Chapter 83

"Here already?"

"Should I come back later?"

"Same as ever."

Northern Commander Ricardo Hamilton nodded and looked his subordinate over. Thankfully, this was the version he'd seen day in and day out at the northern base.

When they'd first gotten in touch from the capital, Harold had been so out of it Ricardo had half-worried he'd get lost on the way down. Even now he looked slightly ill at ease, but that had to be the suit — something he almost never wore.

Now wasn't the moment for sentimentality, but Ricardo couldn't help feeling a little moved despite himself. This was the same man who couldn't be bothered to put a coat on even in the dead of winter. Ricardo hadn't exactly raised him, but he still felt a certain pride.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I didn't know you owned clothes like that."

"What... what exactly did you think I was?"

"Something wearing the shape of a human... hm."

"Don't stop there."

Harold snorted.

He'd said it as a joke, but Harold's air really had shifted. He hadn't been a lightweight to start with, but there'd always been the impression he might just up and disappear somewhere if the mood struck. This was a man who'd bounced between postings without a second thought, living however suited him.

Getting him to actually settle at the northern base had cost Ricardo some real effort. He suspected the former Count Bertholdt's influence had been part of what kept Harold there.

"So... uh, was he sent off all right?"

Was that the right way to ask?

Ricardo asked cautiously, uncertain of himself. Among the news that had come flooding in from the capital as the snow melted, what had thrown him most was the story surrounding Count Bertholdt's death.

He'd known about the carriage accident, but Count Bertholdt's funeral had been held long after the fact. There wasn't much of anyone in the count's family besides Harold to run a funeral, so the delay in itself was understandable — but the funeral had happened a full month after Harold had arrived in the capital.

What did that mean? Papers and gazettes only got you so far, but if you couldn't read the meaning of something like that, you had no business being commander of the northern base.

Albrecht Bertholdt hadn't died in a carriage accident...

"Yes. Just my nephews and I, quietly. I didn't want a fuss."

Harold's eyes darkened.

Either way, Ricardo knew Harold well. He braced himself for the possibility that Harold had killed someone.

The city watch had sent a formal notice, and Harold had suddenly started writing proper letters — could it be that...

"You're not thinking something rude about me right now, are you?"

"Well... if it's a legal matter, I don't know much. But I can look into a good lawyer."

Harold's eyes darkened further.

"Why are you bringing up lawyers? There weren't any matters where I needed one... well, not none."

"See!"

"Not the kind of thing you're thinking of, sir."

Ricardo led Harold into the residence as he asked. He held a noble title himself, at least nominally, so he wasn't unfamiliar with the procedures when a house head died.

"How are the nephews? Your letter had me a little worried. They weren't hurt?"

The story of Count Bertholdt's young children being locked up by their butler had become the talk of the northern base after the fact. The general consensus was that Harold would have gone straight for the butler first thing.

"The boys are fine. This morning I spent half the day chasing them around."

"Boys, wasn't it?"

"Yes. Eight years old."

"Prime age for running you ragged."

"They're calmer than most boys their age, apparently."

At the mention of his nephews, the tension in Harold's face eased. Ricardo didn't let it show, but he was mildly surprised those muscles could move that way at all.

"They look like my brother and sister-in-law taken half and half. Anyone who sees them knows right away they're my brother's boys — I catch myself doing a double take now and then."

"And, uh... they don't take after you?"

"I can't really tell, but Anne — Officer Archibald of the city watch — says they take a lot after me too. Says it just goes to show, blood will tell."

"Officer Archibald? The one from your letter?"

"Yes. Our neighbors. I've known her since I was a kid. The boys call her Aunt and adore her."

The interior of the residence was quiet. It had been built as lodgings for northern-base knights when they stayed in the capital. Because the northern commander lived there, it was large and grand, but Ricardo wasn't the type to keep a big retinue around him. His attendants would be scattered somewhere through the place, but it was big enough that they didn't catch the eye.

Ricardo went into the office. Not that he ever actually did any work there.

"So."

"Yes."

"The sergeant was thrilled to hear you'd finally learned how to write a letter."

"..."

"What on earth is going on? You're not thinking of resigning?"

"No. Not that."

Ricardo felt a weight lift. But Harold's face stayed drawn.

"I don't know. How long is my leave for again?"

"...Why?"

"Because I've decided to take a family trip with my nephews soon."

A family trip...

Ricardo nodded gravely.

"What reason could there be to refuse leave for a man looking after his minor nephews? Worst case, I'll transfer you to the capital garrison."

"...Is that possible?"

"Well, not exactly the garrison."

Ricardo scratched his head.

"More like a liaison role. Central Command's been on us for years to fill one, but there've been no volunteers, so I've been ignoring it."

"Ah."

"I'd be glad if you'd take it."

"...Would I have to actually work?"

"You expect to get a salary for free?"

Harold gave an awkward laugh.

"It's a liaison job. There's not much to do. Get called to the palace once in a while to advise. And probably..."

Ricardo shuffled through the papers on the desk, then pulled one out and handed it to Harold.

Harold gave him a look that said why are you handing this to me, but he took it obediently and read it over. When he saw the city watch's crest and date on the first page, he gave a small "ah" and nodded.

"Work like this too, sometimes."

He'd heard Anne had sent a formal notice, but he hadn't known the commander himself had brought it up to the capital. Under Ricardo's gaze, Harold flipped through the papers.

It wasn't a complicated document. Just a request for cooperation in an investigation.

Harold handed the papers back and dropped onto the sofa in the office.

"Where should I even start?"

Ricardo sat down opposite him.

"I'll start with what happened to my nephews. Things got complicated, but it wasn't like this from the start."

"The nephews... I heard about that. The butler."

"That he locked them up? Yes — that's why Officer Archibald stepped in to help. She was worried I'd catch the butler and kill him."

"..."

"Because I actually might have."

Harold being straight about it made it easier, in a way.

Actually, no — not easier at all. Ricardo asked uncomfortably,

"You didn't, though?"

"No. Almost did someone else in, but even for me, doing it in front of the boys was a bit much."

"..."

"Oh — he did end up dead in the end, though. Wasn't me."

Ricardo looked at Harold. Harold sat there placidly, no change in his expression. Apparently misreading Ricardo's look, he added something even more infuriating.

"Really wasn't me."

The aggrieved look on his face only tightened the knot in Ricardo's chest.

"So then..."

"Yes."

"From the start... start from the start. First — the butler?"

"Caught him trying to run, then the First Prince took him from us."

"...I said from the start."

"That's what I'm saying, sir."

---

"...And that's how it happened."

"..."

"Sir?"

"No, wait. I got it. I understand what happened."

Harold shrugged and closed his mouth obediently.

"So..."

"Yes."

"...No, before I say anything more, I need to talk to some other people. I have meetings scheduled with the city watch and the royal guard anyway."

Ricardo thought back to the subtly strange manner of the royal guard when he'd arrived in the capital.

Now that he'd heard Harold's story, he understood why. It made sense they'd only mentioned the watch hospital fire. With something like that going on, the captain of the royal guard would naturally be busy.

"When do you go to the palace?"

"Tomorrow."

"His Majesty may bring things up. So you're not caught off guard."

"Right. Thanks for the warning."

Ricardo had guessed from Harold's letter that something significant was up... he sighed and looked out the window. As if throwing himself out of it might let him escape all this.

As if to mock him, a carriage came racing up and lurched to a stop in front of the residence. Before he knew it, Ricardo had moved to the window.

"Doak?"

"Yes?"

Ricardo frowned and headed for the front door.

At the same time, a dark-haired man practically tumbled out of the carriage. His face was ghost-white, as if he were about to stop breathing.

The man all but threw his wallet at the driver as fare, then staggered toward the residence. When he tripped on the front steps, he didn't stop even as he crawled forward on all fours.

Ricardo, who had seen the man get down from the carriage through the window, opened the front door in a hurry, and his eyes met those of a man crawling up the steps on hands and knees.

"Doak? What's happened?"

Ricardo asked with a flustered face. He was worried too. This was a sergeant who was reserved but did his work well. Ricardo had never seen him this shaken.

"Something wrong at home?"

He'd just been visiting his family, hadn't he? Doak had tried not to let it show, but he couldn't hide how excited he'd been.

"Doak?"

"C— Commander."

"You all right?"

The same man had come back ashen-faced. There was no way not to worry.

"I'm— I'm sorry, Commander."

Doak got unsteadily to his feet. He was still in what he'd worn when he'd left the day before. His coat was badly rumpled, but he didn't appear injured.

"I— I know I came down on official business, but — leave, could I have some leave?"

"Calm down first and tell me what's happened."

"It's..."

He was on his feet, at least, but the pallor didn't leave his face. Doak was pouring cold sweat.

"I— I have two older sisters."

"All right. And?"

"My— my second sister, last winter..."

Doak choked, as if being strangled, before finally getting the words out.

"In— in a carriage accident, she — she — she died."

"Doak! Doak, breathe."

"My sister, my sister..."

"Leopold Doak!"

The firm grip on his shoulders snapped Leopold back to himself. His shoulders ached under the hold, but that ache was what finally anchored him to reality.

Leopold swallowed hard. As his vision cleared, the familiar face of his commander came into focus.

"Leopold. You settled?"

"...Yes."

"Looks like the capital stay is going to run long, so it's fine if you rest. Take as much time as you need before coming back. Don't worry about..."

"Excuse me, Commander."

Ricardo's words were interrupted abruptly. Leopold's eyes went wide at the familiar voice.

"Sir Bertholdt?"

Harold Bertholdt was frowning so deeply that anyone who didn't know him well would have taken it for outright anger. Harold walked straight over to Leopold and asked in a low voice.

"Doak. Sorry, but there's something I need to ask you."

"Yes?"

"Your sister who died. Was her name Rosemarie Doak, by any chance?"

The commander turned to look at Harold. Leopold didn't take his eyes off Harold. If anything, he studied him more closely.

"...How do you know that, Sir Bertholdt?"