Chapter 80

"Uncle, did you know there's a garden here? Grandma Linda showed us yesterday and it's so pretty! There's one with really long leaves, almost as big as Edgar!"

"Not me, as big as Edwin."

"What are you talking about, Edgar? We're twins, so we're the same height."

"You started it..."

Harold smiled to himself, pleased. But his eyes were still on the boys, watching carefully.

"Grandma said it's a flower from the desert. Flower? Or plant?"

"It has orange flowers, but since it isn't in its native habitat, you can't really see the flower here."

"Oh, right! And, um, you can only grow it in a greenhouse like this one that recreates the environment. Greenhouses like this cost a lot to keep up, so Grandma isn't a fan, but being able to see flowers you don't often get to see, that's not bad!"

"Uncle, you should come look later too."

"But Nabi's not allowed in. Grandma said some of the flowers aren't good for dogs."

"There are flowers like that?"

"Nabi's calm, so he'd probably be fine, but it's better to be careful!"

Gardens, greenhouses, rare foreign plants — none of that interested Harold.

But seeing the boys settle into the sudden move and hotel life without much trouble put him at ease. He'd been worried when Edgar had tossed and turned last night, but he must have slept soundly after dropping off again, because there was no trace of tiredness on him.

That said, worry wasn't the kind of thing that vanished all at once. He'd had no choice but to go with Grisha to the palace yesterday, but... until the commander arrived from the northern base, no one would be calling Harold in. He hoped there'd be enough time to check whether Edgar and Edwin had been shaken by all this.

That kind of shock could hit late. Linda had given him some advice, too. Unless the boys felt safe enough to be their real selves around Harold, they wouldn't easily say when something was uncomfortable or scary.

Especially with the environment changing this often, it'd be hard to settle even if they wanted to...

"Uncle! Are you listening to me?"

"Of course I am."

Harold answered as he brushed a toast crumb off the corner of Edwin's mouth.

"Just the greenhouse and the garden? Anything else?"

"...Is there more to see besides the greenhouse and the garden? The other floors are guest rooms, so there wouldn't be much."

Edwin shook his head as if annoyed by Harold's touch, then suddenly looked up at him.

Catching the smile at the corner of Harold's mouth, Edwin's eyes went wide.

"There's something fun?"

"Well..."

It wasn't Harold's area of interest, but this hotel did have a few things it was known for. Whether the boys would like it, he didn't know, but the few parenting books he had read had all agreed that a variety of experiences in childhood mattered.

If the boys liked it, he'd have more things he could take them to; if they didn't, that was one option he could cross off. Either way was fine.

"Did you know there's an art gallery here?"

"An art gallery?"

"Not big enough to really call a gallery, but..."

Edgar was sipping his milk with a bored look, but Edwin perked up.

Even twins could have tastes this different. Then again, twins or not, the ways he and his brother had been alike could be counted on one hand. Even his parents had said if it weren't for the face, no one anywhere would believe the two of them were brothers.

"There's a well-known piece there too, apparently."

"I want to see!"

Edwin's hand shot up.

"There's no one else, right? Besides us?"

"...Right?"

At that, Edwin broke into a wide grin.

"Then even better!"

Was he still not comfortable around other people? He'd gotten used to Leona, and rather than shying away from Benito he'd actually taken to him, so Harold had thought it was getting better.

"That means I get to see something other people don't!"

"..."

Edgar paused mid-sip and looked at Edwin.

"Hm? What?"

"...Nothing."

"Uncle, you said you weren't going out today, right? Let's go after breakfast!"

Harold wasn't sure whether he should be worried by what Edwin had said.

But watching him laugh with such delight melted the worry away. If they could just forget all the tiresome business and live like this, how good that would be.

Harold calmed Edwin down and passed a napkin to Edgar. Unlike Edwin, who had twisted his whole body trying to escape Harold's touch, Edgar sat prim-faced and wiped his mouth with the napkin.

---

Grisha, of course — but also Wilhelm the royal guard captain and Anne from the watch. Even Gauss had been brought in, and still no one could guess what "they" were after.

Thanks for trusting my judgment, Harold, but I really don't have any guesses either.

Even Grisha had thrown up his hands.

I'd like to know myself what could be worth breaking into the King's Woods for.

Wilhelm had said much the same.

Even with the First Prince kicking up his fuss, was the royal guard supposed to just sit around twiddling its thumbs? Because of Summerflower Palace, we actually stepped up patrols.

And still they got through.

Nobody thought the First Prince would raise that kind of racket.

Wilhelm laid the blame at the First Prince's door. It wasn't wrong.

The Bertholdt estate... nobody's been near it since.

When they'd checked just in case, Anne had also frowned.

Dustin Glenn abducted Edgar and Edwin because... he was trying to open the safe, right?

And since that failed, they were going to try again?

Isn't that the most likely?

Wilhelm and Linda both rejected that theory.

He had no interest in the young masters.

But didn't he try to get into the house?

Yes. He said he had to fetch something Sir Bertholdt had asked for; he showed no curiosity about the young masters.

There's no guarantee the children aren't that "something."

Linda was firm.

If he'd been after the young masters, a quieter method would have served better.

Whether a smoke bomb or a real one, once it had gone off, the pursuing royal guard had given up on taking him alive and shot him dead — to keep any more people from being hurt.

Linda had grabbed the boys and fled the moment the bomb went off. That didn't mean she'd missed how skilled the intruder was. If Linda said this much of him... then yes — if he'd gone the quiet route, he'd have left a much bigger mess behind.

From Harold's point of view, you could call it a stroke of luck.

In this old woman's eyes, sir, that was as quiet as he was going to get.

A quiet method, was it...

Because an ordinary nurse would have seen a royal guard uniform and opened the door. And once inside, whatever he was after, he'd have had free run of the house.

The intruder had said what he was after belonged to Harold, but given that the house had originally been the crown prince's retreat, there was no way to be sure of that. On top of which, the current owner was Grisha.

Grisha Lambert. Son of the young king who'd died too soon. Everyone knew perfectly well who Grisha's real father was, and even the king believed that the legitimacy of the throne lay with Grisha, not with himself. He didn't hide it either.

So was this aimed at Grisha, then?

Or was it a move to find whatever "evidence" Albrecht Bertholdt might have hidden?

If they'd been assuming it was in the Bertholdt estate safe... they might have thought that after the kidnapping, Harold had taken it out of the safe and was keeping it elsewhere. It tracked.

But was it worth this kind of risk? The attempt on Grisha's life had, unusually, gotten the king angry. He'd given a stern order that the culprit was to be identified no matter what. Was that a price worth paying? Or did whoever it was really feel that confident?

If he only knew what was in that journal his brother had left behind in that unbreakable cipher, some of this frustration might have eased.

All right. Let's try something easier to work out, then. Why kill Dustin Glenn?

Silencing him — what else, when you look at it plainly?

So there's really nothing else?

Coming right after he'd reacted to the Doak name... my apologies to Inspector Archibald, but I'll need to look into the watch officers on hospital duty.

Gauss said it with a face that had grown more tired over the last few days. Harold hadn't mentioned it to Gauss, but Anne had said the exact same thing. Both of them would already have their suspicions.

Everyone wanted to deal with the ones who'd actually done the work, or the ones who'd given the orders. But getting them together in one place was hard. The watch, above all, still wanted to look neutral on the surface.

It won't stay that way, though.

Wilhelm had spoken up for Grisha.

Of all places, this was at a hospital. There were casualties. A suspect in custody killed right under the watch's nose. There's no way the watch dodges responsibility on this.

Intelligence was there too, wasn't it?

But it's the watch hospital.

Wilhelm gave a hearty laugh.

And I hear Grisha stirred up quite the scene at the palace. Tomorrow I'll have my own audience with His Majesty, so look forward to it.

Right about now was when Wilhelm would be at the palace.

"Whoa! It's more of a proper thing than I thought!"

When they came down to the gallery after breakfast, Edwin's eyes lit up. Edgar was pulled along reluctantly by Edwin, but he wasn't entirely uninterested either — he looked at the paintings with curious eyes.

Harold followed at a leisurely pace, glancing at the paintings on the walls. He didn't have much interest in art, and honestly, he didn't recognize a single one.

But the gallery was Claudia Reichnek's personal collection. More precisely, the hotel had been converted from the old Reichnek residence, so it wasn't really an art gallery so much as an opening of the Reichnek family's private collection.

"Edgar! Look at this!"

Apparently his earlier line about not wanting other people around had been true — Edwin was laughing and running around.

None of the paintings were within Edwin's reach, but letting him carry on like this wouldn't do much for his manners, so Harold gently reined him in.

"Edwin, no running."

"Sorry, Uncle."

Edwin gave a wide grin, swung his arms out wide, and started walking slowly.

How much of a painting could that boy really recognize? But he was looking so earnestly that Harold couldn't help watching the small dark head with warm amusement.

"..."

The other one, though, was unusually quiet.

Harold looked at Edgar. Following Edwin around the gallery at a slow pace, Edgar had stopped in front of one particular painting. He hadn't moved away even by the time Harold came up beside him to speak.

"Edgar."

"..."

"You like this painting?"

"...It's not that."

Harold looked at the painting that had captured Edgar's attention.

A portrait of a woman. Long blond hair flowing loose, wearing a pale-blue silk dress. Harold glanced at the caption below. Marchioness Renée Reichnek. Two hundred years old.

"...Uncle."

"Yes?"

"..."

Edgar reached up toward Harold. Reading the boy's meaning easily, Harold picked him up.

Harold looked again at the painting Edgar couldn't take his eyes off. That long, loose blond hair. Was he thinking of his mother? Their sister-in-law had had a similar hair color.

"That necklace."

"Necklace?"

"The necklace she's wearing. The blue one."

Only now did Harold notice the necklace Edgar was pointing to. A blue cameo. A horse's head carved in profile.

"When we came into the gallery earlier, there was an ornament that looked like it too."

"Ah. That's a motif the Reichnek family uses a lot."

"Is it their crest?"

"No, not the crest, just something they use often. The Reichnek domain's been known for horses since way back. Whether it was ever the crest, though... Uncle actually doesn't know."

"..."

Edgar's lips moved slightly. What was he getting at? Harold waited without pressing him.

Edgar's face went utterly serious.

"I saw a portrait at the little house."

Harold looked at the blue cameo necklace. Of all the portraits at the little house, he knew exactly which one Edgar meant.