Chapter 41

Intelligence was in the Third District.

No nameplate. From outside, it looked like nothing more than an ordinary small office. The fact that this tiny building was Intelligence wasn't common knowledge. Only those in the know could find their way to it.

And in all likelihood, this wasn't the actual Intelligence headquarters. Whether there was a hidden passage inside that office connecting to the real one, or whether they only revealed the real headquarters to vetted personnel — none of that was Harold's problem.

Harold paced the reception room on Intelligence's first floor, making no effort to hide his anger.

How long had he been waiting?

Viscount Gauss Manfred came into the reception room with a puzzled expression.

"Sir Bertholdt? What's the matter?"

"This."

Harold threw the old letter at Gauss.

It was the letter addressed to Cecilia Barbosa from four years earlier.

"Explain."

Gauss blinked at the name Cecilia Barbosa on the envelope, then read the letter.

His eyes moved quickly.

"Are you telling me Intelligence didn't know about this?"

"..."

"Even our family lawyer figured out right away that my sister-in-law was the one who hired him."

Right. That was the problem.

Mattheus had said that Adrien Renard had been hired personally just before Cecilia's disappearance. Because the Count and Countess had hired him themselves, Mattheus had had little to do with it.

But Mattheus had still checked the employment contract. Nowhere in it was there any mention of Adrien Renard having worked overseas, much less under the Barbosa family. Harold had seen it himself.

But the Adrien Renard described in this letter was another matter entirely.

If his sister-in-law had known, then of course his brother had known too. Even in the unlikely case that his sister-in-law hadn't told him, his brother — who would have combed her lab from top to bottom — would have found out sooner or later.

Which made it strange.

Whether he'd known from the start or only figured it out later, either way something didn't add up.

"Was my brother involved in this?"

"..."

"Did my brother personally erase Adrien Renard's records?"

He couldn't guess what his brother had been thinking.

Anne almost certainly hadn't known about Adrien Renard. Anne's authority was concentrated in the capital. Adrien Renard wasn't from the capital. And whatever records remained would have been doctored by "Albrecht Bertholdt" in any case.

If his brother had gone through Intelligence, then his aide Gauss Manfred had to know. Even if his brother had lost his mind one day and erased Adrien Renard's records single-handedly, Intelligence should have caught it. That was the whole point of the place.

Adrien Renard was a wanted man.

Had his brother buried it?

Had Intelligence?

Or Mattheus?

Was there a reason for it? Or wasn't there? Why in the world?

His insides were in knots.

He wanted to shout. Would breaking something take the edge off? But he couldn't bring himself to, so Harold only clenched his fists.

Harold had been raised as a human being, not an animal. Which meant, at the very least, he had to hear the man out. Gauss might not have known. Or if he had, there might be a valid reason he hadn't said so.

Or Intelligence really was that incompetent.

"Hm."

Despite the murderous look fixed on him, Gauss maintained his composure and cleared his throat.

A desk-bound official was someone Harold could take apart one-handed. Harold watched him unblinking, the way a predator watches its prey.

"I hadn't realized the Count had left this behind."

Gauss didn't deny the suspicion.

Watching him nod so brazenly sent a flash of heat to Harold's face.

"The Count did leave it out on purpose, and I helped him. It's something only a handful of people inside Intelligence know."

But what came next was enough to make Harold swallow the anger back down.

At the very least, this hadn't been Gauss Manfred or Intelligence acting on their own.

"Adrien Renard himself is... nothing to write home about. Of course, he needs to answer for what he did to your nephews. But he isn't the one who orchestrated all of it."

Gauss folded the letter neatly and handed it back.

Harold took it without taking his eyes off Gauss's face.

"There was some debate about whether to tell you about him, Sir Bertholdt. But the Director opposed it."

"...Director?"

"Yes. The late Count Bertholdt's successor."

Right... of course there would be a new Director.

Leaving a post like that empty was too dangerous.

"Why? Because I'm an outsider?"

"You could hardly be called a complete outsider, Sir Bertholdt."

Then why hide it from him?

Perhaps reading Harold's expression, Gauss gave a wry smile.

"The Director asked me to pass on a message if you came looking."

"...?"

"If you don't want to get caught up in something troublesome, turn around and go home."

Words he'd heard before. Harold's mouth worked silently before he managed to speak.

"That new Director wouldn't happen to be —"

"That's as far as I can go. Anything more can't be shared with an outsider."

"..."

It was obvious who had said it. He'd been told that it was thanks to his brother that he could come back into the country. Now he understood exactly what that had meant.

"For what it's worth, Count Archibald has probably had a version of the same conversation."

"...The city watch too?"

"Who can say. The watch always wants to stay neutral, doesn't it? Given what the watch has been through historically, it isn't hard to see why."

With impeccable etiquette, Gauss opened the door himself and saw Harold out.

By the time he stepped out of Intelligence, the anger he'd come in with was gone. That didn't mean the knot in his chest had loosened.

"...Damn it."

Harold raked his hands through his hair, then raised one to hail a passing carriage.

---

"Shall I bring you something to drink as well, young masters?"

"I can do it!"

Having wheedled sweets out of Harold, the twins bolted for the kitchen.

Edgar set out the cups; Edwin poured the milk. Then, each carrying his own, they trotted up the stairs.

Part of him felt a small pang at how much less they clung to him now, but seeing them settle in was a relief too.

At least the sight of their carefree smiles eased the knot inside him a little. Even if, in reality, nothing had actually been solved.

He'd thought about asking Linda about the new Intelligence Director, but he gave up on that before he even got home. Grisha wouldn't have told her, and even if Linda did know, she wasn't going to tell Harold.

"Sir Harold."

But as Harold started to follow the boys up the stairs, Linda caught him.

"That reminds me — the... garden? The herbs? Did the planting go all right? Are the boys enjoying it?"

Harold spoke as his eyes went to the small pots lined up by the kitchen window.

"The plant encyclopedia... Edwin says his father had one, but do you think the boys would even be able to read it? A book of my brother's isn't going to be at their level..."

Maybe it would be better to take them to a bookstore.

The boys could pick out the books they wanted right there, and being cooped up at home wasn't good for them. No — Harold changed his mind at once. He still wanted to avoid places with a lot of strangers, so rather than that...

"Sir Harold."

Linda called him again.

Only then did Harold notice her face. Linda was looking at him with a settled, serious look in her eyes.

"There's something I need to tell you about your nephews."

"...What is it?"

"It isn't your fault, Sir Harold."

Linda relayed the conversation she'd had with the boys while Harold had been out.

About Edgar, who'd been terrified their uncle wouldn't come back like their father, and Edwin, who'd stubbornly kept insisting that of course their uncle would come back.

"..."

Harold's throat tightened.

"Edgar and Edwin..."

"I'll say it again — this isn't your fault, Sir Harold. It was a sudden accident."

"..."

"It's only natural for the young masters to feel anxious."

Harold let out a long sigh and buried his face in his hands.

Hard.

Of course he hadn't imagined raising children would be easy. But this was a different kind of problem, wasn't it. Even for an adult, the sudden death of family was hard to accept.

He couldn't force the children to just get over it. Nor was that even something you could make happen.

"I'll... stay near the boys for the time being."

"Weren't there things you had to attend to?"

"..."

His brother's death, and the suspicious business surrounding it.

Getting to the bottom of that was important.

But was it more important than the children?

Grisha's words came back to him. If he didn't want to get tangled up in something troublesome, take the boys somewhere safe.

Once you set foot in, safety couldn't be guaranteed.

It was rare for Grisha to speak with that kind of certainty. The new Intelligence Director.

Just take the boys as they were... go somewhere far off, somewhere with no ties to any of it...

"I understand you're worried about your nephews. But indulging their every whim isn't the answer either."

"...I wouldn't exactly call it indulgence."

"No. It isn't. But, Sir Harold. However much you might want to, you can't be at the boys' side every hour of the day."

"But —"

"Loving and protecting them is one thing; coddling them without limit is another. And you mustn't mistake your own need for the children's."

Harold's shoulders drew in. Linda's words had hit the mark.

Hiding the boys away wasn't a solution in itself.

"You've lost family too, Sir Harold. It has to be tearing at you. Don't try to shoulder all of it alone."

"..."

"I came here to help you."

Linda spoke gently and took Harold's hand. Harold hesitated, then raised his head.

In place of her usual coolness, Linda's voice was warm.

"There's no clean answer to this. But the young masters have you, Sir Harold. And you have them."

The warmth coming through her hand felt good.

Once the storm of emotion settled, the practical questions took its place.

Was there really such a thing as a safe place?

"...Thank you, Linda."

"At least you're honest about it. Master Grisha never has been."

"Him..."

Harold gave an awkward smile.

"You've no idea how much our young lady used to worry over him. The young masters will be all right."

Linda brought Harold a cup of warm herbal tea.

He wasn't fond of tea, but even so, having something warm in him helped.

"Time doesn't solve everything, but sometimes there are things that need time..."

Nodding along at Linda's words, Harold looked down into his cup.

...A safe place.

Someone had already gone after the boys once. There was evidence tying the whole business to a neighboring country on bad terms with Alharn.

A man had been murdered at the domain.

Whoever it was had had the nerve to crawl all the way into the King's Woods and lie to his face.

Going back to the domain wasn't an option.

If he asked Grisha, Grisha would help. But would anywhere he pointed them actually be safe?

Wouldn't it be more certain to find the root of it and cut it out?

"...Were you expecting more visitors today, Sir Harold?"

"Hm? No. I wasn't..."

Half-lost in his own thoughts, Harold caught the sound of hoofbeats coming in fast, a beat late. Not the easy pace of the royal guard on their usual patrol.

At the same moment Harold and Linda stepped out to the front door, a royal guardsman who'd just reached the front gate all but tumbled off his horse and came running.

"What is it?"

"S-Sir Bertholdt — urgent —"

Harold snatched the letter from the guardsman's hand.

Written on the front of the envelope was the name of a man he'd been face to face with only hours before.

Gauss Manfred.