Chapter 29

...aside from that, there were no problems.

Mr. Günter's funeral was concluded without incident, and the others have regained their composure. They understood why Lord Bertholdt couldn't come down. Though they seemed to have trouble quite believing me when I told them the young masters weren't badly hurt.

I'm not sure about right now, but I do think it would be best if you came down to the domain once at a later time.

I'll see you when I return to the capital. I plan to be back before the Count's funeral, but depending on how the matter of Mr. Günter's successor is handled, it may be delayed.

I'll write again once my schedule is settled, Lord Bertholdt.

Please don't push yourself, and I hope the young masters are doing well.

---

"..."

Harold, having read the letter through to the end, went over it again carefully from the top and let out a long breath.

His heartbeat pounded loud in his ears. He hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath the whole time he'd been reading.

Neither of the letters he'd received recently held good memories...

Still, thankfully nothing had happened to Mattheus. Given how long he'd known his brother, it would be good if he could make it to the funeral...

The fact that Mattheus had gone out of his way to mention that he might not make the schedule work suggested he probably wouldn't. That much Harold could read between the lines.

The funeral.

He'd never in his life imagined he'd be holding a funeral for his brother. Not even in his dreams.

What was there to kill a man who sat at a desk in the capital?

Harold had always assumed he'd die before his brother. He'd given up mercenary work because he hadn't wanted his brother to hear that his younger brother had died somewhere far from home. That was part of why he'd taken his post at the northern base — the other part being an old acquaintance's request.

He'd seen his brother's body with his own eyes, and it still didn't feel real.

"Uncle!"

The door opened without a knock.

Edwin came bouncing over to Harold. Edgar, clutching the stuffed bear tight, trailed after him in a flustered rush, trying to slow him down.

"Edwin, don't run!"

Ever since the business with Dustin Glenn, Edgar hadn't been able to take his eyes off his twin for long.

Anne had remarked before that the two of them seemed unusually reliant on each other, but now it was plain enough that even Harold could see it.

Still, considering everything they'd been through in a row, it might be a mercy it had stopped at this.

Mattheus had advised that Edgar and Edwin needed time to steady themselves as well. As long as they weren't pushing Harold and the other adults away, once things settled, they'd gradually be all right again.

...Not that Harold could talk. He got anxious the moment the boys were out of his sight.

"Oh — a letter! Who's it from?"

Edwin, instead of slowing down for Edgar tugging at him, took Edgar's hand. That seemed to be enough — Edgar quietly let himself be pulled along after him.

Harold smiled softly and showed them the name written on the envelope.

"It's a letter from Grandpa Mattheus."

"Why is Grandpa Mattheus writing to you, Uncle?"

"He's gone down to the domain for a little while."

Edgar's eyes went round.

"Why?"

"Well."

Harold chose his words carefully.

The news of Günter's death wasn't something he could tell the boys.

Even if you'd never met the person, saying someone had died was hard enough. And they'd seen Günter's face and spoken with him themselves.

There was no reason to tell them the truth, and Mattheus had plenty of other reasons to be down at the domain besides the funeral.

But looking into his nephew's clear eyes, the words caught in his throat for a moment.

"Uncle?"

Both Edgar and Edwin were the sensitive sort. They hated loud noises, and they were frightened of anyone approaching quietly. Because of that, Harold made a point of stepping loudly when he went near them.

But of the two, Edgar was the one more attuned to the room. To be precise, he read people's faces. Twins or not, Edgar seemed to have taken more after his mother in temperament.

Cecilia Barbosa hadn't been someone who spent her life reading other people's moods, but she'd had a knack for seeing right through things others missed.

But unlike his mother, the reason Edgar had ended up this watchful was, of course...

Because of Adrien Renard.

The anger toward a man he'd never once met — let him set that aside for the moment.

Harold stroked Edgar's hair. Edgar accepted the touch without a hint of wariness.

"Do you know what Grandpa Mattheus does for a living?"

"He's a lawyer."

Edgar answered with a look that said, why are you asking me something so obvious.

"That's right. So he's gone down to the domain in Uncle's place."

"...In your place?"

"There are some things that need to be brought up from the domain, and Grandpa Mattheus said he'd bring them."

Edgar's eyes narrowed.

Harold, oddly nervous, swallowed hard. He hadn't lied — he'd only left out the part about Günter's funeral.

But the way Edgar was scrutinizing him looked, somehow, like his brother. Which made sense, since Edgar was his brother's son, but Harold felt like he was being scolded for something he hadn't done.

"...That's..."

"Nabi!"

Edgar's words were cut off by Edwin's excited shout.

Edgar blinked and turned to look at the twin who'd interrupted him. Edwin didn't seem to notice — he'd already latched onto Harold in a state of complete excitement.

"Did Grandpa Mattheus go to bring Nabi?"

"Huh? What?"

It took Harold a beat to remember that the Nabi Edwin was talking about was the sheepdog the twins had named on their earlier trip down to the domain.

Right on its heels came the memory that he'd told the boys they could keep the dog.

It wasn't that he'd carelessly forgotten — Günter's death had simply pushed it down the list.

"A — ahem. Nabi will come once we've moved."

Harold cleared his throat awkwardly and answered.

Edwin looked a little disappointed, but he accepted the excuse.

Edgar didn't.

Edgar's eyes narrowed further.

"Edgar? What is it?"

Edgar pursed his lips and tugged at Edwin's hand, which he was still holding.

"Grandpa Mattheus went down to the domain because of Dad's funeral. Edwin, your dog's still a long way off."

"..."

"Dad's funeral? Something to bring from the domain?"

Whether the boys sensed the cold sweat running down Harold's back or not, they went on chatting easily between themselves.

"I don't know. But Grandpa Mattheus is our family lawyer. If Uncle can't go, of course the family lawyer becomes his proxy. It's probably papers about the title."

"Why can't Uncle go? Uncle, you can't go to the domain?"

"Edwin! It's because of us. The reason Uncle can't leave the capital is that strange man."

"Hmm. Because they still haven't caught Adrien?"

"Right. Because there are bad people out there."

They really were his brother's children.

Expecting Albrecht Bertholdt and Cecilia Barbosa's children of all people to be thrown off the scent by a puppy had been asking too much.

Harold gave a rueful smile inwardly and took Edgar's and Edwin's hands.

Two pairs of blue eyes looked up at him.

"Edgar, Edwin. Uncle will deal with the bad people, so you don't have to worry too much."

"But..."

"You've got me."

Edwin's wrist still had a bandage on it. The bluish bruise on Edgar's back hadn't faded either.

What Harold had seen that day would stay with him forever. If there were any way to make sure something like that never happened again, there wasn't a thing Harold wouldn't do.

"But if... if Uncle isn't there, and another bad person comes for you."

But even with his resolve set for the boys' sake, Harold knew well that he wasn't all-powerful.

"Just do what they say. All right?"

"...But."

"Nothing's more important than the two of you."

"..."

Edgar hunched his shoulders. But he didn't pull his hand away.

Edwin, on the other hand, looked straight up at Harold. It was a different look from the one Edgar had been giving him earlier.

"That man told us to open the safe."

"Open it."

"But Dad said we shouldn't open it without a good reason."

"You matter more."

Harold didn't look away from Edwin.

"Uncle will teach you how to open the safe. I'll tell you what's inside it, too."

Harold watched the boys.

He'd thought that even if it was their father's bedroom, it was a room with frightening memories attached, and they might be reluctant to go back — but neither of them stirred.

They were strong children. His brother and sister-in-law really had had children just like them.

"Because Uncle will always come for you."

"...Really?"

"Really. So..."

"Then if Uncle gets kidnapped by a bad person, who comes for you?"

Edgar gripped Harold's hand tightly.

Harold's hand didn't even fit inside the small one holding it. But Edgar's grip was resolute — desperate, almost.

He looked afraid, too.

"You're such a dummy, Edgar."

Before Harold could comfort Edgar, Edwin nudged him.

"Obviously."

"Obviously what?"

Edgar shot back sharply, being called a dummy by his own brother.

Edwin answered easily.

"Edgar and I would come and save you, of course."

"..."

"Oh, right! Uncle, what do I have to do to become a really strong knight like you? Can I be a knight too?"

Unable to keep up with the sudden turn, Harold blinked at him blankly.

Edgar, on the other hand, was used to Edwin, and his face pinched into a frown.

"That again?"

"What do you mean, again! I mean it, Edgar. Look, if I get strong like Uncle, then even if bad people come I can protect you and Uncle!"

"You said you wanted to learn magic."

"Magic is magic, and this is this!"

Edgar snorted at Edwin's words.

But Harold caught the mischief glinting in Edgar's eyes. And Edwin's voice, snapping back at Edgar's laugh, had a laugh threaded through it too.

The two of them fell into a familiar back-and-forth, easy as water flowing.

Harold, who had a much older brother of his own, recognized right away that the bickering was a kind of game just between the two of them. He and his brother used to play at things like that themselves.

"So... Uncle?"

"Hm? What?"

"...Why are you smiling like that?"

"Ha. It's nothing."

Harold stroked Edgar's and Edwin's hair. Under his uncle's hand, Edgar hugged the stuffed bear tighter and whispered.

"...I've never seen you smile like that before, Uncle."

"Really?"

Harold shrugged and met Edgar's eyes.

"Then I'll have to smile more."

Of course, that didn't mean he could smile at his brother's funeral.

Albrecht Bertholdt's funeral was held five days later.

The bite of winter eased, and the wind that blew now carried a warm edge. The snow that had lingered in the shadowed places all melted away. On the bare branches, tender leaves came out and flowers began to bloom, announcing the start. In the mornings the air was full of birdsong, and the faces of people out in the streets grew as bright as the spring sun.

Spring was beginning.

On a day when early spring flowers swayed in the warm wind, Albrecht was laid in the ground, with his family looking on.