Ch#138
“Word has reached me that the knight the Count dismissed was discovered within the Woodpecker woods.”
“Is that so?”
“You act as though this is news to you.”
“Indeed, I was unaware.”
“If you insist, Count, I have little choice but to take your word for it.”
Claude spoke the words, yet his gaze remained sharp with lingering doubt. He studied the Count through narrowed eyes before continuing. “And yet.”
“Lev possesses a loyalty to Grimaldi that is quite profound, you understand.”
The Count allowed a ghost of a smile to touch his lips. Claude’s skepticism was of no consequence; this affair did not involve him.
Despite Claude’s frequent posturing about the importance of family and cousins, he was the sort of man who would discard a relative the moment they became a liability. He would likely treat a biological brother with the same cold pragmatism. It was the way of the nobility and the Royal Family alike. Most people functioned this way, driven by an inherent biological urge to protect oneself above all others. It wasn’t necessarily betrayal; it was survival.
“Wouldn’t you agree, Yuls?”
However, bringing this up now was a calculated move. The Count realized the intent was to corner him or create a friction point. Unless, of course…
“Perhaps.”
That radiant, cheerful expression was impossible to decipher. Looking at Claude, the Count considered that his assessment might be flawed. Claude’s thoughts were erratic, prone to shifting in unpredictable directions. Despite having known him since they were boys, the Count found him inscrutable at times. In contrast, the other man was far more transparent.
“Defying the commands of one’s liege can hardly be categorized as an act of devotion.”
Julius Woodpecker.
While many viewed a predictable nature as a flaw, it actually offered significant advantages. When a person’s movements could be anticipated, managing them became a simple task. Whether dealing with an ally or an adversary, knowing their next step allowed for negotiations that mitigated collateral damage.
Claude, however, was a different matter. Since it was impossible to know what would appease him, one was forced to either submit to his side…
“Regardless, since harm has been inflicted, I intend to identify the culprit and seek restitution.”
…or destroy him entirely. There was no middle ground.
The complication, naturally, was the lack of other heirs to the Royal Family. Claude was the only viable successor, though how long that status would remain secure was anyone’s guess.
Spencer shifted his attention to Yuls.
Observing him, he felt a sense of squandered potential. It was unexpected for Duke Woodpecker to father such a son. It appeared the traits of the boy’s grandfather—qualities the Duke himself lacked—had skipped a generation. Or perhaps it was the influence of the Blood of the Witch.
“First, we must determine which side Lev has aligned himself with.”
Claude, meanwhile, bore no resemblance to his father or grandfather. He felt uncomfortably similar to the Count himself, a realization that Spencer found distasteful.
“If my assistance is required, do not hesitate to ask, Your Excellency.”
“I appreciate the offer.”
Yuls replied.
“But I shall manage on my own.”
*
The protracted feast finally drew to a close. The early evening had been filled with various subjects, but as the hours passed, the conversation had dwindled to intermittent remarks between Claude and the Count. Just as it seemed they might retire, Claude spoke up. “Where might we find the Drawing room?”
“It is difficult to maintain a meaningful dialogue over dinner. The table creates too much distance. A grand dining hall is grand, certainly, but it lacks intimacy.”
He spun around to face Yuls. “You’re joining us, I assume?” Before Yuls could decline, the Countess shifted her attention toward Adi. Her expression suggested she had something to communicate.
“Is there something you need?”
In response to Adi’s inquiry, the Countess stared intently at her before finally speaking.
“His Excellency the Duke.”
The Countess had been virtually silent throughout the meal, so her sudden intervention drew every eye in the room toward her.
“Might I have a private moment with your knight?”
“……”
The Countess kept her eyes locked on Adi as she spoke. It felt as though the weight of the past and the uncertainty of the future were meeting in that single look. Both women remained perfectly stoic, their expressions revealing nothing. After a brief silence, Yuls gave his consent. “You may.” Adi looked at him, wondering if a refusal would have been more appropriate.
“I will wait for a relief guard to take my station first,” Adi added. The Count gave instructions for the head chamberlain to summon a member of the Escort Knight Division from the Duke’s quarters.
Roy arrived shortly thereafter, though the party had already begun moving toward the Drawing room in their impatience. Adi stood outside the doors with the other members of the Escort Knight Division while Roy and the head chamberlain approached. The chamberlain knocked and was admitted inside.
“Is everything okay?” Roy whispered.
“Yes. I’m just stepping away briefly. I’ll return once I’ve finished.”
“Understood. I’ve got the watch.”
“Thanks. Keep your eyes open.”
Adi gave Roy’s shoulder a firm pat. “Be especially wary of the Grimaldi knights.” She knew the County’s men would recognize Roy; they would likely seize any chance to eliminate him to ensure their house’s secret techniques didn’t spread.
A moment later, the Countess emerged from the Drawing room.
“This way, Sir.”
The head chamberlain led the way, with Adi following closely behind the Countess.
Adi expected to be led to the woman’s private quarters, but the Countess climbed the stairs instead. High places seemed ill-suited for her.
Oddly, the layout felt familiar to Adi. If the curtains had been green instead of blue, the floor covered in red carpet, and the tapestries replaced with different scenes, she would have known exactly where she was.
The Countess had brought her to Adrian’s old room. It wasn’t the room he had used when he was well, but the high, isolated chamber where he had spent his final days.
Yet, there was no sign he had ever been there. The room was stripped bare; the floor bore no marks from his furniture, and the wallpaper had been replaced years ago.
“Why here?”
“The Count informed me of the situation.”
The Countess’s voice resonated in the hollow space.
“That you are unable to carry a Boy.”
Adrina was stunned into silence by the slight smile on the woman’s face.
“It appears that is the solitary gift I have passed on to you.”
Adrina had reached a similar conclusion. She felt no stirrings of maternal instinct. The idea of bearing or raising a Boy was something she met with dread.
However, hearing this confirmed by the woman who had given birth to her was a jarring experience. To have her own Mother call her infertility a blessing made Adrina realize how utterly insignificant she was to this woman.
“It truly is a relief. You will be spared that burden.”
“So, you do remember who I am.”
“Could a Mother ever truly forget the Boy she brought into the world?”
“Mother…”
Adi let out a dry, bitter laugh. She still didn’t understand the concept. She didn’t know what a Mother was supposed to be.
“Did you ever actually fulfill that role?”
The Countess looked confused for a fleeting second before her face returned to its mask of cold serenity.
“This is the standard boundary within a family. My only mistake was becoming too fixated on Adrian.”
By ‘standard,’ she clearly meant the detached nature of high-ranking nobility. But Adi’s only real experience with a family was with Bert’s kin. They were nothing like this. Were all nobles so cold?
“It was a mistake I regretted. I allowed my heart to be swayed because he was a frail Boy.”
If this was the norm, why was it considered a virtue to be so emotionally distant and indifferent?
“Because of that, I feel no remorse for the distance between us.”
Was this the noble way? To what end?
“Then why send the letters?”
Adrina started to speak but found the words dying in her throat. She had felt composed when they were apart, but standing before her, she felt a surge of conflicting emotions. A deep-seated resentment flared up, yet beneath it was a confusing ache for warmth.
She hadn’t been this way before. Something had changed within her, and she couldn’t pinpoint why she was suddenly so vulnerable to these feelings.
“Did you actually read them?”
Perhaps it was her time in Woodpecker.
She had been exposed to too much there—human connection, the strength found in community, and the genuine care of others.
“At the start, I did.”
“That is surprising. I assumed you would have consigned them to the flames without a second thought.”
“What was the intent behind them?”
“Intent?”
The Countess looked as if the question had never occurred to her.
“They were merely a tool.”
“It would have looked suspicious if the Count was the only one sending correspondence.”
That explanation didn’t fit. The desperation in those pages felt too raw. The love she had shown Adrian was certainly genuine. Why lie about it now? Was she unaware of her own heart, or was she simply desperate to keep it hidden?
“That is why.”
People often remarked that Adi took after the Count, but in this moment, she saw the Countess in herself. It wasn’t just physical; it was the architecture of her mind—the parts she refused to acknowledge, the parts she couldn’t face, and the parts she despised.
She saw the origin of the traits she hated most. Her voice turned even sharper.
“What was the purpose of this meeting?”
The Countess looked up at her. In the isolation of the room, she seemed smaller than Adi remembered. Adi hadn’t realized she had to look so far down to meet her eyes. And yet, the woman’s presence was stifling, making it hard to even breathe, let alone speak.
“You asked for a moment. Are we done?”
“I require a bit more time.”
Adi opened her mouth to ask what she meant, but she stopped herself.
“Do you have nothing to say to me, Sir?”
“Nothing.”
The will to continue the struggle had left her.
“I have no more questions.”
“Does that imply you once did?”
“Yes, but the answers no longer hold any value.”
The Countess stepped closer to Adi.
“It should be about that time.”
There were no clocks in the room. Adi considered checking her own pocket watch but hesitated. Before she could ask what time she meant, the woman spoke.
“If you do not hurry, your master is going to die.”
“What are you talking about?”
As Adi stared at her in confusion, the Countess reached out and pressed a small Cloth pouch into her hand.