TRIM Ch 2

Cedric, having just raised his glass to his lips and taken half a sip, looked at Lorelia. At that moment, the servants arrived, carrying hot water in silver bowls. Dipping his hand in the water, Cedric replied,

“That’s absurd. People live there, too.”

“I heard there are no people, only ghosts.”

“Ghosts?”

Wiping his hands with a dry towel, Cedric looked at her. Lorelia, similarly drying her hands, continued. A refreshing scent emanated from the water infused with fragrant herbs.

“The lord and lady of Trisen and their heir died 13 years ago. Their ship sank.”

“A tragic event. May the Gods watch over them.”

“And so, the young second son became the lord.”

“That’s the order of succession.”

“I heard a rumor that the poor young lord also hanged himself soon after.”

At Lorelia’s words, the adults fell silent. The sound of the head servant approaching with a wine bottle was unusually loud. After filling the lord’s glass first, the head servant poured wine into the guest’s glass with elegant movements. Watching this, Cedric spoke.

“That’s quite an interesting story.”

“Isn’t it?”

“If the lord is dead, who rules the territory?”

“The steward.”

“The steward?”

“Yes. They say the steward can see the ghost of the deceased lord.”

“Oh?”

“He’s a very old man, and I heard he knows black magic.”

Hearing this, the northern knight began to laugh heartily. The head servant, with a faint smile, filled Lorelia’s glass.

“Black magic. Do you believe that legend, Laurel?”

“If it existed in the past, I think it can exist now.”

“Our goddaughter enjoys interesting stories.”

“She’s still a child.”

Marilyn interjected with a laugh, but Lorelia didn’t mind.

“I don’t believe the rumors outright. I’m just curious why such stories spread. Isn’t there some truth behind the rumors, in one way or another? Like how the will of the Gods is contained in the songs children innocently sing.”

Cedric gazed at his goddaughter with interest, thinking that the green dress with white lace suited her well.

Lorelia’s auburn hair and green eyes were inherited from her father. Of the three Hayes siblings, the older two had black hair and brown eyes, like their mother.

“I heard the lord of Trisen is one-eyed and hunchbacked. Is that why he doesn’t go out?”

“I don’t think that’s the case, goddaughter.”

“So, Cedric, you met Duke Pervrante?”

Lancelot, who had been listening silently, interjected. His deep, low voice had the power to command attention.

“I did. I was treated to a wonderful dinner.”

“The lord’s name was… Theobald, was it?”

“Precisely, Lance.”

Lorelia listened silently to the adults’ conversation. And quietly mouthed the name. Theobald.

For some reason, she felt a flutter in her chest. The south. A land full of light. She had never been to Trisen.

“Theobald Pervrante el Trisen. The ill-fated boy lord.”

Cedric said, swirling his glass lightly. The red wine sloshed inside the round glass. The dark red juice of grapes, like blood.

“He opened the doors of the mansion. After 13 years.”

Once again, Lorelia felt a flutter in her chest.

Knock, knock. At the sound of knocking, Theobald opened his eyes.

After the cautious sound, silence returned. Immersed in deep stillness, he closed his half-opened eyelids. The room, with all its windows covered by curtains, was dark. Only a single candle on the desk burned silently.

“Hmm…”

Theobald exhaled slowly and raised a hand. He picked up the book lying on his stomach, dropped it on the floor, and rubbed his face with his empty hand.

“Come in.”

As he answered in a husky voice, the door clicked open. While the steward closed the door soundlessly and approached, he kept his eyes closed.

The sound of water being poured into a cup was cautious. After placing the glass where Theobald’s hand could reach it, the steward walked towards the window.

As he pulled back the thick curtains halfway, the morning sunlight poured in. The man reclining on the long couch was revealed in the light. The dark blue robe and pale platinum hair were a familiar sight to the steward. His hair seemed to shine brighter than the sunlight outside the window.

Still with his eyes closed, Theobald frowned slightly.

“What time is it?”

“A little past ten.”

The steward refrained from asking if he had slept late again. Instead of asking the obvious, he said,

“A reply has arrived from Mendel.”

He delivered somewhat special news.

Only then did Theobald slowly open his eyes. The outside light touched his languidly revealed eyes. Before those deep blue eyes turned towards him, the steward held out the letter. High-quality paper with delicate patterns along the edges. A dark red seal stood out clearly on the flawless paper, without a single crease.

“It arrived at dawn. I’ve arranged accommodations for the messenger in the outer castle and instructed him to return tomorrow morning.”

While listening to the additional explanation, Theobald accepted the letter. He had no interaction with the lord of Mendel Castle, so they had never exchanged written correspondence. That’s why he had sent an invitation through a personal messenger, and why the messenger from the other side had traveled for more than 20 days.

Lancelot Hayes el Lorelia.

Theobald scanned the signature on the envelope. The elegantly scrawled handwriting was neat. The fox’s face imprinted on the wax seal. After looking down at it for a moment, he broke the seal. As the round wax tore, the fox also shattered.

He unfolded the letter with leisurely hands. His blue eyes slowly scanned the contents. The slight drowsiness that had lingered on his face completely disappeared.

“He’s coming.”

He murmured, handing the letter to the steward. His tone was casual, as if he had known beforehand. After handing over the letter, Theobald picked up the glass of water on the table and brought it to his lips.

From slowly tilting the glass of cold water to drinking it, and then handing the empty glass back to the steward, all his movements were unhurried. He never rushed.

“Send an invitation to Kingsburg.”

“Understood.”

“The rest, in five days.”

“Yes.”

“There won’t be any problems with the preparations, will there?”

“Have no worries.”

Despite the impeccable answer, Theobald’s expression remained unchanged. His face showed neither a satisfied smile nor a dissatisfied frown. Only his water-moistened lips were particularly red.

“I’ll bring your breakfast.”

“Keep it simple. And…”

The neatly dressed steward listened attentively.

“I need to go hunting.”

He then bowed skillfully and replied,

“I’ll make the preparations so you can depart at noon.”

Theobald didn’t even bother to nod. As if to say he understood, he got up. The couch, custom-made to his size, was long and plush, but not as comfortable as a bed. Immersing himself in hot water would make him feel much more refreshed.

As he headed towards the bathroom, the steward withdrew. Theobald’s space once again fell into silence. Only the sound of water pouring from the faucet echoed, swoosh.

There were no other noises. Not even the sounds of servants moving about. No sounds of gardeners’ shears or the pulling of carts. The place where Theobald lived was always quiet.

Trisen Mansion was always quiet.

The royal capital of Kingsburg was a four-day carriage ride from where Lorelia lived. Aside from attending royal events, Lorelia had rarely left the territory ruled by her father.

Two years ago, she reached adulthood on her eighteenth birthday, and unlike her sister, she was quite skilled at riding, but she had never left the castle gates without taking a carriage. Naturally, no nobleman would dare put his daughter on a horse and let her ride outside the castle.

When a noblewoman traveled, a large carriage was required. Maids were needed to maintain her elegance during long journeys, and they, too, needed a separate carriage. A baggage wagon was also needed to carry all the women’s clothes, belongings, and jewelry. It was a task that required a great deal of preparation in many ways.

“Truly, I’m so excited these days that I couldn’t sleep a wink last night.”

Lorelia wore a dreamy expression, gazing into the air. This room, brightly lit by the late afternoon sun, was the library where she received instruction from her tutor.

“I still can’t believe it. It’s like a dream.”

When her godfather visited last month and pulled out the invitation from his pocket, Lorelia almost squealed with delight. When her father broke the golden seal and unfolded the letter inside, her heart pounded. It would be a great honor if the Lord and Lady of Lorelia and their daughter would grace us with their presence. When her father read that passage aloud with an interested look, she wanted to shout,

“I’m invited too! To Trisen Mansion!”

The old man, who had been fumbling with a bookmark, raised his head. And he looked at the lord’s daughter, poised between girl and woman, her cheeks flushed pink.

“You seem very much looking forward to it.”

“Of course I am. We’re leaving next week. My goodness, I’m going outside of Lorelia!”

“It’s not your first time leaving the territory, is it?”

“It’s my first time in the south! I went to Windburg once, but it was so cold there. Ugh, I really hate the cold.”

Lorelia shivered dramatically, recalling her sister’s wedding. In Windburg, where Elenia had married, heavy snow fell even in spring. The northerners rejoiced, saying the snow falling on the wedding day was an auspicious sign.

“Lady Glen loved winter very much, even when she was here.”

“Isn’t that fortunate? What would I have done if I had been born the eldest daughter?”

The old man chuckled at her banter. His purple priestly robes hung loosely on his thin frame.

“Priest Holtman, have you ever been to the south?”

Before answering, he smoothed his neat white hair with his palm. Although he was well over eighty, his hands were still white and elegant. Looking younger than their age was a common trait among priests who served God.