tolerate men approaching them. That's why the Empire coined the term "musket marriage." If a father lets a man near his daughter unchallenged, or ignores her dating someone else...
'It's not his real daughter.'
That's what fathers are like. I'd seen it plenty as margrave, and I'd exploited it to ruin families.
'Host bar style.'
No need to dwell on the details now. Because instead of pondering that—
"Insolent brat."
Pfuk.
"......!"
—we had to focus on Father's sword aimed at Ethan's chest.
"You spew whatever comes from that gaping mouth. In my presence."
Father channeled mana through the blade toward Ethan's heart.
"Do you want to die?"
"......!"
The sword dug deeper.
"If you'd said you'd serve Noir, I might understand. But daring to say, in front of me, you want to guard my daughter?"
The blade pierced skin, staining his white shirt red.
"Yes."
Ethan didn't retreat.
"I will become that, no matter what."
Letar's guard knight. As if it were the last path left in his life, he stood firm, eyes squeezed shut.
"Hm."
The sword tip must be nearly at his heart by now.
'That has to hurt.'
Drip. Blood already flowed, pain enough to kill, yet Ethan clenched his teeth and endured.
'Killing him outright wouldn't be weird.'
What if Father, regardless of talent, just ended him?
'Dead is dead.'
Heroes are everywhere. And most don't die easily in spots like this—
"......!"
Father's brow twitched.
'Nostrum's founding king said it: heroes recognize heroes.'
Master potential is innate.
"Tch..."
Father couldn't miss it. The faint mana in Ethan's body. The width of its channels, the vessel's capacity.
'Worth stuffing that Somnus flower down his throat yesterday.'
Ethan had shown his talent. And Father, unlike a typical father with a daughter—
"You. From today, train as a knight under Noir."
—sheathed his sword before the cheeky kid who wanted to guard her.
"...!!"
Ethan blinked in shock. A drop of blood beaded on the sword tip, but the blade itself was spotless.
'They probably don't know how advanced it is to form an aura blade just at the tip for a stab.'
I knew, of course. And maybe the only other here who did was Sir Robert behind me.
'Or does he have the sense for it?'
Ethan's eyes fixed on the sword tip, mesmerized, forgetting the blood from his chest as he stared blankly.
"Malcolm."
"Yes, my lord."
"Clean this up. And Grey."
Father headed straight out of the drawing room.
"Follow me to the study."
A short while later, after Ethan fainted from blood loss and Malcolm tended to him amid the brief commotion, I quietly rose and trailed Father.
* * *
"You did it. One hundred. You really found a master."
"Really?"
"Didn't you know and bring him?"
"No way."
The moment we entered the study, Father slumped into his desk chair.
"Tired?"
"......Grey."
Father stared blankly at the desk for a moment.
"The war with the Empire—still ongoing?"
"Yes."
"Then where to get Empire fruit?"
"Sneak across the border, buy it at a border village with extra coin on the sly."
"......."
Father closed his eyes briefly.
"Just ten years ago, we had some exchange with the Empire. Around when you were three."
Even at war, trade wasn't zero.
"Fight, truce, trade, repeat."
"Until all Empire imports were cut off."
"Yes. That fool Saint Geo... hah."
Another incompetent king. Never gets old.
"Imported massive quantities of top Empire liquor, never paid."
"......."
"When he drunkenly beheaded the protesting diplomat, thirty thousand troops rolled up to the gorge. I couldn't even spend a month with your mother."
"I see."
Saint Geo committed every atrocity imaginable. I knew.
"Morgania covered the reparations, as I recall."
"Yes. Trade with the Empire dried up after. Smugglers by sea aside... haa."
"You've had it rough."
Father would do anything for Mother. Especially pregnant.
"But Father."
"What."
"You look more tired when Mother's not pregnant than when she is."
"......There's that."
Father was just worn today; lately, he'd been bursting with energy. Why? Because until Mother hit five months, I'd dragged him to secret midnight training five nights a week, without fail.
"Expand the orphanage, and grow Empire fruits and produce there. Can't keep crossing the gorge."
"You'll fund it fully?"
"......Yes."
Father slid a parchment across the desk.
"Run the orphanage your way. But Noir's trainees go under the knight order."
"Wouldn't have it any other way. Thank you."
One catch was success. Fate gifted Gibraltar Ethan, and Ethan saved the orphanage budget.
"Grey."
"Yes, Father."
"When that boy volunteered to be Letar's guard knight, what did you think?"
"May I ask your impression first?"
"......."
Father fell silent.
"Then may I guess?"
"Go ahead. Guess right, and I'll give you a fine gift."
"It reminded you of swearing your knight's oath to Mother."
One. Father saw himself in Ethan.
"Letar's Mother's daughter, so just as beautiful. No surprise a kid under ten falls hard enough to risk his life."
Two. Plenty of boys swore their lives to Letar.
"The Sezar family took a big naval hit once, but they're still a respected name on the west coast. Legitimate lineage."
Three. The 'Sezar' name on Ethan was better than expected.
"Taking the heir of a disgraced house, stripped by military tribunal? Perfect fodder to clash with the royals. No issue for you now."
"Hm."
Four. It poked the royals.
"And the last one..."
"More?"
"......You planned to raise him as Letar's dog, right?"
"What?"
Father blinked at me.
"Letar's dog?"
"Yes. Raise him to give his life for Letar."
"......."
"Wasn't that unplanned?"
"No. It's fine. I'm not like that, but if Letar falls for him..."
"Raising your own son-in-law from childhood. If he becomes a master, the justification fits perfectly."
Congrats, Ethan—absent though he was. Father approved him as a son-in-law on talent alone. No need to worry about him for a while.
'Surviving under Noir's hell is his own problem.'
Plenty competed for Letar's guard spot. Overtaking them was Ethan's immediate task. No need for my help.
A man becoming a master couldn't lose to rivals chasing the girl he loved. Love is seized. Father's creed.
"Any other reasons?"
"......When I said something like that to Ethan, your maternal grandfather did the same to me."
Father touched his left chest.
"Said if I wanted his daughter, duel him for her. Life-or-death."
"Did you kill him?"
"He's alive and well. Never set foot in Gibraltar, though."
"You let him stab you?"
"If a non-knight old man's rapier draws blood on a master, I'm no master. Mana protected me automatically."
I see. He projected himself onto Ethan. That was the biggest reason.
'Classic Father.'
Less a father to one child, more Mother's husband.
"About your father-in-law..."
"Mother cut ties, so no reason to contact."
I drew a clear line on my maternal grandfather, Valzak Lemur Gunther viscount.
"Still scheming to make Mother Saint Geo's concubine."
"......."
"Mother's hated it for thirteen years—no, longer. Cut him off before I was born and came to you."
"Your grandfather..."
"Big ambitions, no ability. Has the world's prettiest daughter and uses her to climb socially."
Average kingdom noble.
"Sees his daughter as a tool. Crazy enough to point a blade at a Sword Master's chest for power."
"Not wrong."
"Blind to limits. Funeral if he dies would be a hassle, though."
"......."
Father closed his eyes again. He didn't want to think about it.
"You're such a romantic, Father. Soft on fellow lovebirds."
"Nonsense."
That was embarrassment talking.
"Anyway, no worries about Ethan. His parents won't pull that either. They know their place."
Ethan was fine.
"What worries me are the orphanage kids."
"Mm."
Ethan was.
* * *
"You awake?"
Ethan opened his eyes. A bed softer than home. Sharp herbal scent.
"I..."
"You lost quite a bit of blood."
"Head butler, Sir Malcolm."
The weary-looking man, head butler Malcolm, lit up.
"You remember? Or did Madam Mirdin tell you?"
"Yes. She did."
"I see. Then no need for details from me..."
Malcolm scratched his head, eyeing the stab scar on Ethan's chest.
"......No need to fret over the other orphanage kids, but you're Sezar blood, so I'll warn you. Be careful."
"Yes."
"Not the masters' business."
"Pardon?"
Malcolm pointed out the window.
"Worry most about the orphanage kids you'll live with."
"......."
"Master Grey—Young Master Grey—sent you to the orphanage, not the mansion. There."
"What does that..."
"Fail there, and you're out—no guard knight dreams."
Malcolm tsked, applying a white bandage over the scar.
"Why make dozens of enemies already, kid?"
"......Can't I just win?"
"Ha, look at this bold one."
Malcolm chuckled, staring at Ethan.
"Fine. If you become Letar Lady's guard someday, protect her with your life. Don't let her get kidnapped like someone, making me take a blade too."
"That'll never happen."
"What, staking your life?"
"N-no!"
Ethan flushed, shouting.
"I'll protect her with my life. And if those guys block my path to that position..."
He glared out the window at the knight candidates drilling on the training grounds, biting his lip.
"......I'll devour them all."
* * *
Not over yet.
"Shall we talk another lovebird?"
Father turned his head. He clearly hated bringing it up, but this was today's real point.
"It's been three years since her last visit."
"......."
"Father. Don't dodge. You called me to the study not for the orphanage, but this, right?"
"It is the orphanage."
"Just one item among many. The 'big donor' pouring funds into it."
I pulled out the gold silk-wrapped parchment from Father's desk and unfurled it.
"Morgania ducal seal."
"......."
"And 'she' is coming officially."
"Talking about Lady Mente? Keeping her in Morgania three years, I'm sorry on multiple fronts—"
"Chatty lovebird father."
I smiled brighter than ever at him.
"Prepare to greet the queen."
Gorge refurbishment. Orphanage operations review. And sundry matters.
"This time, you'll handle it personally."
Carmen Queen, inspecting in person.
"Who greets the orphanage's top donor if not you, Father?"