In the office of the Marquis of Frittil, the marquis sat facing his daughter as if in a standoff.
Rante Frittil was glaring at him, while the marquis’s eyes were dull and unfocused, merely looking in her direction. Yet the atmosphere between them was astoundingly grim.
“What are you talking about?”
Rante Frittil’s voice was sharp, honed like a blade. Though she didn’t raise her voice, the intensity of her emotions was clear.
It was a menacing tone for a daughter to use toward her father, but the marquis paid no mind and leisurely sipped his tea.
“I’ve already told you before, haven’t I? We’ll use Bethelgius and then discard him.”
“You weren’t just talking about Bethelgius now.”
“Then is the idea of becoming a duke so shocking to you?”
“Father.”
“Rante, since the founding of Solaris, the Frittil family has always been a marquisate. For such a prestigious and grand house like ours to be pushed down by the barrier of rank, always under the dukes—can you believe how long it’s been since we’ve had to endure such disrespect?
Every Marquis of Frittil who has sat in this seat has had one dream: to stand just below the emperor. Do you truly think that’s such an outrageous ambition?”
“Don’t underestimate Rubiette.”
“Ha! Underestimate? Rante, it’s you who overestimates them. All we have to do is wait for Rubiette to fall. Why should we fear Rubiette when we aren’t the ones doing anything?”
Rante bit her lower lip without replying, as his words sounded plausible on the surface.
“His Majesty the Emperor will support Bethelgius. No matter how powerful Rubiette may seem, they cannot go against the emperor’s will. With such clear evidence of their plot against the imperial family, they won’t be able to resist and will face complete ruin.”
“Fine. That’s all well and good. But what about Bethelgius? Once Bethelgius devours Rubiette, they won’t just disappear. Bethelgius’s power will grow significantly!”
“You’re making me repeat myself. We already have decisive evidence to get rid of Bethelgius.”
“Yes! The evidence brought by Alexia Goosefoot, that woman of no standing!”
Rante slammed her hand on the desk, tipping over the teacup and spilling tea across the documents.
Yet the marquis merely glanced down at her with those oddly clouded eyes. Then, without warning, his face flushed red with anger.
“What do you think you’re doing, Rante!”
“You expect me to believe it without even showing me? What kind of fool would trust that?”
“Are you questioning your father’s judgment? I am the head of Frittil! It’s up to me to decide whether to show such important evidence to an heir who’s not even fully grown!”
Watching her father yell, knocking everything off the desk, was nothing short of disgraceful.
Since when had her father aged into such a pitiful old man? Rante scoffed coldly.
“Then you shouldn’t have brought it up in the first place. To spew such absurdities and expect me to follow blindly… It seems you really have aged, Father.”
“Rante Frittil!”
“I’ll be leaving now. I won’t indulge this nonsense any longer.”
Rante strode toward the door. The marquis, veins bulging in his neck, shouted after her retreating figure.
“Don’t act rashly, Rante! If you ruin everything, even as my daughter, I won’t spare you!”
Without pretending to listen, Rante slammed the door behind her. But inside, she was just as furious as her father.
The maids walking through the corridor shrank back, bowing their heads as they noticed her ferocious expression. Rante stormed across the hallway, not bothering to hide her anger.
But on her third step, a soft voice from behind stopped her in her tracks.
“You seem quite upset, Miss.”
“Alexia Goosefoot.”
Rante spun around. The sight of the maid’s smug smile did nothing to improve her mood. Without a moment’s hesitation, Rante raised her hand.
With a loud crack, one side of Alexia’s face turned bright red. Yet, the maid, showing no sign of surprise, calmly straightened her head and smiled.
“The maids are watching.”
“I wasn’t aware those lowly creatures had eyes.”
“You’ve just come from the office, haven’t you?”
“Do I have to report my schedule to someone like you?”
“Miss, I understand I may seem suspicious.”
“Do people who understand that act so disgracefully?”
“But please, just trust me this once, Miss.”
Her soft voice lowered to a whisper, like a snake hissing.
“If you follow along, won’t you be the one to gain the most? Doesn’t the title of Duchess Frittil tempt you at all?”
“Shut your mouth, Goosefoot, unless you want me to cut off your head.”
“My, such harsh words from you, Miss.”
Alexia let out a small laugh. Though she covered her mouth in a gesture resembling that of an elegant lady, to Rante it was nothing but a poor imitation from a lowly maid.
“Miss Rante, do you know why Miss Renier died?”
“What?”
“Do you really believe she died of a heart attack?”
She doesn’t know her place.
Rante grabbed Alexia by the hair and flung her against the wall.
A deafening thud reverberated through the room, and the passing maids couldn’t help but let out short screams.
Without releasing her grip on Alexia’s hair, Rante bent down and brought her face close to the maid’s. A chilling smile curved Rante’s lips.
“What nonsense are you spewing? Do I look stupid enough to dance to your tune?”
“…Miss Renier tried to do something dangerous to Madam Bethelgius. That’s why she was killed.”
Rante had expected her to be intimidated by now, but Alexia remained completely unperturbed.
It was Rante who wavered instead.
What?
Alexia smiled, despite her disheveled appearance, as she saw the uncertainty flicker in Rante’s eyes.
“If you don’t believe me, feel free to investigate. Look into what really happened at that hunting tournament. Though, I doubt you’ll find much, given how flawlessly the marquis handled everything.”
“You tell me to investigate when there’s no evidence? You must really think I’m a fool.”
“But Miss, didn’t you find it strange? Miss Renier, who was perfectly healthy, suddenly dying of a heart attack. There were no signs, no poison… If you’re going to kill someone like that, I know a certain way.”
Alexia’s lips twisted as she mouthed the word slowly. Magic.
“Think it over carefully, Miss.”
Alexia slipped out of Rante’s now-weakened grip.
Without even looking back at her, Rante stared blankly at the wall, lost in thought.
“I have to go now; the marquis is calling for me. Thank you for your time.”
Alexia walked past Rante.
It was only after a moment that Rante, regaining her senses, let out a breathless laugh. To think she had been ignored by a mere maid—Rante Frittil’s situation had become truly laughable.
However, as Alexia’s words left her with much to ponder, Rante let the maid go without further incident and walked in the opposite direction, her steps slow and uneven.
As Alexia adjusted her hair while walking, she suddenly glanced back. Her eyes settled on the nape of Rante’s neck.
For a brief moment, a faint black magic circle appeared on her pale skin, then quickly faded as if melting into it. The moment Alexia confirmed this, Rante turned the corner.
Watching Rante disappear, Alexia laughed out loud.
Pathetic fools. They’re so easy.
* * *
When Goyo entered the parlor, she was greeted by a face that had become all too familiar. The word “guest” seemed almost absurd now.
However, there was something slightly different about his appearance today.
He wasn’t wearing his usual informal uniform, but a formal white one. His hair, slicked back with oil, gave him a dignified and imposing air. He looked like a different person altogether.
Goyo started to call out her friend’s name, but stopped and closed her mouth.
In contrast, Rajin, who had been quietly watching the door open, knelt on one knee the moment their eyes met. Her head bowed, and Goyo’s shoulders twitched slightly at the formal display.
Then, a rigid voice followed.
“I am Rajin Eliom, newly appointed today to the 1st Knights of Bethelgius. It is my honor to greet you for the first time, Madam Goyo Bethelgius, mistress of the Bethelgius household.”
It was an official greeting that she hadn’t even received when she first entered the marquis’s mansion.
Feeling awkward and flustered by the situation, Goyo glanced down at Rajin as if seeking help, but the knight showed no sign of breaking her formality until she acknowledged her greeting.
With no other choice, Goyo’s lips trembled as she spoke.
“…I, Goyo Bethelgius, express my gratitude for your loyalty, Sir Rajin.”
Only then did Rajin rise from her knee. Her serious expression eased back to its usual, and Goyo swallowed a small sigh of relief.
With her legs feeling weak, Goyo sat down on the sofa, and Rajin, familiar with the routine, took a seat across from her.
“That startled me.”
“It was a formal notice of my official induction into the Bethelgius family.”
“You didn’t have to go that far, though, did you?”
“Hmm… others seemed to appreciate it.”
“Even Annecy?”
“Huh? Oh, I don’t do it for the Marquis.”
It doesn’t have much effect on men.
Rajin casually commented as she bit into a cookie that the maid had brought.
“You really do love to complain about how much attention you get from women, don’t you?”
“This is just part of a servant’s duties. But since Madam Goyo has spoken, I’ll keep it in mind.”
“But it’s still daylight. How did you manage to come during working hours?”
“I was told to make my introduction and then leave for the day. Since I’ve finished that, I’m back as your friend now.”
“Do you speak formally all the time when you’re on duty?”
“Of course.”
That’s simple enough. Goyo sighed as she spoke. Then, a sudden question made her tilt her head.
“Come to think of it, doesn’t the Eliom family have their own knight order? Most noble houses from the rank of count and up have private knight orders.”
“Yeah, we do.”
“Then why do you keep moving between different knight orders?”
It was a lighthearted question, but it seemed to carry more weight than Goyo had anticipated.
Rajin looked momentarily flustered, brushing the back of her head with her hand.
Maybe there’s a story behind it. Goyo wondered if she should change the subject, but then Rajin started to speak.
“To get straight to the point… Iel doesn’t like the idea of me wielding a sword.”
“The viscount? But… you have talent.”
“It’s not just about talent. Remember how I was always interested in magic when we were younger?”
“You mentioned it the first time we met. Of course, I remember.”
Rajin’s eyes widened, then softened with a fond smile.
“Back then, I was even more obsessed with it than I am now. You see, my mother was ill when I was a child. She had a weak constitution, and every time she caught a minor illness, her health would deteriorate little by little.
Priests wouldn’t come for minor ailments, so only wizards capable of healing magic would visit occasionally. And each time, my mother would get better for a while.”
“Oh, I see.”
“That’s why I wanted to learn magic. I thought I could heal my mother. It started with healing magic, but later I grew interested in other types of magic, too.”
I wasn’t completely without talent, after all.
“I even tried the magic stone test. I didn’t have an overwhelming aptitude, but it seemed like with effort, I could at least manage to be average.”
“Then why didn’t you pursue it?”
“Just when I was about to start learning seriously, my mother passed away.”
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