The culprit’s apparent hatred for Ailn now revealed, Kylian again felt the twinge of pity he’d felt when he first heard of Ailn’s death.

On the other hand, the new Ailn didn’t seem to mind much. He had a furrow in his brow—and a deep frown—but it was more from concentration than upset. He’d been reading for a while now, and Kylian had spent his time trying to discern the throughline of the records he’d picked.

Things like infirmary records, records of employment, or past proclamations. Perhaps with the benefit of time, some kind of deep motive could be discerned within—but at the moment, with the inquest two days away, this type of clerical information seemed little more useful than scattered trivia.

“Do you think I can take some of these books?” Ailn asked.

“Take them?” Kylian repeated blankly. Could they? Almost certainly not. A single book was monstrously expensive. “No. I don’t believe that would be wise.”

“You’re right. I’d hate to lug these around all day,” Ailn said thoughtfully. Kylian realized Ailn had already built up quite the stack, teetering precariously on the lip of the shelf. “Hey, keep a watch on the corridor for a moment. Make sure no one’s coming.”

“What? Why?” Kylian asked.

“I’ll tell you later,” Ailn replied. “It’s nothing big.”

Kylian very much doubted that, but his attention drifted to the corridor anyway. His anxiety from intruding into the eum-Creid family’s private space was returning in full force. Particularly worrying was the fact that the ducal study was the favored retreat of Ailn’s noble aunt, Lady Ennieux; she was an avid reader.

Objectively, she wasn’t the worst potential encounter; despite her contemptuous and haughty attitude, Kylian very much doubted she had the malevolence nor influence to be the mastermind behind Ailn’s attempted murder.

He probably wanted to run into her least of all, though. She had a talent for giving people ulcers—and Kylian was her favorite ulcer recipient.

That’s when a shrill voice rang from the Great Hall below.

“You let WHO through?!”

----------------------------------------

The wide open space did little to dull the screaming, while the corridor into the ducal study almost seemed to funnel it through. By the time it reached Kylian and Ailn upstairs, the high-pitched whine—already delivered imperiously—sounded quite booming. These were truly noble reverberations.

Ennieux eum-Creid had arrived.

As always, her clothes were lavish and ornate. She wore a deep crimson gown, with gold leaf embroidered ornately into its bodice—colors chosen in clear contrast to those on the heraldic emblem. The gown’s sleeves of flowing sheer wisped over her silk evening gloves, which crinkled as she belittled the guard with hand gestures that were simultaneously flowery and bombastic.

“How much of an insufferable imbecile are you to let some fraud through into our living quarters?!” Ennieux screamed at the poor guard. “How obvious must a robbery be for you to do your job?!”

“S-Sir Aldous ordered us to assist Sir Kylian and the young master as much as possible, my lady! I saw him with my own eyes! It’s him!” the guard stuttered in response.

She was livid. She’d been baffled to hear that a knight and her dead nephew entered the eum-Creid’s private quarters—under the auspices of Aldous, no less. But she couldn't believe her ears when she heard they’d been there for hours.

“That daft fool was clearly tricked by the work of some mage dying a swindler’s hair,” Ennieux spat out. Up above, Kylian could almost hear her eyes rolling. “Now, go apprehend the knaves!”

“I’ll bring them down! Certainly!” The guard rushed up the stairs.

“Hmph! This is why this duchy’s education sorely needs reform! No wonder the central nobles treat us like hicks…”

Less than noble, and never very obliging, Ennieux eum-Creid nonetheless fully believed in the grand moral purpose that was noblesse oblige. After all, she was the youngest child of the late Duke Aaron eum-Creid.

In a few ways, she was actually quite like Ailn. When it came to holy aura she far exceeded him, but was still the runt among her siblings. Not to mention she’d earned similar notoriety for failing to fulfill her duties protecting the northern wall.

Unlike Ailn, however, she was a noble brat.

A full ten years younger than her next closest sibling, she was the apple of the late duke’s eye, born well after the harshness of his personality had already been weathered down by the endless battle against the shadows.

As the duke entered the twilight of his years, she must have seemed like the last light peeking through the cold mountains. The late Duchess Anne eum-Creid died after giving birth to her, and when the infant Ennieux peered up at Duke Aaron with Anne’s almond-shaped, chestnut-colored eyes, he couldn’t help but feel the workings of providence.

He made sure to love her dearly, as if to make up for what he never gave his other children. Hence, she grew up a spoiled father’s child, and she never truly got over his death.

Having been retrieved by the guard, Kylian and Ailn made their way down the stairs.

“O-oh! Sir Kylian! I didn’t expect to see you here!” Ennieux fidgeted when she saw who was actually coming down the stairs. It was spectacular, really, the way she noticed her courtly crush before her resurrected nephew.

“… My Lady,” Kylian nodded in response, attempting to be as curt as possible.

Kylian pitied Ennieux as much as he’d pitied Ailn, actually—she’d had a breakdown when she started her touring duties, and Duke Aaron had done little to rebuke her. This act of coddling deeply disturbed his vassals, and she was bright enough to discern their contempt, no matter how well they hid it.

In Kylian’s view, much of her behavior, or at least its origin, was self-protection. By no means did this absolve her of her flaws.

“Aunt Ennieux, I presume?” Ailn asked, striding amiably down the stairs and extending his hand.

Now even she had to notice Ailn. Broken out of her daze, suspicious of potential fraud though she was—she knew what her nephew looked like. She had a great memory for those she disliked. And the annoying smile on her nephew’s face was presently searing itself ever deeper into her prodigiously vindictive memory.

She slapped his hand away.

“I don’t know what the commoners are teaching you, but I won’t entertain it,” she snarled. “Aren’t you supposed to be dead?!”

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“The Azure Knights almost made a terrible mistake,” Kylian said, stepping in front of Ailn. “But thankfully, the young master is alive and well.”

“Oh, Sir Kylian, I’m sure you’re the only reason this cad wasn’t buried alive or cremated! How awful that your chivalry and dedication should render such a worthless reward.”

Ennieux glared openly at Ailn. Kylian was more than a little surprised at how quickly she seemed to accept Ailn’s survival.

She never liked Ailn, of course. He was too much like her. But unlike Ennieux, Ailn never squirmed in an attempt to assert his nobility.

Perhaps it made her feel shameless, or perhaps she saw his passivity as pathetic. It could be said that Ailn’s dishonor justified Ennieux’s defensiveness: she maintained a sort of status within the family by loudly proclaiming her nobility. She barked, and people took pains not to step into her garden.

What must she have seen in Ailn, who wouldn’t even bark?

“I hope with this new lease on life you’ll put more thought into what trouble you cause your poor sister,” Ennieux said. “I’m sure whatever grief your ‘death’ brought her, quiet relief came in equal spades. Reflect on that, Ailn eum-Creid. I lecture you for your own good.”

“Of course, my dear aunt.” Ailn bowed deeply, and said nothing more, surprising Kylian.

“And most of all,” Ennieux stepped in closer, her voice icy. “If I see you alone with Sophie once more, I will ensure you can never speak to your sister again. It’s disgusting, Ailn. It truly is.”

Ailn peered up from his bow. He maintained his polite tone, but he looked quite surprised.

“I was meeting with her regularly?” Ailn asked. He had an expression of slight concern.

“Oh, come off it Ailn. Did you think I, the most noble lady in the duchy, would be so stupid as to be unaware of your filthy dalliances?” Ennieux looked like she wanted to spit on Ailn. “Renea may turn a blind eye, but I—“

“The young master has lost his memory, actually,” Kylian interjected. He certainly hadn’t heard of it.

“Lost his memory? Hmph! Good.” Ennieux placed her hands on her hips. “The better not to tell you, then. Why should I help you continue sinning? Take this as a sign to change your ways.”

Kylian started to object, before he caught Ailn’s eye. Ailn simply shook his head.

“Now Kylian,” Ennieux pulled right up to his face. “If you were free later I would be most obliged if you were to join me for a cup of tea in my parlor.”

“…I’m afraid I must continue the investigation of the young master’s attempted murder,” Kylian said.

“‘Attempted murder?’ Is that how he chooses to dignify it?” Ennieux scoffed at Ailn, thinking it little more than his attempts to save face. “I heard the shadow beasts myself! Murder! Really now, Ailn.”

“There were shadow beasts here in the keep?” Kylian asked.

“Y-yes, well. A few had appeared near the Great Hall,” Ennieux said. She crossed her arms in a manner that suggested discomfort. “It was… shocking.”

“I’m sorry to hear that happened,” Kylian said with sincere concern. “I hope you’re not too shaken, Lady Ennieux.”

“I’m fine… R-really.” Ennieux fluttered her eyes at him, “I could perhaps find reassurance if we discussed it sometime, Sir Kylian. If you ever find yourself thirsty or peckish…”

“Then I will gladly go to the cafeteria to eat with the other knights. The food supplies your husband procures from the west on his frequent travels are not always appetizing, but I am continually grateful to him nonetheless. Would you relay that to him?”

“…Of course,” Ennieux clicked her tongue and backed off at his unsubtle chiding. “As the alleged robbery was but my useless nephew, I bid the both of you good day.”

Not that she apologized to the guard for her mistake, of course.

Her sullen look was more disappointed than angry, and as she left the Great Hall she gave a single fretful look backward.

----------------------------------------

Kylian glanced worriedly to his side. No matter how resilient Ailn was, it surely had to sting to see just how little his death—or revival—had affected his aunt. Her behavior could easily have cut deeply into the very insecurities his amnesia was trying to suppress.

“Is something on your mind, Your Grace?” Kylian asked, pausing as he observed the perturbed look on Ailn's face as they left the Great Hall.

“There is,” Ailn admitted, his voice lowering slightly. “Kylian, did you know I was meeting with the maid?”

“That’s what you’re thinking about? And no, I strictly avoid engaging in gossip,” Kylian frowned, a bit caught off-guard. “I would never let hearsay cloud my judgment.”

“It’s not exactly reliable but—a detective can’t just ignore it. Sometimes hearsay’s the only lead you’ve got.”

Was that really the extent of his reaction? The two started heading toward the grand forge, hoping to learn more about the shattered sword fragments. As they made their way, Kylian decided to probe Ailn more directly.

“What do you think of your aunt, Ailn?” Kylian asked.

"She's fun,” Ailn said. “I bet she livens up the tea parties.”

"Is that… really what you make of her?" Kylian muttered, struck by his nonchalance.

"I like the way she talks. It’s put-on, but charming,” Ailn said, giving a refreshingly genuine smile while saying some rather rude things. “Is she imitating someone? Like my grandfather?"

Kylian shook his head. "Hardly. I have no idea where she gets it from. No one in the north talks like that. Not the eum-Creids, definitely."

In fact, Kylian had hardly dealt with nobles hailing from other regions. Some of them, especially those centrally located, had certainly been haughty. And yet their speech always seemed more at ease, even if their prim and proper manners were suffocatingly precise. It was almost like...

"I bet she picked it up from all those romances she's got in the study. That's hilarious. Now I like her even more,” Ailn said.

"Romances?" Kylian asked.

"Dozens. A lot of them involving knights, actually. Have you never read the classic A Knight to Die For, A Lady to Cry For?"

"I would never dare."

Kylian had learned many strategies to gently rebuff Ennieux's advances, including: praising her husband's tireless work for the duchy, reminding her that her children touring the northern wall surely loved coming back to a stable and loving home, and simply asserting that he, a knight, would never even dream of romancing a noble like herself.

"I'd be flattered if I were you. You're a commoner and she's still smitten. Why?" Ailn asked.

"Why, indeed?" Kylian muttered.

In other parts of the empire, noble infidelity was less a transgression and more of an accepted vice. But in the duchy, holiness mattered; the eum-Creids were a family of paladins and saintesses after all. Always so close to danger, the people of the duchy were quite devout.

Kylian, meanwhile, was a victim of his own good nature.

He felt sorry for Ennieux, the way she aimlessly wandered the castle, with always an anxious air. Even her condescension towards commoners was more insufferable than it was vicious; if she truly hated them, she would've made the servants' lives hell. Many central nobles certainly liked to.

A few kind words was all, when he'd caught sight of her staring out distantly on the ramparts. He was young and naive, entirely unaware of how a pretty sentiment well-planted could germinate into a great big oak of regret.

Something about how even a shy primrose opens up in the evening. It was incredibly embarrassing in retrospect. But now the primrose cared little whether or not the sun was shining; it seemed as if she'd happily open up to Kylian any time.

No wonder the other knights thought he was unduly favored.

"Do you suspect her?" Kylian asked, trying to steer the conversation back to somewhere sane.

"Can't say she tops the list,” Ailn said. “But I'm not one to cross people off too quickly, no matter what my gut says. I'm curious about her children, though."

"Her children?" Kylian blinked, a little perplexed. "I suppose so."

Unfortunately for her, neither of Ennieux's children would inherit her surname; rather, they would inherit their father's, which was Gren. Camille and Nicolas, perhaps shying from their mother's vain behavior, had always been more knights than nobles.

Neither had even managed to inherit any intrinsic holy power, as Ennieux's was already modest. Theirs, like the rest of the knights, had to be bestowed.

“How much holy power can they hold?” Ailn asked.

“More than average. Even if they didn’t inherit the blessing in their blood, they’re quite talented in their capacity to retain it,” Kylian said.

“Duly noted,” Ailn clicked his tongue, and started his habit of fiddling with his wrist again. “By the way—do people… smoke around here?”

“Tobacco? Of course. Why wouldn’t they?” Kylian asked.

“No reason,” Ailn said. His gaze went to his belt, part of the standard knight’s uniform. He didn’t carry much, so he lacked the usual ensemble of pouches a knight would be seen with. “...It’d be great if someone invented pockets though.”

“Invented what?”

Ailn didn’t respond. He seemed restless—and all the way to the forge, he kept his fist grasped, as if to stop himself from reaching for something that wasn’t there.