“It would be best to hire guards… but anyone truly skilled costs a fortune. And the funds left to the estate…”

Elaine trailed off, and Selaia pressed her lips together.

‘The money from the divorce settlement—all of it was spent on Cheringen over the past five years.’

Clearing the land, spreading costly fertilizer, struggling just to make it fertile enough to yield potatoes… all of it had consumed vast sums. Now, almost nothing remained.

“Oh, and this.”

As if suddenly remembering, Elaine produced a letter she had been holding.

Glancing at the sender, Selaia’s expression turned slightly uneasy.

“Lord Benian is nothing if not persistent.”

“It’s kind of him to always ask after your well-being.”

“It wouldn’t be a problem if that were all he asked.”

Elaine’s pointed remark drew only a tight-lipped smile from Selaia that looked more like a grimace than a sign of amusement.

“Mother!”

A familiar little voice called from the doorway. Both Selaia and Elaine turned their heads at once.

“Rote.”

At the sound of her name, a small face peeked through the gap of the half-open door.

Her short, rosy-pink hair was tied neatly into two pigtails, her plump cheeks and luminous green eyes so endearing they seemed to glow.

“May I come in?”

“Of course, my darling.”

At her daughter’s polite request, Selaia pushed the letter aside and stretched out her arms with a bright smile.

The child scampered across the floor on her short legs and threw herself into her embrace. Although Rote often acted maturely beyond her years, Selaia knew that deep down she loved nothing more than being held.

“What were you doing, Rote?”

Selaia asked gently, smoothing back a stray curl that had escaped from her daughter’s hair.

Like her mother’s, the girl’s hair had a stubborn wave that tangled easily. A faint, sweet scent of milk lingered about her.

“Eating the sandwich Vera made for me and reading a book.”

“Oh? And what book was that?”

“The Age of Revolution: The Livius War and Its Aftermath.”

“O–Oh?”

Selaia stammered slightly. She turned her gaze to Elaine, who was standing behind her. Elaine only shrugged, as if to say that she had no idea who had given the young lady such a book.

“Wasn’t it difficult to understand?”

“Mm, it leaned too heavily toward Hilbrant, the victor’s side, so I didn’t like it much.”

“I… see.”

Rote blinked her bright, clear green eyes.

Esperote Casteen Bertan.

The name Selaia had given her daughter—filled with hope. From infancy, the girl had always been unusual.

She had hardly cried as a newborn, instead staring about with watchful, alert eyes. She spoke earlier than other children her age, learned letters swiftly, and grew at a pace that left everyone around her calling her a prodigy.

‘Even so, is it normal for a five-year-old to read scholarly histories?’

Something in her had shifted a few months earlier. No matter how often Selaia warned her not to read while walking, Rote would not listen. One day, book in hand, she stumbled over a stone during a stroll.

“After the young lady fell, she suddenly stood back up and asked me how old she was.”

Vera, the housekeeper, explained with a bewildered face.

“When I told her she was five, she muttered that it was impossible, then started patting herself all over as if to check. And suddenly, she ran straight to you, Lady Selaia …”

Although Rote was always difficult to read, she had never acted so strangely before. Selaia and the others were deeply worried.

However, Rote brushed it all aside, claiming that she must have simply dreamed something odd.

Although her excuse was strange, when no further odd behaviour followed, Selaia allowed herself to believe that it had been an isolated incident.

“Mother.”

Rote tugged at Selaia’s hand, breaking her from her thoughts.

“Yes?”

“I want to give Maximilian a retirement gift.”

“Sir Devonshire?”

Selaia’s thoughts shifted quickly.

Maximilian Devonshire was the captain of Cheringen’s guard and formerly a knight in service to the land’s former lord. After his liege fell in battle while defending the territory, Maximilian intended to retire once a new lord was appointed.

However, when he saw that the successor was a young woman carrying a newborn baby, he volunteered to serve as captain of the guard and has protected the castle faithfully for the past five years.

“Yes. By next week, I won’t see him anymore.”

“What do you mean you won’t? He promised he’d still visit, even after retiring.”

“Well… he did promise.”

Rote murmured vaguely.

Selaia found her daughter’s words strange, but quickly brushed away the thought.

“Still, giving him a gift is a fine idea. I had been wondering about it myself.”

Years of hard work had taken their toll on Maximilian’s body, leaving it worn and battered. At Rote’s persistent urging, he finally agreed to see a doctor. The diagnosis was gout, the result of decades of overwork.

When Selaia urged him to step down, she was consumed by guilt—she had never been able to pay him even a knight’s pension.

“But if I leave, who will protect you and the young lady?”

He asked, worry etching his lined eyes. Yet even he could not resist Selaia’s unyielding persistence. In the end, he agreed to retire.

“Then perhaps we should go to the market today to buy Sir Devonshire’s gift.”

At that, Rote blinked her bright green eyes, then reached for the desk. Knowing the newspaper was always left on the right-hand side, her little hand stretched toward it.

Selaia, without thinking, picked it up for her—only to freeze.

‘Wait—the headline on the front page…!’

Rote may not yet know that the Emperor of Tropez is her real father, but Selaia cannot bear for her child to see an article announcing the Emperor’s new child with another woman.

However, before she could stop her, Rote had opened the paper with her small hands.

“Let’s see…”

Much to Selaia’s relief, the girl showed no interest in the front page. While her mother sighed with relief, Rote casually turned to the next page and scanned the words with sharp, intent eyes.

There was little of note, just an announcement that a delegation from the Kingdom of Teian was due to arrive the following day for tariff negotiations.

Yet the child studied the page as though its contents were a matter of life and death.

Then, lifting her head, she looked up.

“Mother, let’s not go today. Let’s go tomorrow.”

Perhaps it was just her imagination, but Selaia thought she could see something deliberate behind her daughter’s serious, small expression. Nevertheless, she was relieved that Rote had ignored the front page of the newspaper. She nodded.

“All right. Tomorrow, then.”

“Yes!”

Upon hearing her mother’s confirmation, Rote’s face lit up with pure satisfaction. Her rosy lips twitched as though she was trying to suppress her delight. Soon, her cheeks puffed out as she smiled, and her bright green eyes curved into crescents.

‘Does she even realize how easily her joy shows?’

She often carried herself like an adult, but in moments like these, she was exactly her age. Selaia could not help but smile in return.

“Are you excited, young lady?”

Elaine teased lightly. Rote nodded eagerly.

“Mm. I’m very, very excited.”

‘Because I have a special gift in mind.’

Her eyes gleamed with a secret, calculating light, but neither Selaia nor Elaine could have guessed what it meant.

⭕ ⭕ ⭕

The next morning dawned bright and clear. Although Cheringen was desolate, there was always plenty of sunlight.

‘She chose the day well.’

As Selaia walked down the worn corridor of the old castle, she felt quietly proud of her daughter’s foresight. However, when she reached the entrance, she slowed down upon seeing a man standing with his back to her.

The faintest sound of her approach made him turn around; his knightly instincts were sharp.

“You are here.”

“Sir Elden.”

Selaia sounded slightly awkward as she greeted him. Sir Elden Haider turned back just as quickly, his impassive face betraying nothing. Yet to Selaia, it seemed as though he was hiding an expression beneath that mask. However, she told herself that it was only her imagination.

“The carriage is ready.”

They had lived under the same roof for years now, but there was still a distance between them. Selaia drew a quiet breath of relief.

‘I asked him to accompany us to the market, but I was sure he’d refuse.’

As a knight sworn to the imperial family of Bertan, Haider was not obliged to obey her orders. She rarely asked anything of him.

“Th-thank you.”

In response to her cautious gratitude, Haider turned to her once more. His deep blue eyes looked down on a woman much smaller than him; they were dark and unreadable.