Chapter 85

Rosemarie Doak had started her career as a reporter at Today's Summer Square.

She wasn't a particularly high-profile reporter, but every so often one of her pieces made it into the paper. The first time one of Rosemarie's articles ran, the whole family gathered to celebrate. Despite his second daughter's protests that a piece about streetlight-repair complaints wasn't anything to make a fuss over, Baron Doak had cheerfully cut the article out and put it in a frame.

That frame was still there, above the living room fireplace.

His sister had finally left the painful memories behind and gotten her smile back.

By the time articles were coming in too fast to keep framing them all, Leopold had headed north with a much lighter heart. The letters his eldest sister sent often came with a piece bearing Rosemarie Doak's byline tucked inside.

"I didn't know your sister personally."

They'd moved from the front courtyard of the residence inside.

Ricardo, who'd just heard the relevant details from Harold, gladly turned his office over to them. He'd stepped out himself so as not to startle Leopold, who didn't know the story yet. Framing it as consideration for the sergeant was the polite version; the real reason was probably that he didn't want to blunder into the investigation.

Either way, the capital wasn't under the northern base's jurisdiction. Until they'd spoken with the watch, Ricardo stepping in would very likely cause trouble. Calling it a sergeant's personal matter wasn't an airtight out, but it did give him a way to step back.

"Then where did you hear about her, sir?"

The commander himself had lent them his office and told him to talk. Leopold wasn't stupid. Come to think of it, they'd said Sir Bertholdt's older brother — the former Count Bertholdt — had also died in a carriage accident.

"Last winter. My brother died in a carriage accident too."

"..."

His face was still pale, but his eyes had gone sharp.

Leopold had been at the northern base longer than Harold. Cheeky at times, but sharp. There was a reason the commander kept him close.

Leopold had been there when Harold signed his leave papers. And once spring came, the news would have made its way north. The uproar around Count Bertholdt's death had to have been part of it.

Whether the fact that Rosemarie Doak had been riding along in Count Bertholdt's carriage for an interview had also made it up there, he didn't know. Going by the fact that Leopold hadn't known about his own sister, at the very least Leopold clearly hadn't heard.

"When a reporter asked for an interview, my brother... I don't think he wanted to brush off that kind of drive. I don't know. I'd have been up there clearing snow with you at the time."

Harold shrugged.

"How would I know how busy my brother was? He was busy from back when I was still crawling around on the floor."

Harold deliberately kept his tone light and watched Leopold.

He wished Anne or Gauss were here right now. Without instructions from Grisha, he didn't know how much he could say to Leopold.

But if there was any connection between Rosemarie Doak and Dustin Glenn, no one would know better than family. Going by Leopold's reaction, they'd been very close.

"Anyway, my brother took the interview, but he couldn't spare a proper block of time, so he set a condition — it had to be during a carriage ride. Reporter Rosemarie Doak, your sister, agreed. And then."

Harold waved a hand. There'd been an accident.

"..."

Leopold's eyes went dark. His lips twitched and his throat worked.

"Was Count Bertholdt's death an accident?"

He didn't ease into it — he went straight to the heart of it.

Harold shook his head slowly. Leopold's expression shifted into something complicated. It was impossible to tell whether he was disappointed or relieved.

"I don't know either."

"...Sir?"

"What do you think I came down here for? Why do you think the watch sent a request for cooperation?"

"..."

"My brother died in an accident. But whether it was really an accident, I don't know."

"..."

"There's no proof it wasn't. But there's plenty to make you doubt it was."

He didn't say Rosemarie Doak was one of the suspects.

"Then... my sister — was she caught up in the count's business?"

He didn't want the arrow turning this direction. Harold denied it.

"No. Your sister was working as a reporter, but she was also one of my brother's informants at Intelligence. The interview was cover; what was really happening was an exchange of information."

Something Harold couldn't read flickered in Leopold's eyes.

"It's still an active investigation, so I can't tell you the details, but if this wasn't an accident, we'll catch whoever did it. I can promise you that."

"..."

"I know it's sudden. Even so..."

"My second sister."

Leopold spoke abruptly.

"Seven years ago, she lost her fiancé."

"Ah... I'm, sorry to hear that."

"He was murdered."

"..."

"By that serial killer you and Count Archibald caught together."

Harold blinked.

"He was one of the early victims. My sister wasn't herself for years after that."

If Rosemarie Doak had been alive, there would have been things to say — either way, she was dead.

Harold listened quietly.

"It was only after the two of you caught the killer that my sister started to come around. She couldn't become a knight like you, so she wanted to follow Count Archibald into the watch."

"Ah... Count Archibald would have been thrilled to hear that."

"But my father was against it. My sister had been shut up at home for years, and suddenly saying she wanted to join the watch... I was against it too."

"...I understand where the family was coming from."

"Still, she wanted to do something, so she tried this and that. That's how she ended up at the newspaper. She said she couldn't be like you two, but she could write and make people aware."

"..."

"But Count Bertholdt's informant. Could I ask what kind of... what she was doing to help?"

Harold hesitated. But he thought this much was all right to share.

Everyone involved was dead anyway.

"She helped solve cold cases."

Leopold smiled for the first time since arriving at the residence. But his eyes twisted as if he was about to cry.

"...I'm sure my sister was satisfied."

"That she was — well, that's good to hear."

Harold stumbled over the words. Fortunately, Leopold didn't seem to notice Harold's reaction.

He was still shaken by his sister's death, but what mattered to him, it seemed, was the fact that she had been doing what she wanted to be doing.

But if Leopold had been the sort to just accept it and step back, the commander wouldn't have kept him close. Once again, Leopold didn't dance around it.

"Sir Bertholdt, are you continuing to look into the count's accident?"

"I am."

"Is there anything I can help with?"

It was framed as a question, but it wasn't a question at all. Leopold asked with certainty.

"..."

Rosemarie Doak was still under investigation. Whether she'd been an unlucky victim, whether she'd been helping his brother, whether she'd risked her own life to try to kill him — there was no way to know. The discarded Intelligence reports and the ones his brother had hidden weren't enough on their own.

Harold nodded slowly.

"I didn't know you were Rosemarie Doak's brother, but..."

Harold picked his words carefully.

"It's not really... um. It's not that there's anything in particular I need you to do."

"Whatever I can help with, I will."

"So the thing is..."

He'd never needed Anne or Grisha here more. Even Gauss would have brought up Dustin Glenn's name more naturally than he could.

"...Then, uh, have you heard the name Dustin Glenn?"

"Dustin Glenn?"

"One of the suspects. All we know is he works at the paper your sister used to write for."

"Dustin Glenn..."

Leopold murmured the name.

"...No. Not a name I've heard."

"Hm. Never mind, then. The watch and Intelligence are both looking into it — something will turn up."

"But."

Leopold cut in quickly.

"I wasn't in the capital. Even if I don't know, my eldest sister might."

"Your eldest sister..."

"I'll ask her. Or — if she's all right with it, you could come and ask her yourself, Sir Bertholdt. That would be more accurate."

"...You're sure?"

"I'd rather know for certain."

Harold clapped Leopold on the shoulder without saying anything. As long as Harold stayed on with the northern base, this was a face he'd be seeing regularly.

Better to keep things on good terms.

"Talk to your sister first, though. Not everyone will see it the way you and I do."

Leopold looked at Harold, eyes red-rimmed.

"This isn't an order. I know how hard it is to lose family suddenly. So take care of yourself first."

"..."

"If anything comes up, come to me. I have friends in the capital — I can help."

"Thank you, Sir Bertholdt."

Leopold thanked him, tears welling in his eyes.

---

The carriage carrying Leopold pulled away.

Harold only spoke after the carriage had disappeared between the buildings.

"Was that kid actually noble?"

"You heard the name Doak and didn't figure out they were siblings?"

Harold looked at Ricardo. Ricardo looked back, incredulous.

"Doak's a common name."

"Even so. That boy's helped you plenty. And besides, being a noble doesn't count for much these days."

"No, I didn't mean it like that..."

Harold scratched his head.

"Hold on. So he went through the academy too?"

"He was a year behind you."

Harold smiled awkwardly.

"I remembered he had an older sister, but I never put it together that his Doak was that Doak..."

Harold trailed off. Only now did he understand why Anne and Gauss had looked at him the way they had, back when they were talking about Dustin Glenn's murder and Rosemarie Doak's belongings.

Of course they'd known that his Doak was that Doak.

Even if they'd said so on the spot, Harold wouldn't have gone in. Nothing would look much different from how it did now.

Setting aside what kind of person Rosemarie Doak might have been, Harold hadn't wanted to be cruel to the family members who thought their loved one had died in an unfortunate accident.

Well, that was assuming there weren't other problems.

"Anyway... where did you say you're staying now?"

"A hotel in the 5th District. The one House Reichnek runs."

"Ah, the big one on the main strip? And the nephews are doing all right?"

"Yes."

Harold smiled faintly as he answered.

With his brother's death and his nephews' safety on the line, this wasn't a moment to be squeamish either.

Maybe he should pay Viscount Manfred a visit. That man would get him the floor plans of the Doak baron's townhouse without asking any questions.

"Glad the boys are doing all right. Tch, the First Prince..."

Ricardo muttered a curse under his breath, then shook his head.

"Never mind. Your head's full enough as it is — no sense in me piling on. Take good care of the boys."

"Won't we be seeing each other again soon?"

"Just a manner of speaking. What do your nephews like? Should I send them a toy or something?"

"They like books, but they like toys too."

"Books? Eight years old, right? Blood really does tell."

Harold nodded and smiled.

"Yes, it does."

For now, though, he'd wait for Leopold.

Harold glanced in the direction the carriage had disappeared. Pale as his face had been, Leopold's eyes had glittered with something unsettling.

Leopold Doak was going to come find him. Of that Harold was sure.