Vol.1, Ch.1, P.5
Revision – 2022.10.27
“Felicia,” I called to my sister.
A look was upon her face—one that I’d seen her make never once before. I thought then, how hers seemed the sort of gaze to be given at the last breath of a loved one, or at the embers of one’s burning home. I then, too, came to share in her sorrow, as none other than the brother who caused his own sister such suffering.
And it was behind that sister of mine that the shadow of my parents then appeared.
“Felicia,” Father said. “Look not upon that thing.”
“Do heed your father, Felicia dear,” added Mother. “Consort with traitors to the Deiva and you are like to share in their filth.”
To such sharp words, Felicia did little but quietly set her eyes downward. Seeing the futility of any conversation to be had, I strode past the three without a word.
“Hold,” my father threw at my back. “Heirship of the Buckmann name falls to Felicia. Know this, and keep it.”
“Aye,” was my curt answer. I continued on to my room without sparing them a look back.
“Felicia shall not be made to suffer your presence from this day forth,” warned my mother. “Understood?”
“I do.”
It was one thing to be branded a man unblessed by the Deiva. It was another to be a son who betrayed the single most important hope of a noble house: succession.
Little wonder then, why the words uttered by Mother and Father alike so oozed with both enmity and discontent.
♰
That next day.
The day of our long-awaited departure.
Emilie and I were to set off by carriage from the Buckmann abode. Her parents and servants all were gathered to send her off.
Long possessed of a mirthful magnetism, Emilie had got along well with even her servants. To point, a veritable crowd had come to celebrate.
Amongst them was a very young handmaiden of House Mernesse by the name of Maria, whom Emilie thoroughly adored. The little girl had her hands clasped about Emilie’s, prattling to her mistress with the eagerness of a songbird at sunrise.
The Baron Mernesse and his wife, for their part, then held their daughter in a tight embrace. Word had already spread of the Aureola, indicating Emilie’s receipt of the fullest gift of odyl, and her parents naturally were well-apprised of this. Their eyes were reddened from shedding tears, but brimmed no less brightly with pride.
The same could not be said of the Buckmanns.
While present for the departure, Mother and Father kept silent, sparing me only looks bitter and cold. It seemed they meant not to see me off, but rather to make certain I had well and truly left.
I turned to board the carriage, but then, for the briefest moment, stopped.
Fifteen years.
For fifteen years, I’d lived on this estate.
Fifteen years, each filled with bliss.
Nothing but fond memories composed the collective childhoods Emilie, Felicia, and I shared together. How unfortunate that the day I take wing from the nest would be this dreary. Unfortunate again, that I could not see myself ever returning.
With such turbid emotions roiling within me, I looked up at the Buckmann manor, spotting in one of the windows a lonesome silhouette.
Felicia.
From high up in her room, she watched on.
I returned a look of my own, as if to say ‘sorry’. After all, a new burden now pressed upon her shoulders, what with the heirship of the Buckmann estate having been passed asudden to her.
My sister, however, is an exceptional soul. Light work she’ll make of this new trial, I’m sure.
The air clapped, sharply, dryly,—the sound of Mother’s hand slapping her son across his face.
“Don’t you dare even look at Felicia,” she hissed. “Our dear heir needn’t suffer your profane gaze! Have you no shame!?”
“…My apologies.”
“You held such promise…! Where’s it gone…? Where…!?”
Her voice quivered as tears welled from her eyes. Dearly and tenderly had she loved her son, certain in the brilliant days ahead of him. But then came that son’s betrayal. At the very least, that was how she and Father must’ve felt.
Nay. Certainly, given the common thought of this kingdom, anyone else would feel the same.
Father then embraced Mother by her quaking shoulders.
“Felicia enters the Order in the coming year,” he began. “You will not meddle with her. Not in the slightest. Do you understand?”
“Yes, I do,” I answered, boarding the carriage. “Be well, then.”
A farewell unreturned. As I thought.
Not long after, the carriage departed in earnest. The crowd, the manor, the memories, the familial fetters—all shrank into the distance behind me as the ride wheeled down the estate avenue.
Emilie and I.
What awaited at the end of the long road before us both was the 5th Chivalric Order’s headquarters.
♰
“…Disinherited!?”
“That I was.”
Well were we on our way, the end of an hour finding us on the highroads through the Buckmann countryside. But between Emilie and I, the better part of that long while was spent in silence, one broken only after her cup of patience had seemingly overflowed. The stammering conversation that ensued centred on what else but the happenings of the night before.
My future claim to the headship of the Buckmann estate was wrested away—a ”disinheritance”, as it were. Divested of all promised investment… An ill tiding that left Emilie in no mild shock when it finally met her ears.
“A… a-are you sure that’s what he meant?”
“Clear as day, Father’s words were. ‘Heirship of the Buckmann name falls to Felicia,’ he said,” I confirmed, to which her shoulders sank and all spirit left her mien. The sight wounded me. “Emilie. I’m sorry.”
“Why do you apologise…?”
“‘Why’? Emilie, you and I… we’re no longer betrothed,” I answered carefully. “Your life—it’s gone to shambles, I fear.”
Stupefaction flashed across her face. The moment saw her paralysed.
“Wh… what do you mean we’re no… But… why!?”
A question asked with a voice wishing to scream.
“I wish it weren’t so, but it is. It very well is.”
The breaking of our bond was set in stone the moment I was abjured by my family. An outcome as crushing as it was clearly seen from yonder, but that it was obscured from Emilie’s ken told much of how mired her thoughts had become. The course of our conversation found her in constant shock, after all.
“You were to wed the coming master of House Buckmann,” I reiterated. “But that claim is lost to me now. And with it, the betrothal once binding us.”
“B-but that can’t…! No! Rolf, I still…! I…”
“Emilie… It’s my fault. I failed the rites. I’m sorry…”
“Oh, Rolf…”
Tears filled her eyes. Pain furrowed her face.
And astonishment struck my heart.
My dear Emilie. Ever the choirgirl. Yet here she was, daring not even to disdain me for what I’d become: a traitor to her Deiva.
I could not have felt any more thankful for such compassion. But just as deeply did I feel remorse at rousing her tears—a remorse that far overshadowed the shame of having betrayed my parents’ hopes.
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Chapter 1 ─ End
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