Chapter 24

"They can't have gotten far."

While the watchmen rushed about looking for the boys, Anne assessed the empty room with a level head.

She'd told them to check whether the boys were playing somewhere else, but her own face said she didn't believe her own words. Since they'd snuck out of the estate last time, the two boys had only ever played where the adults could see them.

They weren't the kind of children to pull a nasty prank knowing how worried their uncle would {be.}(#ckzw7xsz5qkx)

Anne narrowed her eyes.

"At the outside, twenty minutes. If they'd taken two small children out of the estate, someone would have noticed."

Before Ramsey had arrived, they'd been speaking with Dane — no, Dustin Glenn — to hear about the situation at the domain.

Anne was right. Watchmen had been posted around this district, and there wasn't much traffic through here to begin with. A carriage passing by would have been impossible to miss.

"No. No carriages went through."

The watchman at the estate entrance confirmed it.

"At least, no servant from the Bertholdt domain went out through the front gate."

"Hidden somewhere inside the estate? Though..."

With every way in or out of the estate sealed, he'd be a rat in a barrel. Harold would never have stayed at the Archibald estate himself.

The man had killed someone right in the middle of a manor without hiding his face or his name, then had the gall to pass himself off as a servant and fool both Harold and Anne to their faces.

Someone that shrewd wouldn't hole up somewhere he was sure to be caught.

Then where?

No offense to Anne, but however hard the watchmen worked, they were still just the watch.

Not a slight against them — it was a different specialty. Harold himself could think of dozens of ways to slip past a watch patrol without so much as a pause.

Of course, not everyone could move the way Harold could. But still, a few of those routes... a real professional could pull off, couldn't he?

For instance.

Climbing that long, drooping tree and crossing over into the Bertholdt estate.

"Senior? Where are you going? Did you find something?"

He didn't know what the men were after.

But what did he know right now?

There was a study that had been ransacked. A bedroom left in ruins. Someone who'd tried to get to his brother's body.

And there was his brother's journal, written in a cipher he couldn't read.

What if there was a reason they'd locked the boys inside the estate?

His brother's journal was in the family safe. The safe, hidden by old magic, required the blood of the house. Even without Harold, if their will was strong enough, Edgar and Edwin could open it just as well.

"Senior!"

Clicking her tongue, Anne went after him anyway.

Harold examined the tree that had been nagging at him. A zelkova that had stood in the Archibald garden for decades. One thick branch stretched out over the wall, pointing straight at the Bertholdt estate. Harold himself had used this tree often enough as a boy, to slip out of the house unnoticed.

"This tree... over to the Bertholdt estate?"

Anne caught his thinking the moment she saw the tree.

The evidence turned up right away. A gouge in the bark. The rounded mark looked like a footprint.

No — didn't look like. It was a footprint. A fresh one.

"Bring people. Come after me."

"What? Senior! Senior!!"

Harold didn't wait for Anne. He vaulted the wall in one go. No need for the tree. Without a proper run-up, he cleared a wall taller than he was in a single motion.

"I'll be right behind you!"

Anne shouted from the other side.

But Harold was already sprinting for the manor.

For a body built from muscle in motion, he made astonishingly little sound.

The man had already killed one person. His brother's hidden report had named him a suspect in a murder case. Gauss had said he'd dig further, but either way, the man wasn't squeamish about blood.

And that man had the boys. It had to be one clean strike — the boys couldn't get hurt. He couldn't make a racket and give the man time to prepare.

On top of that, the man had climbed a tree carrying two children. Harold wasn't about to underestimate him, but he'd need to be careful.

"..."

From where the branch bent into the Bertholdt garden, the back door was closer than the front.

Harold gave the back door a wolfish smile. A window was broken. Without slowing, he dove through the frame and rolled once on the far side, arms shielding his head from the glass. Only the faintest crunch of shards underfoot broke the silence.

The kitchen was still the wreck he'd found it. So were the study and the bedroom. Nothing could be tidied until the investigation was further along.

He had no argument with that decision. But if he was right, and the man had taken the boys into the bedroom...

He'd left it because he'd thought the boys wouldn't see it. The bedroom, as it stood, was in no state for children.

If the man had taken them to the study, that would have been better. But the man, Adrien Renard, having served as butler, had likely guessed at the family safe's location.

Family safes were always in more or less the same sorts of places anyway. Harold himself could narrow down where the Archibald safe was likely to be if he had to.

The ground floor was as quiet as his movements.

No sign of anyone. What if he'd guessed wrong?

What if he'd only lost time? What if the man had feigned heading for the Bertholdt estate and gone somewhere else entirely?

Then he'd never forgive himself.

"...! ...!!"

His alert senses caught a faint sound.

For better or worse, from the direction of the study. Some part of him couldn't help being relieved that the man had moved as he'd expected.

At the same time, the fear set in.

What in the world had driven them to something this reckless?

Was it really because of the journal his brother had left?

Then what had his brother left behind?

His thoughts came back around to the same place. The bitterness that hadn't left Harold since he'd heard of his brother's death.

You should have explained things properly, for the sake of those less clever than you!

The rest, you don't need to do.

The line from the letter his brother had left.

Harold didn't know what the rest was. But leaving men like these behind, and saying it was fine not to deal with them? Harold might not have been able to keep up with his brother's brilliance, but he knew his brother's nature well enough — and Albrecht had known his in turn.

If he'd deliberately left those words, then he'd known exactly how much of a mess he was leaving unresolved.

Including the fact that the boys could end up in danger.

Which was why, knowing full well Harold wasn't the sort to leave his nephews to fend for themselves, he'd bothered to write it down anyway.

So the boys would have the Iron Knight, famed for the strongest body on the continent, looking after them.

"Let go!"

Short. Sharp.

A child's voice. His nephew's voice.

"Edgar!"

Edwin.

Harold smashed the door open.

And the scene that unfolded was more than enough to shatter what little patience Harold had left.

There was a child on the floor. Harold could tell his nephews apart now. Edgar. Propping himself on one elbow, trying to sit up — the boy's eyes went round the moment they landed on Harold.

Edwin was in the man's grip. His arm was hauled up in a rough hold. Blood was running down his thin arm. The man — Dustin Glenn — had a dagger.

For one instant it was as though time had stopped — all three of them looking at Harold.

Time started again with a whispered voice. Thin, trembling, threaded with hope. Edgar's call.

"Uncle?"

Harold moved.

---

Edgar forgot about the pain and stared at his uncle in a daze.

In front of him and Edwin, his uncle always had a foolish grin on his face. It was no different from the uncle Edgar had known before he'd come back — the Harold Bertholdt Edgar hadn't been able to save.

Of course Edgar knew his uncle was a famous knight. Every time he was picked up, he could feel the muscle beneath his uncle's clothes. The large hand that ruffled his hair was full of scars and calluses.

But he was still Uncle. The man Edwin ran circles around every time; the man who fell to pieces the moment Edgar buried his face in the bear and pretended to cry.

Edgar had never seen his uncle wear a face this terrifying.

"...Khh!"

The man, so frightening a moment ago, was undone in an instant.

His uncle twisted the man's wrist to make him drop the dagger, then flipped him over his back onto the floor. Slammed hard, the man couldn't get up right away — the impact must have hit his whole body. His uncle grabbed the man's head and brought it down against the floor...

"Edgar!"

Freed, Edwin ran over.

"Does it hurt? Are you okay?"

"Edwin, your arm!!"

"Huh? Oh — it doesn't hurt. I'm okay. Edgar, can you get up?"

Edgar paid no attention to whatever Edwin was saying and looked at his wound. His back hurt, but much less than it had a moment ago.

Luckily the cut wasn't deep. Edgar pulled his sleeve down and pressed it firmly against Edwin's arm. The white cuff was quickly stained red, but who cared about clothes.

"Did you hit yourself wrong? Don't get up! If you're hurt you can't move around."

"But Uncle..."

"You couldn't even sit up before!"

"I said I'm fine."

"No, you're not!"

Edwin's face crumpled. Worried he was about to burst into tears, Edgar stayed still as told. He didn't let go of the hand pressing the cloth against Edwin's arm, though.

A shadow fell over the pair of them.

His uncle was smiling with a face that looked, like Edwin's, on the verge of tears. A strange face.

"Edgar. Edwin."

"Uncle!"

"That man... anywhere else hurt? You couldn't get up?"

"He threw Edgar, Uncle!"

"Threw him?"

His uncle gathered Edwin against him and looked over the wound, then his eyes went wide. Thankfully the bleeding had stopped.

His uncle ran his hand carefully over Edgar's back, eyes worried.

"The bones... are fine. Muscles are just startled. Still, the doctor should look at you."

"Do I have to take medicine again?"

"If the doctor says so, you do."

Remembering the unpleasantly sweet children's medicine, Edgar wrinkled his nose despite everything.

His uncle gave a small laugh and, with the hand not holding Edwin, carefully helped Edgar up. His back still hurt, but standing up was easier than staying on the floor.

Edgar craned over his uncle's shoulder to try to see the man who'd taken them, but his uncle just breathed out heavily and hugged Edgar and Edwin close.

"Uncle... got such a scare. I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry, Uncle?"

"He's right. You came and saved us!"

"I should have been paying better attention."

"What are you talking about?"

Edwin puffed out his cheeks.

"It's all the bad guy's fault! Uncle didn't do anything wrong!!"

His uncle smiled faintly. Somehow he looked drained. This wasn't the face Edgar had been trying to save.

Edgar tugged at him.

"Uncle, let's go see the doctor. What if Edwin starts bleeding again?"

"Ah — right. Your wound first."

"Senior!!"

Anne Archibald burst into the room with the watchmen.

"Oh — could you have at least..."

"Anne."

"Ah, right. Are the boys okay? Edgar? Edwin, are you all right?"

"Edwin's hurt!"

"Edgar too!"

Anne took one look at the sleeve stained red and grimaced.

"Senior, take the boys out. Have the butler send for a doctor."

"Right."

"We'll wrap this up and be right there."

His uncle scooped Edgar and Edwin up into his arms. Settled easily against his uncle, Edgar caught one last glimpse before they left his father's bedroom — the watchmen standing in a circle around something.

His uncle pressed a small kiss to Edgar's hair.

"Shh. No one bad's going to get to you again."

"...Because Uncle's here?"

"That's right. Because Uncle's here."