Prologue: The Tale of a Certain Noble Family

Somewhere under the gentle spring sun, a mansion’s courtyard was flooded with light. Birdsong chimed from branches and filled the air. Under the shade of a tree, a man was sitting on a bench.

The man’s features were sculpted and handsome, and there was no doubt that he’d been quite the lady-killer back in the day. However, the deep wrinkles lining his face and his snow-white hair told the story of a long life. This man, whose years were layered deep like the rings of a tree, was nodding off where he sat. As he sailed off into the land of dreams, a little bird flew down to join him.

The picturesque tableau might as well have been a piece of artwork done up with an artist’s paintbrush, perhaps called A Peaceful Spring Afternoon in the Garden.

The shadow of a petite girl fell upon the bench. “Good afternoon, great-grandfather,” the young girl said in greeting.

The old man opened his eyes and smiled gently. “And to you, Emilia. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

Emilia returned his smile with one of her own, beatific like that of an angel’s, shining with adoration for her great-grandfather. She was spunky and full of energy. “Tell me a story, the one about my great-grandaunt!” she said, voice bursting out.

“You sure love that story, don’t you?”

“It’s my favorite!” she exclaimed. “Great-grandaunt is gentle, but she’s tougher than anyone else.”

The old man sighed. Blood will tell, and all that. His little sister had been a tomboy at Emilia’s age too. A grin tugged at his face from the memory. “All right. I’ll tell you the story again,” he said, giving in to his cherished great-granddaughter’s coaxing. “Do you remember the promise our family made?”

“Of course!” she declared with pride. “We of the Eimoor countship promise to pass down the tale of our family’s savior, Master Eizo Tanya, in perpetuity.”

“Very good, very good,” he said, stroking her head. She beamed with happiness, the perfect twin of a golden retriever with its tail wagging.

The promise was to be inherited by the old man’s direct successor, Emilia’s grandfather, but the story was a popular one among the family and had been told over and over again. When the old man had originally made this promise, the other party had pushed back, saying, “I, too, owe you a great debt, so please don’t concern yourself.” Nevertheless, the favor had been so precious to the old man and could not truly be repaid. To tell a story was the least he could do in remembrance.

To his great-granddaughter, the old man mused aloud, “Now then, where shall we begin?”

“From when Master Eizo and great-grandaunt first meet!”

“All the way from the beginning?”

“Great-grandaunt once said that ‘No one is tougher than a woman in love,’ didn’t she?” Emilia said excitedly, her words tripping over one another. “I want to be just like her one day, so I have to study everything! From when they met!”

The old man smiled, happiness blooming in his heart. “I see, I see.”

He rested his head in his hands for a moment. The old man had been wanting to ask his grandson, Emilia’s father, how Emilia’s studies were proceeding, but his grandson reminded him too much of himself when he was at that age. His grandson would likely answer “It’s just the family history.” The conversation would end there, and the old man would ask no further.

And so, he set the matter aside and started to search through his mind. Ah, how nostalgic. The memories of those days hadn’t dulled one bit, painted in fresh and vivid colors. He recalled the open grin of the man he called his best friend—hopefully, it wasn’t one-sided—and the genuinely happy smile of his younger sister. He pulled apart the threads of the story from his memories and weaved them in together with what he’d heard from his little sister. Then, he dove in.

“It started on a day which was neither sunny nor nice...”