Chapter 63
A middle-aged man who had descended the stairs pushed through the servants lined up along the corridor and walked over with heavy, dragging steps.
Akenaus stared intently at his father's face drawing gradually nearer. The man possessed caramel-streaked blond hair and pale blue eyes—commonly cited as the very epitome of an intellectual, refined image—and aside from his tall stature, he bore almost no resemblance to his two sons.
There was some variation, but the hair nearly black, the darkly deep irises, and the delicately refined atmosphere of their appearances were all traits inherited from their mother. Ejekail at least resembled their father in having a large frame and muscular build, whereas Akenaus had inherited their mother's physique and fell into the slender category.
“Ah, Father. You were home. Your study was empty, so I did not know.”
Akenaus gritted his teeth and spoke with forced levity. Even so, his father's expression did not change. His deeply furrowed gaze passed over Akenaus's face and slowly dropped to the rifle clutched in his hand.
“What is that in your hand?”
A click of the tongue rang out. It was a reaction he faced so often these days that he felt no embarrassment.
“I heard you came in drunk again today. It seems that head of yours has finally forgotten how to distinguish time and place as well?”
At his father's scolding, Akenaus slowly twisted his mouth. His lips smiled, but his eyes chilled and darkened.
“If you're going to act like a drunk, keep it within bounds. Put it down.”
“I've certainly been rather lax lately. Now I'm trying to come to my senses and mind the time and place.”
Rather than obeying his father's command, Akenaus adjusted his grip on the rifle.
“Speaking of which, there was an interesting bit of news that reached my ears, Father.”
He did not speak in euphemisms. In an instant, the atmosphere surrounding the mansion plummeted.
“You don't even ask what news. I suppose you already know everything.”
“If it's news that reaches your ears, it should naturally reach mine first, as the head of the household.”
His father did not deny the matter Akenaus had subtly broached. Doubts still remained, but at the very least, the conclusion was now certain. Whatever means had been used, Ejekail's eyesight had been restored.
Moreover, his father had been involved in that process. He had protected Ejekail, going so far as to gag the messengers and thoroughly exclude Akenaus from the information.
It was a suffocating sense of crisis. Akenaus erased even the smile he had been wearing without sincerity.
“So don't I need at least one means to protect myself?”
“Do you think that gives you reason to fire a gun recklessly inside the house?”
“Then you should have properly established the eldest son's authority from the start.”
This was truly his father's great fault. He himself had been born the eldest and naturally inherited Valdemaera, enjoying its benefits his whole life—so why had he instilled competition among his children and brought about the present situation?
It was the same in any household. If the established order was overturned, ruin followed. This was all the more true for a family like Valdemaera, with so much honor and wealth to inherit.
His father should never have hinted that he intended to pass the family over to Ejekail, the younger brother, instead of himself, the elder. And he should have instilled in him the certainty that his current position would be maintained. If the hierarchy between the brothers had been firmly guaranteed, he would never have felt the precariousness of having his place as eldest threatened, nor the anxiety about the future.
“Authority?”
Yes, that was exactly the problem with his father's reaction. Outwardly he appeared perfectly neutral, but when examined closely, his attitude was actually one of rejection toward him, the eldest son.
“Your authority is something you establish yourself.”
If he was to establish his own authority by himself, wasn't it only natural to seize it before others could take it from him? If he let his guard down even for a moment, he would end up serving his younger brother as the master of Valdemaera.
Akenaus gripped the rifle and replied.
“Yes, that is what I intend to do.”
He had answered, spurred by defiance, yet he was unbearably anxious.
The more he felt this way, the more Akenaus concealed his inner thoughts behind a false smile. But the effect was extremely short-lived. In the end, it was merely an empty mask.
Akenaus did not let the loaded rifle leave his side for a single moment. Not even when eating, not even when sleeping; there were no exceptions. His father was the only one who could have stopped his eccentric behavior, but even as a family, they rarely spent time together in one place, so it was only the servants who constantly trembled in fear at the rifle pointed every which way.
“Close the curtains.”
After his father, who broke down his time from early dawn to tackle a packed schedule, finished his meal and left the dining room, Akenaus—who woke late and spent his day with flexible routines—would come down and have the dining room curtains drawn, beginning his day. Only after carefully taking precautions so that he could not be seen from outside did he enter and sit down in the dining room.
The food prepared in the dining room was always a single serving. The servants were also accustomed to preparing a meal for one person at different times each day.
Their mother, who held little affection for her children and valued herself above all else in life, spent long periods away from the mansion entirely—unlike Ejekail, who had enlisted early and even gone to war.
She performed exactly the role demanded of a noblewoman as the lady of a prestigious house. Their mother had been filling in for her sister, who had been scheduled to make a political marriage with Valdemaera but died suddenly in an accident. Having received their father's promise that if she continued the family line, the rest of her life would be guaranteed as she wished, she married him and gave birth to Akenaus and Ejekail.
And as soon as she had fulfilled her duty, from then on she enjoyed only the rights of a lady of the house. Indeed, after the children had grown to some degree, she spent most of her years on leisure and travel. This was why Valdemaera unusually maintained villas in various regions throughout the country.
Things were no different these days. With the outbreak of war, their mother had been staying in the relatively safe south. She had briefly returned to Clarice, but became neurotic due to the concentrated gossip of busybodies directed at Valdemaera, and departed again for recuperation.
And so only two Valdemaeras remained to guard this large mansion.
The more he chewed it over, the more furious he became. Ejekail might have worked hard defending the nation at the border, but he had neglected the main house. Since enlisting, he had often left home under all manner of training excuses, and accordingly was ignorant of household affairs. In contrast, Akenaus had left the main house few enough times to count on one hand. If one were to look for the person who remained at the mansion and concerned himself with the family's wellbeing, it was him rather than Ejekail.
Then didn't he have the right to inherit Valdemaera?
“…Damn it.”
Akenaus kept the rifle on his lap as he ate, yet if he heard the slightest suspicious movement, he immediately picked up the gun and warily surveyed his surroundings. Even if it was a weapon he didn't know how to use properly, it was better than nothing.
But the mansion was excessively large. There were too many people working in it. Countless signs of human presence constantly echoed from within the vast space at all hours; this too was extreme fatigue. Though he tried to endure it, uncontrollable anger kept flaring up.
It was absurd that he, the master of the house, should have to be wary of the servants. It was the servants who should be careful not to offend his nerves.
It had probably happened two or so times. Taking advantage of his father's absence, Akenaus had pulled the trigger to warn the servants. He was in a state where even small sounds made him extremely sensitive, so they should not wander around him unnecessarily and cause confusion to his vigilance.
What else could he do? Unlike Ejekail, he did not possess the ability to catch enemies from faint sounds or distinguish who someone was. Nor could he handle a rifle skillfully enough to drop an enemy precisely with a single bullet.
Rather than lecturing servants who loitered suspiciously and deliberately blocked his line of sight one by one, warning shots were easier. Besides, if someone were seriously injured by a bullet, dealing with the aftermath would be a headache, but the chances of him aiming properly with his skill were low. Thus Akenaus fired without worry. In fact, the bullets embedded themselves in walls or doors. That alone was enough to instill a sense of alertness in the servants.
Of course, there was a vast difference between failing to hit because you wanted to but couldn't, and not hitting because you could but chose not to.
“I wish I could do some shooting practice…”
His own skill was so pathetic that even he found it disgraceful. If he'd known this would happen, he would have done some shooting practice in normal times.
But going to a hunting ground now was dangerous as well. The wide-open outdoors would be like voluntarily holding up a target for Ejekail to shoot him.
These days Akenaus took dozens of bodyguards with him even for short outings. If he lacked the confidence to protect himself, it was right to make use of others' bodies and hands. Even so, Akenaus took care in selecting people who had no connection to Ejekail.
But even with layers of personnel surrounding him for protection, he hardly felt at ease. Even accounting for the exaggeration characteristic of rumors, Ejekail was still renowned as a master marksman. The thought that with Ejekail's marksmanship—said to bring down enemy soldiers with every shot even with eyes closed—it would not be so difficult to shoot through the bodyguards and fire at him filled Akenaus with terror.
Akenaus ruffled his hair into a mess.
Who in this house could he possibly rely on?
If he could trust neither inside nor outside the house, where was he supposed to be?
Would it be better to just hole up in a provincial villa like him and lock the door?