Chapter 138

With the rare visit of his liege, the Lord of Dreykum was determined to show off every good thing his land had to offer. As a result, the group once again visited the region’s most famous landmarks and historical sites.

Something about 400 years ago… something about slash-and-burn farmers… Diane, her brother, and Nerys had already heard the explanation once and weren’t interested. Cledwyn already knew the content to begin with. Still, walking outdoors under a clear sky while listening to a local’s narration wasn’t unpleasant.

“Riz! Look at this!”

Diane, clinging to Nerys’s arm, was excitedly exploring. Though these plants were common here, they were rarer in the south. The canal in the ruins still held clear water, and birds zipped around energetically… everything fascinated Diane.

Nerys, meanwhile, found herself drawn more to the structural forms of the ruins. The detailing wasn’t documented in any academy books she’d read. With her mind at ease, she could finally appreciate such things.

As she followed Diane around, something caught her eye—a pillar where the carvings were still relatively intact.

The upper part of the pillar, a couple of hand spans taller than Nerys, had broken off. While the top had worn smooth over time, the carvings below were still visible. Though to an untrained eye, the curves didn’t clearly depict anything recognizable.

What caught her attention was a phrase etched between those grooves—clearly carved by someone after the pillar’s original construction.

‘It doesn’t look like part of the original design. More like someone added it afterward.’

Yet it didn’t resemble tourist graffiti either. The carving was old—very old. This part must’ve been sheltered from the wind, as the letters were still distinguishable even to an amateur eye.

And Nerys could make out a few words:

Wildcat. Forget. No?

She had read it almost absentmindedly, but the language wasn’t Imperial. Nor was it Sacred Tongue. What was it again?

“You there.”

Nerys called out with a frown. The lower-ranking official explaining the economic impact of the ruins blinked at her in surprise.

“Yes?”

“You said this ruin was built 400 years ago, right? Are you certain?”

“The scholars sent by His Majesty at the time of discovery concluded as much.”

Four hundred years ago would be after the foundation of the Empire. The Age of Darkness, when the evil dragon plunged the world into despair, had ended about 600 years ago thanks to three heroes.

Much had changed in those two centuries. Even the written form of the Imperial language had evolved, merging with other tribal tongues. Still, deep in the palace archives, remnants of those older forms remained.

Why, then, would a ruin said to be 400 years old contain writing in a language that had disappeared 600 years ago?

Yes—that language. It used a script almost identical to modern Imperial, but it was different. In her past life, Nerys had read documents written in it.

They had been shoved into the palace archives, mixed with documents in other languages. Useless to the imperial family, yet barely deciphered thanks to relentless efforts by a few scholars…

‘To remember the wildcat.’

She couldn’t be certain, but Nerys believed that was the meaning of the phrase carved into the pillar.

“Why?”

Diane had no interest in history, but if Nerys found something interesting, she wanted to know too. Nerys shook her head.

“It’s nothing. Just wondering what it says.”

“Ah, sorry. That part hasn’t been deciphered.”

The official gave a belated, apologetic smile. Nerys found that odd, too. Why? Scholars in the capital had already decoded that language…

“Is it important?”

Seeing Nerys’s uncertain expression, Diane blinked and asked. Nerys shook her head again.

“No. Let’s look at something else.”

Soon Diane, still holding Nerys’s arm, began confidently dragging her all over the site again.

Not far away, Joyce observed the scene with a cheerful tone.

“They seem very happy, Your Grace.”

“Indeed.”

Cledwyn nodded, eyes fixed on the two young women enjoying themselves. His expression was one of reluctant acceptance—he clearly had some reservations, but was choosing to quietly accept the situation.

That attitude didn’t match the image Joyce had of “Cledwyn Maindulante” from before arriving.

‘He’s been completely misrepresented.’

Joyce was experienced enough to know one shouldn’t judge a person solely by reputation. But he also believed that people’s past actions revealed a great deal.

According to the life trajectory he’d studied, Cledwyn was hardly the ideal man for someone as cute, lovely, sweet, and precious as Diane.

It wasn’t because Cledwyn had his retainers killed. The incidents with Shivna and Nualan MacKinnon had taught Joyce that blood ties could be the scariest enemies of all. After digging into the details, it looked more like the young Grand Duke had nearly been devoured by a pack of cunning wolves.

Still, regardless of blame, Cledwyn led an extremely dangerous life. This incident likely happened because of his ties to Maindulante.

‘It’s a dangerous environment. Not just for Di, but for Nerys too.’

The fact that Diane had nearly died—and that the assassin had worked as a maid in the MacKinnon household for five years—had weighed heavily on Joyce’s mind these past days.

And so, he reached a conclusion:

‘We weren’t the intended targets. The true objective was Nerys. The reason: the Jeweled Eyes, or unrest in Maindulante.’

Betty had stepped away from Diane’s side, but the MacKinnon family would never have assigned just anyone to her. Nora had clean credentials and a spotless record.

How many people on this continent could employ an assassin that deeply embedded?

Even though the Maindulante side had given almost no information, Joyce had already arrived at a near-complete answer. And with that, he knew what he had to do.

‘Nerys might leave Maindulante someday, but the Jeweled Eyes won’t. The Imperial Family is bound to stay interested. So Nerys sneaking here without Diane knowing was the best move for her.’

The Imperial Family’s “interest” was excessive. And the MacKinnons, nearly killed, couldn’t even lodge a formal complaint without evidence.

Joyce felt a little small. If his family had been of higher nobility—or even a landed barony—they might have had more standing in high society and the courage to speak out.

But no matter how wealthy they were, the MacKinnons were still seen by aristocrats as “just another merchant family,” easily replaceable. Joyce knew this well.

‘I need to grow the family.’

That was the only way forward. To prove to those who thought ancestral deeds mattered more than today’s bread that they were wrong.

This trip to Maindulante was a bigger opportunity than he’d expected—and a bigger risk. They could withdraw immediately for Diane’s safety, but…

‘Then we’d remain stuck in our current position forever.’

He couldn’t ignore their benefactor Nerys, either. But for the sake of the family, it was time to make a different choice.

‘No one will use the MacKinnon name like this ever again.’

His father, the Count, had succeeded in everything he touched. Joyce had inherited that talent. On this trip north, he intended to find out exactly what the MacKinnon Merchant Group could gain.

But for that to happen, the Grand Duke had to be trustworthy.

‘Despite his reputation for madness, he’s perfectly sane. His actions may seem extreme, but considering he lost his parents young and built this position, it’s more like boldness.’

The local trade was naturally controlled by natives, but there was room in trade routes connecting the south and Maindulante. No major merchant group had monopolized those yet—and the Moriér Merchant Group, though recently active, was still too small.

Joyce sensed that the north held far more opportunity than southerners assumed. And to seize that opportunity…

A sane, bold man wasn’t a bad partner.

While Joyce and Cledwyn quietly pondered, Diane and Nerys continued walking through the ruins, chatting. Or rather, Diane chatted while Nerys gave simple replies—but that was enough for both of them.

“Your mother is alive?”

Nerys had decided it was best to reveal the truth before they went to White Swan Castle. Diane lit up at the news.

“That’s wonderful!”

“Thank you.”

“I really like your mom. She’s always so cheerful—just seeing her lifts my mood. Say, is there a nice picnic spot near Penmewick? If you’re free, let’s all go out—your mom, my brother, and us.”

“Hmm, the area around Penmewick is beautiful, so let’s do that. Just us would be nice, but I think it’ll turn into a group outing.”

With guests visiting, even the minor lords under White Swan Castle would likely make an appearance. Maindulante took pride in showing off its grandeur to outsiders.

Nerys smiled faintly.

“Penmewick Castle is very beautiful. It’s white and elegant—people call it White Swan Castle. I really want you to see it, Di.”

“Okay!”

Caught up in conversation, Diane nearly bumped into someone. She didn’t, thankfully, but they both stopped and apologized.

“Sorry.”

“Oh, excuse me.”

Diane was a noble, and the only nobles she needed to use formal speech with here were part of her own group. Naturally, she apologized informally—but she hadn’t expected the other person to respond the same way.

The two girls stared at the woman Diane had almost walked into.

She was extremely tall. Even taller than Cledwyn—likely the tallest person they’d ever seen. Yet her height wasn’t the most striking thing.

‘She sparkles like gold.’

Her eyes didn’t have the many facets of the Jeweled Eyes, but they were still striking. Diane thought her long golden hair and eyes that gleamed like molten metal were fascinating.

‘So there are people with eyes like that, too.’

Even while spending time with someone known to have Jeweled Eyes, Diane found herself thinking that.

The golden-haired woman tilted her head as if confused by their gaze, then met Nerys’s eyes and softly said:

“Oh.”

Oh? As if she’d just run into something she already knew. Nerys and Diane both made odd expressions.

The woman peered into Nerys’s eyes, smiled faintly, and turned away as if that was the end of it. She disappeared behind a stone wall taller than a person.

“You okay?”

Cledwyn and Joyce approached. Diane, unsure how to explain, nodded at her brother’s question.

“Yeah. I didn’t bump into her.”

“Her outfit was strange. A mage, maybe?”

Diane had been too mesmerized by the woman’s eyes to notice. But Joyce and Cledwyn, who hadn’t seen her eyes, focused on her old-fashioned robe.

Mages were rare. Any noble could use enchanted tools for simple magic, but few could cast spells with their own mana, unaided by precharged devices.

If she was a mage, it made sense that she spoke so informally. Mages were said to be eccentric. Diane accepted that logic and pointed excitedly to another spot.

“Those flowers are so pretty! Let’s go there!”