Chapter 117

As mentioned earlier, the Bertholdt family had a mansion in the capital. Albrecht, the previous Count Bertholdt, was born in the capital and spent most of his time there.

Still, as with any noble who held a domain, the true heart of the Bertholdt family lay not in the capital but here. Even Harold, who had never thought of the Bertholdt domain as home, didn't deny that.

It might not have been the home where he was born and raised, but there was still a sense of it as somewhere to return to. That was why what had happened here was so hard to take. A familiar place had turned into somewhere he couldn't afford to let his guard down for a moment.

Harold looked out at the meadow, irritatingly full of life. Thanks to the rain at dawn, the fields were literally glistening wet.

The dirt road, normally packed hard, was a mess from the rain too. The carriage jolted. Unbothered, Harold kept his eyes on the old manor coming into view in the distance.

The old Bertholdt manor.

By size alone, it was much larger than the manor on the Reichnek domain. Reduced to a quiet country backwater now, but it stood as proof of how wealthy the south had once been.

The garden walls had all been torn down by now, but originally the very road the carriage was on had been part of the old manor's garden. Look closely at the ground and you could still make out where a collapsed wall or a pond had once been.

That splendor was nothing but old memory now. In the great manor itself, more of the rooms sat unused than used, and with the family never visiting, the whole place had grown all the more desolate. It was Günter who'd held that back. Günter had been managing the manor since Harold's parents' generation.

Someone must have spotted the carriage from the manor — there was a brief commotion. Harold hadn't told anyone he was coming down to the domain. Even the Intelligence agent had barely gotten word in time.

The people of the old manor gathered at the front gate with no idea who was inside the shabby carriage.

"Been a while, everyone."

"M-Master Harold?!"

Even after years apart, everyone recognized Harold on sight.

Harold gave a rough wave at the servants staring wide-eyed at him.

---

"Ah, um, Master. What about Mr. Mattheus...? Leona didn't tell us you were coming down..."

Of course she hadn't.

"And the young masters? Did you come alone?"

Diane the housekeeper's startled look at the sight of Harold lasted only a moment. After Günter, she was the one who'd worked at the old manor the longest — and now she was in full fuss.

Whatever slight disappointment showed at Edgar and Edwin's absence, Harold could see the relief underneath it. However capably Mattheus had handled things with the power of attorney in hand, of course they'd been on edge.

"How many people are working here right now?"

"Mr. Mattheus said to keep the number in and out of the manor to a minimum, so..."

Reading his mood, the housekeeper quickly regained her composure.

"We let all the day laborers go."

"Day laborers meaning?"

"The lads who bring the groceries and the ones who work the kitchen garden."

Rather than hire new people, Albrecht had preferred to shrink the area being managed. When someone got old and retired, he'd close off the rooms that weren't being used.

"Not counting them, twenty-one."

"Twenty-one..."

"Including Leona."

Which meant only twenty people were actually running the old manor. However many sections had been closed off, that was a small number. Even the Bertholdt manor in the capital — smaller than this — had more staff than that.

Harold folded his arms and drummed his fingers against his forearm. Diane, who had been chatting warmly with him, swallowed and watched him warily.

Everyone had heard that the vile criminal who'd killed Günter in the capital had been caught. But could you get over the death of a colleague of decades that easily? Even now, whenever Diane pictured Günter's blood-soaked body sprawled on the floor, tears welled up.

And on top of that, there was the matter of the count and the young masters. Thank goodness at least Master Harold was here!

"Um..."

"Diane."

Harold cut her off.

"Is everyone at the manor right now?"

"Sorry?"

"The staff. There's something I want to tell them, so I'd like them all gathered."

"Ah... no, some are out."

"Bring them in immediately. Everyone. If anyone genuinely can't leave what they're doing, let me know."

Diane blinked, then snapped to with a start.

"Yes, Master. Some are out inspecting the pastures, so it'll take a bit — will that be all right?"

"Pastures?"

Harold frowned.

"Yes, Master. Summer's almost here. We have to check ahead of time so nothing floods during the rainy season."

"Ah. It's been a while since I was on the domain."

At Diane's explanation, Harold gave a sheepish laugh and rubbed his chin. That unguarded face — for a moment he looked like the Master Harold Diane remembered.

But it didn't last.

"Pastures... come to think of it, the pasture leases need looking at too. Round up the shepherds as well, would you."

"The shepherds too?"

"I don't mean today. As soon as possible, though... I'm not planning on staying long on the domain. I only came down to handle the urgent things."

Coming down without warning like this — Diane had likely put that together already.

"I know Mattheus already checked things over, but I, well. I can't leave everything to Mattheus anymore. Until my nephews inherit the title, the responsibility falls on me, doesn't it."

"The young masters are doing well?"

"Yes. Mattheus and Leona help, but there's only so much I can grasp of the situation on the domain from the capital... I'm more comfortable seeing it with my own eyes. A short opening came up, so I came down for a bit."

"Yes, yes. Oh dear, if only you'd given us a heads-up, we'd have had everything ready!"

"I wasn't sure I'd actually be able to come..."

Harold smiled innocently. The easy smile stayed on his lips, but his eyes glinted with a chill the old housekeeper didn't catch at all. She was too moved by the fact that the second young master she'd known since he was yay tall had grown into such a fine man.

Last time she'd seen him, the young master had had a sort of aimless, indifferent air about him. But now he'd put himself forward to handle the paperwork he hated, all for his young nephews.

That it had taken the count's death to bring him to it — that was the one thing that broke her heart.

"So, Diane."

Diane, lost in the thought, snapped back with a start.

"Yes, yes! Master, I'll gather up the ones working at the manor first. As for the shepherds, I'll have to check, but I'll send word for them to come to the manor as fast as possible. The manor works?"

"Yes. Bring them here."

Before Diane ran off to summon everyone, she looked at the coachman standing quietly behind Harold.

Catching her glance a beat late, Harold nodded that it was fine.

"There may be somewhere I need to go. If the staff are gathered and I'm not here, he can just rest."

"Understood, Master."

This time Diane really did hurry off into the manor... but Harold called out after her once more.

"Diane."

"Yes?"

Harold's face twisted. For a moment it looked like anger, but the slump in his shoulders was somehow the opposite.

"...Are my brother and sister-in-law's rooms still the same?"

This time it was Diane who paused.

However tall and broad he'd grown, to Diane, Harold was still the little young master who used to trail after his older brother. She looked at him, feeling as if she might cry. But if the young master who'd lost his family wasn't crying, it wouldn't be right for her to.

Diane nodded firmly.

"Yes. We've kept them exactly as your brother left them the last time he was here."

"...Right. Thank you, Diane."

The footsteps that followed were quick — surprisingly quick for her age. She'd stood hesitating in front of Harold a moment ago; now she was gone in a flash.

Watching the housekeeper grab a passing servant carrying luggage and start booming orders at him, the coachman — the Intelligence agent — carefully asked Harold:

"Can she be trusted?"

"Probably."

"...You'd know a household better than I would, sir."

"My mother hired her personally. She's worked at this manor for over fifty years."

"Ah."

The coachman let out a resigned sound.

"If someone like that had turned, there'd be nothing anyone could do from that point on."

"'Nothing anyone could do'? Where's your fight?"

"Well. It's our creed to make impossible things possible, but that doesn't apply to most people, does it?"

Harold raised an eyebrow at the coachman. Unfazed, the coachman shrugged casually.

You didn't work in Intelligence without at least that much nerve. Losing the will to argue, Harold sighed.

After a short silence, the coachman spoke up.

"It'd look a bit odd for a coachman to just sit at the manor's gate... should I come back later?"

"..."

"Sir Bertholdt?"

"Hm. No."

Harold climbed back into the carriage. Blue eyes swept coldly over the old manor. In the meantime, someone had put together a group to go fetch the ones out at the pastures — horses were coming out of the stable.

Some of them would go find the shepherds wandering the pastures. This was what made country domains a pain. In the crowded capital, he could have gone under cover and shadowed them right there.

With no cover around for miles, even Harold had no way to work an environment like this. Night would be a different story.

A few of the servants Diane had summoned took the reins. Having noted their faces, Harold said to the coachman:

"To the man's house."

The coachman set the carriage moving without a word.

"I'll head for the train station first. If we go straight there, we'll be too visible. It'd be best to swap carriages."

"How many Intelligence people are on the domain right now?"

"One besides me. Two per team is our baseline."

"That so? I haven't seen the other one."

"If you want to meet him, I can call him in. We've been splitting the work — a lot to keep an eye on."

"Hm. Isn't our domain a bit large for just two people?"

"Not impossible."

"Fair enough."

Harold went quiet. Various thoughts crossed his mind.

Without Harold speaking, the coachman kept silent too. Only after they'd gone far enough that the old manor was almost out of sight did Harold let out a long sigh.

"...Tired, sir?"

"I don't like how quiet that shepherd is."

"He acted like an ordinary shepherd the whole time we were watching him too."

"That's what makes it worse."

When he'd been observing him earlier, before heading to the old manor, the man had been utterly ordinary. Harold grumbled, not bothering to hide his displeasure.

The coachman smiled awkwardly and tried to soothe him.

"From their side, they can't afford to move rashly either. After Günter Bleiss died, they'd have known the capital would send someone."

"Right."

"You know this yourself, of course, sir, but with something like this it's a game of time. As long as they're human, they'll slip up sooner or later."

"You too?"

"Of course — I'd have to say yes, but given my position, saying it out loud gets a bit awkward."

"What position?"

"I'm with Intelligence. Moving around with that kind of uncertainty in mind—"

"Why?"

Harold asked, offhand.

"You're not with Intelligence."