Run, Marquis!
“Huff, huff...”
Marquis Parma was running laps around the training grounds on my orders.
I had dragged him forcibly out of his room and planted him in the training grounds before bluntly commanding him to run. The bewildered Marquis Parma jolted into motion when Pel, standing beside me, let out a growl. His skin, pale from lack of sunlight, soon glistened with sweat. I watched with a bored expression, not telling him to stop. Instead, Viscount Volta and the butler, who had chased after us, fidgeted restlessly.
“He'll collapse at this rate.”
“He won't.”
“Little Duchess, please...”
“Sigh.”
I let out an exaggerated sigh. Then I fixed Viscount Volta with a piercing glare. The viscount bowed his head deeply, saying nothing. This was what happened when everyone around him spoiled and overprotected him. The marquis was fundamentally the problem, but his environment and the people surrounding him were issues too.
In a way, Marquis Parma was similar to Abigail. No parents to scold him, surrounded only by people who couldn't treat him harshly. Somehow, he'd ended up twisted—and unlike Abigail, he'd twisted inward, burrowing into the ground like a mole.
“You've completely abandoned the boy.”
At my quiet mutter, Viscount Volta looked up. He opened his mouth as if to protest.
“The marquis is, well...”
He swallowed hard and continued.
“He's been a delicate soul since he was young.”
“Delicate my ass.”
That damn delicacy, that glass mentality. Did it make sense for the head of a high noble house to hole up in his room with excuses like that? I snorted derisively, and the viscount's gaze shifted to Marquis Parma, who was still running like a startled deer. The pitiful look in his eyes was something to behold.
“Listen up, Viscount Volta. He's a problem, sure—but you lot are the ones most at fault.”
“...”
“You should have dragged him out like this ages ago.”
The viscount and butler stood speechless. And in that moment, Marquis Parma, who had been trudging along, dropped to his knees. Seeing him dry-heave, the viscount and butler surged forward.
“Hold it.”
“L-Little Duchess!”
“The young master is collapsing—how can we...!”
I shot them a fierce glare. At my gesture, Ian and Pel blocked their path.
“You two stay right there. Don't interfere, no matter what.”
“B-But...”
Though they recoiled at my words, they apparently lacked the courage to push past Ian and Pel's menacing aura. Confirming the viscount and butler standing obediently, I walked over to the marquis.
“Marquis Parma.”
“Huff, heugh...”
“Is this all you've got?”
I looked down at him with utter disdain. Marquis Parma, mid-heave, lifted his head. Freckles dotted his face, and his rust-colored eyes were blurred with tears. They said he was still young, and his face did look boyish. He seemed not much older than Abigail.
I clicked my tongue.
“Get up.”
“Ugh.”
“Get up.”
At my command, Marquis Parma staggered to his feet. His body was slender, but he was fairly tall. He hunched over, looking at me. I pointed to the open field.
“Run.”
“...”
“Run.”
Marquis Parma panted with a troubled expression. He'd run because I'd suddenly ordered it, but he clearly had no idea why he had to keep going. He sneaked glances at me before timidly asking,
“Wh-why...?”
“Did you just say 'why'?”
“...Yes.”
Fine, if you're so curious, I'll tell you.
“Because you're a worthless piece of trash.”
“...!”
“You're trash, you little shit.”
Marquis Parma's already pale face drained of what little color remained. I had no intention of treating him kindly like the people in this mansion. There was no reason to indulge his whims. To me, Marquis Parma was just another person—and soon, he'd be my subordinate. Imagine if a direct report suddenly barricaded themselves in their room and stopped showing up to work. I'd be pissed.
“The others might have put up with your pathetic antics, but I won't.”
“Th-that...”
“Today, I'm fixing that spineless attitude of yours.”
Killing intent must have laced my voice, because Marquis Parma flinched. He looked up at me with fearful eyes. I barked at him shortly.
“Run!”
“Yes!”
And the marquis started running again.
* * *
“...I-I can't... anymore...”
As expected, the marquis didn't last long before collapsing again. I looked down at him coldly. He was panting without even glancing at me now.
“Get up.”
“Huff, I c-can't.”
“How far did you even run? Pathetic.”
“...”
The marquis shot me a look that was almost indignant. Despite the tears welling in his eyes, a spark of defiance began to flicker.
I scoffed.
“What are you looking at?”
“...Me too.”
He exhaled raggedly and continued.
“I tried... too.”
“...”
Tried what? Running? I almost asked, but closed my mouth. It didn't seem like he was just talking about running.
I smirked and spoke again.
“What did you do?”
“...”
“What did you do?”
Whether from injustice or sheer breathlessness, the marquis's face flushed red. I leaned down toward him, still on his knees.
“You haven't done jack. Everyone else cleans up after you.”
“That's...”
A fact he couldn't deny. The marquis bowed his head.
“Still, I...”
Then he started mumbling about his past in halting words. His great father. A childhood starved of attention. His clumsy attempts to manage the territory that didn't go as planned. Frustration. That was the gist.
I sighed deeply.
“You think your 'great' father was born perfect?”
“...Pardon?”
Marquis Parma looked up at me with confusion. He probably never even considered it—his father's past.
I turned and called to the fidgeting Viscount Volta.
“Viscount Volta!”
“Y-Yes.”
He hurried over as if he'd been waiting for my summons. He must have thought I was telling him to fetch the marquis back to his room. But I asked something else.
“Viscount, do you know about the previous marquis?”
“Pardon?”
Caught off guard by the random question, Viscount Volta blinked. Then he glanced at the crouched Marquis Parma and nodded.
“Of course. I was his adjutant.”
“Since when?”
“...Since he first inherited the marquisate.”
“Ah, then you know well.”
“...Know what?”
I beamed at the viscount.
“Tell us how much of a mess the previous marquis was back then.”
Viscount Volta stared at me in disbelief.
* * *
No one could deny that the previous Marquis Parma, Brooks Parma, had been an extraordinary man. He was the only high noble with marquis rank in the north, and he lived up to it perfectly. Especially the tale of how he single-handedly held off dozens of magical beasts to aid a village's evacuation—it had even been turned into a song.
But even he had been a green chick once. Viscount Volta dredged up old memories he'd nearly forgotten.
When the previous marquis inherited the title, he had just reached adulthood. In hindsight, it had been a chaotic time. The one before him had died in battle against magical beasts, leaving the new marquis unprepared. Magical beasts overran villages from above, and neighboring countries probed the borders constantly.
Did the previous marquis handle everything perfectly from the start? No. He was just an ordinary person in the end. He made mistakes, and some wrong decisions cost them dearly. As his adjutant, Viscount Volta remembered it all vividly.
“...Well, no one's perfect from the beginning.”
Finishing his tale, Viscount Volta glanced at the little duchess. For some reason, she looked deeply satisfied.
“Father...”
“...?”
He checked on Marquis Parma, who seemed shocked belatedly. Viscount Volta bowed his head to assess him.
“Marquis! Are you all right?”
“...”
Marquis Parma—Antonio's—mind was a whirlwind. Suddenly forced to run to his limits, called trash, but above all, the revelation about his father, whom he'd idolized as great.
He only remembered that stern face. The previous marquis, who accomplished everything flawlessly—admired yet feared. But maybe he'd been wrong.
“Get it now? The previous marquis wasn't a saint from the start. Everyone begins the same.”
Antonio looked up at the person standing before him. Against the sunset sky, she still gazed down with disdain.
“The difference? He didn't give up. He gave his all to protect this territory—and you and your family.”
“...”
“And the result is you.”
The little duchess sighed softly, brushing back her long hair. Her dissatisfied gaze stabbed at Antonio.
“But you? You abandoned the territory you're meant to protect, the people—everything—and barricaded yourself in your room.”
“...Ugh.”
“If you're going to make excuses, at least finish what you start. You're nowhere near ready.”
Antonio hung his head. Cold sweat dripped to the ground. After running blindly without understanding why, his mind felt strangely clear. Biting his lip, he murmured softly,
“Can... can I do it too?”
“...”
The little duchess didn't answer. Antonio couldn't lift his head. Shame overwhelmed him. How could he face her now? Regret flooded him for all the years he'd spent running away.
“Heh.”
A short laugh came from above him.
“Be out here in the training grounds tomorrow too.”
“...!”
Then the little duchess turned and vanished gracefully into the mansion.
* * *
For days now, Marquis Parma had kept running laps in the training grounds. Unlike the first day, when he'd given up after a few rounds, he now endured with real grit. I watched him flail his limbs but keep his determined gaze, then raised my hand.
“Stop.”
Viscount Volta bolted over like a shot. Wiping the marquis's sweat with a towel, he looked exactly like a mother bird tending her chick.
“So devoted.”
“Ahem.”
Embarrassed, Viscount Volta cleared his throat softly. I glanced at the exhausted marquis and asked,
“How long since you last trained with the sword?”
“Pardon?”
His eyes widened at my question. Then he dropped his gaze to the ground.
“...Since I holed up in my room...”
“Hmm.”
I scanned his gaunt frame, bones protruding. He needed to eat well and run to build stamina for now. But unfortunately, I wouldn't be staying in this mansion much longer.
I made my decision and spoke.
“Pick up a sword.”
“...Pardon?”
I chuckled at the flustered Marquis Parma.
“Sword. Pick it up now.”