Chapter 14
“Hmm.”
“If there’s truly a problem with the Behemoth grapes that even the Head Patriarch ate… even the slightest issue could become a serious matter. And yet, you dare to question me — the very steward appointed by the Head Patriarch himself…?”
In other words, this was an accusation that Kalmia Hallroren had dared to challenge the authority of the Head Patriarch.
I knew he’d pull something like this.
Murmurs of gossip rippled through the crowd.
My father, looking worried, seemed about to speak — but I shook my head slightly.
It’s fine, Dad.
The Patriarch’s gaze settled on me. Slowly, he spoke.
“Is what the steward says true?”
“Half right, and half wrong.”
“…Half wrong?”
“Yes.”
I turned to look at Max, who had now completely masked his earlier vicious expression.
“It’s true that I thought the magic seal might be caused by poison in the Behemoth grapes… and it’s also true I considered the steward a prime suspect.
But how does that shake Hallroren’s authority?”
I allowed myself a crooked smile.
“A steward — or anyone in that position — is just a tool to be replaced at Grandfather’s will, isn’t he?”
“…”
“If I point out soot on a glove, does that diminish its owner’s dignity? No. You just throw out the glove and buy a new one.”
Don’t act so high and mighty, Max. You think you’re indispensable to Hallroren? That your mere existence has some grand effect? Please.
Of course, I phrased it in a more childlike way.
Sparks flared in Max’s eyes.
“That is an absurd—”
“Enough.”
Grandfather cut him off before he could protest further.
“I don’t mind tools being clever — as long as they keep the soot where I can’t see it. That’s skill in its own right.
But soot that’s right in my line of sight… why should I overlook that?”
His lips curved in a gentle smile, but the atmosphere was ice-cold.
The room fell silent. Everyone avoided looking directly at Meitenche.
“Andromalius.”
At the sound of his name, a young man emerged soundlessly from the Patriarch’s shadow, his body bound in coils of inky-black serpents like living ropes.
“You take the lead.”
“Understood, Master.”
The Demon of Surveillance — Andromalius!
This wasn’t a case big enough to warrant such a high-ranking demon. I never imagined he’d be summoned here.
“Now then… shall we have a quiet little talk, Steward?”
Andromalius reached out, and a thin black snake wrapped tightly around Max’s body. His face turned an ashen gray.
“L-Let me go—!”
“My, so noisy.”
The snake swiftly gagged him. Meitenche didn’t spare him a glance.
“Enough wasted time. Begin the demonstration immediately.”
“Y-Yes, sir!”
A pale-faced attendant scrambled out. Grandfather strode away without hesitation, the other elders following in his wake.
The six children whose magic had been sealed were led away by servants, their faces empty and dazed. Now that the Patriarch had ordered the demonstration, they had no choice in the matter.
Serves them right. Maybe next time they’ll think twice before being so nasty.
I was smirking to myself when Andromalius turned his bright smile on me.
“Where is the juice bottle you drank from yesterday, little miss?”
“In my bedroom.”
“Thank you.”
I’d half expected him to thrust snakes at me too, but he was surprisingly gentlemanly.
Then my father stepped forward.
“If there was poison involved… I’ll assist in the investigation.”
“Oh my, the Youngest Master himself? Poison isn’t my specialty — I’d welcome your help.”
Andromalius draped a friendly arm over my father’s shoulder. Naturally, Father pushed it off with a look of distaste.
“Hold on! It’s unfair if only Sir Sylvan participates in the investigation!”
The sharp voice came from a striking woman with vivid red lips — someone I’d never seen before, yet I knew instantly who she was.
Marie Feydel — Bufure’s mother. The resemblance is uncanny.
“Unfair, you say?”
“I hear the Behemoth grapes are involved. That means we can’t completely rule out this child’s involvement either.”
“Hmm.”
“So, for fairness’ sake, I will also participate in the investigation.”
It wasn’t surprising for her to seize the chance to target me, given her obsession with getting Bufure sent back to his main house.
But actually joining the investigation? That was excessive. Bufure wasn’t even related to this incident, and meddling in a matter the Patriarch had already shown disinterest in could only backfire.
Everyone else had stayed quiet for precisely that reason.
This smells suspicious… I might just catch a bigger fish than I thought.
My father’s expression, however, was one of barely contained anger.
“You’re… accusing Kalmia?”
“I’m merely stating the possibility. Sir Sylvan is an exceptionally skilled master of venom, after all.”
Her words carried barbed praise.
“Who’s to say he didn’t employ some method unknown to the rest of us?”
“…”
“And I hear the bottle containing the Behemoth grapes was in Kalmia’s room until this morning? If the evidence was tampered with in that time…”
Dark, shadowy energy began to rise from behind my father.
Uh-oh… here we go!
I quickly clung to his leg.
“Dad, do your best!”
“Mia…”
“I’ll do my best too, okay?”
Better to focus on uncovering the truth than blow this up right here.
“And once the results come out… won’t that lady have to take responsibility too?”
“…”
“Right?”
“…She’s not a ‘lady,’ Mia — she’s the Head of House Feydel.”
“Ohhh. But she’s not the Head Patriarch, is she? So I can call her whatever I want, right?”
“…”
Even if I’d been cast out, I’m still a direct heir.
In the Kadol Empire, there was a noble hierarchy — but no dukes, counts, or the like.
The four great houses, including Hallroren, ruled the cardinal territories under the Emperor. Below them were branch families and vassals.
They were kingdoms within the empire itself.
Without noble titles, power and influence were everything. A noble house could be erased from the rolls if it declined or offended the Patriarch. Conversely, even commoners could rise to nobility by proving themselves and earning a Patriarch’s recommendation to the Emperor.
It was a land of survival of the strongest — and the Hallroren name had never fallen from the top since the empire’s founding.
A direct heir’s presence carried weight.
Marie gritted her teeth quietly.
Well, no wonder Bufure’s personality is the way it is. He takes after his dear mother.
“Call her what you like, but it’s not exactly refined, is it?”
“…”
“For Sir Sylvan’s dignity, perhaps you shouldn’t.”
Is making personal jabs a family specialty for them?
She’d basically just questioned my upbringing to my face.
I smiled sweetly.
“Bufure treats me so casually that I must have developed a sense of intimacy with you too, ma’am.”
“…!”
“After all, he calls me ‘trash’ on a regular basis. Of course, I could never call you trash.”
“…What?”
The reaction didn’t come from her first — it came from my father, staring at me in shock.
I tugged lightly at his sleeve to keep him from exploding, and continued.
“Unless, of course, Bufure was being disrespectful to you as well?”
“…”
In other words: If your son’s manners are appalling, I was simply returning the favor — in the mildest possible way.?
