Home Visit (8)

After watching the sullen-looking Ferdinand for a moment, I threw the door wide open.

"Hmm… you haven't had lunch yet, have you?"

"Oh, no. I haven't."

I thought so. For us, it was a late breakfast, but given the time, it was close to noon. I led him to the dining room and seated him. In the short time I had been outside, Leonardo had already devoured three fried eggs, four pancakes, and five sausages. He paused his chewing to look at Ferdinand. Vittorio, who had a mouthful of tomato making one cheek bulge, also blinked at the sight of the visitor. I served Ferdinand a generous portion of the extra food that had been prepared for Leonardo. Just as I was about to urge him to eat, Ferdinand suddenly confessed.

"I'm sorry, Isaac. And sorry to you too, Leonardo."

"What?"

"…It seems you haven't heard the news yet. This morning, Father gave orders to 'stay away from Lilium Fortress as much as possible and not to engage in any unnecessary conversation with Leonardo and his companions'."

I exchanged glances with Leonardo, recalling the conversation I had eavesdropped on during the night. Ah, so that's what it is.

[How did Leonardo and his companion come to know about the plan… whatever the case, it's clear they intend to persistently dig around.]

[What should we do?]

[Let the people in the castle know not to engage with those three, at least for the time being.]

[Including that commoner and the child?]

[It wouldn't hurt to be cautious.]

[Hmm, I'll do as you say.]

The count has decided to ostracize us, indeed. I wasn't too surprised, as I was already aware of the news. However, I had to feign shock in front of Ferdinand.

"Why… I was trying to talk to and get to know the people living in the castle to adapt better. This makes things even more difficult. If we can't talk without a specific purpose, we've got a long way to go."

Although he seemed to be moping and playing with his utensils, in reality, he skillfully scooped up a bite of bacon topped with sautéed mushrooms and eggs. Leonardo, in an attempt to play along, also bowed his head solemnly. I briefly considered telling him that his gesture was ineffective while chewing on pancakes.

"But why are you apologizing, Lord Ferdinand?"

We, the people involved, weren't taking the situation too seriously, but Ferdinand groaned and gripped his utensils tightly.

"I fear that my suggestion to have Leonardo guide you around the castle might have backfired. I can't fathom why Father would suddenly issue such an order, but it's the only significant thing that has happened between yesterday and today…"

Oh dear. The count's control over information has led to some strange misunderstandings. Ferdinand wasn't present when the Count and Baron had their secret conversation last night, and he doesn't know the reason behind this sudden distancing order. This leads to the conclusion that even he is unaware of the truth the Count is hiding.

It seems the Count is more focused on protecting his children than harbouring ill intentions towards Godric, given that he's keeping the details of the plan and the Countess' death a secret, even from his eldest son. Just as I was about to offer some comforting words to Ferdinand, he suddenly raised his head sharply.

"Therefore, if there's anything I can do to help, I'd like to. After all, I'm partly responsible for this situation."

Hmm. I ponder his words for a moment. Regardless of the Count's order to avoid us, it wouldn't be difficult to subtly misinterpret his intent and create a pretext to persuade a few of the staff. 

After all, Leonardo brought along— for some reason everyone assumes he's my lover— a commoner, and most of the castle's staff are also commoners, making it easy to mingle. Moreover, considering the ongoing bet among the castle staff on whether the scoundrel (Leonardo) would be abandoned or not, many stand to lose a few months' wages if I leave Leonardo. Thus, I already know which individuals are likely to be cooperative.

To put it in the style of an information broker, I already have informants in place. Probing those individuals subtly could easily yield useful clues. However, if Ferdinand feels responsible for this situation and is willing to cooperate, I could certainly take advantage of this opportunity.

"Then would you mind visiting us occasionally? I know you're busy, but I think it would be nice to share a meal together now and then. My cooking isn't great, but…"

"Excuse me? Would that be enough?"

"Of course. The Count's orders don't prevent me from making friends in this castle. If my suggestion was presumptuous…"

"Not at all. I'm glad too, Isaac. Thanks to you, I get to share a meal with Leonardo… it brings back old memories."

As I thought about capturing a regular source of information, Ferdinand looked nostalgic.

"In the past, we used to gather as a family around the table for every meal—breakfast, lunch, and dinner alike. That tradition disappeared after Mother fell ill, but it's nice to have this time again after so long."

Ah. The Countess has been mentioned. I have many questions. I noticed that Leonardo and Vittorio had finished their plates. I leaned in and whispered to Leonardo.

'Could you excuse us for a moment?'

「Sure.」

Leonardo and Vittorio stood up, saying they needed to check the garden, leaving me alone with Ferdinand, using the excuse of still having some food on my plate. While it's clear the Countess' death affected the original Leonardo in some way, the Leonardo here has no such memories. If our conversation diverges too much due to this, Ferdinand might notice something odd. Taking advantage of this moment alone, I decided to gently probe for information.

"It's really good to have these moments. Can you tell me more about the times when you all gathered as a family? And… if it's not too painful, about the Countess as well?"

You never know when the original Leonardo might come back…

The dining room of the fortress is close to the front yard, so through the window, I could see Leonardo and Vittorio drawing water from the well, pouring it into the garden, and washing dishes together.

I quietly watched the scene before casually saying to Ferdinand, "It seems the Countess was the heart of this castle. I haven't been in El Dante for long, but hearing people talk about her, it's easy to imagine she was a wonderful person, and the image of a harmonious family as well."

"Father was often away on expeditions, leaving the castle frequently. In his absence, Mother essentially became the pillar of our home. I was still inexperienced in my duties as heir back then. She managed the castle and took care of her children, all without showing any signs of hardship."

"The Countess surely didn't want to leave her children and husband behind. Was she… chronically ill? I'm sorry, but Leo doesn't talk about these things much…"

Ferdinand moved his utensils slightly, lost in thought for a moment. As I observed his emotions and body language, he finally responded.

"She didn't suffer from any chronic illness. On the contrary, she was healthy, fitting the image of a noblewoman from a warrior family, rarely falling sick."

There's a certain consistency in the tone of those who recall the deceased. Because the story has already ended with their death, they treat the memories of the deceased as something immortal. I listened intently, wondering if I would ever experience something similar.

"So, it was an even more sudden event, and I understand why Leonardo doesn't talk about it. At that time, I was already an adult, Celestina was just beginning to understand the concept of death… but Leonardo was still quite young, almost a boy."

Ferdinand quietly added that Leonardo must have been particularly confused. Seven years ago… that makes sense.

"I don't know what triggered her illness. It was a very chaotic time. I remember Father returning from a long expedition and noticing something different about Mother, suggesting she should rest."

Ferdinand's face showed a hint of guilt for not noticing the early signs of the Countess' illness. He seemed to bear a strong sense of responsibility for his family, even from the information I had gathered earlier. Maybe he feels guilty for not properly taking care of his mother as the Young Count, even though he stayed at the castle with his family during that time.

'The Count certainly cares for his children. That's something he can't hide.'

So, even though the Count must have been aware of Ferdinand's guilt, he still kept the details surrounding his wife's death a secret. The reason is easy to guess. Because the truth is even more dreadful. Perhaps it's better for him to feel guilty now than to know the full horror.

"Um… I'm sorry. I can't quite trust my memory of past events. Was it around the time of the young king's succession?"

Ferdinand thought deeply before nodding.

"It was probably a few weeks after that. Father tried very hard. He would bring flowers from the garden every day, always stayed by her side, and arranged for skilled healing priests to see her."

"Flowers from the garden… I saw it yesterday. It's a beautiful garden full of blooming lilies."

Ferdinand nodded in agreement.

"It was Mother's favourite place."

I listened quietly before asking with a faint smile, "If she loved flowers, she must have preferred seeing them herself. So, the Count bringing them to her means…"

"Yes. Ever since she got sick, she couldn't go outside. Father brought flowers to her every day. But he didn't want us children to see her like that, so we were forbidden from going near where she was staying."

Ferdinand nodded, his expression reflecting the pain of those memories. 

The Countess' journey to the capital for the young king's coronation, and then her return to El Dante. The Count, sensing something amiss, returned as well, only to diagnose his wife's serious illness that no one else noticed. Isolation from her children. Meetings with healing priests.

'Huh.'

It was confinement. Even stricter than the restrictions Leonardo faces now. So, it leads to one expectation. The Countess returned from the capital having become that. I realized with a sinking feeling what must have happened.

"Ferdinand," I said carefully, "when your mother returned from the capital, did she seem… different in any way before she fell ill?"

Ferdinand looked troubled but tried to recall. "She was quieter, more reserved. I thought it was because of the stress from the trip and the ceremonies. But… looking back, there might have been something more."

I nodded slowly, trying to piece together the fragments of this disturbing puzzle. "It sounds like she might have been affected by something during her time in the capital. Something that the Count noticed and tried to protect you all from."

Ferdinand's eyes widened as he began to connect the dots. "You mean… she might have been… influenced by something there?"

"It's possible," I said. "The timing, the symptoms, the Count's actions… it all points to something happening during her visit to the capital. Something that made her not just ill, but… different."

'As expected…'

We both sat in silence for a moment, the weight of this revelation settling heavily between us.