Chapter 3
To the Browning Family
Once I was sure I was properly seated, the carriage began to move slowly, eventually arriving at the great plaza in the center of the royal capital.
The flow of people seemed congested, and our progress grew sluggish. When I glanced out the window, I saw newspapers being passed around — special editions, judging by the excitement.
There was little entertainment in the land of the dragon riders, and outside news was scarce. Curious to read something, I stretched my arm out the carriage window and, by luck, managed to grab one.
The article celebrated once more the victory in the war that had concluded half a year ago — no doubt a costly piece of propaganda meant to boost national pride.
It praised the brave young general, Margus von Browning — the grandson of Lord Roland, the man I was to marry — for his military achievements and triumphant return from a long expedition. It also reported that the wedding of Princess Serena, which had been postponed due to the war, would soon be proceeding.
But rather than those joyous announcements, my eyes were drawn to another article, bordered in black — far less celebratory.
“Duke Fontaine’s heir still missing — official declaration of death approaching.”
It reported that the heir of the Fontaine ducal family, who had also gone to war as a knight, had been missing in action for nearly a year with no sign of survival.
Since the family had no other heir, they would soon have to adopt someone from a distant branch — likely a baron’s son — to preserve their house.
Reading that, everything suddenly made sense.
William had always boasted that he was distantly related to the Fontaine dukes.
Though details had been kept quiet, he was a second son. Perhaps the Duke’s family had already approached his parents about adoption, privately.
“I see…”
I folded the newspaper into a small square and tucked it into the corner of my trunk.
Even I, who rarely saw them, could tell that William had always favored Liliana over me. She, however, was far too absorbed in the glamorous social world to spare him a glance. I had assumed that meant nothing improper could ever happen.
But when Liliana learned that William might soon inherit vast wealth and a higher title, she must have wasted no time in seducing him. The result was… inevitable.
“I suppose I should see this as a good opportunity, in its own way.”
Whether the matter of inheritance or my “new employment” came first — it no longer mattered to me.
At least the scandal had surfaced before the marriage. I should be grateful for that much and look forward, for my own sake.
Unlike dragons, people can speak and reason. And once I had fulfilled my duty — cared for my husband until the end — I would at least be given enough to pay for my journey back to the dragon riders’ valley. Then, with a bowed head, I would ask to be employed again.
But I would never return to that house.
From the inner pocket of my trunk, I took out a silver dragon feather, borrowed as a keepsake when we parted.
“That’s right, Welfin. I’ll do exactly what you taught me.”
“Please… watch over me.”
I whispered the words, then carefully put the feather away again so I wouldn’t lose it.
The place I was brought to turned out not to be the Browning family’s grand main estate, but rather a smaller manor — something like a country villa — located a bit away from the district of the old noble houses, among the newer aristocrats and wealthy merchants.
Even so, it was far more stately than the dilapidated Clarence residence I’d grown up in. Its refined details marked it clearly as a property once tied to a ducal house.
The garden had scattered trees but no flowerbeds, only a well-kept expanse of bright green lawn swaying gently in the breeze. There was no excessive decoration, but it was clear that someone maintained it carefully.
And yet, strangely, there was almost no sign of life.
Several windows were open, white curtains fluttering in the wind — proof someone lived there — but the air lacked all energy or warmth.
The messenger, who had also served as the coachman, said politely, “Then if you’ll excuse me,” and promptly disappeared to tend to the horses.
…I waited for a while, but no one came.
He didn’t return, and no one came to greet me. The door did not open, nor did anyone appear to welcome me.
Gathering my courage, I knocked lightly on the door. There was no response.
“Um! My name is Algerita Clarence, and I’ll be in your care starting today!”
Better to seem confident and professional than gloomy and awkward.
After announcing myself loudly enough to be heard inside, I called again — “Excuse me!” — and finally, the door opened slowly.
A young man appeared in the doorway. His clothes were slightly disheveled, and his demeanor… hardly that of a servant.
He was tall — I had to look up to meet his eyes — with a body sculpted like a statue. But what struck me most was his winter-colored gaze, visible between strands of deep indigo hair.
“You’re Algerita?”
For a moment, I forgot to answer, half convinced a figure from a painting had suddenly come to life.
“Algerita Clarence?”
His voice was low and slightly hoarse as he repeated my name.
“Y-yes! I am… Algerita Clarence.”
Straightening my back, I managed a proper response. The young man’s eyes softened faintly.
“I see. Forgive me — I’d never seen your face before.”
“Oh, no, it’s quite all right…”
“I’m Margus von Browning, heir to the Browning house.”
“T-The general himself…”
Cold sweat ran down my back. This was the man from the newspaper article.
I had never been to the royal castle; Liliana, who worked there as a healer, might recognize him, but I had never seen his face before now.
He must think me an ignorant woman, not to recognize a national hero. I had to compose myself — quickly.
Margus turned his eyes away, but I couldn’t look elsewhere. I needed to behave properly — that much was certain.
“This isn’t the army. You don’t need to be so formal. You’ll be living here from today on.”
His words eased my tension. So he did know about my situation.
“Yes, sir. I’ll be in your care from today. I may be inexperienced, but I’ll do my best. First, I’d like to pay my respects to Lord Roland—”
“You won’t need to attend to the old Duke Browning.”
His tone wasn’t dismissive — merely stating a fact, calm and direct.
“…What do you mean?”
After all, I had been brought here in a carriage bearing the Browning family crest. There had been attendants. And Margus himself knew my name — he knew why I was here.
So why—
“He passed away two weeks ago.”
