Eliza’s lips tightened when she confirmed that the date written on the last letter had been this summer. Having stared fixedly at the letters for some time, she spoke in a tightly controlled voice.
“Bring the Duke.”
“Yes.”
When the quiet sound of the door opening and closing reached her, Eliza raised her eyes and gazed at the window. Her reflection surfaced in the glass, steeped in pitch-black darkness. Her now-silver hair felt terribly unfamiliar. As she stared at the figure in the window as though looking at a stranger, she soon sensed a large, heavy presence unlike that of a maid.
When she turned her head, a young man stood there emanating a presence that could no longer be concealed.
Ares’s gaze drifted to her knees. He quickly recognized what the bundle of papers tangled across Eliza’s knees was, and a sneer touched his lips.
“I thought you had thrown them all away, yet you kept them?”
“Did I not tell you not to stand stiffly between the doorposts?”
Ares did not hide his look of exasperation, but nevertheless stepped away from the doorframe and sat on the sofa beside Eliza.
“Is that etiquette, or superstition?”
“…Why did you send so many letters?”
“Seeing you change the subject, it must be superstition. Isn’t that a superstition that was in vogue over half a century ago?”
As Ares ignored her question and muttered to himself, Eliza furrowed her brows deeply and sighed.
“It seems you have forgotten all etiquette.”
“From that stinking wall, there was no time to mind etiquette.”
Eliza, about to say something, turned her eyes to the letters. Then she muttered sullenly.
“What sort of letters read like crime reports? I searched to see if there was even one sentence of flowery language, but there was not a single line.”
However, contrary to her surly tone, her hands handling the letters were exceedingly careful. Ares looked away from the letters and retorted coldly.
“What sort of relationship do we have to send flowery language? They were sent simply to say I was alive and well.”
Eliza pretended not to hear him and arranged the letters one by one. Ares, who had glanced at her, frowned. Then he finally spat out the words he had harbored at the pit of his stomach all this time.
“I never wished for flowery language either. I wished even less for concern that wasn’t heartfelt. ‘I am guarding Richmond well.’ Would it not have sufficed to have a maid write and send even that single line?”
“…….”
Eliza merely looked down at the letters in silence. Her gaze rested on the name written at the top of the envelope.
[Walter Richmond]
Should the letters be misdelivered by any chance, it would cause a grave problem, so Ares had written Walter’s name as the sender on every letter. And Eliza could not bring herself to open letters from her dead grandson, so she had left them untouched.
But she could not bear to offer such an excuse to Ares.
Then, perhaps deeming that there was no reason to endure Eliza’s silence while seated here, Ares stood up. Whether it was heredity that made his temperament fierce and quick-tempered, Eliza knew he would kick the door and storm out just like this.
Panicked, she suddenly raised her head and spoke.
“The words you said to me, apologizing.”
Ares, who had been about to leave the room, faltered.
“The day before you left for the Wall of Death, you spoke to me. That you were sorry for surviving instead.”
Those were words that hung by a thread upon Eliza’s heart.
Those outside the annex had believed Eliza lost her mind shortly after the former Duke’s death, but that was not true. Rather, at that time she had been more cool-headed than anyone. That was how she had been able to hide in the annex for a full three years, raising and teaching Ares.
She could not say she felt for Ares the same unconditional blood affection she had felt for Walter. She had believed she was treating Ares coldly. But strangely, after Ares left for the Wall of Death, a sense of loss as if she had lost everything swept over her.
When her son, daughter-in-law, and grandson died, her heart had been like a storm overturning the sea. Rage and sorrow had raged through her, filling her entire body.
Yet after Ares left for the Wall of Death, she was like a rock left alone on bare ground. Even the rage and sorrow that had filled her heart were no longer there. There was simply nothing.
Color slowly drained from the edges of the world, until it finally turned black and white. And soon even the contrast of black and white faded, becoming a figure where grey was layered upon grey. The world surrounding her had become a different world.
In that grey-tinted world, everything had simply felt futile.
Why, as soon as Ares left, had she let go of everything?
Only now did she realize that she had been leaning on the young boy. And that Ares, too, had leaned on her, and had wanted to lean on her. Had it not been so, he would not have sent letters for such a long time without receiving a single reply.
Eliza spoke with sincerity.
“It is not Your Grace’s fault.”
“…….”
“You did not survive in his place, and much less did Your Grace kill that child. Therefore, I do not resent you. Nor do I hate you.”
Had she truly resented and hated him, how could she have raised him in her arms for three years?
Eliza was someone who had never fed or put her own child to bed. Such tasks had always been performed by a dedicated wet nurse. Thus, the three years spent raising Ares had been a special time for her as well.
“Not sending a single proper reply… I am sorry. Welcome back.”
Eliza Richmond, who had never apologized to anyone—not even to the Emperor—offered Ares a sincere apology.
Ares’s expression, as he stopped in the doorway, was cold. Yet he soon averted his eyes and spoke curtly.
“I did not write expecting a reply, so do not concern yourself with it.”
The words, tossed out as they were, were not warm, yet neither were they cold.
Eliza smiled faintly, then suddenly returned to being an arrogant member of the imperial family. She shook her head leisurely and fluttered the letters.
“Hmm. Still, you must relearn how to write letters. In all my life, I have never seen such stiff, report-like letters.”
Ares, looking thoroughly fed up, made no reply and tried to open the door of the Duke’s chambers. But Eliza seemed to have no intention of letting him leave just like that.
“How much does Taylor’s daughter know?”
Ares stopped moving and turned back toward Eliza.
“You will need my support. Leave Grace with Arwen, and as I cannot sleep anyway, explain it to me now before you go.”
“Please protect the inner keep of House Richmond. I ask for nothing more.”
“I will not run away again.”
“…….”
“It is not my place to say this after betraying your trust, but please believe me this time. I will not run away again.”
Still, as Ares remained silent, Eliza rose from her seat and approached him.
From the withered old noblewoman emanated an indescribable aura. Devoid of color or scent, it was so intense that it even constricted the breath of Ares, who had returned alive from the battlefield.
And the next moment, Eliza surprised Ares in another way. She knelt on her left knee before him.
Born as the most favored daughter of Argon III and having commanded Richmond, she had never sworn an oath of loyalty to anyone. No one had been able to force such an oath from her, and she herself had found no reason to swear one.
Who would have known that Eliza Richmond, nearing sixty, would swear an oath of loyalty in a place like this, nowhere near the imperial palace?
“I, Eliza Richmond, swear to serve Ares Deukan until the moment my allotted life ends. Everything belonging to me, even my life and heavenly authority, shall be used for you, and this oath shall never be broken.”
What did it matter if she was sixty, or seventy? What did it matter if it was not the imperial palace, or upon an old road thick with stone dust? Even if asked to swear not once but ten times, Eliza would gladly kneel and swear.
Ares, who had stood frozen, likewise read her will. Letting his broad shoulders slump, he opened his mouth toward the silver-gleaming head of the old noblewoman.
“Speak your desire.”
Eliza slowly raised her head. In the pitch-black pupils that met his gaze was etched a firm resolve, and the pride of one who knows not surrender could be felt within them. Therefore, he would achieve it in the end.
“Hetviga desires the life of the Saxon Empress.”
The old noblewoman’s black eyes shone more intensely than ever before.
＊ ＊ ＊
Richmond Ducal Castle was, quite literally, like a beehive that had been stirred up. In a single day, the invisible currents flowing through the castle had shifted drastically.
The greatest change was that Eliza Richmond, who had been rumored to have virtually reached death due to her long seclusion, had risen. Her six maids returned, and the Chandelier Room was likewise redecorated for the Grand Duchess.
Furthermore, news of Count Leuven’s household spread like wildfire. The shock was all the greater because it had been less than a week since rumors that the family’s distinguished daughter had been confirmed as the Duchess of Richmond had begun to spread. And to think that the one who carried out the punishment was Count Rinco—even the newly hired servants had no time for anything else whenever they gathered, so busy were they discussing this matter.
“Honestly, whose dog Count Leuven was—is there anyone in Richmond who doesn’t know that?”
“Count Rinco is a man generous with his own mistakes but apoplectic over the mistakes of those beneath him. Everyone knows the servants in charge of his office desk all came down with neurosis, right?”
“We know, we know. Ah, by the way! Do you know about the one His Grace brought—”
“—that she is Lady Taylor?”
“Yes! To think I would see a golden-haired person with my own eyes!”
As the servant who recalled Grace’s golden hair prattled on about the color of her locks, another servant appeared with an urgent look and gestured.
“Hurry! Count Leuven’s household is being driven out right now!”