012. The Hidden Left Hand

The Duke of Étranger was in deep distress. When he returned after the ball, he had clearly heard from the maids.

That Anastasia had returned to her original room on the third floor of the mansion.

“…Hmm.”

He had no justification to throw her out. From the beginning, Anastasia had been nothing more than a doll to him—something that only needed to remain alive. So there was no reason to expel her in the first place.

In fact, it had been a long time since the last war. The world no longer needed magic.

In this age, only one last magician remained. Even if that one disappeared, it would not cause any major upheaval in the world.

For the world, that is.

However, the House of Étranger would eventually fall, having lost its title as the sole and final lineage of magicians.

Although the ducal family did possess considerable lands, the duke himself was not particularly well-regarded in terms of virtue.

The force that suppressed repeated attempts at territorial wars was the presence of Anastasia, a powerful mage, and the fact that he held her leash.

There was also the loyalty of the vassal families…

‘In the end, they’re not people you can trust.’

The duke rose from his seat. He needed to come up with a countermeasure.

At that moment, a knock was heard.

“This is Aine, the head butler. May I come in, my lord?”

“…Come in.”

Soon after, a young butler with neatly combed black hair entered the duke’s study.

“What is it?”

“Ah… nothing major. It’s about hiring a new maid. As you instructed, we have disposed of Diana.”

“Well done. We have no need for someone who cannot carry out a simple task properly. And there is no need to seek my approval every time you hire a maid, Head Butler.”

“However… there is one matter that’s been bothering me.”

“And what would that be?”

Aine handed the documents to the duke and added,

“The girl who served the Count of Gherlant’s young lady is seeking to change her employment. The reason, it seems, is that she wishes to stay close to her maternal grandfather, Sir Enoch.”

The duke clicked his tongue.

“Hah. So Anastasia has gone and returned Enoch to a butler’s post at will, and now she’s even been granted authority over personnel matters.”

“How should… we refuse?”

The duke shook his head.

“No. If we refuse, it would be seen as an insult to the recommendation letter of the Count of Gherlant. Though I am a duke, he is a Marcher Lord. He is not someone we can afford to slight, even indirectly.”

The duke interlaced his fingers and rested his chin on them… After some thought, he reached a conclusion.

“For now, assign her as Anastasia’s exclusive maid. That must be what Enoch was aiming for as well. That is the only vacant position.”

“Understood. I will handle it as Your Excellency has instructed.”

The man bowed deeply, and the Duke of Étranger smiled in satisfaction.

He preferred people who knew their place and were willing to humbly submit.

In that sense, this young man was well-suited to hold the important position of head butler at such a young age.

“Good. You may return.”

“Thank you for your time.”

Early morning, in the mansion’s dining hall.

A long dining table stood out in the spacious room, accompanied by three chairs as usual.

Until the owner of the fourth chair arrived.

“So, young lady—…”

“‘Young lady’?”

Anastasia’s brows furrowed elegantly. The head chef broke out in a cold sweat and quickly lowered his head.

“I-I’m sorry, Your Highness!”

“Very well.”

These were the same people who, just days ago, had either ignored her or avoided bowing before her.

She understood.

Power in the family lay with her father, and she had merely been a child of a concubine, confined to a tower.

But not anymore.

“What is your duty, Head Chef?”

Anastasia was pressing the head chef, who was about four times her size, with full intensity.

“To prepare and serve meals for those of noble blood of the Étranger family… and to prepare the ingredients for those meals.”

“And yet you say, ‘That won’t do’? In other words… are you saying you cannot agree with the lineage of ‘Étranger’ attached to my name?”

“N-no, not at all!”

“Then return to the kitchen immediately and bring me two of the finest dishes you can prepare with the ingredients you currently have.”

The head chef fled back to the kitchen on the spot, and Anastasia finally took her seat at the table.

The fourth chair had been retrieved and placed there by the maids.

“…Still, is there really a need to eat two dishes?”

Arthorius asked quietly from behind her. At that moment, the sound of servants bustling about could be heard again from the rear.

Without even turning around, Anastasia said,

“Arthorius. I’ve ordered yours as well.”

“…I don’t eat anything. Especially not during the day. I cannot remove my helmet.”

What the servants brought was a large armchair that normally belonged in the reception room.

It was sturdy enough not to collapse or break even if Arthorius sat in it during the day. Made of mahogany, it looked perfectly solid.

“Still, please sit, Arthorius.”

“What kind of knight shares a meal with a lady?”

Arthorius firmly refused—until Anastasia delivered the final push.

“And what kind of knight speaks informally to a lady?”

“…That’s…”

Anastasia shrugged her small shoulders. Then, looking at the cream pasta the chef had brought, she added,

“I don’t exactly insist on addressing you as ‘Sir Arthorius’ every time either. Still, you can at least stay by my side.”

“…Very well.”

The relationship between a knight and a lady.

While it could not be denied, theirs was clearly not a typical one.

At that moment, someone appeared in the kitchen and raised their voice.

“Why on earth has the reception room armchair disappeared? I heard it was taken to the kitchen—this is absurd.”

It was the voice of Aine, the duke’s head butler.