Chapter 61
Early morning, Roy stood before the door. A servant opened the bedroom door. Adi was standing by the window, their swollen face showing no signs of subsiding. Scabs and bruises were visible.
Yuls told Roy, “Bring Bert.” Then he shook his head at Adi, gesturing for them to go.
Adi bowed and left with Roy.
“You’re really swollen.”
Roy said. Adi touched their face. Opening their eyes was somewhat uncomfortable.
“Feels like I’ve got a fist stuffed in my mouth.”
“Is it that bad?”
“Let me see—even the blood vessels in your eyes have burst?”
Roy said, lifting Adi’s face. He tried lifting their chin to avoid touching the bruised cheeks, but even that seemed to hurt as their eyes trembled.
“Did the Count usually do this?”
“No, this is the first time.”
“Because of me?”
At Roy’s words, Adi curtly replied, “What?” Though they tried to pretend ignorance, everyone must know. Roy Gaillard knew best of all. He’d known Adi’s skill was good but hadn’t known it was the family’s core technique.
“The swordsmanship.”
“It was worth it.”
“Getting beaten like that?”
It wasn’t just about ‘getting beaten.’ Roy had never thought someone could beat another person like that. Even serfs probably wouldn’t be beaten so severely—the Count seemed to have struck Adi with all his might. Everyone who witnessed it was shocked.
Even among nobles, not all positions were equal. Their status within families varied by gender and age. Still, such brutal violence against an adult male was rare. They might kill each other, but they wouldn’t utterly destroy someone’s dignity before others. Yet Adi seemed used to it.
Why? How could they be used to that?
“Only Grimaldi can defeat Grimaldi. And I thought it would be more satisfying if they lost to their own technique while underestimating their opponent.”
“Just how much do you hate Lev Jid…”
“About forty times more than you imagine.”
Roy’s estimate was already quite high—just how much hatred could that be?
Well, they’d revealed their family’s swordsmanship to an outsider and been beaten like an animal by the Count for it, yet still wore such a satisfied expression—Roy couldn’t understand. Though they must be the next Count, it seemed no one treated them as such.
“Roy.”
Adi said. Starting as if his thoughts had been discovered, Roy asked “What?” to which they replied “Be careful.”
“Count Grimaldi might not leave you alone.”
Well, anyone would react that way if their family’s swordsmanship leaked out. Knights tended to be like that.
“When the festival ends, go south quickly. Understand? Ask for your transfer orders soon.”
“…Did you care about me that much?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Even knowing this would happen.”
“…”
What nonsense is this now.
Though Adi had no particular ill feelings toward Roy and actually liked his friendliness, they didn’t consider him precious. While one might think him arrogant from his overflowing self-confidence, seeing him tear up like this made them wonder if he was more tender-hearted than arrogant…
“Medicine? Did you apply any?”
“Yes.”
“Want to go to the temple? Or a mage? Wouldn’t it be better to heal quickly?”
“No. The Count would hate that more.”
Roy nodded.
“You can’t go anywhere with that face.”
“Doesn’t matter since I work nights anyway.”
Adi said, opening the door. Bert, properly dressed for once, was reading a newspaper.
“Sir, His Grace is looking for you.”
Roy said. Bert responded “Oh?” and stood up. He looked at Adi steadily. His gaze seemed to hold something like sympathy. Placing a hand lightly on Adi’s shoulder, Bert said:
“Go on. Adi… rest today. I’ll tell him.”
“I’m fine.”
“Rest when told to rest.”
Adi pressed their lips together. Beside them, Roy encouraged them to rest, saying it was the right thing to do.
“Between the assassins before and this… you seem to get hurt a lot.”
“I’ll take better care of myself.”
That wasn’t what he meant. Looking troubled, Bert said, “When you get hurt often, it upsets those around you,” but Adi just nodded with an uncomprehending expression.
Bert left with Roy. Adi remained alone in the lounge, standing still before sitting at the table. The sky remained gloomy, the air seemingly full of moisture. It made the grass smell stronger.
It was strange. The Duke last night had been much more… strange than expected.
They’d thought he would act differently after learning they were a woman, but he hadn’t been much different from usual. He just told them to watch from the sofa, and after tossing and turning unable to sleep, finally told them to stay in the adjoining room. An absurd request—telling a knight to stay in the adjoining room.
And.
“It was you.”
Adi spoke into the air. The exact words the Duke had said yesterday.
What he’d said after kissing them.
“What did that mean?”
❖ ❖ ❖
When Bert and Roy returned, the Duke had finished dressing. Behind him, a servant was tying up his hair, while another tied his cravat in front. The humid weather had made the fabric quite thin.
Bert handed the newspaper he’d brought to Yuls. Taking it, Yuls nodded. It meant to go to the reception room. Reaching it through the gallery, Yuls sat on the sofa and said:
“I’m thinking of taking Adi to Woodpecker.”
Bert was skeptical. Not because he opposed taking Adrian Grimaldi, but because he thought Adi wouldn’t go to Woodpecker. But after seeing yesterday’s events, it seemed possible.
“If they dislike Woodpecker, we’ll have to send them to Ionad first. But Claude can’t be trusted, so let’s take them with us for now. Process the transfer papers to Woodpecker.”
“Understood.”
It wasn’t unusual for nobles to take their Palesa guard knights to their territories. Roy had already submitted his transfer application. One more person wouldn’t change anything. Only, it was uncertain whether the Second Knights Division would readily release them.
“Better process it quickly. Before the Count moves.”
Yuls said. Bert gestured to Roy. Understanding quickly, Roy rushed out. He needed to bring the transfer papers and submit them faster than anyone.
Watching Roy leave, Yuls raised his head to look at Bert and his servants. Despite expectations of a bad mood after yesterday’s atmosphere, Yuls seemed pleased.
Seeing the smile at his lips, Bert asked, “Do you have some good idea?” Yuls shook his head.
“Do you believe in destiny, Bert?”
What nonsense is this now? Bert shook his head.
Sometimes people worship the goddess of destiny and think humans follow predetermined paths, but Bert was different. One’s life is the result of one’s actions. Julius agreed with Bert on this point.
“About Adrina Grimaldi.”
“Do you mean Adrina Grimaldi’s destiny transferred to Adrian?”
To Bert’s following words, Yuls, staring into space, answered “Yes.” Though the intervening silence had seemed to deny Bert’s words, the positive response was puzzling.
“I think I believe in destiny.”
The servants’ gazes crossed momentarily. As if checking if they’d heard correctly. Our master isn’t the type to say such things.
“Is it because I’m a witch’s son? Romantic, isn’t it?”
…Who are you?
The servants’ atmosphere grew unsettled, wondering if he might be suffering from delusions from lack of sleep last night.
“She didn’t completely hate me, it seems.”
“If by ‘she’ you mean the witch, though she cursed you, she valued you quite dearly.”
Bert said. The young Yuls hadn’t agreed.
“I’ve sometimes thought: if I’d been born female, would she not have abandoned me?”
Witches pass down through the maternal line. They conceive from other races’ seeds and only birth females. As if they were one being, a witch takes her mother’s form, and that mother took her mother’s mother’s form. Until Julius Woodpecker was born.
“Of course, I know it’s advantageous to live as a male in human society. But witch society is different. I thought she would hate me for being born a mutation.”
The son of the Oak Forest Witch.
“But just in a different way.”
There was no rejection. Because he didn’t exist in the first place.
“I think it was appropriate arrangement.”
Thus there was no recognition either.
The witch didn’t acknowledge the child she bore as her own. Because that child was born human.
