Chapter 10

Countries that share a border don't get along.

The Kingdom of Alharn and the Kingdom of Barun were no exception. Nearly fifty years since the war had ended, and the old bad blood between the two nations still hadn't faded.

Which was exactly why seeing a neighboring country's name turn up alongside the Intelligence Director's butler was a headache on several fronts.

And it wasn't a matter Anne of the city watch, or Gauss of Intelligence for that matter, could easily wade into.

Harold, needless to say, even less so.

"Just to be sure —"

Harold spoke on a deep sigh.

"Any names you recognize?"

"...Unfortunately, no."

If there'd been a name he knew, it might actually have been easier.

Harold steadied his breathing again. The investigation wasn't for him to run. He'd told Anne as much only hours ago.

With experts on it already, there was no need for him to weigh in.

"First, though —"

Harold had other things of his own to handle.

"Before the funeral, we need to confirm the cause of death. Start by releasing the spell."

If not for the accident-ruined clothes, his brother looked peaceful enough to be mistaken for sleeping. Peaceful enough that Harold felt bad about disturbing him.

The stillness of it wasn't something he'd ever forget. But he also knew that if he didn't get to the truth now, it would haunt him for the rest of his life.

"If you need a trustworthy examiner, I can help arrange one, Lord Bertholdt."

"Same here, Harold."

Anne cut in quickly on the heels of Gauss's offer.

Apparently there'd been some kind of turf war going on between the city watch and Intelligence. With two agencies attached to a single case, there was bound to be friction they hadn't mentioned to Harold.

Not his problem, though.

However badly they got along, all he needed was for them to do their jobs.

"That won't be necessary."

Harold turned both offers down.

"I have someone myself. Would you want to observe?"

"If possible."

"The investigation's already dragged on..."

Harold nodded.

"I'll let you know once it's arranged. This place — is it all right if we keep using it?"

"Yes. We'll be more careful about security this time."

Gauss's face was apologetic.

"I don't want to obstruct the investigation, but..."

Harold ran his palms over his face again. Exhaustion was catching up.

"Still — if you find anything out, I'd appreciate being told."

The image of his brother wouldn't leave him.

"I think family has at least that much right."

---

Three magic research institutes remained in the kingdom.

One in the west, two in the capital. Harold had naturally assumed his brother had been backing one of the two in the capital, but to his surprise, it was the western institute that reached out first.

The three letters that arrived from the west, in the most polite tones, mourned the deceased and praised his efforts toward reviving ancient magic. The last one repeatedly stressed the importance of history running from past to future, and the institute's role as the bridge between the two.

Only after showing the letters to Mattheus did Harold realize this was their way of asking whether he intended to end the funding or continue it.

"Then they should have just said so!"

"A lot of people find that a matter of pride, sir. And the party in need is rarely the one who can bring it up plainly, Lord Bertholdt."

Harold swallowed a groan.

He remembered Anne saying something about magic ownership rights. It had had the feel of a request that he go talk to the institute, but he hadn't expected the need to come up this quickly.

Really, it should have been obvious. If nothing else, they had to release the spell on his brother in order to hold the funeral.

"...Lord Bertholdt. Are you all right?"

When Harold just sat there tearing at his hair, Mattheus asked, worried.

"You haven't rested properly since you got to the capital, have you? I understand you're pressed, but couldn't I persuade you to take some time?"

"...There's too much to do, Mattheus."

"I'll help as much as I can. And you have the young masters, too."

"Right... the boys..."

Harold went back to tearing at his hair.

He couldn't keep imposing on the Archibald estate forever. Anne wasn't happy about him leaving, but Harold couldn't rest easy in a place where people he didn't know could easily reach his nephews.

"Has there been word from the country estate?"

The corner of Mattheus's eye twitched. Harold braced himself.

"Apparently the butler told them he'd be looking after the young masters here in the capital until you arrived."

"That bastard again..."

"The steward is coming to the capital, so we'll get the full story then."

Adrien Renard had been thorough.

Different from the crew arrested at the tavern, that was for sure. Was a neighboring country really behind all of this?

Fooling his brother's eye took more than the ordinary sort of ability. Harold was almost curious how the man had pulled it off.

"So... how do you want to handle this?"

Mattheus waved the letter from the western institute.

This, at least, was a question Harold could answer easily.

"Ask them to come to the capital and talk it over in person. And to bring someone who can release the spell."

Whether the funding continued or not didn't much matter to Harold. But for the institute it was clearly serious enough to warrant sending a letter, and Harold wasn't cold-hearted enough to refuse without exchanging a word.

Magic was little more than a dying field. However it may have been centuries ago, the fields that actually used it these days were very few.

"How would you like to handle the funding itself?"

Because using magic cost a lot of money.

"I'll decide after hearing them out. If it's magic, my brother wasn't putting in pocket change."

As befit the family lawyer, Mattheus gave him the exact figure right off. Harold raised an eyebrow.

"That much?"

Enough to explain why the institute was pressing so hard.

Big enough that, being out in the west and not the capital, his brother's backing had probably been close to their only source of income.

"If my brother thought it was worth the investment, then it was."

Harold didn't doubt his brother.

As things had played out, the money had been necessary. Without the no-access spell and the time-stop, the funeral would have been over before Harold ever reached the capital. Adrien Renard would have gotten to the body, and the names Harold had found would certainly have vanished with him.

"And —"

"Yes?"

"..."

Harold opened his mouth, then closed it again.

Gordon Devlin. Dustin Glenn. Nicola Rowell.

He remembered the three names exactly, but he wasn't sure whether he should tell Mattheus.

Not because he didn't trust the man — it was that if the old lawyer came to know them, he might end up in danger.

Someone might have slipped past Harold's eye entirely and killed his brother, or it might really have been bad luck. Either way, one man was already dead.

He didn't want someone he'd known for years put at risk.

"...Never mind. What's happened to the estate staff?"

He'd hold off on telling Mattheus for now.

With Anne and Gauss looking into it, deciding once he had their findings wouldn't be too late.

"As you said, they're on leave. Once the investigation settles down, they'll be returning to the estate."

"Can I see the list?"

"Of course, Lord Bertholdt. It's not quite in order yet — I'll get it to you by tomorrow."

Mattheus was covering even the things Harold hadn't managed to think of.

"Ah, and I'm also asking whether anything else happened at the estate during Renard's time there."

"How long had he been with us?"

"Four years."

Harold's eyes narrowed.

"Was he —"

"The Countess hired him. Before she went missing."

"...My sister-in-law hired him?"

Mattheus's eyes went wide.

"Yes. You didn't know?"

"This is the first I've heard of it. My brother didn't put that sort of thing in his letters. And at that time my brother was..."

Harold trailed off without finishing. Mattheus nodded, his face bitter.

"The Count was going through a very hard time."

An uncomfortable silence fell over the office.

Harold scratched his head roughly.

"Anyway, we'd better start on funeral preparations soon. The date... will have to wait until the institute arrives, so that's still up in the air."

"Better to start now, so things run smoothly on the day. Understood, Lord Bertholdt."

"Oh, and —"

Harold took a sealed letter from his pocket and held it out to Mattheus.

The letter was actually part of the reason he'd come to Mattheus's office in the first place. Imposing on the Archibald estate was bad enough, and sending one of their servants on the errand didn't feel right either.

"Please deliver this to the address on the envelope."

"This is..."

"Have someone trustworthy carry it — or, if it's not too much trouble, I'd rather you delivered it yourself."

More than anything, he didn't want to hand the letter to someone he didn't know.

Mattheus looked at the address on the envelope, then nodded, his face set. There was no recipient or family name on it, but the address alone was enough to tell him who Harold was writing to.

"I'll see it delivered myself."

"You don't have to say it like it's some solemn oath... And don't read too much into it."

Mattheus looked at him.

His eyes seemed to be asking whether that was really possible, and Harold gave an embarrassed smile.

Mattheus sighed like a grandparent saddled with a troublemaker for a grandson. Perhaps not wanting to press further about the letter's recipient, he changed the subject.

"Anyway, do you plan to keep staying at the Archibald estate?"

"I've been wrestling with that... I'll move. But I don't want to take the boys back to that house, and if we're heading down to the country estate anyway, looking for another place seems like too much."

Harold's voice trailed off and finally stopped. Mattheus watched him, puzzled.

Harold's brow creased slightly.

"Have the boys ever been to the country estate?"

"The young masters? Not since they were very small."

"Hm. Then why would they not want to go?"

"They don't want to?"

Harold nodded.

"Every time I mention going, they say they don't."

"The young masters?"

Mattheus tilted his head, puzzled.

"When I ask why, they clam up completely. I thought maybe you'd have some idea."

"No... After the Countess disappeared, the Count stopped going down to the country estate too. I can't think of any reason the young masters would dislike it..."

"..."

But maybe that was exactly why.

His sister-in-law had preferred the country estate to the capital. If nothing had changed since Harold's last visit, the country estate was where the most of her touch remained.

Would the boys remember that?

Harold felt helpless. It was a mire he hadn't climbed out of once since arriving in the capital.