Side Story 13

“Why is she acting like that?”

Ipa Ganielo (age 4), granddaughter of Grand Duke Ganielo, tilted her head while holding the hand of her two-year-younger brother, Rian.

She spent half the year at the ducal palace in the Grand Duchy of Ganielo and the other half in Penmewick Castle, Maindulante. It was a situation that arose because her father, as the Grand Duke’s heir, had much to do in the Grand Duchy, and her mother, as the founder and head of a massive trading company, had much to do in Penmewick Castle, its base of operations.

Though young, Ipa took after her father in being perceptive. And despite her tender age, she had seen many people. To her eyes, Princess Arbiyone’s current behavior was strange.

“She keeps clinging only to Her Majesty the Empress.”

The children of the imperial family, the grandchildren of Grand Duke Ganielo’s house, the grandchildren of Duke MacKinnon’s house, and the children of Count Wirtam’s house.

The children of the four most prominent families in the Empire not only had parents who were close friends, but were also similar in age, so they often played together. The imperial family had come all the way to the distant MacKinnon duchy, bringing along the youngest—the twin Princess Maeve—precisely because the children missed each other so much and a gathering had been arranged.

At gatherings like this, Arbiyone was usually the most energetic. Having two younger siblings herself and loving other young children, she was the leader among them. Her spirited demeanor—leading the little ones around and reenacting adventures from books—was a famous sight in the Imperial Palace.

Yet for the past two days, that same girl had been clinging to the Empress like a cicada, refusing to let go, and ignoring the younger siblings she usually adored.

They had just seen Arbiyone sobbing in the Empress’s embrace. Judging by the situation, it seemed the Princess wouldn’t be joining their play for a while.

“Our little puppies.”

From behind, their mother called Ipa—who had been lost in thought, eyes rolling—and Rian, who was mindlessly copying his sister. Ipa’s face brightened as she turned around.

“Mommy!”

Whether she had been doing “work” with the MacKinnon Trading Company people—Ipa used that term whenever her mother, Joan Moriér, shut herself in a room with other adults instead of playing with her—there were many unfamiliar adults standing beside her mother.

She shouldn’t disturb Mommy when she was working. Mommy was busy being both the daughter-in-law of Grand Duke Ganielo and the head of the Moriér Merchant Group, so whenever she had even a little time to work, she had to focus. Ipa, who was about to run to her mother, hesitated, and the nursemaids prepared to lead the siblings away. But Joan smiled sweetly and spread her arms.

“Come here, my pretty puppies. Mommy’s all done with work.”

“I’m so excited!”

“Me too!”

Ipa said it firmly, and Rian—stumbling over his words—followed his sister’s lead. Joan scooped both children up at once, lifted them high, and spun in place.

Giggles. Ipa burst into happy laughter. She loved Mommy so much. She wanted to stay in her arms forever. Hearing that joyful sound, Joan suddenly asked with a bittersweet expression.

“Aren’t you upset that Mommy can’t play with you all the time because of work?”

Joan always tried to carve out time for her children, but there were unavoidable parts. As she juggled two roles, her husband Edward spent more time with the kids, but still… shouldn’t she play with them more, during this adorable age when they loved their mother so much?

It was a question laden with her usual worries. Rian only widened his eyes, perhaps not fully understanding, but Ipa was different.

“I’m not upset.”

Actually, she was a little upset. But Ipa shook her head sincerely. When Joan—straining a bit—set her down, Ipa spoke clearly.

“Mommy, you like work. Ipa likes that Mommy is happy. So Mommy works.”

“Mommy likes our puppies too, you know.”

“Yeah. So Ipa and Rian will wait for Mommy to finish work and come home.”

Joan nearly teared up. The MacKinnon Trading Company people standing beside her were moved as well. Most of them had children at home, too. Why were children so angelic sometimes? They threw tantrums that left you speechless, but other times, the things they said were a hundred million times more mature than adults.

Rian, apparently liking being held by Mommy, stretched out his arms, asking to be picked up again. Ipa, having just said something cool, yielded gracefully, but she was a little annoyed. ‘I want to be held by Mommy again too, you know? I’m just holding back.’

“Our little princess.”

Right then, warm arms lifted Ipa.

When she saw her father’s face, Ipa broke into a smile again. Lately, she’d been liking Daddy more and more.

‘Our Daddy is good to Mommy and good to us. And he’s a very important person too.’

‘When I grow up, I’m definitely going to marry Daddy.’

She hadn’t shared that adorable ambition with her parents yet, but Ipa was quite serious about it. She planned to live with Mommy forever too, and as for Rian… she’d decide based on whether he listened to his big sister.

Edward gazed lovingly at Ipa, whose looks seemed to be a perfect mix of her father and mother, and whose personality—like her mother’s—was innocent and gentle. The thoughts in his daughter’s little head felt almost tangible.

For a noble—especially from a high-ranking house like a Grand Duke’s—to be this close with their child wasn’t common in the Empire’s culture. The more noble the family, the more nursemaids typically took over childcare from a young age. But because of Joan, a commoner by birth who had raised many younger siblings herself, the culture of the Grand Duke’s household had changed.

Edward liked that. Because there was a happiness here he never would have known if he hadn’t held his child himself.

‘However.’

He wished this gathering at the estate could have been more peaceful. With that thought, Edward approached his wife.

“Honey, if you have time, shall we take the kids out?”

“Shall we? It would be nice to take the other kids too, but what are they all up to?”

“The twins went for a nap earlier, but I think it’s about time they wake up. I saw the Two Belles playing in the garden.”

Joyce MacKinnon and Brigid were raising three-year-old twin boys, and Joybel and Larabelle from Count Wirtam’s house were collectively called the “Two Belles.” Joan’s expression clouded slightly.

“Hmm, Her Highness Princess Yoni… probably won’t want to come out, I think. Shall we take His Highness Prince Owen with us?”

The adults also knew Arbiyone had been acting strangely lately. Maeve was too little, so Prince Owen was probably alone by now.

At Joan’s considerate words, Edward shook his head.

“His Highness Prince Owen went with Lady Kion and that Elf. They seemed to have something to discuss.”

“I see.”

Joan nodded as if it were nothing. But the MacKinnon Trading Company people around her grew curious. How did this man know so well what everyone at this estate was doing? It wasn’t even his own house.

Edward, who believed information gathering was the greatest weapon in diplomacy, gave them a faint smile. And as they flinched, he stood affectionately by his wife’s side.

“Well, let’s go, honey.”

❖ ❖ ❖

Owen stared straight at the two adults who had just opened the door and entered.

Because the Prince was so well-behaved, his nursemaid usually had relatively little to do. Of course, there were things that required attention because he was a young child, but aside from that, Owen would sit and play quietly as if he weren’t even there. Looking at picture books or stacking toy blocks were his main pastimes.

Owen’s face as he looked at the two adults—Kion and the Guardian—was as placid and unchanged as it was during his daily routine. It was the nursemaid who startled and jumped to her feet.

“How dare you enter His Highness the Prince’s quarters so recklessly!”

The nursemaid hadn’t been working long and didn’t recognize Kion’s face. Kion waved a hand, annoyed.

“Ah, how noisy. I’ve come on business, so don’t disturb my mood.”

“What are you saying…!”

The nursemaid, about to protest, froze on the spot. The moment Kion flicked her hand once, time stopped for her.

Seeing that, Owen spoke calmly.

“Don’ do dat to nanny.”

Kion approached Owen, chuckling.

“Do you know what I did?”

“Yes.”

“What did I do?”

“Yoo stop time.”

“Clever boy. See, Erval? Wasn’t I right?”

The Elf Erval—called by a name he himself had forgotten long ago after becoming a dragon’s Guardian—gave a bitter smile.

In the old days, dragons would kidnap whomever they fancied from anywhere, arbitrarily extend their lifespan, and then call them “Guardian” as if that was enough. But Kion was different. Then again, Kion was so peculiar that she alone remained when all the other dragons left this land.

And because she was peculiar, she could fall in love with a mere Guardian, befriend humans, and still cling to them.

After being released from the Seal, Erval approached the “Little Pheros” Kion had mentioned several times and sat down beside him. He gazed into Owen’s gray eyes for a long time, then nodded.

“Yes. Uniquely… the traits of a High Elf are particularly pronounced. Physical development slower than peers, mental development faster… and a lack of facial expression changes is also a characteristic of Elves with little interest in the material world.”

“Perhaps the power sealed away for so long was inherited all at once when this child was born. If Elven villages still existed, I would have sent him there for a few years, but this is an era where he must grow up in human hands, for better or worse. His mother was worried, so this works out perfectly. If we draw out this child’s power, then even little Elandria will return to normal and play with me, right?”

“…So this is why you brought me. When I’m so busy.”

“Hey, aren’t you both Elves? Help each other out.”

“How can a noble High Elf and a common Elf like me be the same? Let’s ask him first.”

Owen stared intently at the conversation between Kion and Erval. With his mother’s beautiful features and her platinum-blond hair, and even his eyes a pale gray, he looked like he alone received light several times brighter than his surroundings.

Erval spoke gently, to the being closest to his own kin among all he had met since awakening from the Seal.

“Descendant of Pheros, a great power lies dormant within you. If you grow as you are, you will likely age more slowly than others, and after the Ja’an blooms, you might even live forever. But most of what constitutes you is human, so a long life—watching precious things vanish like morning dew—may not be so happy.”

Even Pheros had been a “descendant” of the High Elves. The Elven heritage within Prince Owen was vanishingly small, so he was human. Even if Elven traits manifested strongly, he would ultimately feel human joys and sorrows.

Yet the immense power of the High Elves filled this small body to a precarious degree, holding the potential for great tragedy. Cledwyn Maindulante’s Ja’an had bloomed as well, but it was only a trace-like power—nothing like the force this little one had inherited all at once, after the long years of the Seal.

“Those who live forever are free from time, and only those free from time can handle time. If you use the Power of Time you possess, you can buy time for your sister to heal from her wounds. Coincidentally, doing so will also allow you to live a life not so different from other humans. Will you do it? If you prefer to live forever, I won’t force you.”

Words that would naturally be incomprehensible to a child Owen’s age, but neither Owen nor Erval doubted they understood each other well enough. Owen lowered his clear eyes, thought for a moment, then nodded.

“Good. Specifically, how does it help my sister?”

“For your sister, the old memories of Elandria’s child were like a passing dream, and sad things from dreams are soon forgotten if there are happy things. With Lady Kion guiding your power, your sister will spend a long, happy time in her dreams. A mere moment for the waking, but long enough for the dreamer’s wounds to heal. So, sleep.”

Erval placed a hand on Owen’s forehead. From that hand, the sleep fairy Sandman danced, and the child’s eyes closed.

Without being asked, Kion gently picked up the child and whispered.

“When you wake up, it will all be over.”