BGDN 06

Chapter 6

So shocked was Nonteil by that incident that he couldn’t even bring himself to visit Diasta in her hospital bed. Sioel vividly remembered the sight of him sobbing and praying in the ducal residence’s chapel.

Still, thanks to Diasta’s good recovery, he had managed to keep hold of his remaining sanity… but after the Harem incident a few days ago, Nonteil had ended up like this.

“It was for that child’s own good! Doesn’t a lion push its cub off a cliff? Diasta has no parents. What if I die after raising her soft and weak? How will she stand on her own?”

Sorrow laced Nonteil’s voice. Sioel could understand how Nonteil felt.

The young duke of Bellum, who had died in a monster subjugation, had been an unusually gentle young man — so much so that one might wonder if he really was Nonteil’s son.

When that good-natured son returned as a corpse with his eyes still open, Nonteil had covered him with a white cloth and murmured: This is not how I should have raised him.

Sioel remembered Nonteil’s trembling hand as he laid the white cloth, and his voice, which had trembled even more than that hand.

“Sioel, I was wrong. What this child needed wasn’t a warm father, but a Grand Duke who could train him hard.”

“Nonteil… no one knows that for sure.”

“No. If I had set aside my desire to be a good father, he would be standing before me right now.”

Unable to touch his son’s body, yet unable to leave it either, Nonteil had wept and wept for a long time. Sioel also knew what decision Nonteil had made that day.

“From today onward, I will be Diasta’s Grand Duke, not her grandfather. I cannot let Diasta end up like this either. I never want to make that mistake again.”

Knowing that resolve, Sioel could not stop Nonteil from treating Diasta coldly. Nonteil himself seemed willing to accept the consequences of his choice.

But humans are so contradictory. He treated her coldly, claiming it was for his granddaughter’s sake, yet now that Diasta had turned out like that, he was full of regret once again.

Sioel sighed. Long years of training had given him insight, but as an elf, he felt he might never fully understand this contradictory nature of humans.

“Didn’t I tell you? The important thing is not to overdo anything. Even if you were strict, you should have done it in moderation.”

I told you so — that was probably among the top three most unhelpful things to say to someone who’s already regretting. Indeed, it didn’t help at all; Nonteil, who had been curled up, snapped his head up and exclaimed:

“Moderation is exactly what’s not possible! Moderation! Just how adorable Diasta is. How can you say such a thing after seeing that face?”

At that, Sioel shrugged. He didn’t know about Diasta, but Nonteil Bellum was the very definition of a doting grandparent. He normally had to purposely scowl because seeing Diasta naturally made him break into a smile.

“Isn’t she just an ordinary face? The Bellum family’s distinctive red eyes are a bit striking, that’s all.”

Nonteil erupted in anger.

“From the top of her head to the tips of her toes, my Diasta sparkles and shines! What do you mean ordinary!”

Sioel shook his head. Truly, his bias was no ordinary bias.

“And it’s not just her looks. Look at the recent incident. Even against that filthy Harem, she stood her ground and won, didn’t she? As expected, the blood of Bellum runs true.”

When mentioning Harem, Nonteil’s teeth ground audibly, but when speaking of Diasta, it was as if a warm spring breeze blew.

Unlike Nonteil, who went on about Diasta being an angel or a fairy, Sioel maintained a fairly objective view.

In Sioel’s eyes, Diasta was just a timid child of an aristocratic family. A young girl who disliked holding a sword but, afraid of her grandfather, would barely hold it and then not know what to do with it.

Nonteil seemed unwilling to give up, but Sioel thought differently. Several times, he had even openly suggested that Nonteil let Diasta go and consider another distant branch family child instead.

That would be better for both Nonteil and Diasta, he said.

But this time, even Sioel agreed with Nonteil.

“Yes, it was quite astonishing. Of course, that Harem fellow was off guard, but isn’t she an Aura User? Beating an Aura User is no easy feat.”

Nonteil nodded at those words. The reason Nonteil had gone to see Diasta a few days ago was precisely because of a letter Diasta had sent.

Diasta, anticipating the confrontation with Harem, had arranged for people to spread the news, while writing a short letter to her grandfather, Nonteil.

She wasn’t sure he would come, but if he happened to make time, she thought she could show him an impressive image as his successor.

The letter was delivered to Sioel, the butler, through Marianne. However, since Sioel was as rigid and straight-laced as the White Tree that had lived over a thousand years, he simply processed the letter as usual.

The letters arriving for Nonteil filled a sack in a single day. So Sioel habitually classified urgency into high, medium, and low based on the sender.

Sender: Diasta Sanaz Bellum

Diasta was in the same ducal residence, and he had heard that her injuries were almost healed and she could move around. If it were urgent, she would have come herself; if it were about her condition, she would have called a physician.

Thus, Sioel judged the urgency as “medium.” The only reason he didn’t mark it as “low” was because Diasta was Nonteil’s granddaughter.

When Nonteil saw the letter belatedly, he was shocked to hear that Diasta, not long out of her sickbed, was training. So he put aside his work and hurried to the training ground.

And at the training ground, Nonteil witnessed something beyond his imagination: Diasta standing before Harem, holding a real sword.

The one who stopped Nonteil from rushing in right away was Sioel.

“Wait, just wait a moment, Head of the House.”

Sioel repeatedly held back the urgent Nonteil.

“Doesn’t the young lady look somewhat different? This might be the moment she can grow.”

Only after hearing Let’s wait just a little for Lady Diasta’s sake did Nonteil stop moving. The two hid at a distance, crouching out of sight of the people gathered around the training ground.

Nonteil endured, and endured, and endured some more. And at the end of that patience, he saw it: his granddaughter, the child he wouldn’t hurt even if he put her in his eyes, defeating Harem in a single stroke!

It was splendid, splendid, utterly without equal.

“I should have praised her then…”

Not only had Diasta not expected praise, but she had called him Your Grace the Duke, apologized, and withdrawn. Nonteil still could not forget her small hands, bruised red here and there.

He had driven that Harem bastard out and banned him from ever setting foot in Belusa again, but still his anger did not subside.

“Shall I kill that bastard even now? No, killing isn’t enough. Unless I capture him alive, abandon him in the monster-infested Northern Lands, and make sure even his corpse is never found…”

“You mustn’t. Didn’t you promise to spare his life? The head of Bellum cannot break his own word.”

At that, Nonteil’s brow furrowed deeply. But Sioel’s words were not over.

“However, only his life was promised. How about sending a few Black Lion Knights? Sometimes, letting someone live is more tormenting.”

At those words, the corners of Nonteil’s mouth rose. It was a terrifying face, no less than a monster’s.

When Nonteil nodded, Sioel quietly summoned a spirit and gave it a message. The childlike wind spirit giggled and ran off to where the Black Lion Knights were.

Seeing Nonteil’s face relax a little, Sioel reached up to adjust his cravat, then asked a question. Before returning to his role as butler, as a friend, he had one lingering curiosity.

“Do you truly not intend to make the young lady your successor? After all the pains you’ve taken?”

At that, the vertical line returned to Nonteil’s brow, which had softened slightly.

“Wasn’t it you, Sioel, who said that child wasn’t fit to be successor?”

“Well, that’s true. But now… hmm, hasn’t she changed? Or do you still find her lacking?”

Watching Nonteil’s twitching brow, Sioel thought to himself. Nonteil surely knew the rumors floating around the ducal residence. But Nonteil shook his head firmly.

“It’s not that. I thought it was right for Diasta to become a strong successor, for everyone’s sake. But yes, I was wrong again. From now on, I will raise Diasta as an ordinary child. Seeing her hurt once is enough. I will never again…”

Nonteil covered his face with his thick hands. He was the Grand Duke of Bellum, reputed to be stronger than anyone, but before his grandchild, he was always afraid.

“…Grandfather.”

The sight of his grandchild, bleeding and losing consciousness on the bed, yet still calling for him — Nonteil had fled like a coward. It reminded him of his son, who had died with his eyes still open.

Nonteil was scared and frightened. He shut himself in the chapel and prayed, and prayed again.

He could not send away his son and then lose his grandchild as well. He prayed to the gods: if they would only let her live, he would give anything — his life, the Northern Lands, everything.

And on the day Diasta opened her eyes, Nonteil realized: above all else, Diasta was precious.

“It was my desire from the start. That child never once asked for the position of Bellum’s head… it was my own greed. For the remainder of my life, I intend to find her a marriage partner. If I’m lucky, I might find a reliable young man to protect Diasta in my stead.”

“But then Bellum would…”

“Sioel, I have lived my whole life as the head of Bellum. So I think it’s alright for me to make a choice as a grandfather, just this once.”

As Sioel nodded at those words, a light knock sounded. A servant entered carrying a letter on a silver tray.

Sioel, now properly adjusting his cravat and having returned to his perfect butler appearance, received the silver tray.

“A letter has arrived, Head of the House.”

But Nonteil stared at the letter on the silver tray, then tossed it, envelope and all, into the fireplace. In an instant, the envelope — clearly stamped with a golden dragon wax seal — burst into flames.

Watching the burning letter, Nonteil’s eyes seemed to spark with embers as well.