DTBTHS Chapter 8

"In that regard, we should be grateful the young lady is so young. With consistent treatment and recuperation, she'll recover to full health."

"I'm counting on you. I'll provide whatever is needed."

"Start by getting me a priest. Medical arts alone will have difficulty completely eliminating the aftereffects. Divine power is absolutely necessary."

"I've already put in a request to the temple. They should arrive after the snowstorms subside somewhat."

"I'll be waiting. Then."

The physician hurried away.

The Margrave stood in the corridor for a moment, then knocked and opened the door.

The maid who had been wiping the child's face with a cloth dampened in warm water bowed at the waist.

"Step out for a moment."

"Yes, Margrave."

After the maid left, only Ariadne and Margrave Weaver remained in the room.

The Margrave stood upright, looking at the child.

Skin pale to the point of being haggard, and a powerless body. An atmosphere as if she might crumble and blow away from merely breathing too hard.

Only her blue eyes were large in her small face.

It wouldn't have been surprising if those eyes held a corpse-like gaze, yet those eyes were unexpectedly clear.

'She resembles Gloria.'

Her appearance truly didn't resemble her at all.

The delicate, splendid exterior that made her look like a doll was unmistakably the Duke of Eldier's spitting image, anyone could see.

Yet still she resembled his youngest sister.

The atmosphere of the child who had awakened from illness, and the feeling that even if her whole body shattered and scattered, only those eyes would remain.

The Margrave newly realized that this child was his own blood kin before being the Duke's only daughter.

That small, young thing, his younger sister's daughter, his only niece.

'It looks like her internal organs were damaged and recovered repeatedly. At least ten times.'

'Imagining what pain that small body must have endured...'

'Someone deliberately repeated such acts.'

His younger sister, whom he'd thought was living well in luxury, had suddenly died, and his young niece, whom he'd thought was growing up loved, had appeared before him broken to pieces.

The impression he'd held of Duke Eldier until now crumbled in an instant.

The Margrave had heard that the Duke had refused food and drink for several days after his wife's death.

So even while investigating his youngest sister's death, he hadn't suspected the Duke.

He'd only grieved.

He'd even been angry, wondering why someone with such a weak body had insisted on entering a Blighted Region and met such a fate.

But for the first time, doubt arose.

If the Duke was an entirely different person from what he'd thought, then perhaps his younger sister's death also might not have been a pure accident.

'If Father hadn't brought this child here, I would have known nothing until the end.'

If so, he might have only heard news that this child too had died from illness or accident.

Without ever knowing what that young child had suffered, he might have pitied the Duke who had lost even his daughter.

'Gloria... did you perhaps send this child here?'

Had her ghost, trying to save her daughter, summoned the Archmage and made him take this young thing away?

An absurd story, but he couldn't prevent such sentiments from arising.

'If it's a son, Adrian. If it's a daughter, I'll name her Ariadne.'

The image of his sister looking down lovingly at a belly not yet swollen remained vivid in his memory.

Recalling that while looking at the nape of his niece like a young bird, something churned red and hot inside him.

His expression hardened strangely with complex, thick emotion. At a glance, it was a face that looked displeased.

Ariadne swallowed dry saliva.

'The physician called that person Margrave earlier.'

The Margrave of Weaver would be her maternal uncle.

Of course, being a maternal uncle was no guarantee he felt favorably toward her.

Standing firmly at a distance from the bed, making a fierce face while glaring at her—if anything, he seemed hostile.

Since she'd had no expectation of welcome, it wasn't particularly surprising.

Her mother had become estranged from her family because of becoming pregnant with her and married the Duke. Then died at an early age.

It was understandable that her maternal family wouldn't like her.

"I greet you for the first time, Ernst Weaver, Margrave. I've heard you are my maternal uncle."

Ariadne greeted him as courteously as possible. Though not perfect while seated, she kept her posture proper.

Then the Margrave's stiff mouth twitched.

Did the expression "maternal uncle" grate on him? She hurriedly continued.

"I apologize for intruding and causing trouble. I will certainly repay the favor of receiving an uninvited guest and providing treatment."

"Too... grown-up. For your age."

The Margrave said so while his eyes reddened, but Ariadne tensed.

Did she seem impertinent? Should she have acted more childlike?

'What if he sends me straight back to Eldier because I'm unpleasant?'

But if she were just an ordinary child, he wouldn't save her.

Like the Ariadne of the original work, no one would help her until she died.

'The Archmage told the Duke to come pick me up later. I have to prove my value before the Duke comes.'

Speak first. Say that I'll be helpful, start with the benefits I can provide.

She hurriedly began to speak.

"I'm sorry, I..."

"What do you have to be sorry for?"

The Margrave cut off her words in a choked voice.

"The one who should apologize is me."

He strode forward and plopped heavily into the chair beside the bed.

"I'm sorry, Ariadne."

Why is that person apologizing?

Ariadne looked up at him blankly.

Green eyes the same color as the Archmage's swept over her thin arm and pale cheeks. Those eyes trembled and grew moist.

"It must have been very hard all this time."

He extended his large hand toward her.

"I'm sorry for realizing late. Sorry for not rescuing you sooner."

The hesitantly approaching hand touched her head cautiously, as if afraid she might break.

"Now... it's all right."

He drew in a rough breath as if his throat was closing. The trembling hand gently stroked her head.

"Don't worry about anything anymore. So that no one can hurt you, this uncle will protect you."

The stroking touch was tender. Ariadne became confused.

'I haven't done anything yet.'

I haven't explained what I can give, what benefits there are, but he'll just protect me?

Why?

She hadn't anticipated this. This shouldn't be happening.

Without realizing it, she asked back.

"Why would you protect me, Margrave?"

"...Not Margrave. Call me Uncle. If that's awkward, you can just call me Mister."

He made a smile utterly unsuited to his fierce features. It looked like a gruff bear trying its best to smile.

"Oh, and this room is yours. You can stay here as long as you want."

"This is my room? Here?"

"Hmm, is it lacking because I prepared it hastily? I'll move you to a better room soon."

"No, it's enough! It's not that I don't like it—it's too much for me."

"Too much, this room? For you?"

The Margrave raised one eyebrow as if astounded.

"Compared to your room in Eldier Castle, this should fall far short, shouldn't it?"

"No. The room I used was much smaller than this one. There wasn't even a balcony or window..."

The Margrave's complexion hardened stiffly.

Margrave was a title originating from count, but held a status that even dukes couldn't treat carelessly.

As a family guarding the borders, they enjoyed certain standing and privileges. Moreover, the byproducts of magical beasts and dungeons generated considerable wealth.

As a result, Snowstorm Castle was also a luxurious castle that would be embarrassing to compare with any ordinary noble's mansion.

But Eldier was no ordinary noble.

At the northern edge of the kingdom, on the plateau beneath the continent's tallest mountain, the Margrave's castle couldn't be more splendid than the Eldier ducal castle in the central region's most expansive granary belt with its gold mines.

No matter how good this room was by Snowstorm Castle's standards, it should have seemed insufficient to the precious Eldier young lady's eyes. That would be normal.

'Not only abuse, but she couldn't even enjoy a life befitting a young lady.'

Yet the dress she'd worn from Eldier had been splendidly appropriate for a young lady. The Margrave, who had been puzzled, suddenly realized something.

'...He only treated well the parts others could see. That garbage of a Duke.'

Why had the child's room lacked windows?

Inferring the reason, the Margrave felt like shoving glass shards into the Duke's mouth if he were right in front of him.

Unaware of what he was thinking, Ariadne froze at the Margrave's fiercer atmosphere.

The pressure was too strong for a powerless child's body to endure.

'He's angry. Did I say something wrong?'

It wasn't merely atmospheric—there was a physical effect.

A bone-chilling coldness flowed from the Margrave. Her body trembled involuntarily.

'It's getting cold... Come to think of it, Margrave Weaver was a Spirit Knight.'

Spirit Knights were those who used spirit power in a different way from Spirit Mages.

Those called Spirit Knights rather than knights because they fought riding spirits, not horses.

'This is spirit power leaking out.'

In the novel, this kind of power leakage always appeared in descriptions when Spirit Knights were emotionally disturbed.

'It was a scene that came up constantly because the protagonist was a Spirit Knight... Experiencing it in person is no joke.'

The Margrave belatedly noticed Ariadne growing pale and trembling.

'Ah.'

He quickly relaxed his expression and reined in his aura. He rose smoothly and turned on the fireplace.

"Ahem, ahem. I'm glad the room pleases you."

The room quickly warmed again.

The Margrave added kindly with a face like a bear trying not to startle a chick.

"Still, when the season changes, I'll move you to a better room."

"I-it's fine, I..."

"It's a gift from your uncle, so accept it without protest. If you need anything, tell me anytime."

He smiled broadly and patted her shoulder, then stood.

"From now on, just think about resting well and getting healthy."

The Margrave was about to leave the room as he was. Ariadne hastily called to him.

"Margrave!"