Dead?

I don’t understand. The words, yes. Individually, I can parse their meanings but together, they make no sense. My father died in a summoning?

“Are you sure?”

Fen briefly raises her head, spearing me with eyes as dark as the Abyss. Have they always been that color? Or that large? For a moment, they seem larger than my worries, just as deep and unfathomable as the afterlife said to swallow unworthy souls. I let myself drift in her gaze, a welcome break from considering her words.

Then she bows her head and I’m forced back into the struggle to accept what she’s telling me. “I’m sure, Lou. His body was badly damaged, but I recovered his head. I transported it safely here.”

She brought back his head but not the rest of him. That means he’s definitely dead. Eviscerated, if Fen couldn’t bring back any more. Something eviscerated my father.

My father’s dead.

“…you alright?” Junior asks, startling me. Why is he looking at me like that? Since when is he ever concerned about me?

“I’m fine.” The words are reflexive and dismissive. “How?”

“The lurker—"

“No.” From the corner of my eye, I notice Junior flinch but it’s a detail I can’t bother to be concerned with. “I want an explanation. Every single detail that led to this. Every decision. Every conversation. I want to know about these summoners. I want to know where they came from and who they think they are to challenge the crown. I want to see that summoning circle and I want to know how they built it. I want to know who handled the summoning, everything they said, and every action that took place during it. I want to know everything.”

“…of course, Lou. But it will take some time and you are very busy now. You should take a little time. Grieve for your father. Prepare him for burial. This can be done later.”

I stare at the prostrating succubus, trying to consider her words but it’s difficult. My head is like a stormy sea, ideas and images crashing against one another. My memories of my father reading me summoning records swirling with my conversation with Rolly about the lurkers, interspersed with imagining my father’s head in a box on the carriage Fen arrived on. Beneath the thoughts, a feeling is stirring. One breaking through the cloud of confusion. Feeding off my disorientation. I…

“No. We’re doing this now.” I need to know. I need to. Or else…how can he be dead? “Get up. We’re going back to the house.”

I don’t bother to check if they’re following as I walk away. It’s a beautiful day, the clear blue sky and warm sun clear indicators of spring while winter’s grasp has been reduced to the slightest chill in the air. Back home, the village will be getting more lively. Father will be grumbly, as there’s always a bit of rowdiness, people restless with months of pent-up energy getting themselves in trouble trying to burn it off. It’s one of the few times a year our family’s knights have to work.

Oh. Father’s dead.

What will happen to Peter and Potter? They’re two useless bastards, though they did make an effort to pull themselves together after I returned with Kierra, the presence of a beautiful woman motivating them where gold and personal pride failed. Are they out of a job? Does that mean they’re going to starve?

If they were working for us, no other noble family would take them and they didn’t strike me as the types with a lot of life skills. Or the types to save for their futures. Do they work for me now? Do I want them to? Will they be forced to become common laborers if I don’t?

What about the estate? I suppose I inherit that. As well as my father’s responsibilities. I’m a ruling lady now. That village is under my purview. I have to make sure the people are safe and provided for. Collect taxes and send the due share to the capital—

Oh, wait. I hate the king now. I’m not going to work for him. Does that mean that the village has no one in charge of it? No one to turn to? They can take care of themselves but a settlement without a lord, without a tie to nobility, is vulnerable.

Bandits know they have no one to turn to for help. If they are attacked by a monster, there won’t be any knights around to help them. My father didn’t do much but his presence gave them security. That’s the contract between a lord and the people he governs. The expectation. And as his only heir, they expect me to take his place. Count on it. Am I going to abandon them? Do I have any obligation to them? Do I care? Should I?

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

My father’s dead?

“My lady!”

I snap out of my thoughts to see Gajin standing in front of me, hands outstretched, not touching me but warding me off, his expression frantic. I follow his gaze and look over my shoulder to find devastation. At least, that must be what it looks like to him. In reality, it’s just a few trampled flowers. Seems I walked right through a hedge and crushed them. It doesn’t look like much to me, but I know my eccentric gardener must be just as crushed as the plants.

“Sorry,” I mutter, turning toward the house and continuing on my way. This time, I keep my gaze focused on the house so I don’t wander off. Not sure how I did in the first place, but this is fine. It’s easier with something to focus on. Get to the house. Talk with Fen. Then…

Then…

I manage to make it to the house without incident and absently go to my bedroom. Kierra is the only one inside. In her hands is a block of wood and a small knife. She’s whittling away at the block as I enter but stops at my intrusion, smiling brightly. “Good morning, my love.”

“Morning. Haven’t seen you do that in a while.”

“Mm. I have no desire to stay here if the Hall will not have you, but this has been our home for a year. We have made many memories here. Leaving makes me feel…” She shakes her head. “During my stay in the Enchanted Forest, carving helped me, hm, accept my emotions. The action focuses my restless nature and lets me clear my mind. Finishing a piece always leaves me refreshed.”

Clear her mind, huh. “…can I try?”

She seems surprised by the request but is quick to agree. I take a seat on the bed while she retrieves another block of wood. She offers me her knife, her nails transforming into claws as she continues to whittle away at her own block. “What has brought this on?”

I feel the block, turning it around without the slightest idea where to start. Shrugging, I slice off a sliver of wood, the sharp blade cutting into it like it’s a soft fruit. “It looks like fun.”

“You have never asked me before.”

“I wasn’t in the mood before.”

“And what mood are you in now?”

I look up to find her hands have stilled and her golden-green eyes, more gold than green in the bright room, staring at me. “We have told you, dedia,” she whispers, “that you are too easy to read. What is wrong?”

I look away from those beautiful, probing eyes and focus on my block, cutting away at it. I don’t have a plan, or even an idea what I want to create, but slicing away small pieces, changing this unassuming block with my own hands, is satisfying. Or maybe it’s simply having something to do. Something that makes sense. I cut, it changes shape. Simple.

“I wouldn’t say anything’s wrong. Fen just…she brought some bad news.”

Fingers brush my shoulder, but I ignore them. “What news?” Kierra asks.

“My father is…” Dead. I try to say it, but it feels like the word is stuck in my throat. I cough forcefully but there’s nothing there. Yet, when I swallow, it feels like a rock is going down. “It seems my father is dead.”

There is a sharp intake of breath, but I ignore that, attention consumed by my block of wood as I ramble. “An accident. Lurker came through when he was attempting a summoning. Thing can only cross over for a moment but apparently that was enough for it to kill Father and the summoners he was working with. Guess Rolly’s right to be afraid of these things.”

“Lou…”

“I don’t have all the details but I’m going to sit down with Fen and get them. It…doesn’t really make sense to me. That my father died because of summoning. I always thought that boring bastard would die from old age. Maybe a road accident or meeting the wrong manabeast. But summoning? It doesn’t make sense.”

“Lou!”

The hand on my shoulder becomes more insistent while another grabs my wrist, stopping my knife from moving. I turn to Kierra to find her watching me with naked concern. “Hey, there’s nothing to worry about. He was plotting against the crown but there’s no need to worry about them coming after us. If the family of every person that committed crimes was persecuted, there wouldn’t be any citizens left. I might have to do something about our territory but that can wait.”

“That is not—" Kierra shakes her head. Then her brows furrow. She looks like she’s struggling with something, which is impressive. The last time I saw her like this was while trying to get her to tell me the reason she was trapped in the Enchanted Forest.

“Let me have those.”

“I wasn’t finished with it,” I grumble as she gently but forcefully pries my mangled block and the knife from my hands. “Neither are you,” I add when I see she’s set her own project aside.

“We can finish later. Come.”

She holds my hand and pulls me to my feet. I let her drag me through the house, vaguely noting Earl and Anna moving about busily as they pack up everything.

Kierra pulls me to the dining room, where Alana and Yulia are sitting, having a conversation over tea. Alana doesn’t look happy but she’s not outright scowling and their voices are pleasant. Guess that means they’ve made some progress.

“Good morning, Lou, Kierra,” Yulia greets and her son, seated in her lap, babbles at us with a happy smile. “I had some ideas about—"

“Not now,” Kierra says, voice sharp as a blade. I snicker as the snow bunny’s mouth snaps shut with an audible clack and her eyes widen with panic. My elf ignores her, motioning to Alana who jumps to her feet. “Come with us, star.”

“Okay.” My heart flutters seeing her stern expression. I don’t know why Kierra’s so upset but seeing it, Alana doesn’t even pause to ask questions, ready to attack the problem.

The three of us return to the bedroom and Kierra firmly shuts the door. Only then does she let go of my hand. She turns to Alana. “Lou’s father has passed. I need you to…” Her hands make strange motions. “This is…I am not the one she needs. Not now.”