Chapter 128

The business in the Bertholdt domain had to be left to Mattheus.

He couldn't hand an ugly case with a body in it off to Leona. Harold had that much sense, at least.

It wasn't that he didn't trust Leona Bleiss. But that corpse was the suspect in Dustin Glenn's murder, and Dustin Glenn had killed Leona's uncle Günter. Keeping the two as separate as possible was the right call.

It wasn't the sort of thing he could explain in a letter either, so Harold ended up hurrying back to the capital. He'd been eager to fill Grisha in on his brother's notebook, so as far as Harold was concerned, it worked out fine.

"Thank you for your trouble, Sir Bertholdt."

"Then I'll leave it to you. If there's anything you need……"

"Yes. I'll let you know right away. By the way, where are you staying at the moment?"

Harold's plan to have the capital manor put in order over Founding Day had come to nothing. Harold smiled wryly.

"Contact me at Lambert Manor. That'll do it."

"Understood."

"I took care of the important matters before coming up, so there shouldn't be much left to do."

Mattheus's look said he didn't believe a word of it.

But instead of saying so, he asked something else.

"What happened with the shepherd contract?"

"Ah."

What had come afterward had stuck with him so strongly that he'd forgotten to bring it up. Unlike Grisha, Mattheus was a civilian, and Harold had thought it best not to drag him in too deep.

But Mattheus was one of the people who knew about the contract's oddities.

"The shepherd in question is dead too."

"……Dead, you say."

"Yes. Dead."

"Dead……"

For all the rough business he'd seen over the past six months, the news seemed to throw him; Mattheus opened and closed his mouth uselessly, casting about for something to say.

"The investigation is underway. If they need anything from you, they'll come to you as well, but…… I honestly don't know."

Harold scratched his head. This wasn't the city watch — he didn't know how Intelligence ran an investigation. Officially, they were running one, sure.

Harold made his voice light on purpose.

"In any case, there's nothing to worry about on that front."

"That's what worries me more……"

Still, Mattheus accepted it. People who'd worked close to Albrecht really did know this steamroller approach to things all too well.

"Hm. It's hardly the first time Sir Bertholdt has pulled something like this."

"Me?"

"Even without anything pressing, I'll send you a status report once a week."

"……"

Harold started to push back, then closed his mouth.

He had a hunch it would only work against him. A good fighter didn't ignore his gut.

"……Well then, uh, don't you have things to pack for the trip down to the domain? I wouldn't want to hold you up…… Ah, and, I've got an appointment."

The old man's gaze — one Harold had known since childhood — had a weight even a grown adult couldn't say no to.

"Ha ha. Then I'll come by again before heading down."

Obvious as the escape was, Mattheus saw Harold out with a smile.

Thinking, all the while, that the boy had grown taller but was still, underneath, the same child he'd always been.

---

"What is this? Weren't you supposed to be attending Founding Day?"

His having an appointment hadn't been a lie. Harold stopped the carriage in front of the residence where those who'd come down from the north were staying.

Northern Commander Ricardo Hamilton greeted his on-leave subordinate curtly. In the garden, Ricardo was enjoying the muggy sunlight, a dainty tea set laid out in front of him that didn't suit a rough-hewn northern commander at all.

Harold pretended not to see the brandy bottle standing beside the teapot. Off-schedule or not, he could only hope that pot didn't have liquor in it in place of tea.

Fortunately, what Ricardo poured him was just tea.

"What have I got to prepare? My uniform's what I'll be wearing anyway."

"Even so, you're—"

Ricardo waved a vague hand, glossing over a particular word.

"……his right-hand man, aren't you. Shouldn't you dress up properly?"

"Someone'll tell me if I need to. I do fine when I'm told."

Ricardo dug at his ear as if he'd just heard something bizarre. For all the blatant mockery, Harold was unashamed.

"Have you ever seen me not do it?"

"Who was it that charged into the snowbound mountains in the middle of winter? I could have sworn the northern commander told him not to go in until the snow stopped."

"Come on. A northerner, going soft over a little snow?"

"You're a southerner."

"I was born in the capital, though?"

Ricardo grabbed a sugar cube from the bowl on the table and pitched it at Harold. With a smug grin, Harold caught each cube his superior threw and stacked them on a plate.

Ricardo scowled and clicked his tongue.

"This is why you have to be careful who you take on."

"It's not too late. Want me to quit? I've got a resignation letter around here somewhere……"

"You have permission to quit yet?"

"Hmm……"

Harold paused.

"Come to think of it, I was told to behave myself until Founding Day was over. Retracting that."

"Wish you'd listen to me that well."

"It's just, Commander, you're……"

Harold mimicked Ricardo, waving a hand in the air.

"……a different case, aren't you?"

"Yes, yes. I can't win with you."

Ricardo took the sugar cubes Harold had stacked, dumped them into his own teacup, and poured tea over them. Harold didn't miss the hand that drifted toward the liquor bottle. That he didn't actually pour any in meant he hadn't forgotten that he'd been the one to call Harold over.

Draining what was closer to sugar syrup than tea without so much as a wince, Ricardo spoke.

"Are you still staying at the King's Woods? Before you went down to Reichnek territory, you were at the hotel, right?"

"For Founding Day I'm at Lambert Manor."

"Security?"

"They haven't caught the culprit yet."

Word of what had happened in the Bertholdt domain hadn't yet reached the capital. Depending on how Intelligence handled the investigation, it wouldn't stay a secret for long, but for now the fewer who knew, the better.

Ricardo refilled his teacup. Undissolved sugar clung to the cup, keeping the tea closer to syrup.

"I've no plans to wear the uniform outside formal occasions like Founding Day, so no need to worry."

"No, that's not what I'm worried about."

"What then?"

"……"

Ricardo frowned.

"The sergeant."

"Doak, you mean?"

"That's right."

"Something happen at home? He seemed to have gotten his head together well enough before I went down to Reichnek territory."

Learning about his second-eldest sister's death out of nowhere, Leopold Doak had still pulled himself together quickly.

Still, the way he'd come tearing to the residence, thrown by his sister's death, had shown a boyishness Harold had never seen at the northern base. Once he'd actually calmed down, fear might have started to settle in. Going from a life up north, far from the center of politics, to plunging headlong into that maelstrom took more than ordinary resolve.

Ah. Or—

"……Has something happened to the sergeant's father?"

That the elderly Baron Doak had been badly shaken by his daughter's death was something Harold had heard about later.

Fortunately, Ricardo said no, that wasn't it.

"No. He's still in good health. Or — I don't know about his health exactly, but I hear he's alright."

Ricardo chewed the undissolved sugar down with his tea and asked:

"Once Founding Day is over…… you're not planning to stay in the capital, are you?"

"I'll head back to Reichnek territory. My nephews are there."

"When will you be back?"

"Well…… depends on how it goes? I don't plan on staying at Reichnek territory long-term, but I haven't set a date."

"Hm."

Harold's eyebrow lifted slightly. For his commander to be treading carefully around anyone — a subordinate, no less — was, given the man's temperament, highly unusual.

If it were urgent, though, he'd have come out with it instead of dragging it out like this.

"I was going to have him stay at the residence."

"Who? Ah, Doak?"

"This place is basically a branch of the northern base, after all."

A rather sloppy way to put it, but he wasn't wrong.

"It's big for one person, but there are people to handle the odd jobs, so I figured there'd be no problem."

"Did something come up?"

Ricardo shifted in his seat, uncomfortable.

"Well… leaving the sergeant on his own doesn't sit right with me."

Harold sipped his tea, slowly, without a word.

He could see what side of it Ricardo was worried about. Before leaving the capital, Harold had briefly had similar thoughts himself.

It wasn't that he didn't understand what Doak was going through. His situation wasn't far from Harold's own. Harold, too, hadn't heard about his brother's death until a month after the fact. A bolt from the blue.

Not identical, of course. But……

"……Hm."

The kid's situation was sad enough, but what could Harold do for him even if Doak did come to talk?

He'd never understood as a boy why people drank tea, but it was perfect for stalling when you had nothing to say. Was that why his brother had loved it so much? Because when people said stupid things, he couldn't openly tell them so?

"Not saying you have to take responsibility for the kid, either."

Ricardo, thankfully catching Harold's discomfort, hurried on.

"Actually — kind of am, aren't I?"

"You're not seriously thinking I'm counselor material, are you?"

"You think I'd do that to Doak?"

Harold considered whether now was his cue to be offended.

But Ricardo didn't give him time to react.

"It's not a bad deal for you either."

"……The sergeant's unstable mental state?"

"No! What the hell do you take me for!"

"Stop being cagey — it's not like you. Just spit it out."

In the end, Ricardo filled his teacup with liquor. Which meant this wasn't official business, at any rate. For all his ways, Ricardo was strict on that count.

"I'm worried he'll grab a knife and go charging at someone if I leave him alone. It's not an order, just a suggestion — but you need reliable security at the capital manor anyway, don't you?"

"……The sergeant?"

"The city watch is standing guard, right? They can't do that forever. One extra houseguest wouldn't be a burden for the Bertholdts."

Harold considered Ricardo's proposal.

And, surprisingly, Ricardo was right. It wasn't a bad idea.

Sergeant Doak, having been away from the capital, was far removed from politics, and he had a clear motive to uncover what lay behind his second-eldest sister's death. As Ricardo said, it would be a problem if he did something rash, but with Harold keeping him close, that was unlikely.

Harold would gain a capable Academy graduate at his side, too. Linda was there, but another trustworthy hand wouldn't hurt.

"……Have you told Doak?"

"No. I wanted to ask you first."

"What if the sergeant doesn't want to?"

"What soldier ever refused a superior's order."

For all his words, Ricardo's face was easy. If Doak flatly refused, he wouldn't force it. Harold, for his part, had no intention of taking someone against their will.

Harold sipped his tea, drawing out the pause. Ricardo glared at his teacup.

"A little of the capital's water and you've picked up all the worst habits."

"I'm a noble born in the capital. This is my nature."

"Then the capital's nobility is finished. So?"

"I'll give it favorable consideration."

Harold set his teacup down.

"It isn't something I can decide on my own."

"You need permission for who lives under your own roof?"

Ricardo frowned as he asked. The way he waved his hand at the same time made clear he meant Grisha's permission.

Harold shook his head. He did plan on asking Grisha too, but that wasn't the direction permission had to come from.

"Yes. My nephews are pretty particular about who joins the household."

Ricardo caught his own mistake and gave a sheepish laugh.