Adopt 176
by Cristae176
As summer drew to a close in the north, we began preparations to return to the capital.
Of course, Sir Cherry was going with us, and since he was to enter the capital under his true identity this time, there was much to be arranged.
At last, the day came for us to leave Valua-Shuten Castle.
“My lady, I entrust our lord to your care.”
Sir Fenadel implored me earnestly, like a parent leaving a child at school.
I turned his words over and over in my mind, then replied.
“Sir Fenadel.”
“Yes, Marchioness?”
Well, look at that. He just called me “my lady,” then pretends otherwise?
“Why do you sometimes call me ‘my lady’?”
Sir Fenadel’s eyes flicked to my finger—the one where the ring Sir Cherry had given as a token of promise had rested.
As my eyes narrowed, Sir Fenadel immediately took a step back, stumbling over his words.
“You must have misheard, my lady. I’ll just go help load your baggage now.”
In the end, I had no choice but to ask the person himself.
So, as we rode leisurely toward the capital in the carriage, I asked directly,
“Sir, the ring you gave me as a token—does it have a special name as a gemstone?”
“Yes.”
Cesar’s plain answer only deepened my suspicion.
“You told me it was secondhand.”
“It is, indeed. Only…”
“Only?”
“It’s rather old.”
“How old, exactly?”
“It goes back as far as the history of our family.”
I pondered over his words, then exclaimed in horror,
“Then… it’s an heirloom!”
“You could call it that.”
Who in the world refers to a family heirloom as a ‘secondhand item’!
Suddenly, the memory returned of how the castle’s senior staff scrutinized me on the first day, and how they came out to see me off as I left, entreating me to return to the north.
I swallowed dryly and asked,
“Surely that ring isn’t part of a pair, is it?”
“It is.”
I could only rub my forehead at that.
A matched pair of rings, passed down as family heirlooms.
The meaning was obvious.
They were surely wedding rings worn by the head and lady of the family.
I could only imagine the rumors spreading through the castle, as Sir Cherry remarked in what sounded like a tone of pure sincerity,
“I wanted to give you the most valuable thing in my possession as a token.”
“…Let’s not talk about this anymore.”
If anyone else had said that, I would have accused them of being ridiculous.
For now, I could only hope none of the nobles in the capital would recognize the significance of that ring.
Thus, with the carriage never stopping, we reached Blanche in the early autumn.
Those who greeted us were shocked first by Sir Cherry’s bare face, next by the red in his eyes, and third, by the revelation that he was the Grand Duke of Valua-Shuten.
“Why… was His Grace hiding his real identity?” Terry began running through everything he might have done wrong in front of Sir Cherry.
“The Grand Duke…? Baron, Viscount, Count, Marquess, Duke—that Grand Duke?” Vivien counted the titles off, face draining of color. And then…
“So what. Should I call you ‘Your Grace’ now?” muttered Cheshire, grouchy as ever.
At first, everyone was awkward and wary around Sir Cherry after learning the truth, but as he behaved just as always, things soon returned to normal.
Meanwhile, Leo had to throw himself into the demanding schedule of the Winter Session at the Academy.
Unlike the Summer Session, where nobles with a fencing background honed their skills further, the Winter Session was rough and grueling, filled with commoners admitted solely for their talent, despite a lack of basics.
Even so, Leo never once complained, tending carefully to the Penfel flower he had brought from the north.
“They said it only blooms during the northern summer, but it’s still flowering here in the capital even though summer is over.”
It seemed the Penfel flower, holding strong far from its home, was a quiet comfort to him.
Maybe it was Leo’s diligence in caring for it twice a day, but when autumn had fully ripened in the capital, there was not a single wilted petal to be found.
However, as the biting winds of winter began to howl, the flower could endure no more and started losing its petals one by one.
Leo, too, found adapting to the Winter Session a challenge.
Nevertheless, he endured the cold and the subtle ostracism of classmates who masked their fear with indifference.
Then, one day,
“Lady Belinda, I made a friend in the Winter Session. Could I invite them to the house sometime?”
Leo had achieved top marks in the Winter Session.
There was no trace of flowering left in the pot, but by then, Leo realized something.
As long as the roots lived beneath the soil, blue blossoms would return again with the coming spring.
Chapter 18
“My lady, an invitation from the royal palace.”
One spring day, when the persistent chill left the butler’s ears red, he handed me a purple letter.
At that moment, I realized the inevitable had come.
“My lady?”
“…It’s nothing. Just leave it there.”
Like someone handed a poison apple, I hesitated before finally opening the letter with a paper knife.
The contents were brief.
I was invited to dinner that very evening, if I was free—but just reading the line made me sigh deeply.
‘Ah, how heavy my heart is.’
At the last Assembly meeting, I and the other royalist nobles backing the Crown Prince suffered a stinging defeat.
It had been a meeting to recommend a candidate for the head of the judiciary. In my view, the Count of Partel, whom the Crown Prince favored, was extremely capable.
Moreover, his family was deeply royalist.
If he became magistrate, it would be easy for Mikhail to control the judiciary.
I had confidently expected victory, but then news reached me from Ophelia, who was tirelessly serving as Saintess across the kingdom.
“There are signs that black magicians have been active in Partel’s territory. It’s chaos everywhere—the sanctuary, the mage tower. It’s truly terrible.”
The panic was not limited to the sanctuary and mage tower; the royalist nobles supporting the Crown Prince were in turmoil as well.
For it to be discovered that black magicians were operating in the estate of the very magistrate candidate we recommended as a paragon of virtue—this was the perfect opportunity for the noble faction to attack.
In the end, before we could do anything, the royalists could only watch as a diehard noble faction candidate was chosen.
In short, this dinner invitation from the Crown Prince was likely nothing more than a suffocating gathering for the consolation of the defeated.
“Lady Belinda, are you all right?”
I looked up at Leo, who wore a worried face as I sat brooding in my chair.
I forced a smile and pretended nothing was amiss, but as soon as I climbed into the carriage for the palace, I could no longer contain my sighs.
“I honestly don’t want to go.”
I don’t know how long I grumbled like that.
Sitting across from me, Sir Cherry spoke with a serious look.
“If you dislike it so much, shall I go in your place?”
“…Sir Cherry, do you even know where I’m going?”
“Yes. You’re going to meet the Crown Prince, aren’t you?”
That meant he understood I was making this visit for political reasons. And that meant, from the start, it made no sense for Sir Cherry to go in my place. Yet his offer made it obvious just how much I didn’t want to go.
His unusual attempt at humor made me chuckle.
“Was it really that obvious?”
“Rather—”
As the palace came into view through the carriage window, Sir Cherry reached for the mask he had kept off until now, finishing his sentence.
“I dislike seeing my lady stand before the Crown Prince.”
His tone was curiously sullen.
The note of hostility toward the prince puzzled me, so I asked,
“…Sir, do you have a grudge against His Highness the Crown Prince?”
“No, not at all. I hold him in very high respect. Should he formally ascend the throne, he will surely make a fine king. But he does, after all, know of your childhood, my lady.”
That’s true enough—we were childhood friends, after all.
When the carriage halted, Sir Cherry, ready to escort me, extended his hand.
“What makes me jealous is that he knows a part of your childhood I never will.”