Chapter 26

The Archibald estate, in the capital's Third District.

The mistress of the house worked at the city watch and had always kept the manor tightly run, but for the past few days the tension in the place had been so thick you could barely breathe.

Even so, the current Count Archibald wasn't the sort to take something unavoidable out on her staff. Snapping at them for not noticing would have been rich coming from someone who'd been fooled herself. The man who'd told a bald-faced lie to the faces of two nobles was clearly no amateur.

Don't let anyone whose identity isn't clear into the estate.

Anne Archibald had declared it with her pride still smarting.

From now on, we're limiting who comes and goes. Everyone knows the situation.

She wasn't going to allow the same thing to happen twice.

The young neighbor boys, who'd originally been housed in a guest room, were moved into the family's private quarters.

And an adult was with them at all times. Usually Lord Bertholdt, otherwise Count Archibald. Since the two of them couldn't be there around the clock, it was either a watchman Anne had personally vetted or a servant who had worked at the Archibald estate for years.

"Uncle isn't back yet?"

Once the doctor had changed the bandages and left, the young master tugged at the sleeve of the servant standing by the door.

"Lord Bertholdt is expected back before dinner."

"That's so late?"

Edwin, apparently listening, cut in. The Archibald butler answered in his gentle voice.

"He'll want to see the young masters, so I'm sure he'll be back early."

"..."

Edgar looked up at the butler with a sulky face.

There weren't many children in the Archibald house. The last one had been Anne herself, the current Count. For a butler who'd worked at the Archibald estate for so long, handling small children was unfamiliar territory.

But long service also meant he'd watched Miss Anne and young Lord Harold grow up.

"Young masters, would you like a snack?"

Usually, children could be talked down by something sweet.

"The cook said today he's made the southern-style egg cookies with the apricot jam you like, young master."

"..."

"I want some!"

Unlike Edgar, who was still pouting, Edwin flung a hand up in the air, sprawled upside-down on the sofa.

"I'll bring it right away."

The butler smiled quietly and left the room.

Edgar glared at the closed door. If he pressed his ear to it, he could hear the footsteps moving away. But that was just the butler's footsteps. Even with only the two of them in the room, there was no doubt a watchman was standing right outside in the corridor.

Two days ago, unable to bear being cooped up any longer, he'd tried to step out — only to be caught on the spot and have to sit through his uncle's worried plea.

Edgar, Edwin. Could you bear with it a little longer for Uncle? I'm sorry. But right now...

"..."

He understood the reason.

That didn't mean he liked it.

The body of a child came with too many limits... If magic — the kind Edwin loved so much — could turn him into a grown-up in one go, how nice would that be?

"Edgar."

"Shhh!"

"I didn't even say anything..."

"Shhh!!"

Edwin gave Edgar a look that didn't belong on the face of an eight-year-old.

When Edgar showed no sign of letting up, Edwin was the one who gave in. He dropped his voice as low as it would go.

"Do we really have to go this far?"

Only then did Edgar's face soften a little. He moved closer to Edwin and whispered back.

"There's no harm in being careful."

"You've gotten worse..."

Edgar started to ask what he meant, then shook his head hard. Asking would only mean getting dragged along by Edwin into some other conversation for no good reason.

The butler would be back with the snack soon. Before then...

"..."

Edgar looked at Edwin's arm. Rolling around on the sofa had pushed the loose sleeve up past his elbow.

Even if he didn't want to look, it was right there. He'd have seen it with his eyes shut.

"Edgar?"

The bandage wrapped around the thin wrist no longer had any red on it. Even so, Edgar remembered the blood that had soaked the clothes and stained his hands red.

"Edgar."

His uncle's death had been a sin that had always weighed on him.

Unlike his father, that death could have been prevented. If Edgar had been a little more grown-up, a little quicker to open his heart to his uncle, his uncle wouldn't have died so pointlessly.

"Hey, Edgar?"

That was why, gripped by the thought of saving his uncle, he hadn't considered anything else. Fixated on dealing with the long-troublesome Adrien Renard early, he'd given no thought at all to how tracking him might come back around.

Edwin getting hurt was Edgar's fault.

"Edgar!!"

"...!"

"You're thinking something weird again, aren't you?"

"..."

"Honestly. This is why you can't just leave a kid in his room."

Edwin said it with a put-upon face, as though he weren't a child himself.

Finding it both funny and sad, Edgar carefully reached out and took Edwin's arm.

Edwin let him have his arm with a clear, guileless look. Only four days ago, that arm had been grabbed roughly by a strange man. That he'd hand it over so easily was, if anything, worrying. Just a little wariness would have been nice.

"You'd hurt me? Why?"

His thought must have slipped out, because Edwin snorted.

"You want me to hurt?"

"What? No!"

"See. So why do you keep thinking weird things?"

Edwin took both of Edgar's cheeks in his hands, pulled, and let go. Edgar rubbed his stinging cheeks with wide eyes.

Edwin scrunched his eyes and grinned.

"You want to let Adrien go the way you did last time?"

"..."

"You don't. You said we can't."

Edgar nodded, jaw tight.

What had happened when he'd fallen for Adrien Renard's words and hidden him from his uncle?

The blur in Edgar's eyes sharpened. Yes. Edgar had wanted to stop that. He'd told himself he'd pay any price if he could stop it.

...Was this his punishment, then? Edwin getting hurt hadn't been among the prices Edgar had steeled himself for.

Edwin sighed again.

"Edgar. You can't always have everything."

"..."

"But we try, to get something a little better. Look — Uncle and Count Archibald are after Adrien Renard. And the person who came for us, Uncle already dealt with him."

Edwin waved his bandaged arm.

"The doctor said if I put the ointment on properly, there won't even be a scar, and your back will heal with rest. Right?"

"...Right."

"You tried, Edgar. You couldn't have done any better than this."

"But."

"You have to look at the good side of things! Last time, how was it? It's been about a month since Uncle came to the capital, right?"

Edgar nodded, hesitating.

"A month. What was it like last time?"

"How was it..."

Edgar worried at his lip.

The words didn't come easily. It was a stretch of time he barely remembered, and what fragments he had weren't good ones.

Edgar's expression must have been answer enough — Edwin gave a bright, easy laugh.

"Way better, right?"

"..."

"Hm?"

"..."

"Edgaaar."

"...Yeah."

Unable to hold out against his twin's pestering, Edgar finally answered.

"Way... better."

Apparently satisfied with the answer, Edwin broke into a wide smile.

"See."

The hand that had been poking Edgar's side, urging him to answer faster, disappeared.

Edwin stretched hard and rolled back onto the sofa he'd been lying on a moment ago. Edgar glanced over his shoulder at the door and followed after him.

Edwin claimed the sofa in one quick move.

"Edwin, are you going to lie there like that forever?"

"But I'm bored. I've read all my books. We can't go out to the garden, and there's nothing to do."

"...We're moving soon, though."

The worry about what might come next hadn't gone away entirely. But as Edwin said, things were far better than before. That alone was Edgar's comfort.

That, and the twin brother sprawled out beside him without a care.

"Hey, Edgar."

"Mm?"

"I'd only heard people say Uncle was a knight, but... it was kind of..."

"Kind of?"

"...Kind of cool, I think."

"What was?"

However startlingly grown-up they sometimes sounded, they were still eight.

Edgar, with fifteen more years of memory, sometimes struggled to keep up with Edwin's turns in conversation. Edwin let out an openly exasperated sigh at Edgar.

"Edgar, you really don't get anything."

"...I don't?"

"You know, if we asked Uncle to teach us how to be a knight, would he do it?"

"...?"

"When he took care of the weird man! Wasn't Uncle amazing?"

"Uh..."

There hadn't been any room in his head to admire anything in the middle of that.

For Edwin, apparently, it had been different. Edgar hadn't wanted them dwelling on the bad memory, but Edwin's reaction was nothing like what he'd expected.

Still, this was one more thing that was far better than last time. Deciding it beat poking at bad memories for no reason, Edgar played along.

"He was... cool, yeah."

"Right?!"

"Edwin. Weren't you the one who wanted to learn magic?"

Edwin puffed out his chest importantly.

"Edgar, there's a thing called a magic-knight, you {know."}(#4mre0atyp78q)

"A magic-what?"

"It's a word people don't really use anymore."

Edwin's lips pursed.

"Whatever. Anyway, magic is magic."

Edgar had no idea what his eight-year-old twin was being so touchy about, and just {nodded.}(#aq7m9xb06hg1)

Knock, knock, knock.

"Young master. I've brought your snack."

Right on cue, the Archibald butler returned.

"Cookies!"

Watching Edwin spring up and dash over, Edgar swallowed a belated groan. He'd finally had the two of them alone, and he'd meant to talk about what needed to happen next.

"Careful, you'll fall."

"I'm fine! Edgar, snack time!"

"All right..."

But watching Edwin's bright smile, he thought, vaguely, that maybe it would be all right.

---

Good day to you, young master.

I know I said I would be returning to the capital, but something has come up that I need to look into, and my schedule will be delayed by a few days.

I have told the others I am going to see you, young master, but I'll be stopping by Marberg first to check a few things. While organizing the material you asked about last time, I came across something concerning. To be certain, there's no substitute for going in person.

I'll try to wrap up the work in Marberg as quickly as I can, but I can't promise, so I'm sending the key materials on ahead.

I'd feel better sending them by someone I trust... but at present, I don't want to risk it. Someone carrying it in person is more likely to disappear along the way, so I've decided to send it by post.

I hope it reaches you safely, young master. Just in case, I'm not writing out the particulars in detail. But Mr. Mattheus should recognize it right away.

This goes back much further than we expected. It seems the Count had been chasing it for a long time as well. Which means there's no telling what they might do.

They may even go after the young masters and stoop to something dreadful.

If I turn up anything, I'll write again.

I know you're stronger than most, young master, but the Count always said it, didn't he? Being stronger than others doesn't mean you can't be hurt.

Please take care, young master.