Chapter 27
Joyce MacKinnon. Seeing his face, Nerys was momentarily overwhelmed by the memories that surfaced.
Fortunately, since he remained focused on Diane and continued asking about her school life, Nerys had some time to process her thoughts about the past.
“Are you uncomfortable in any way? Was my brother right about bringing more attendants?”
“He wasn’t! I’m having a great time, totally comfortable and having fun!”
“Still… Do you want to bring Peony with you?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. If I take Peony, the head chef, what will happen to the kitchen?”
“You can hire a new chef.”
“No way. Peony would be miserable.”
“You have no idea how worried everyone was when our little one, who always ate Peony’s delicious food, left for the Academy. Were we afraid you wouldn’t like the ingredients there? Of course! Are you eating well? You’re not losing weight, are you?”
“Stop calling me ‘little one’!”
“Alright, alright, if my angel tells me not to, I won’t. Do you know what happened while you were away? Uncle Shivna told me about someone named Lemartre…”
Despite his solemn demeanor, Joyce frequently referred to Diane with phrases like “our little one,” “our angel,” and “the most beautiful sister in the world.”
Every time he said such things, Diane would sneak glances at Nerys, her face turning bright red.
Seeing her embarrassment was endearing, and Nerys felt like she was witnessing the background that had shaped Diane’s bright personality. She smiled faintly.
Following his sister’s gaze, Joyce also glanced at Nerys. However, his words to her carried a cold, distant formality more befitting his expression.
“I heard my reckless sister has been relying on you a lot.”
“No, Sir. It is I who have been relying on her.”
Nerys responded while looking at him with a peculiar feeling.
Joyce briefly pondered over Nerys’ flawless pronunciation and intonation, surprising for someone supposedly from a remote countryside.
From the very first letter Diane sent after leaving for the Academy, the name Nerys Truydd had appeared without fail. Knowing his sister’s all-or-nothing personality, he had only half-believed the glowing praise in those letters.
But seeing her in person, he realized Diane hadn’t exaggerated in the slightest. The daughter of a low-ranking knight, yet her etiquette was more precise and graceful than most noblewomen in the capital’s high society.
Was that even possible? Could he afford not to be wary?
Silently, he observed the friend his sister had brought home with such admiration. Diane, however, disliked the way he was looking at Nerys.
“Brother, stop glaring at my friend.”
“I’m not glaring.”
Nerys knew that Joyce didn’t like her, but she wasn’t particularly bothered by it. However, when she met his deep green eyes, her chest felt strangely uneasy.
He—Joyce MacKinnon.
If her memory served correctly, in her previous life, he was the one who reported Angelo, leading to his expulsion from Vista under the orders of Duke Elandria.
It was odd.
Even back then, the MacKinnon family had been influential in Vista while she was the Crown Princess.
Though her role in diplomacy meant she rarely interacted with the MacKinnons, who were involved in domestic commerce, she had at least known the faces of Count MacKinnon and his wife.
If he had been the rightful heir, she should have recognized him beyond that incident. They should have crossed paths at some party, at the very least.
Then why couldn’t she recall ever seeing him outside of that event?
And if he had lost the trial and been expelled, why had the MacKinnon family remained?
Yes, she was certain she had heard his name back then. But at the time, she had simply assumed he was a collateral relative…
‘Why did I think that?’
Joyce had long since turned away, yet Nerys’ expression remained unsettled. Diane, noticing, spoke with an apologetic face.
“Sorry, Riz. Everyone says my brother looks scary at first. But he’s actually really nice.”
Given how he treated his sister, Diane had every reason to think so.
Nerys quickly tore her gaze away from Joyce and answered Diane evenly.
“I’m not scared. Diane, you said you only have one brother, right?”
“Yeah. But I have lots of cousins. Two uncles and an aunt. Originally, Muriel, my youngest uncle’s daughter, was the youngest, but then I was born.”
Joyce interjected.
“And everyone was overjoyed when our angel was born.”
“Ugh, brother!”
“Are you crazy? My friend is right here! Why are you treating me like a baby?!”, Diane looked mortified.
Nerys briefly smirked before returning to her composed expression.
It would be wise to gather as much information as possible about the MacKinnon family during the holiday period.
—
“Welcome, my lady.”
The MacKinnon estate’s staff had already gathered at the main entrance when they saw the approaching carriage. By the time Diane stepped out, they were all waiting with joyous faces.
The warmth of their welcome made it clear just how cherished Diane was in this household.
“I’m back! Did everyone do well?”
Diane beamed as Joyce lifted her down from the carriage.
Nerys was slightly surprised when Joyce also extended a hand to her, but she gratefully accepted the gesture.
His escort was remarkably considerate, ensuring she descended with ease.
“My lady!”
A plump woman wearing a large apron came rushing from the side of the main building, tears streaming down her face. She looked like she was reuniting with a soldier returning from war.
Diane waved enthusiastically.
“Peony!”
“My goodness, look how thin my lady has gotten!”
Peony, presumably the head chef, hugged Diane and spun her around.
Then the butler embraced her.
Then an older maid followed suit.
“Let’s go inside now. Di, aren’t you tired? Both of you should take a bath and get some rest.”
Since Diane was too busy hugging her beloved household staff, Joyce took the lead.
The servants chuckled as they escorted Diane and Nerys into the main building.
Festive red decorations were displayed throughout the estate for the holiday season.
As soon as visitors entered, they were greeted by a grand hall adorned with an enormous tapestry so large that it would take the combined height of three or four people to match it. The artwork woven into it depicted the resurrection of the god Timaeus and the sacred tree that stood beside him at the moment of his revival.
The red blossoms of the sacred tree were embroidered with silk thread, gold thread, and seven-colored twisted threads, making them appear strikingly vivid and beautiful. Even the walls and staircases were lavishly adorned with silk flowers, yet they paled in comparison to the brilliance of the tapestry.
The tapestry was hung along the walls of the space where the ceiling was partially opened to connect the first and second floors. It began at the railing of the second-floor balcony and cascaded down to the walls of the first floor.
At that moment, several people were descending the nearby staircase.
“Oh my, Diane!”
“Diane, you’re back.”
The people coming down the stairs appeared to be in their early twenties, give or take a few years.
Nerys quickly observed that two of them had the same dark brown hair as Diane and her brother, while another had the same green eyes as Joyce. This allowed her to make an educated guess about their identities.
“It’s been a while,” Diane greeted them properly, addressing her older cousins.
They burst into laughter. Nerys, though keeping her gaze lowered demurely, paid close attention to their demeanor.
Even if the MacKinnon family was not ruled by strict traditions, Diane was still the daughter of an earl, while these individuals were the children of second or lower-born sons. If they were not going to use formal speech with each other, then the appropriate custom would be for Diane to speak informally while they addressed her with respect.
Yet, their confident and casual behavior suggested they had long since become accustomed to treating Diane as a child.
Or perhaps, in this household, familial bonds held more weight than legal status.
“Our little Diane is still adorable,” one of them cooed.
“How was school? No one’s been bullying you, have they? I’ve been so worried about you.”
“School is fun! I’m learning a lot,” Diane replied proudly.
The youngest-looking cousin, a girl with bright brown hair, turned her gaze to Nerys.
“And who is she? Your new maid?”
Though the entire household was well aware that Diane had brought a friend, the cousin feigned ignorance in a particularly spiteful manner.
Nerys smiled politely and stepped forward.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you. My name is Nerys Truydd. I’m Diane’s friend.”
Diane had been about to lash out at her cousin’s rude behavior, but at the word ‘friend’, her irritation vanished, replaced by a bright, delighted expression. Nerys had introduced herself as a friend first!
“Oh, I think I’ve heard about you,” the cousin remarked with a smug arch of her eyebrow. Then, slowly, her expression darkened as she scrutinized Nerys from head to toe.
Her gaze briefly lingered on Nerys’ eyes before moving down to her attire, where it remained for an uncomfortably long time.
“So, you go to the Academy. I suppose those famous lessons aren’t all that impressive after all. Haven’t they taught you that it’s improper to interrupt a conversation among nobles?”
Joyce subtly furrowed his brow, while Diane finally looked ready to explode.
But before either of them could react, Nerys smoothly responded.
“Which nobles?”
“What?”
Diane’s cousin looked perplexed, unable to grasp the question.
Bettie, standing nearby, had to suppress a laugh. Watching someone else go through what she had once suffered was oddly satisfying. Besides, Muriel MacKinnon had always been jealous of Diane, constantly picking fights with her, so this was well deserved.
“Which nobles are you referring to?” Nerys continued. “Are you speaking in the broad sense or the strict sense? According to Vista’s ‘Law on the Noble Register and Legislative Composition’, the term ‘noble’ in its strict sense refers solely to barons and their direct descendants who have ruled over a territory for at least three generations, or individuals of higher rank. Based on that definition, the only nobles present here are Diane and Sir Joyce.” (T/N: Ugh, I love you Nerys!)
And if one used the broader definition—‘anyone of knightly descent or higher’—then Nerys herself would also be included.
The room fell silent.
Muriel’s hands trembled in frustration, while Diane beamed with delight.
Nerys, maintaining a calm expression, met Muriel’s gaze. The other girl, about to snap back, suddenly felt a chill run down her spine under Nerys’ piercing stare, making her humiliation even worse.
Just then, the young man with green eyes standing beside Muriel chuckled and stepped in to diffuse the tension.
“She’s right, Muriel. A friend from the Academy is bound to be intelligent. If you keep picking fights, you’ll only end up embarrassing yourself.”
The same people who had laughed earlier burst into laughter once again.
Nerys now had a better understanding of the household dynamics. She stole a glance at Joyce, who seemed somewhat reassured, making her exhale slightly in relief.
Muriel MacKinnon may have been petty, but she didn’t seem the type to engage in any serious scheming.
However, the green-eyed man standing beside her… He gave Nerys a bad feeling.
His presence was hazy and unremarkable, yet there was something about him that made her wary.
“I’m Nualan MacKinnon,” he introduced himself. “So, Diane’s friend, are you staying for the whole holiday?”
“Yes,” Nerys replied.
Nualan. ‘A name meaning ‘noble.’ A bit excessive for the son of a mere knight.’
She met his gaze and answered with a polite nod. Nualan, grinning casually, waved a hand.
“Judging by your eyes and speech, I’d say you come from a lineage far more distinguished than ours. It may be a short visit, but I hope you enjoy yourself. Let’s get along well.”
‘Enjoy yourself…?’ That was an odd thing for a relative to say in the presence of the head of the house.
However, Nerys didn’t call him out on it. She simply smiled, her clear yet icy gaze unsettling Nualan. For a moment, he felt as though he wasn’t speaking to a mere girl but someone much more formidable.
At that moment, a procession of people appeared near the tapestry. Judging by their attire, they were workers who had mistakenly taken the wrong path.
At the forefront was a lively-looking woman, carrying heavy bundles of goods.
“Miss Morier! This isn’t the way. This is the hall,” a servant in uniform called out, rushing toward her.
Nerys blinked in surprise.
What were the odds?
She had come across yet another figure from her past.
The woman’s name was Joan Morier—once a powerful merchant guild leader, whose downfall Nerys had orchestrated by drawing Angelo into the Elandria family.
