Chapter 2

Edgar and Edwin.

Harold's nephews.

The only family left to him from his dead brother.

"...."

With those small bodies pressed against him, it was even harder to keep his anger in check.

It might be the tail end of winter, but winter was still winter. The freezing room was cold even for an adult. For young children it was unthinkable. And all the boys had on were thin nightshirts.

He wanted to bundle them up in soft blankets and carry them off somewhere no one could ever hurt them.

Harold reached out to the other child too — the one watching him hesitantly. It was all right if he didn't come. He was just a stranger to the boy.

But Harold wanted him to know he hadn't been abandoned. That he was loved.

"Edwin."

The moment Harold said his name, a second small warmth came to him.

For all Harold's worry, Edwin broke into a wide grin and threw his arms around his uncle without a trace of hesitation. The twins were small enough that Harold could hold them both at once with room to spare.

Were eight-year-olds normally this small? Or were these two especially tiny? How on earth had his brother managed to raise children who looked like they'd break the moment you touched them?

"Achoo!"

Harold had been holding the children without any awareness of how much time was passing — it took Edgar's sneeze to bring him back.

He steadied himself and set the boys down. He was the adult here; he had to think ahead. First get them somewhere warm and safe, then feed them properly, then find out what had happened....

"...."

For all his resolve, Harold's hands were shaking.

"Edgar?"

"...."

"Edwin?"

"...."

The children were clinging to him and wouldn't let go.

Harold couldn't bring himself to pry those tiny hands off, and he shot Mattheus a desperate look.

Mattheus nodded, picked up a blanket from in front of the fireplace, and handed it to Harold.

That wasn't what Harold had meant — he hadn't been asking for a blanket.

But he obediently bundled the boys up in it anyway.

Then he stood up with a child tucked under each arm. They startled and clutched at him, but quickly settled. In fact, they looked downright delighted, even laughing.

"Grandpa Mattheus!"

The tension must have finally let go of him — Edwin gave Mattheus a beaming smile. Edgar managed a shy little smile of his own and waved.

Even identical twins with faces you couldn't tell apart had different personalities. Mattheus returned the greeting and tugged the slipping blanket back into place around them.

"Sir Bertholdt."

He smiled warmly enough at the children, but his eyes, sweeping the room, were as cold as the air.

"You only just returned to the capital, didn't you?"

Mattheus knew perfectly well that Harold had only arrived in the capital that day.

But there was a reason the seasoned lawyer was bringing it up now. Harold nodded awkwardly.

"Yes."

"Have you arranged for lodgings? I know a place, if not."

Harold caught Mattheus's meaning.

Normally, of course, he'd have stayed at the estate. However long it had been since he'd last set foot in the capital, this was the Bertholdt family home.

But the state of the place ruled that out. There was no guarantee the other rooms were any better, and with the butler having driven out the staff, the place wouldn't have seen any upkeep for a month.

"Originally...."

Harold's eyes narrowed.

Even the windows had heavy locks on them, designed so they couldn't be opened from the inside. Still, that window must have been the only way the boys had of seeing the outside world.

Outside, he could see the bleak garden and the front gate. And snow, which had started falling at some point.

"There was a place I'd planned to use, but it's too far to reach without a carriage."

Should he have taken a carriage when he left Mattheus's office?

Then again, that would have meant arriving at the estate later. Seeing what conditions the children had been living in, getting here even a little sooner had been the right call.

If anyone could find them a safe place to stay, Mattheus could. There had to be at least one hotel connected to the Bertholdt family with security good enough for the children.

But....

He didn't like the idea of a place where strangers came and went freely.

"Shall I fetch a carriage, Sir Bertholdt?"

"...No."

He hadn't been in the capital for a while, but Harold still had his contacts there. Finding somewhere safe wouldn't be hard.

But.

"Cough!"

"Edgar!"

Edgar coughed again.

Edwin shifted in his uncle's arms, reached out, and pressed the back of his hand to Edgar's forehead.

"Uncle, Edgar's been coughing since yesterday."

"He has?"

"I — I'm fine. Edwin, don't say weird things!"

Edgar's voice cracked oddly.

Right. There was no way a child's body could hold up in a room that cold.

The boys needed care, and now. A warm room. Food. A doctor. And — he had to find whoever had done this.

Harold left the room with the children still in his arms.

"Sir Bertholdt? Sir Bertholdt!"

Mattheus hurried after him. Harold didn't wait — he walked straight out of the estate.

The snow falling at the tail end of winter came down in heavy flakes. Worried the biting wind might cut through to the children, Harold drew them in closer. Edwin wriggled, apparently finding the closeness stifling, but Edgar didn't move.

Or rather — he'd gone completely limp and was leaning his full weight against Harold. Which still felt like next to nothing.

Was this normal for children their age?

"Cough, cough."

Only when he coughed did his small body move at all.

Harold quickened his pace. Through the garden, out the gate. Maybe because of the cold, there wasn't a single carriage on the street.

He hadn't been looking for one to begin with, so he didn't slow down.

"Sir B-Bertholdt!"

Mattheus, having finally caught up, raised his voice.

Harold paid no attention. He kicked open the door of the house next door.

---

"He has a slight fever, but nothing to worry about. I'll prescribe something for the cough — if it hasn't cleared up in two days, call me back."

The hastily summoned doctor handed over the prescription and left.

Warmed through and well fed, Edgar was nodding off where he sat on the bed.

Edwin had stayed quiet while the doctor examined Edgar, but the moment it was his turn, his face turned sullen.

"...."

Still, when Harold cautiously rested a hand on his shoulder, Edwin pursed his lips but opened his mouth as the doctor asked.

Unlike Edgar, who had a slight fever, Edwin was fine. The moment Edwin heard that, he burrowed straight under the covers next to his already-dozing brother.

"Edwin."

"Hm?"

"Your uncle is...."

With his half-asleep brother right next to him, Edwin's own eyes were starting to flutter shut.

Harold had no idea how to talk to an eight-year-old. He thought back to the families who occasionally visited knights at the northern base, and did his best imitation.

"I'll be right out front, so if you want me, just call. All right?"

Edwin stared at him for a moment, then nodded.

His blue eyes blinked, then crinkled into a grin. A streak of mischief Harold hadn't picked up on earlier flashed in them. Edwin held out both arms toward him.

"Uh — yes?"

"Uuncle."

Edwin drew the word out. Harold blinked, lost.

"Lean down a sec, please."

"L-like this?"

The moment Harold leaned in, the small arms wrapped tight around his neck.

"Good night."

Edwin let go just as quickly and dove back under the covers. Harold was left bent over awkwardly, completely thrown.

When Harold didn't move, Edwin, embarrassed now, waved at him from under the blanket. Only then did Harold finally scratch his head and tuck the boys in, clumsily.

Something soft was happening in his chest — something he'd never felt before in his life.

"Ahem. Young masters, get some rest."

"Grandpa Mattheus!"

"I'll be with your uncle the whole time."

"For real this time?"

"Of course, Master Edwin. Whatever Adrien may have said, this Mattheus is not leaving your side."

Edwin gave a small, contented smile.

Harold did one last check that nothing was missing for the boys' comfort, and stepped out of the room.

Nothing here could hurt them. He knew that, and still, leaving the room wasn't easy.

"Sir Bertholdt?"

"...It's nothing. Edwin, if you need anything at all, just call me."

"Okaaay."

Nothing was threatening the children right now. But things had already happened.

Harold clenched his fists.

He'd kept it down in front of the children, but the moment the door closed, he couldn't hold it back.

"Mattheus. Adrien Renard. That man."

"Count Archibald said he's moving on it right now."

Harold ground his teeth.

Click.

The moment the door shut, Edwin's eyes slid open under the covers.

The room was peaceful. Quiet, even breathing came from beside him. Edwin scrunched his nose and poked at his brother's cheek.

"Edgar. Edgar."

"...."

"You're not asleep. Get up."

"...Someone might come in."

"Who?"

Edwin kept poking stubbornly until Edgar finally opened his eyes.

"Uncle and Grandpa Mattheus are off catching Adrien. Count Archibald's probably with them."

"...."

"I did what you told me to. Stop sulking. Hm?"

Despite the unhappy look on Edgar's face, Edwin only beamed wider. He kept reaching for him no matter how Edgar turned his head away.

Edwin pressed the back of his hand to Edgar's forehead.

"You're hotter than before. The doctor said you were fine! That guy's a quack!"

"I took the medicine."

"Ugh, stubborn."

The words were complaints, but the hand on Edgar's forehead was careful.

Edgar gave up and let his brother fuss.

Outside, the snow was still coming down. Watching the streets turn white, Edgar held Edwin's hand tight.

"...This is where it starts, Edwin."

"Yeah."

"There's nothing we can do about what happened before. But from today on we can change things."

"Yeah."

"This time, I'm not letting Uncle die."

"Don't worry, Edgar."

Edwin pulled him into a tight hug. Edgar's breathing quickened. Edwin laid his palm over Edgar's eyes.

"I'll help."

"...Yeah."

"We just do it one thing at a time."

"Yeah."

Edgar's breathing slowed.

Edwin kept his hand over his brother's eyes a while longer, then let it drop.

He shifted around until he'd found a comfortable position.

"You can rest now. Come on, let's sleep. You barely slept last night."

"...."

"But, Edgar. If Uncle came from the northern base, do you think he knows magic too?"

Edgar half-opened his eyes and looked at his brother.

"You're still on about that?"

"Whaat, but still — this is a fantasy world. It has to have magic."

Edgar gave a tired little smile, rolled over, and pulled Edwin in close. Just like the past month, when they'd huddled together for warmth in front of a dead fireplace.

"You always used to say weird stuff like that, too."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. It's nice hearing it again."

"Good."

"It's good."

Edwin grinned.

"Okay. Sleeping for real now. I'm sleepy too."

The twins held each other close and whispered.

"Good night, Edwin."

"Good night, Edgar."