Chapter 62

"..."

Edwin squirmed, uncomfortable, but he didn't pull his hand away from Harold's.

Harold sighed. Edwin's shoulders twitched. From the way he avoided Harold's eyes, he clearly knew what he'd done wrong.

Good. Harold had been wondering how to bring it up.

"Edwin."

At least it wasn't the worst-case scenario.

"Do you know what you did wrong?"

"..."

Edwin pressed his mouth shut.

A stubborn face Harold hadn't seen before. Linda had said once that these boys were almost too little trouble, hardly needed a hand. He supposed it came with being so bright.

Slowly starting to dig his heels in, to show what he didn't like — Harold thought that was actually good for Edwin emotionally. Of course, it would have been nicer if it had been something like sulking over food instead of this.

"Ms. Bleiss came here to help us. You know that, Edwin."

"...Yes."

"So should you treat someone who's come to help us like that? Or shouldn't you?"

"..."

It was a long time before Edwin managed an answer.

"...I shouldn't."

Harold had never thought raising a child would be easy. But no one had ever told him that scolding one would be so hard.

One look at that dejected face and his resolve softened on its own. How was he supposed to scold this? How on earth did every parent in the world manage to scold children like these? A belated respect for his own late mother and father welled up in him.

The boy's head was bowed low, and Harold could see his lower lip jutting out. He could pretty well picture what expression Edwin was wearing.

"Edwin..."

"..."

Edwin scuffed his toe against the blameless floor. Then, unable to hold his temper in any longer, he lifted his head.

"But—!"

His puffed cheeks and screwed-up eyes were full of grievance. Grievance? Why?

But before Harold could really register the surprise, Edwin went slack.

"...Never mind. I'm sorry, Uncle."

"Edwin?"

"I shouldn't have. Just..."

Edwin drew a few shallow breaths in and out before going on. What was going on in that small head Harold couldn't say, but at least the boy looked calmer.

Why he'd needed to calm himself down in the first place — that Harold didn't know.

"...I was just a little startled."

"Startled?"

"Yes. Just, um, I..."

Edwin bit his lip again and hesitated. Harold didn't push him, waited patiently.

"...It's, when someone I don't really know..."

Edwin's voice started to shake.

Harold recognized it right away. Edgar, unstable for a while there, had spoken in exactly that voice right before bursting into tears.

"...I don't like it when they're near Edgar either..."

Edwin sniffled and rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand.

"...So when her hand touched mine, I got startled."

"Edwin..."

"I'm sorry, Uncle..."

Harold let go of the shoulders he'd been holding and cupped the hand rubbing at Edwin's eyes. But Edwin, apparently not wanting his crying seen, wouldn't lower his hand.

Unwilling to force the hand down, Harold pulled Edwin into his arms. Only then did Edwin drop his hand and wrap his arms around Harold's neck.

"Edwin, if something's bothering you, you should have told me."

"B-but, like you said, Uncle, Leona came here to help us... and I was the one who wanted to bring Nabi..."

"I can't help you if I don't know. From now on, tell me. All right?"

"Yes..."

Thankfully Edwin settled quickly.

His face was a little flushed, but his eyes weren't raw from crying. Edwin tried to duck away from Harold's hand as he checked, but he settled quickly enough.

Edwin, cheeks a little flushed, gave a shy smile.

"Feeling better?"

"Yes, Uncle."

"Then you know what you have to do?"

"...Yes."

The smile was quickly replaced by anxiety. But Harold held his gaze steadily. Edwin squirmed, uncomfortable, but nodded.

Harold sighed.

"We'll be taking Nabi home in a bit, so hold on just a little longer. Next time..."

Edwin was already sorry, and once Harold had heard why he'd acted that way, he'd lost the appetite to scold him further.

Reactions to strangers... they'd work on that gradually. Harold said it to Edwin one more time.

"Come to me first."

"Yes, Uncle."

Edwin answered with a determined face. Even so, he was still an eight-year-old. Harold couldn't quite shake the worry.

Someday, no question, this boy was going to pull something that gave Harold a heart attack.

And oblivious to his uncle's fretting, Edwin went back to Nabi. Edgar, still under Nabi's spell, looked up belatedly and blinked at Edwin.

"What was that about?"

"Well..."

Edwin ducked the question and turned to Leona.

"Um, Ms. Bleiss."

"Please call me Leona, Master Edwin."

Edwin stared at his toes and mumbled,

"...About just now, um, I'm sorry. I got surprised, and, um, I panicked."

Leona's eyes widened, then she smiled gently.

"It's all right, Master Edwin."

She pulled a few strips of jerky from her pocket and held them out to Edwin. Catching the scent of treats, Nabi sprang up.

"Shall we give Nabi a snack together?"

"...Yes."

---

Adding one more member to the household — a dog — changed the mood of the house considerably.

At the very least, the boys spent less time sitting still with books and more time running around. Books weren't a bad thing, but Harold, who had no memory of ever sitting still at that age, much preferred the way things were now.

Linda had said as much, but with the change he could see it clearly himself.

How to put it — they looked a bit more their age? Was this what acting like a child actually looked like? It was different from the way they'd begged to ride the horse, too.

"Woof!"

Fortunately, Nabi had settled in well too. Harold had known it from the moment they'd met — this was a clever animal. When Harold had walked him around the property to show him the layout, he'd uncannily worked out which paths were fair game and which weren't. After a scolding from Linda on the first day for digging up the garden, he wouldn't go near the flowerbeds, and he didn't touch the security setup Harold had rigged along the walls either.

The breed didn't have a formal name. A sheepdog common in the south. Since it was mostly kept by the Bertholdt domain's shepherds, people called it a Bertholdt sheepdog, but that wasn't an official name.

For that reason, it was a breed Harold had been familiar with since childhood. He'd never kept one at home, but he had memories of playing with them out in the domain. If he'd known they were this clever, he wouldn't have minded keeping one at the house.

"..."

Harold looked at the dog lying at his feet. Feeling the gaze, Nabi slyly lifted his head to look at Harold.

A wordless pressure. Absently, Harold reached out and stroked Nabi's head. The tail wagged. The feel of it under his palm was so much like petting his nephews that, before he knew it, Harold was ruffling Nabi vigorously with both hands. The tail wagged faster to keep up with Harold.

"Where are the boys? Why are you here on your own?"

"Woof."

"Right..."

He hadn't the skill to understand dog-speak, but figuring that in his own way Nabi was answering, Harold nodded along. The moment Harold's hands slowed, Nabi caught it with uncanny timing and nudged his knee with a thick front paw.

"...Like this?"

"Woof!"

Getting what he wanted, Nabi wagged his tail in delight again.

So this was why people kept dogs...

Even after deciding to get one, Harold had had his doubts. But watching that tail go rapturously back and forth, he thought maybe this would be fine.

Harold had never personally trained a military dog, but he'd watched it done. There were detection dogs at the northern base too. However clever a sheepdog was, it wouldn't match a properly trained military dog, but with a mind this quick, Nabi could serve as a guard dog the way Harold had originally planned.

And Linda would know how to train him.

"Nabi! Dinnertime!"

He'd wondered where the boys had gone, leaving Nabi behind — apparently they'd gone to fetch his food. The wooden bowl Edgar was carrying was piled with cut meat.

Since the food itself needed a knife to prepare, Harold or Linda handled that, but Edgar and Edwin weren't just standing back with their hands empty either.

Catching the scent of meat, Nabi sprang to his feet.

"There you go. Eat up."

Neither boy so much as glanced at their uncle — they stuck close to Nabi and watched him eat. Harold felt a small pang of hurt, then caught himself.

Nose in his bowl and utterly absorbed, Nabi still lifted his head for a moment. Harold stroked his head in approval.

"It's fine. Keep eating."

Nabi gazed steadily at Harold, wagged his tail once, and went back to his food. Only Edgar and Edwin — with no idea why — tilted their heads, then saw Harold smile and turned back to Nabi.

Soon the reason appeared at the end of the wooded path.

"...A visitor? Auntie Anne?"

Edgar looked for the crest on the carriage. Anne had been coming by often lately. Harold shook his head.

"No. Someone else."

"Who's here?"

"Do we know them?"

Not an unmarked carriage, and not one with the ducal crest either. This time it bore the royal guard's crest.

At this rate, next time it'd be a carriage painted with the watch's crest. Harold entertained the pointless thought and rose from the bench.

The carriage stopped in front of the house. A royal guardsman escorting it opened the door.

"Grisha."

His injured leg must have healed — Grisha stepped down without crutches and walked normally.

Grisha Lambert gave a snort and handed Harold a letter.

"You're probably the only person who uses the royal guard as a courier."

"Then you shouldn't have lent me this house."

"Never mind. Turns out the royal guard likes you better than me anyway."

The guardsman who'd caught the exchange looked like he'd just received a blow. Grisha, without his glasses, couldn't see the expression, but Harold could.

"Come by the training ground now and then and take a look. That should do it."

The guardsman's face lit up. Between those hopeful eyes and the fact that he really was in the man's debt, Harold managed an awkward smile.

"Right... if it wouldn't be an imposition."

"Imposition, please. They'll all be thrilled. Won't they?"

"Yes, sir! It would be an honor!"

"The royal guard barracks are close by. Introduce your nephews too. You're practically neighbors."

Just in case, it would be good for them to know his face.

Harold, catching Grisha's meaning, called over the nephew who was standing tensely by Nabi and watching them. Meanwhile Nabi, having finished his meal, gave an enormous yawn.

"Edgar, Edwin. You met him once before, remember?"

Like someone used to a much younger sibling around the twins' age, Grisha bent smoothly at the knees to bring himself to their eye level.

"I'm Grisha, your uncle's friend."

"Hello... My eyesight isn't good, so if I can't tell you two apart, I hope you'll bear with me."

Edgar and Edwin studied the hand held out to them.

The one who moved first, surprisingly, was Edwin. Edwin took Grisha's hand.

"I'm Edwin Bertholdt."

"Hello, Edwin."

After shaking Edwin's hand, Grisha held out his hand to Edgar. A warm smile — the kind that would have made anyone who knew Grisha Lambert rub their eyes — was curving his mouth.

"Hello, Edgar."

"...H-hello."

Edgar took Grisha's hand hesitantly.