Chapter 13
Rocinante burst into laughter as he watched Riersha pull Sona by the arm and disappear into the distance.
“Lady Riersha seems shy around strangers.”
“…Shy?”
“Yes.”
“With this face?”
Fernoar, running a hand down his face, asked in disbelief.
Rocinante clicked his tongue inwardly—that’s not what I meant.
“Yes, with that very face, my lord.”
“……”
“It’s the first time the young lady has met you, after all. It’s natural she would feel awkward.”
Fernoar frowned, faced with an unexpected difficulty.
During those four years apart, his daughter had come to see him as a stranger.
Rocinante’s eyes gleamed with amusement.
Who would have imagined that he’d ever see Fernoar Aracrenne, of all people, fretting over how his four-year-old daughter felt?
He nearly laughed, remembering how Fernoar had sat stiffly beside Riersha earlier, unable to say a word until everyone left the Tower of Truth. That image was unforgettable.
“But Rocinante.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Why is Riersha so small? She should’ve received the estate’s provisions.”
“…That’s because the collateral branch has been interfering with the supply lines, so the young lady has been struggling for some time.”
“Damn those collateral bastards. I knew it.”
Murderous intent rippled faintly around Fernoar. Rocinante nodded grimly in agreement.
Four years ago, Fernoar had been forced to give up his title as viscount in exchange for officially registering Riersha and guaranteeing her safety.
The collateral branch had fiercely opposed recognizing her as his heir due to her unstable magical power.
That had been the first day Archmond, the staunch rule-follower, had chosen silence.
It went without saying that his position had been jeopardized afterward.
Breaking the family’s code had caused all kinds of trouble—but there had been no other way to protect Riersha.
Yet the real problem had come from elsewhere: the imperial family, which had long waited for a chance to tighten its leash around House Aracrenne, began to move.
Someone must have leaked that the family’s internal affairs were unstable.
Fernoar raked his fingers through his hair, looking exasperated.
First things first…
“I’ll have to get closer to the kids—and bring that runaway brat back, too.”
“Yes, that would be the right order, my lord.”
Rocinante nodded seriously.
“And then, I’ll deal with those damned collateral bastards.”
“Yes, that sounds wise. However, my lord…”
“What.”
“…Perhaps it would be best if you watched your language? With all due respect, your manner of speech is the reason the young masters’ personalities have become so…”
…“Like that.”
Rocinante sighed, recalling the young masters.
They’d been quite adorable as children, but those days were long gone.
Now, if anyone tried to approach them, they’d immediately bristle and lash out.
Considering what they’d been through, it was understandable—but still worrisome.
Shaking his head, Rocinante continued,
“Just the other day, Lord Ricardor sent a killing intent my way—my legs went numb! I swear, I deserve hazard pay for this job.”
“What?”
“…I misspoke.”
Meeting Fernoar’s sharp crimson eyes, Rocinante hurriedly shut his mouth.
But he couldn’t back down completely—there was still something he had to say.
After clearing his throat, he straightened his posture seriously.
Fernoar was not what one would call gentle. Years on the battlefield had hardened him, so expecting tenderness was unreasonable.
However—
“Ahem. My point is, I’m only saying this out of concern for Lady Riersha.”
“Riersha? Why?”
“Imagine she sees you and learns from your example—then starts saying she’s going to ‘deal with those damned bastards,’ too.”
Fernoar, who was about to retort, fell silent.
He wanted to say that would never happen—but when he thought of his three sons, no words came out.
“So from now on, my lord, please try to use more refined and proper speech.”
“…Was parenting always this complicated?”
Fernoar rubbed his temples, trying to recall how he had raised his other children.
“Well, at her age, she’ll copy whatever she sees. If you play ‘battle games’ with her like you did with the young masters, that would be disastrous.”
“……”
“Absolutely not, my lord.”
Rocinante repeated his warning several times.
Riersha’s Room in the Detached Wing
“Lady Riersha, why did you come back instead of spending more time with the young lord?”
Sona tilted her head curiously.
Riersha let out a deep sigh of distress.
“I didn’t know what to do.”
“With what?”
“He feels like a stranger.”
She had just met her father for the first time—someone she’d never seen before.
But calling him Father right away… she couldn’t bring herself to do it.
There had been too long a gap between them.
Ten years of it.
‘Even if I’m only four now…’
In truth, Riersha’s memories went up to age ten—so to her, it had been ten full years of absence.
If she were to be honest, Archmond actually felt more familiar to her.
And after he’d stood up for her during the disciplinary hearing, her heart had been deeply moved.
“Is the young lord hard to deal with?”
“Mm.”
Riersha nodded obediently.
She had no idea how to act around Fernoar—especially with his cold expression.
When she first saw him rushing into the disciplinary hearing, her heart had leapt with joy.
For the first time, she understood what it meant to have a guardian—a solid wall of protection.
She felt safe, deeply so.
But that was separate from…
“It’s just too awkward.”
At her honest confession, Sona nodded sympathetically.
Riersha hadn’t been good at interacting with people, so it would naturally take her much longer than most to grow close to Fernoar.
‘He’ll have to make an effort so that Lady Riersha isn’t too intimidated to approach him.’
…But would that even be possible?
Sona smiled awkwardly to herself.
“It’s perfectly normal for you two to feel awkward right now. You’ll grow closer with time.”
“Do you think I can?”
“Of course. Who knows—maybe the young lord is worrying about the same thing as you are.”
“Papa is?”
Riersha looked doubtful.
Could someone like Fernoar really be thinking about that too?
“You both just need time. There’s no need to rush.”
“…Okay.”
“How about we think of ways you two could get closer?”
“Mm…”
Riersha blinked, her face clouded with thought. Her long lashes fluttered, and her small lips pursed in concentration.
As Sona waited for an answer, she recalled how she’d once grown close to someone she admired—and realized that could work here, too.
“How about this? Let’s make him a gift!”
“A gift?”
“Yes! Since you like jewelry, I’m sure you could make something beautiful.”
Riersha flinched slightly.
The “jewelry” Sona mentioned referred to the trinkets she’d hurriedly packed when she was planning to leave the ducal estate.
When she’d been found in the forest covered in sparkly toy jewelry, everyone had gotten the wrong idea—that she loved shiny things.
“…Those weren’t really…”
“Yes, I know they’re your most treasured possessions,” Sona said warmly, already convinced.
Riersha hesitated, then gave up on explaining—it would do no good to admit she’d been planning to run away.
“Then shall we make some?”
“…Mm. Let’s make two.”
“Two?”
“I’m gonna give one to Papa too.”
Sona blinked in surprise, then broke into a bright smile.
The fact that Riersha wanted to give something to Fernoar first—it was an excellent sign.
“Yes, let’s! Come on, let’s go find some materials!”
