Asbestos Shadows and Damian's Flight
Of course, a family like the Bayern wouldn't have thought to use such materials otherwise.
It would cost a fortune.
Victor narrowed his brow and continued in a low voice.
"From the records I checked yesterday, they imported fireproofing materials from the Rom Empire every time they renovated the mansion afterward."
"What's the name of that fireproofing material?"
Asbestos.
Ibel recognized the Rom Empire tongue immediately.
"It's asbestos, then."
A material that doesn't burn. A mineral gifted by the gods.
First, you smash it with a hammer to extract the fibers inside, then comb them repeatedly like wool to process them into fine threads.
No matter how I think about it, asbestos is the prime suspect.
But there was no research whatsoever on the causal link between asbestos and lung disease.
After some deliberation, Ibel finally looked to Victor.
"Asbestos might be the culprit. No proof, though."
If not everyone here were so friendly toward her, she might have mulled it over longer before speaking.
Even she, who cared little for fabrics, knew how exorbitantly expensive asbestos was.
Linum vivum.
It meant "the magical cloth bestowed by the gods," another name for asbestos.
A treasure so rare only Rom emperors and high priests could wear it.
With such low production, no matter how mighty the power, importing asbestos for use is absurd.
So they might not have known the danger.
Who would dare call the cloth of emperors and high priests "dangerous"?
They couldn't even research it in the first place.
And the Bayern must have taken immense pride in importing that asbestos for interior lining.
It wasn't something to mention lightly.
Especially if that very pride had been quietly afflicting the Bayern bloodline all these years.
"You mean asbestos could be the problem?"
"Yes."
Victor asked again, as if he couldn't quite believe it, but Ibel answered firmly.
"No research means no evidence. But by process of elimination, it's the only thing that fits right now."
"...I'll gather scientists for a study. We should move the boys to rooms without fireproofing materials."
Ibel appreciated how he didn't dismiss even the slightest suspicion.
She wanted to protect the children here, safe in their ducal luxury.
"Remarkable. How did you even reason that out...?"
Colonel Konrad von Eberstein clucked his tongue in admiration, while his wife clutched Victor's hand warmly, her face on the verge of tears again.
"I hope your discovery proves true, young lady. Even if it's heartbreaking... the young masters and any future children must be healthy."
For a split second, Ibel and Victor both flinched.
Children? Not in the cards.
The wife watched their awkward glance exchange, then covered her mouth with a chuckle.
"Oh dear, this old fool's getting sentimental. You'll manage just fine, I'm sure."
"...I heard the pies are in the oven. Mind if I check on them?"
Unable to bear the embarrassment, Ibel spoke up, and the wife feigned surprise before dragging her husband away.
Left alone in the drawing room, the two fell silent for a moment.
"Does your wife think this is a real love marriage, not a contract...?"
"Yes. Fewer people knowing the ploy, the better."
"I... see."
Her and Victor, close enough for children?
Ridiculous.
Ibel shook her head to herself.
Of course he'd think the same.
* * *
What was meant to be a four-hour meeting stretched into the evening. Frau von Eberstein simply refused to let Ibel go.
Ibel herself rather enjoyed Eberstein Residence, so she leisurely sipped wine while viewing the wife's childhood portraits.
The pies were delicious, and the wife, cheeks flushed like a girl's, even played the piano for them.
Only when the sun had fully set did Colonel Konrad gently remind his wife.
"It's late. Time you rested, dear."
"Ah... you're right. I hate to see you go... Forgive me, young lady. Come again soon."
The wife hugged Ibel with a wistful expression.
She'd smiled all day, but this seemed her true face.
Ibel couldn't know the pain of losing a child overnight, but she felt it. Anguish had flickered across the wife's features in an instant.
"I'll visit often."
Ibel whispered as she hugged back.
Not a lie to soothe her.
She wanted it too.
"Thank you. It's been ages since I saw her so lively."
Soon after, as the wife retired first and they headed out to see them off, the colonel bowed to Ibel.
Rare for a man his age, let alone a colonel.
In the past, she'd seen him salute, but never bow.
"I was happy too. Thank her for making such joyful time."
"I will. In our twilight years... she's found strength to live again."
The colonel snapped a crisp salute to Victor.
In the carriage, Ibel gazed blankly out the window, lost in thought.
Victor watched her quietly before speaking slowly.
"How was it?"
"Ah... good... it was good."
Her chest fluttered oddly.
The duke's real daughter must have grown up bathed in such love.
She didn't feel like she'd stolen that place.
Just... just.
"There are mothers that warm in this world..."
Victor pretended not to hear her murmur.
She never showed him the life she'd lived.
Clearly a shield.
Prying without permission was trespassing on her world.
"Rain's still falling. Good we returned before it pours. Skies this season are fickle."
Instead, he changed the subject.
Ibel sensed his consideration and let her lips curve faintly.
The drizzle was fine for the ride home.
The trouble came after they arrived at the mansion.
Flash! Crash!
Lightning struck, briefly illuminating the dark grounds. And in that moment, Ibel saw it.
"Victor, there!"
A small figure leaped from a window, sprinting across the garden toward the woods beyond.
No other children in this mansion—it had to be Damian or Anselm.
"Stay inside. I'll chase."
"No, I'll go first—order the servants. You know I'm faster on foot than you."
"Ibel!"
Before Victor could respond, Ibel flung open the carriage door and jumped out.
Her shoes a hindrance, she kicked them off and ran barefoot—thankfully, today's dress was light on ornaments and weight.
"Your Grace, what is it?"
The startled coachman blinked, and Victor sighed lowly.
"Tell the butler to gather the servants. Search the woods. Damian's gone feral."
"Understood! Here, an umbrella."
"Never mind. Bring it later."
Thinks she's slower than me, does she?
And not thinking to saddle a horse...
So like her.
No dangerous beasts in the woods anyway, and the gardeners kept toxic plants cleared around the mansion, so he wasn't overly worried.
Even lost, Ibel would survive just fine.
Taking orders—quite novel.
He saddled a horse and spurred it toward where Damian and Ibel had vanished.