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Chapter 6
The fork pierced smoothly into the bite-sized piece of chicken the chef had carefully prepared in advance. I could already tell it would taste delicious without even trying it, so I kicked my legs excitedly and popped the meat into my mouth.
Nom.
“Mmm, yummy!”
“…Ha.”
A dumbfounded sigh drifted over from the duke, who had effectively become part of the background decoration, but I couldn’t care less. As I began targeting the second tiny carrot, Marquis Mafilda spoke in a pleased voice.
“Her Highness truly is remarkable. She’s still so young, yet she can eat perfectly well on her own without needing anyone to feed her.”
“Marquis Mafilda, have you perhaps lost your mind?”
“She doesn’t even have picky eating habits. How admirable.”
“You don’t find it abnormal that a child who lost her guardian only recently still has such an appetite?”
“……”
For the first time, a crack appeared in Marquis Mafilda’s gentle, affable expression.
Ugh.
But I wasn’t particularly surprised. Ezekiel Ricard had never been the type to speak kindly, even as empty politeness. And compared to the vicious insults I had endured in my previous life, being called “abnormally hungry” didn’t even sting.
Still, for Marquis Mafilda—who had been the daughter of the nursemaid who raised my mother, and who had also raised me herself—it was only natural for her temper to flare.
“How dare you say such—”
“Our mom always said that though?”
Before things could spiral into disaster, I hurriedly interrupted. Ezekiel’s chilling gaze shifted toward me.
“She always said eating well is the basics.”
I wiped the sauce from my lips with a napkin and continued.
“You gotta eat when you can. If you miss the chance, that’s it. And wasting food is bad.”
“…That does sound like Rosalind.”
“Yep. She said people can only think properly when their stomachs are full.”
“Asha, listen carefully.”
My mother’s voice, which had repeated those words countless times, was still vivid in my ears.
“Eating well is the foundation of everything. Eat whenever you have the chance. People are simpler than you think—in some ways, they’re no different from animals or machines. Just like a machine needs mana to function, people need full stomachs to think properly.”
…How long would I still be able to remember her voice this clearly?
“That woman always said she’d never seen anyone who fought well on a battlefield while being picky about food.”
“Mom didn’t say it all fancy like that.”
I set down my fork and looked Ezekiel Ricard straight in the eye.
“She said the idiots who complain at the dinner table are the first ones to die.”
The rough language was something Beatrice Ricard would never have uttered even if someone tore her mouth open—but I deliberately repeated it word for word.
I’m not Beatrice Ricard anymore.
It was both a vow to myself and a declaration aimed at the cursed ties of my previous life.
I was Sha. Or Asha, when Mom called me by name.
In ancient Arcana language, Sha meant sunlight.
Mom once told me that when I was born and she first saw my golden hair, she instinctively shielded my forehead because she thought, Why is the sunlight pouring into the delivery room so brightly?
The midwife had laughed and said:
“You were born carrying a little ray of sunshine.”
“That’s right.”
Mom had stared at me in fascination the first time she met me and said:
“Asha has arrived.”
By dying, I shed Beatrice behind. Only at the moment my mother first met me did I become Asha—a little ray of sunshine.
Not Liche, the family nuisance everyone despised, but our mother’s little sunshine.
That was my only pride.
A shining shield that protected me, and a spear pointed straight toward the past.
As I met his gaze directly, Ezekiel’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“…You truly don’t resemble me in the slightest.”
“Thanks for the compliment!”
“That wasn’t a compliment.”
“It is to me.”
Watching me answer cheekily, Ezekiel shook his head. Being such a lofty and dignified man, he looked like he had no intention of engaging with me any further.
Which was exactly what I wanted.
As expected, Ezekiel turned to Marquis Mafilda and asked:
“Rosalind may only have been from a collateral branch, but she still possessed succession rights. That means the Day of Immolation will naturally be held at the Imperial Palace. Who will escort the procession?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“…What?”
Ezekiel’s thick brows twitched dangerously.
But this time, I couldn’t laugh at him. I was just as shocked.
There’s no escort yet?
Every citizen of the Empire knew that when a mage died, their body had to be sent to the capital where the Magic Tower stood so they could undergo the Day of Immolation—otherwise their corpse might fall into demonic hands.
Even I know that, so literally even a three-year-old knows it.
Refusing to send a dead mage to the Magic Tower or hiding the body was a grave crime punishable by death depending on the circumstances.
Not only that, every lord or governor was obligated to provide protection and every necessary convenience for the dead mage’s final journey to the Flame of Origin.
And my mother wasn’t just any ordinary mage. Even though she belonged to a collateral branch, the Caledro Grand Duchy still carried imperial blood.
The current imperial family possessed the bloodline closest to the secrets of magic itself, so anyone descended from that bloodline had to undergo special procedures at the Imperial Palace after death.
Though honestly, I think our branch is distant enough that we shouldn’t need all that.
The younger brother of the current emperor’s grandfather had been the first Grand Duke Caledro, and my mother was already the third generation. At this point, even calling us related to the imperial family felt meaningless. If the imperial line hadn’t suffered from such a chronic lack of heirs, neither Mom nor I would even qualify as collateral royalty, let alone succession candidates…
Still, if we have succession rights, then I guess the palace procedures are mandatory.
Because of this custom, the Flame of Origin was only exceptionally transported out of the Magic Tower when an imperial mage died.
So taking everything into account…
“The imperial family must have offered to send the Imperial Guard.”
That was exactly what I thought too.
But Marquis Mafilda merely smiled calmly and shook her head.
“Yes. However, they will not be coming. I informed them there was no need.”
“What—”
Ah, this was bad.
The cold fury simmering inside Ezekiel finally burst forth.
“Explain from beginning to end what kind of insane nonsense you’re talking about.”
His voice was low, dark, and murderous.
“The corpse belongs to a mage once called the North’s last fortress and ultimate weapon. Depending on the circumstances, even a demon commander-class entity could appear. That alone makes this a matter of utmost importance—and on top of that, this child is here.”
“……”
“She is the only direct descendant left behind by the first in line to inherit the Caledro Grand Duchy before her death. And that’s not all. The current imperial family has no empress, and His Majesty’s intentions on that matter are perfectly clear. Compared to those bloodlines, the Ricard blood I passed down to her is practically insignificant.”
When the normally taciturn Ezekiel Ricard started speaking this much, it was never a good sign.
Sure enough, veins were standing out along his forehead and neck.
“Has there ever been someone who simultaneously possessed first succession rights to the Ricard Duchy, the Caledro Grand Duchy, and the imperial Roengrantz family? There never has been, and there never will be again. She is an unprecedentedly noble three-year-old child. The enemies we must contend with are not only demons, but the entire Empire itself. Am I wrong?”
“……”
Marquis Mafilda did not deny it.
Which was the same as admitting he was right.
