Chapter12
About Margus
I was planning to take a public carriage to go shopping, but since Lachtis offered to drive me, I decided to accept.
From where he sat on the driver’s seat, I couldn’t read his expression, but he seemed to be in good spirits—humming a folk song I didn’t recognize.
“Is that a song from your homeland?”
“Yes, it is.”
I had heard that Lachtis and Myuti were both hired by Lord Margus while on the battlefield and later followed him back to this country.
Maybe asking about their homeland wasn’t very tactful, I thought, regretting my careless question.
“When the madam goes out shopping, it gives me an excuse to get out myself. That’s a big help.”
“You like going out, don’t you?”
“Well, I came down from the mountains to the city. It would be a waste not to enjoy it, don’t you think? Though it does mean more expenses—money to send home and souvenirs to buy.”
“You send money back home? That’s very commendable.”
Apparently, the two weren’t entirely without family. They hadn’t followed Margus because they were orphans, but rather to make their mark in the world.
Hearing that they still had relatives back home made me feel oddly relieved for them.
“You’re very devoted to your family, aren’t you?”
“Not as much as you, Madam. After all, you handed over the entire dowry Lord Margus gave you straight to your family.”
At that, I straightened up from where I had been leaning comfortably against the backrest. A wave of unease washed over me.
“Do you think… Lord Margus is angry about that?”
It wasn’t really something I had the right to say now—coming here empty-handed and leaving all the arrangements to him—but it was obvious that my family had pocketed every last coin they received in exchange for giving up my rights.
He hadn’t said anything, but surely he must think they were disgraceful people.
“Well, if you think of it as an expense necessary to take a wife, it’s cheap enough. Especially if it means cutting ties with the Clarence family.”
“…So Lord Margus approached the Clarences knowing full well what kind of people they were?”
“He’s quite aware that you, Madam, are nothing like the rest of your family.”
That much, at least, was comforting—that he had judged me as an individual, not as a representative of my house.
Still, the old question that had been gnawing at me resurfaced.
“What do you think I am to him, really?”
At my question, Lachtis turned slightly toward me, his words deliberate and measured, as though he wanted to make sure I understood.
“My sister and I don’t know why Margus von Browning chose you as his wife.”
His answer was so clear-cut, it didn’t sound like a lie.
“At first, the two of us—still starry-eyed about life in the capital—were supposed to work at the Browning ducal estate.”
I listened intently. Lachtis knew a side of Margus that I didn’t, and I needed to catch every word.
“After the unit arrived in the royal capital, my sister and I were standing in line for immigrant registration. Once the process was complete, we were to stay at the ducal estate to learn the customs of this country, and then be assigned to suitable positions. But…”
“But?”
“The master stormed out of the ducal estate in a fury and moved straight into his grandfather Lord Roland’s manor. Naturally, we followed.”
“And why was Lord Margus angry?”
“Well… that, I couldn’t say. Only that he refused any and all attempts at mediation—from anyone.”
The image of Lord Margus thrusting aside the royal envoy’s letter flashed through my mind.
“I’ve heard that he and his father were never close. After coming of age, they almost never met. He has his work, so I suppose it’s not really an issue. And this house is closer to the castle, after all. For us, it made things easier. We simply went on with life that way.”
Since they were never told anything either, Lachtis said with a shrug, there was no need to wear a pained expression over it—and flicked the reins.
“Did you know about Lord Roland’s plan to find a second wife?”
“No, not at all.”
“…Then the idea of finding a bride as a caretaker was Lord Margus’s own decision?”
It was hard to imagine that man devising and carrying out something like that entirely on his own.
“Impossible. He and Lord Roland talked often, right up until the old man passed. And more than anything, Lord Roland adored his late wife. He was never the type to consider remarriage.”
“So Lord Margus and Lord Roland had a good relationship, then?”
“Very much so. He was devoted to his grandfather, you see. I’m sure you’ve already guessed, but he doesn’t get along with his parents. They always make decisions on their own. He used to joke it was a ‘delayed rebellion’…”
Lachtis suddenly trailed off, as if realizing he’d said too much, straightening up as though to zip his mouth shut.
“Well, that’s how it is. He’s still in his rebellious phase, holed up in that manor of his. As for why—no idea.”
So, Margus was angry because someone overstepped him in some matter. That much I could gather.
“Did Lord Roland not try to intervene? Or did Lord Margus simply refuse to listen?”
“Hard to say—it was an affair among adults. But the old lord did say to me once, ‘Be on my grandson’s side.’”
“Be on Lord Margus’s side…”
In other words, Lord Roland believed Margus was in the right, whatever the conflict was.
“So, we’re not loyal to the Browning ducal house per se—we serve Margus himself.”
When Lachtis turned to me with a smile, he looked his age again—like any young man.
Then I understood why he and Myuti had been chosen to live in that house: Margus had picked people who had no connection to the Browning family, yet were absolutely trustworthy.
“That’s why we don’t interfere in his personal decisions. Even when, after Lord Roland’s quiet funeral, he suddenly said, ‘I intend to bring a woman named Algerita Clarence here.’”
“Me…”
I leaned forward, heart pounding. Maybe I could finally touch the heart of the mystery.
“Of course I asked, ‘For what purpose?’ And he said, ‘To make her my wife.’ So we congratulated him, went to fetch you at the appointed time, as instructed… and then he suddenly says you’re to look after the wyvern.”
“I wasn’t brought there as a wyvern keeper?”
“Polka may be a troublesome beast, but I like to think I’ve got enough guts not to throw in the towel.”
The sound of the whip flicking gently against the horse’s flank broke the silence.
If he was from a mountain tribe, rough work would be second nature to him—it made sense.
“I thought, ‘What in the world is going on here?’ But since both sides seemed content, I let it be. Myuti, though, wishes she could be more of a proper lady’s maid.”
It wasn’t as though I was the only person who could care for Polka. Of course not.
But still, it wasn’t simply a matter of being short-staffed, nor was I there to tend the wyvern—or to become the widow’s replacement.
—Lord Margus knew me.
He knew me, and from the very beginning, he had intended for me to come.
“But why…?”
“Probably because you met every single one of the conditions he listed for his future wife.”
That alone couldn’t be the reason. There were surely plenty of women who fit those conditions. But Lachtis insisted he didn’t know what lay in Margus’s heart.
“There must be many who fit such a description.”
“Perhaps. But maybe you should ask the master himself?”
“He said it wasn’t something to be discussed in the morning.”
“Then go at night.”
“Wh–what? At night!?”
He said it so casually I was left speechless.
“I don’t mean go to his bedroom. The master’s in his study late into the night, isn’t he?”
His tone carried mild exasperation, and I felt my face heat in embarrassment for overreacting.
“…You’re right. I’ve often seen the light from under his door. I wonder if it would be a bother…”
“When he’s tired, bringing him a cup of tea is a wife’s duty. That’s why your room is on the floor below—close to both the dining room and his study.”
“I see… that makes sense.”
In that house, I am the lady of the manor.
Everything operates according to that rule.
So until the mystery is solved, I must follow their way of doing things too.
