Chapter 33
The day I left behind a place full of memories and set off alone to a distant land.
A lukewarm breeze blew through the garden filled only with the flowers Mother loved, and I looked back at the mansion while holding down my disheveled hair.
Was this the right choice, or the wrong one?
There was no point in asking myself, so I decided to walk a path different from before.
At that time, I prioritized only my own feelings as I left everything behind, unable to even imagine the sorrow of those I left, seeing everyone around me as enemies, and thinking only of escaping.
It's been almost three years since I declared to Father that I would stop being a daughter and ran away from home.
The place I escaped to was harsher than I had imagined, but even more than that, it was filled with joyful days.
I learned about lordship duties and territory management from Grandfather, with whom I got more chances to talk; I regularly consoled Uncle Ruget, who lamented his rebellious sons; and although my encounters with Rudo and Renato were unexpected, we somehow became best friends.
Soldiers, who are often thought to be rough, are actually kind, strong, and respectable people in every way. Seeing them risk their lives to protect the border made me ashamed of how I had lived in peace without knowing anything.
Coming here really was the right choice. I've grown more than I had back then, and as the heir of a military noble, I've started to look properly toward the future... or so I tell myself, while thinking only about how to persuade Father with words ever since Grandfather told me to talk it out instead of sneaking into military school.
Because of that, I haven't been able to focus on training these past few days, and Rick has scolded me many times, and Colonel Nick even threw me out of the infirmary.
Father refuses to stamp the consent form. He probably intends to take me back and enroll me in the academy.
I couldn't think of any other reason he would go out of his way to visit Ransheen Fortress.
In a shorter time than the days the three of us spent together as a family, I completely lost trust in Father.
He doesn't listen to my opinions. My words don't reach him.
Then maybe I can just ignore him too? If he objects, maybe I should throw a tantrum right in front of him.
Thinking such dangerous thoughts, I imagined myself being harshly scolded and slumped my shoulders.
I heard that Father had arrived at the fortress in the early afternoon, and though my steps grew heavier with each one, I managed to move and arrived at Grandfather's office, but...
"Celes... thank goodness, you're safe. Are you... hurt anywhere?"
I had steeled myself and entered the room, only to find Grandfather sitting on the sofa with his head in his hand, and Father, who had turned back with incredible speed... immediately stood up, took large strides toward me, and hugged me before I could even greet him.
"Um... Father?"
"What is it? Are you hurt somewhere?"
"No, I'm not hurt anywhere, but..."
"You've lost weight, haven't you? Are you eating? Are you getting enough nutrition?"
I knew I'd been doing things selfishly, so I was prepared to be scolded, but I never imagined he would be this worried.
I rubbed Father's slightly trembling shoulders and patted his back, telling him I was okay.
Watching our exchange, Grandfather looked exasperated and said, "You're overreacting."
"I told you I'm not hurt anywhere and that I'm fine. You worry too much."
"What would you know, Father... Not being able to see your daughter for years... and she's grown so much..."
"Wipe your snot and tears, it's annoying."
"Ugh..."
Perhaps embarrassed by the comment, Father flinched slightly, turned his face away, pulled a handkerchief from his chest pocket, and wiped his nose and cheeks.
Though he's usually composed, sometimes his fragile side shows like this.
A count, a military noble lord favored by the king.
Just hearing that makes it sound like he lives a glamorous life, but in reality, the life of a lord is the same everywhere.
According to Grandfather, while they are allowed a degree of free governance as long as they don't defy the king's will, the duty to protect the people, pay taxes to the kingdom, repel invaders, and suppress rebellions all fall on the lord's shoulders, and that burden is immense.
Work begins at dawn, with meetings with stewards who assist the lord and manage the mansion, reviewing crime control and defense within the territory, and reading petitions from the people.
Most of the day is consumed by territorial duties, and during seasonal changes, they check harvest yields of crops grown in the territory, and if problems arise, the lord personally inspects the area. Depending on the region, they may be away from home for several days, and often wouldn't be seen for nearly a month.
Moreover, military nobles must save funds in preparation for war. That requires constant vigilance over new ventures, foreign trade, and securing merchants, acting faster than anyone else.
I understood that Father was busy.
But until Grandfather taught me, I didn't realize just how much was packed into the word "busy."
He never showed a tired face and always made time for lunch with the family, listening to Mother and me talk. I respect Father for that and feel very proud of him.
But Father isn't perfect—he's even been called a klutz by the family.
His frame is thinner and more worn than the last time I saw him.
His usually neat hair is messy, the collar of his clothes is wet with tears and wrinkled, and he crumples the used handkerchief and shoves it into his pocket—what is that even?
I had been tense and stiff, but seeing clumsy Father like that made me feel oddly calm.
"Honestly... Celestia, sit down too."
"Yes."
"Celes, sit next to me... Ah!?"
"We can't talk like that, can we?"
I dodged Father, who wouldn't let go, and smoothly moved to sit next to Grandfather at the back of the room. Father hurried after me, his face twisting in frustration, muttered "She's my daughter..." and glared at Grandfather as he sat on the sofa opposite.
"...Is this what you meant by 'talk'?"
The paper placed on the table was the consent form for military school.
As expected, Father's name wasn't written in the signature section.
"There's nothing to talk about. I came to take Celes back."
"Ignoring her own will?"
"You know what kind of place military school is, don't you, Father? Even if she's not a soldier, she's still a cadet. If a war breaks out, she'll be sent to the battlefield. I could endure it because you and Ruget were at Ransheen Fortress, but if Celes ever had to go to war... just thinking about it terrifies me. I've already lost Mother and my wife. Celes is all I have left. I don't want to lose anything more..."
"I understand how you feel, but that's no reason to refuse to talk."
"There's no way you could understand how I feel, Father. You always preferred the battlefield over your territory or family! You gleamed with joy while killing more people than anyone else. That's why even your comrades called you a battle maniac!"
"Well, they weren't wrong."
"Don't drag Celes down the same path as you. She's the heir of the Rotish family and my precious daughter!"
I have no intention of becoming a soldier, and I wrote that clearly in my letter.
Even so, in Father's mind, the moment I entered military school, it must have been decided that I would follow the same path as Grandfather.
"She's your precious daughter?"
"Of course."
"Then why not at least listen to what your precious daughter has to say?"
"......"
"Celestia."
I was unsure how to begin, but Grandfather gave me the opening I needed.
Then... I took a deep breath to calm myself and straightened my back.
I'll tell him everything, without hiding anything... Even if it leads to disappointment, it's better than running away from the truth.
"The year after Mother passed away, you took a new wife, and even though I understood it was inevitable, I still felt betrayed."
"...A new wife."
I felt bad for Father, who looked confused, but this was where I had to start.
"Without any explanation or consultation, one day I suddenly had a stepmother and a stepsister. I didn't know whether to cry or be angry... In the end, I couldn't do either."
"...I thought I explained that."
"You said it was for the sake of a deceased friend. It was after the fact, though."
"I couldn't just leave her alone..."
"She lost her husband and her peerage, so of course you'd feel sympathy. You didn't let her use Mother's room and locked it instead. That's why I could swallow my dissatisfaction about the remarriage."
"...Wait, it was a contractual marriage, just until Mirabel gets married. I plan to provide minimum support afterward, and I'm also looking for a remarriage partner for Soleia. I see now... I didn't explain it well enough."
"...A contractual marriage?"
"When supporting someone who lost their spouse or when temporary protection is needed, marriage may be used. In such cases, a legal representative is involved, and a notarized document is created detailing the marriage with divorce as a condition. The duration and terms vary, but Soleia and I are married only until Mirabel gets married. After that, we'll annul the marriage and become strangers. That's why I've never had Soleia perform duties as the lady of the house, except as a partner at formal events. I also haven't given Mirabel any authority to use the Rotish family's name... I'm sorry, I didn't explain it well."
A remarriage and a contractual marriage carry very different meanings.
So that's why there was no wedding or formal announcement—now I wanted to cover my face in embarrassment.
Maybe they didn't explain it because they thought a young child wouldn't understand, but I've received a decent education. If they had just explained it like this back then, I wouldn't have felt betrayed.
"The ones I love are only Lumière and Celestia. Please believe that."
"I understand. I didn't hate my stepmother either, so I don't mind anymore."
"I see..."
"Also, about the fiancé..."
Please don't tilt your head while looking between the consent form and me. We're not at that part of the conversation yet.
"The fiancé... Lord Floyd?"
"Not just Lord Floyd—Mirabel too."
Father furrowed his brows and muttered, "Why is Mirabel involved?" while tilting his head again.
Seeing that, I thought about where to start, remembered the humiliation of the past, and gradually grew angry.
I had planned to explain things in order...
"Father, what do you think of my relationship with Lord Floyd?"
"...He's your fiancé, isn't he?"
"Fiancé... Yes, fiancé..."
"Ce-Celes?"
"A fiancé is someone who, at the engagement party, leaves me behind to dance and chat with my stepsister, escorts her at tea parties, theater outings, and music festivals, sits close to her in carriages and rooms, and on our engagement anniversary, sends the bouquet meant for his fiancée through a servant while he enjoys a tea party with my stepsister in the garden."
"......"
What slipped out of my mouth was a bitter complaint.
My clenched fist made a creaking sound, and Grandfather, sitting beside me, patted my shoulder as if to calm me.
"Wow, amazing! So this is what a fiancé as Father describes is normally like?"
There's no way this is normal.
When I told this story to Grandfather and Uncle Ruget, they held their heads in their hands.
"I asked Father several times. Why is Mirabel always with him...? Do you remember what Father said in response? He said Mirabel adored her sister and didn't want to be apart from her. Isn't that strange?"
"......No."
"Even though I'm Lord Floyd's fiancée, Mirabel acted more like the fiancée. And instead of being reprimanded, it was encouraged. My heart was deeply wounded—because of Father and Marquis Armle."
"That's..."
"So, thinking it was useless to say anything, I continued to endure it, and as a result, all trust in Father vanished. There's not a shred left."
"Celes..."
I pressed my thumb and forefinger together and thrust them out in front of Father's face.
Perhaps in shock, Father covered his face with both hands, while Grandfather let out a deep sigh, sank into the sofa, and took on a bystander's stance.
I haven't even mentioned Mirabel's prophecy yet, and he's already this shocked—will he be able to handle the rest?
I nodded slightly, thinking I might be able to bring him down with words alone, and stared intently at the consent form that had been left there, waiting for Father to speak...
"I'm sorry... The reason Mirabel accompanied you was because I instructed it."
With that outrageous confession, Grandfather let out a groan, and Father shrank under our piercing gazes.
"What do you mean by that...?"
"Well, you see. On the day you met Floyd, you didn't seem very happy, did you, Celes?"
"...The meeting... Ah!"
To me, that wasn't a fiancé introduction—it was the moment Mirabel's delusion became reality. I was confused, yes, but I also remember being so caught up in my thoughts that I could only manage stiff smiles and vague responses no matter who spoke to me.
"Since it wasn't a political marriage, I didn't understand how you felt, Celes. I thought I might've messed up, so I consulted Soleia from a woman's perspective... She said there's such a thing as an ideal, right? And if it doesn't meet that, it's only natural not to like it. She advised that I should start by placing a third party between you two to gradually break the ice."
"And that third party was Mirabel?"
"She said that having a younger child nearby would prevent a tense atmosphere. Also, since Floyd is shy and not talkative, Marquis Armle was worried he wouldn't be able to hold a conversation."
Shy? Not talkative? I've never gotten that impression from Lord Floyd.
He may not be the most talkative, but he always smiled sweetly and chatted with Mirabel.
If anything, those words applied to me, who couldn't join the conversation and just sat there in silence, stewing.
"There are many things a father can't understand, and I'm not usually by your side, Celes. If something happened, Soleia, being a woman, could handle it better. With Mirabel by your side, we could also observe how things were going and help foster your relationship."
"Is that what Stepmother told you?"
"...The one who gave permission was me. I'm truly sorry."
Father did something misguided out of concern for his daughter, and I, as his daughter, kept my dissatisfaction bottled up. It's the result of both of us neglecting communication.
No matter how much I blame him for the past, it won't change anything. I had my faults too.
That's why, to avoid failure this time, we need to properly talk about the future.
"Father, we haven't communicated enough. So from now on, I'll be clear about what I want."
"......You're right."
"Then, please grant me permission to enroll in the military school."
"If there's anything wrong with me, I'll fix it all. So, please, just reconsider that one thing."
Given the flow of conversation so far, it might seem like I'm rebelling and trying to enroll in the military school—but that's not it.
I did throw a tantrum when Lord Floyd ignored the custom of handing me a bouquet on our engagement anniversary, but even if that hadn't happened, I would've left home.
Yes, the story begins here, Father.