Hearts Of Their Own

— Thump.

Keith closed the document he had been reading and let it drop onto the oak desk.

Paper is paper, and letters are letters…¹

The black ink went in through his eyes, wandered around uselessly inside his head, and slipped back out through his ear-holes. He dragged a broad palm down a face caked thick with fatigue, then checked his pocket watch. Five o’clock already.

“What have I done, that the hours…”

No, he had done something all right. It was only that the day’s business felt as far off as a previous life.

“…”

He slid his hips forward and sprawled back in the chair as though he were lying down. His eyelids came down of their own accord and closed over his eyes.

‘Your niece is a genius, boy!’

The mage’s excited voice came back to him vividly, and with it the gale that had shaken heaven and earth with a rumble, and the grains of sand lashing without mercy at his cheeks. A few gaunt trees had been torn up root and all and sent flying.

‘M— mister…!’

And Ardine, who had called for him first of all. Had she thought back to that night the thunder and lightning frightened her? Had she remembered the soft singing, the rhythm of a hand patting gently at her back?

Pride swelled in his chest until it ached. He wanted to be the kind of adult who was of use to his niece. If she put out a hand to him when she was struggling or lonely and asked for help, no joy could match it.

That, too, is a thing that takes courage.

It takes more courage for the one in trouble to hold out a hand to the people around her than it does to hold one out to someone in need. Keith hoped Ardine would grow into an adult who knew how to ask for help in the hard and lonely moments. The wish was grounded in self-reflection, because Keith had never managed it himself.

Seven years ago he had heard the oracle and left the White Castle. Even now he did not regret the decision. But what if he had shared the frustration and the despair he felt then with his brother? If he had at least exchanged letters with him now and then while he drifted about with the mercenary company…

The outcome wouldn’t have changed much… but I’d have been less lonely.

No. Perhaps it would have changed after all.

Joining hands with Pai had come out of the same reckoning. He wanted to be different.

The man he used to be would have shouldered the crushing responsibility of Regent Duke and guardian alone and fretted himself sick over it. But she had boldness in her.

She is not like me.

Enri would have snorted to hear it, but it was true all the same. Keith Paragon was a prudent, decisive man. He sized things up quickly and came down on the ‘safe’ side. In plain terms, he was conservative. The one who used to make up for that conservatism had been Kalada, and Pai Deluosa, with her keen instincts and her boldness, was of a kind with her.

It was always women who led him…

This time was no different. By taking Pai in, the White Castle had gained a powerful mage. And was that all? It was Pai, too, who had shaken the indifferent Hamel into letting Ardine have her mage test.

“She said she was acquainted with the mage.”

He wedged the quill between his forefinger and middle finger and waggled it.

“Acquainted how, I wonder.”

Pai had explained it as a meeting while they both wandered the continent, but he could guess at some particular story hidden behind it. Brief as his look at the man had been, he had seen that Hamel was not the type to put himself in a noble’s keeping and chase after wealth and security.

“For him to sign a contract and take nothing but entry rights to the Black Forest… it must be for Miss Pai’s sake, surely.”

What on earth could the relationship have been.

She said she owed him her life.

But was that really all of it?

Pai had said she wandered the continent the whole while. They might have grown close through some extraordinary incident, but a person with no fixed abode finds it hard to keep any relationship going smoothly for long. So at least one of the two had made an effort to keep it from breaking off.

For a woman and a man to become especially close…

“Surely not.”

— Thump. Trundle-trundle… The quill rolled across the oak desk.

“They’d been courting?”

It was not out of the question. The mage wore the shape of a boy, but Pai had said he was an old man of a hundred years, and if he could change his outward appearance at will, he might well have made himself a handsome young man once. And if the love was already there, would age matter?

“They might have parted on good terms… and if the mage has been carrying a torch all this while and they have met again after so long…”

His curiosity grew like a weed. The only person who could answer a question like that was Enri. The way he swaggered every time he was asked was galling, but Keith, who had no experience whatsoever, had no choice.

Uneasy, he laid a hand on the communication orb.

“Your Grace. It is Bishe.”

Fortunately, a knock sounded before the orb could be set working, and Bishe came in. She glanced at the hand covering the dove-shaped orb and asked,

“Shall I come back in a little while?”

“No. It’s nothing.”

He drew his hand back, sheepish for no good reason. Bishe submitted several documents to him, sorted by order of importance. As Keith skimmed lightly over them, she began her report, keeping pace with his reading.

The thaw in the North is the season when activity picks up. In this stretch, when the ice at least melts and the sun comes out, Northerners lay in their preparations against the long and dreadful winter.

“…Next is the matter of the Victory Festival. Preparations normally begin two months ahead, so we must start from now.”

The Victory Festival commemorated the day Aki Paragon drove the demons out to the last and planted her flag in the territory.

“The Victory Festival.”

Keith’s expression turned grave. He wedged the quill between his fingers again. Spinning a pen was the habit that surfaced when his deliberation ran deep. And Bishe knew his habits well. Long as the years apart had been, she did not easily forget what she had once learned.

She nudged her monocle back into place and said,

“As it is the oldest event in the ducal domain, the records are vast and well kept besides. Following precedent alone will do perfectly well.”

“Yes.”

Keith knew Bishe had said it to ease his worry. But this Victory Festival must not be the same as the others. He was not Duke but Regent Duke, and the investiture too had been held quietly. As the first domain event of his regency, it had to leave a good impression on the Northerners.

“I’d like more in it than there has been before — things people take part in and enjoy for themselves.”

“Yes.”

“I’d like the vassal houses called together once, as well. And I should like to meet the headmen of the hub villages…”

“So long as they are not pressed for time, every one of them will gladly make the journey. They will be waiting on the chance to see Your Grace in person.”

“Yes. We cannot have the vassal houses’ representatives and the villages’ representatives in one place at once, so we had best allow more time than that. Can you draw up the official notice straight away?”

“Very good.”

“Bishe.”

At his call, Bishe lifted her slightly bowed head.

“Yes?”

“Thank you. Always.”

“Young mas— no, Your Grace… You must not say such things.”

Bishe’s throat closed at once. Eyes reddening at the rims, she said,

“That you came to Lord Elrod’s funeral at all left me overcome, and now you have taken up his last wish besides… you cannot know how relieved this old woman has been, inside.”

“Did you think I might not come to the funeral?”

“Honestly… yes, I was of two minds. Because you never once answered a single one of Lord Elrod’s letters.”

“…That was childish of me.”

Keith smiled bitterly, set the pen down, and clasped his two hands together. At the regret clouding those red eyes, Bishe added quickly,

“It was nothing of the kind. Lord Elrod understood Your Grace’s heart. Only, that was Your Grace’s heart, and Lord Elrod had a heart of his own as well. He went on sending the letters knowing that no answer would come.”

Keith Paragon’s whereabouts had been unsettled, so there were many times a letter never reached him at all. But even when one just barely reached him, he sent it back to the White Castle without so much as breaking the seal.

Might those letters still be here somewhere?

The question came over Keith all at once. He swallowed dryly, gathered his courage, and asked,

“Are those letters still here, by any chance?”