“Marchioness! Marchioness!”

Tie opened the curtains of the room, the heavy fabric making a loud whoosh and thump sound as it reached the edge of the curtain rod far above her head.

“Mmmfrrg?”

Felicia blinked her eyes blearily in bed, confused by Tie’s excited shouting. Glancing towards the window she saw the vague outline of trees. The sun’s light was just starting to peak over the horizon.

“Too early…” She mumbled faintly, pulling the covers over her head. Her host’s aging body didn’t take changes in routine very well, and getting woken up so much earlier than expected was particularly unpleasant.

However, Tie wasn’t having any of it. The young cyan haired woman came over and enthusiastically pulled the covers off Felicia.

“Viscountess had her baby!”

Felicia’s hand, which had been searching for covers, froze. Her whole body shot up, braided hair in a mess and long nightwear eskew.

“Why didn’t you say that earlier?!” Felicia hopped off the bed, already taking her hair out of it’s braid. “Goodness, why am I being told AFTER the fact!”

Tie shook her head. “The Viscountess didn’t want you to be woken up in the middle of the night.”

Felicia rolled her eyes and chuckled. “What’s that silly woman doing, thinking about my health when she’s giving birth? I’m going to give her a scolding.”

With Tie’s help, Felicia quickly slapped together an outfit for the day, put her hair up, and left for the Curtidor home.

Concerning Claro Curtidor’s current home, he and Felicia had fought about it. Claro was used to roughing it as an unfavored knight and later considered Fresa Estate his real home. Unless he got dismissed, he never thought to leave his Estate provided housing. He would have probably stayed there until he died if it were up to him.

Felicia was flattered he liked the housing she provided, but she couldn’t let him stay no matter how much he liked it. Commoners were happy with what their lords gave them, but once you were a noble the rules changed.

There was such a thing as “noble pride” and it was expected for all nobles to have it. A modern mind, when hearing a phrase like that, would simply think it meant arrogance. But this view lacked nuance. A more accurate description for noble pride was “shared class honor”.

Nobles viewed themselves as a group, similar to a modern sports team. No one would look kindly on a team where half the players went to a professional game wearing street clothes or a different team’s jersey. No. Sports fans expect their team to wear the same uniform, play their assigned roles well, and bring pride to their city by winning.

It was similar with nobles. Image was important. Everyone was expected to adhere to their roles and the associated privileges that accompanied them. Failure or success was shared with every noble. Just like a sports team could win or lose a match based on a single player's actions.

But Noble Pride had to account for human failure. No one was perfect, after all. Mora and Fresa Family were prime examples. As a sort of “saving grace” within the system, when a person or family couldn’t excel they would still be accepted as long as they looked competent. Her host, the Mora Family and the Fresa Family, were careful to look excellent on the outside, and that’s all noble society cared about.

This was why the Salvias aristocracy had such an odd response to Marchioness Calle Mora Fresa: On the one hand, she showed Noble Pride by brutally executing traitors. It served as a fantastic warning to those who thought to go beyond “their role”. On the other hand, it only got that bad because of her incompetence. They didn’t want to associate too closely with a noble who showed their flaws so... publicly. In the end, they chose to pretend they didn’t see anything and act like Calle didn’t exist.

What this meant for Claro Curtidor, newly minted lesser noble, was that he had to look the part of a noble. Regardless of whether it was practical or comfortable to him. And that meant he needed a plot of land and a house. Usually Barrera’s house would have been given to him, but it was now being used as a school. After squabbling about it, Claro and Felicia compromised by allowing him a “modest house” on a plot of land just outside the Fresa Estate.

It was a two story home with 3 bedrooms on the second floor and 1 office, a formal living room, a dining area, and a large kitchen on the bottom floor. There was a small stable with a few horses, a carriage for formal travel and a cart for bulk work, as well as a vegetable garden and a chicken coop in their large backyard.

They had two servants, an elderly cook and a maid. Rather than stuffing these two in the attic as was common for servants, Claro had a small one bedroom cottage built nearby for them to live in. Being provided a house, no matter how small, was a huge luxury for a servant and the two were extremely thankful for the privilege.

A commoner would have considered this an enormous amount of wealth, but for a lesser noble it barely passed the muster. It was more like a home of a wealthy merchant, which some nobles would view as degrading. Luckily the house was next to the Fresa Estate, an area no merchant would be allowed to build near, pushing the “modest” house up a few noches in value.

Felicia arrived in good spirits.

The Viscountess, Margarita, hadn’t suffered any complications and the baby was healthy. For a first pregnancy, the delivery had been relatively fast. A blessing for any mother as the longer it took the more pain they experienced.

When Felicia arrived, she expected Claro to be bursting with pride. He’d already been fluctuating between glee and worry over his wife’s pregnancy. His worrying was natural, pregnancy was always a risky business.

Rather than a look of joy at everything going well, she was surprised to see him look… uncomfortable.

“What’s wrong with you?” She asked bluntly at seeing his expression. “Is there something with the baby—?”

“No— yes, in a way—” He waved his hands anxiously and then hesitated. “I suppose you’ll see for yourself.”

Her eyebrows shot up at his nervous gibbering.

“Alright, then show the way instead of standing around like a fool.”

He nodded and quickly guided her to his wife. Knocking on the door gently, he called out, “Marg, the Marchioness is here.”

As his wife was mute, he didn’t bother waiting for a reply and stuck his head inside the room for a moment. When he saw she was awake and motioning for them to come in, they entered.

Felicia carefully examined mother and child. The Viscountess was in excellent shape, hair neatly braided and cheeks rosy. Considering her put-together appearance, Felicia suspected the real reason she’d been called in so late was to give the new mother time to make herself presentable for superior.

Well, Felicia couldn’t hold that against the woman. Giving birth might be a glorious affair in the big picture of life, but the details were extremely messy and gross. If it were Felicia, she wouldn’t necessarily be eager to have her boss arrive right after giving birth either...

The baby was a surprising plump newborn and had a shock of fine, red baby hair.

Felicia walked closer and asked in a low voice, “Boy or girl?”

Margarita motioned with a hand: Girl.

“You will get to dress her up in the most adorable clothes then.” Felicia commented with a chuckle, leaned over and examined the baby more closely.

Though chubby, a newborn is a newborn. They aren’t very cute when they first arrive. That said, there didn’t seem anything obviously wrong with the baby girl either. Felicia was a little baffled at Claro’s earlier behavior.

The Viscountess motioned for Felicia to hold her baby, which Felicia immediately agreed to doing and scooped the baby up. It’d been a long time since she held a child this small. Despite the roles of fat showing, the baby still felt light in her arms.

The little girl woke up at the sudden movement, wrinkling her nose slightly and looking peeved at being disturbed.

Felicia froze when she saw the color of the baby’s eyes.

‘.....red eyes.’

The child’s eyes were a bright red, the same as her fine baby hair.

[Correct.]

‘Uh…. very similar to… um…. Fresa Family red, I’d wager.’

[99% similar.]

‘............’

It was true Claro was an illegitimate son of the Fresa Family. But as he was half-commoner, his eyes were brown and only his hair was red. Margarita had hazel eyes and pink hair and came from a purely commoner family. There was not a drop of nobility in her. The child’s eyes should have, at the very least, been a brown or hazel.

How did they end up red?!

Everyone understood that matching hair and eye colors meant noble birth. Which also meant that this baby girl was considered a noble by birth.

It was true the Curtidors were nobles, but they were NEW nobles. Even accounting for Claro’s half-noble lineage, he’d never been acknowledged. It took several months before Claro’s title was registered with the King, meaning his title had only recently become inheritable. Margarita had already been well along in pregnancy by then...

How?

HOW?

HOW COULD THIS BABY KNOW IT WAS GOING TO BE BORN IN A NOBLE FAMILY?

There were stories, nay, superstitious beliefs, that angels blessed royal and noble families with their unique colors. Felicia had treated these stories in a similar way she treated the idea that a solar eclipse was God’s judgement on a nation. It was a simple case of humans mistakenly attributing divinity to nature and thus she’d dismissed it with ease.

Gaining an inheritable noble title was rare and all of Calle’s memories involved old noble families. The actual process to how mixed colors went to single colors was, outside of the “silly tale” of angelic involvement, a mystery to both Felicia and her host. Lacking a suitable explanation, Felicia had always assumed it was through careful intermarrying over several generations that caused the solid color seen in noble families today.

This was the first time Felicia saw with her own eyes “the switch”.

‘It can’t be angels are actually involved?!’ She mentally cried out in shock.

[They are not involved.]

DARS assurance helped Felicia maintain control over her expression but that didn’t stop her internal raging. The absurdity of what she was seeing shocked her to her core. Despite over 10 years of living in this timeline, there were certain things she had a hard time accepting. The genetics in this world was one of them.

DARS saw her throwing a mental fit and said, [I did tell you not to think too deeply about it.]

Though Felicia was unwilling to accept what her eyes were seeing, her face was showing a smile. She gently poked the baby’s nose before handing her back to the Viscountess.

“She’s beautiful, Margarita. Have you decided on a name?”

Girls were typically named by their mothers and boys by their fathers. It wasn’t a strict rule but rather the norm for this particular region of the country.

Viscountess blushed, pleased at the simple praise of her child, and motioned: Rosa.

Felicia’s face almost broke.

With prodigious effort she gave a tinkling laugh instead and lightly clapped her hands.

“That name is perfect! I’m sure she’ll grow up to be as pretty as a rose too.” She stroked the newborn’s tiny head and said a few more encouraging words before excusing herself.

Tie remained with the Viscountess to get her chance to hold the newborn while Felicia and the Viscount left for the living room.

They both stood there, neither saying anything for a while.

Claro was looking even more uncomfortable than before.

Finally, he couldn’t take the silence anymore and spoke first:

“I want to assure you that we will never allow ourselves to be used to contend for Fresa March.”

Felicia came out of her daze, blinking in surprise at his seeming non-sequitur. She’d been suffering from the shock of her discovery and had completely forgotten the Viscount had been stressing about something when she first arrived.

“Pardon?”

“Considering what happened in Mora County recently, I understand how this could—”

“Ah? Oh!” Felicia suddenly realized what was making him anxious. “Oh goodness, you stupid man! Is that what you’re worried about? Naturally there won’t be any contention between our families! Goodness, who is left in the Fresa family that they’d dare try something?”

Claro stared at her intensely for a moment, looking for any sign of negative emotions on her face, and when he didn’t see it, gave a half-smile, his tense shoulders relaxing a little.

The Marchioness' viciousness was well known to him, but even he’d been shocked by how easily she beheaded her own relatives. That she didn’t show a shred of guilt had made him uneasy. Whether commoner or noble, family was very important. To punish one’s own relatives wasn’t a small thing, even if they were in the wrong. But she’d done more than merely “punish”, she had them executed without any remorse.

This had heightened his awareness of how absolutely ruthless she could be concerning her son’s inheritance. As a person on the Heir’s side, he’d never considered himself in a position where he’d be viewed as a threat. But when his daughter was born with the red Fresa color, he’d become fearful. Colors and titles went together. As new nobles with no strong family to back them, how easy would it be for those with real power to lie about or manipulate them?

If his daughter, if his future children, were viewed as threats to the Fresa title, what was to stop the Marchioness from “taking care” of them? She didn’t spare her own relations, there was no reason to think she’d go easy on his family because of past loyalty. He didn’t dare risk it.

“If anyone tries to approach us, especially later, rest assured I’ll tell you and the Heir first.”

She nodded as though that were expected.

He hesitated a moment before bringing up his next worry, “As to… as to my daughter’s future relationships… and any other children...”

Felicia pursed her lips.

“Claro, I’m disappointed. Do I or my son look like the type of nobles who steal children?” She sighed. “Your oath of loyalty does not extend to giving every aspect of your life to us. I know you put off starting your own family for my son’s sake. He and I… we will not ruin what you waited so long for, just because nosy busybodies tried to force our hand.”

Claro looked embarrassed at her admonition.

“My apologies. I know you and the Heir aren’t the sorts, but considering his colors— I thought the pressure, later, it might—”

“I know what you thought.” Venting her frustration she smacked his shoulder as hard as she could. Being a sturdy fellow he didn’t flinch at her small act of violence. “And I won’t hold this irrational fear against you either. I know you’re a new father and worried about all kinds of nonsense because of it. But this one bit of nonsense you truly don’t need to be worrying about.”

Seeing his continued anxious appearance, she rolled her eyes and assured again, “Should I publicly swear that my son and I won’t do anything to your family? Idiot! Think about it! When have I ever listened to rumors or cared what people thought? If anyone tries to put a wedge between us, they will be the ones to suffer, not you and yours!”

It was only after saying this that Claro felt truly assured. He would never demand a public oath, that was taking things too far and would more quickly make them a target besides, but her willingness to do so spoke volumes. He sincerely thanked her for her trust and understanding.

Felicia squinted at him, a little hurt that he didn’t trust her. But she didn’t have the heart to be truly angry at him either.

The real fault wasn’t in him but those stupid, illogical noble colors.

A noble’s colors were more important than their name. It was a visual representation that they were special; divinely blessed and set apart. They took the continuation of their colors seriously, though some were more particular than others.

Mora Family had an unhealthy obsession with their colors, as an example.

From what Felicia understood, or thought she understood, about noble colors, was that typically the child took after his paternal colors. There were rare exceptions to this. If an eldest child had the misfortune of taking after his maternal colors, he probably wouldn’t inherit and instead the title would be passed to a sibling with “proper colors”. This wasn’t a law, it was simply a tradition that had been going on for as long as anyone could remember.

Rido was a unique case because he was the only male descendant of two lords and had been explicitly named in the Marquess’ Will as the Heir. Though it went against tradition, the unusual circumstances paired with the unshakable legal standing through the Will meant that no one disputed his title rights.

Well, except for upstarts on the Mora side but they wouldn’t likely do anything that foolish again. Or not for a while at least.

Rido got a pass in the public’s eyes but his children would not, especially when it came time for the 3 fiefs to combine into a Duchy. This was because a new Ducal title would fundamentally shift the political landscape in Salvias. People would be looking for weakness, loopholes, and anyone they could take advantage of to gain the upper hand.

If Rido’s children didn’t have the “correct colors”, in this case red, despite being the direct Heir to Fresa March, there would be social pressure to accept someone into the Fresa Family who did. This could be through adoption, but more likely, through marriage.

The Curtidor Family would be the first approached by outsiders to put pressure on the Fresa Family. Unlike old noble families, who had generations of contacts and support through intermarriage, the Curtidors were new and their influence was basically in the negatives. Outside of their fief lord, they had no one protecting and backing them. This made them look like easy targets. People who would have previously ignored them and disdained them, would begin approaching them with evil intentions.

It’s not that Claro or his wife were the sorts to be hoodwinked by these types of people. But when it became obvious they weren’t going to be led astray, they could be intimidated into obedience in other more insidious ways. This could be done through their children, who would be more easily manipulated than their parents because of their lack of experience, or by threatening to shun the children completely from noble society. Peer pressure of this sort was usually very effective against nobles who valued their reputations more than their own life.

Claro understood this and so did Felicia.

But this was the one thing that Felicia was confident she could repel.

And the reason why was because she had a reputation for being completely shameless. And occasionally crazy. There was a certain power and freedom that came from being a social pariah.

On the off chance that Rido couldn’t handle it, Felicia could step in and do whatever unpopular action was needed to scare the offending nobles away. As the person in the family who was always causing trouble, it didn’t really matter—and it would be expected to some extent—if she caused trouble again.

Thinking that way, Felicia couldn’t understand why Claro was worried.

If anyone needed to be worried about their children’s colors, it wasn’t Claro but Felicia.

She had long been pondering the problem of Rido’s green hair and eyes. There was a real possibility of her grandchildren showing evidence of her host’s sexual indiscretions. Usually the paternal bloodline dominated the colors, which meant Rido’s children were likely to come out with green colors.

But there were exceptions. Rido was a noble, coming from two noble lines, but his hair and eyes didn’t match perfectly. They were both green but the shading was wrong. Felicia had assumed this was because his paternal lineage was weak, having too much commoner blood mixed in.

Now, though, Felicia wasn’t sure if that was really the case….

Well, either way, Felicia wasn’t going to depend on the sketchy genetics in this place to save her son. She’d already talked to DARS about possible ways to get around the problem. Especially after Rido had lost his hand, she thought more deeply on how to maximize her remaining skills. She decided she could go before the Royal Court and plead her case if her son’s lineage was seriously questioned and use her skills to swing things in her favor.

That was still risky. If possible, she wanted to leave that as a last resort.

After talking to Claro some more, Felicia and Tie went home. As they sat in the carriage taking them back to the Fresa Mansion, Felicia still couldn’t let go of how insane the genetics were in this world. As she was mentally complaining about it, a theory of sorts about how this all worked started forming in her mind.

The moment it crystalized she wanted to dismiss it. It seemed really absurd. But it was less absurd than angelic involvement, making it more believable. She was almost afraid to ask because she felt she’d stumbled on the truth and she didn’t like it at all.

‘DARS, could it be that family names are what determines family colors?’

[No.]

She breathed a sigh of relief.

[It’s position within society that matters.]

Her mental expression went from relief to constipated.

‘...are you saying how a person is viewed within society determines their hair and eye colors?’

[More or less.]

Felicia mentally gapped at him.

‘MORE OR LESS?!’

[Because these physical traits are based on societal perception rather than genetics, there are times when the rules… don’t apply or can’t be applied correctly, essentially.] DARS made a ‘frowny face’ and added in annoyance. [This particular part of the world is silly and I dislike it quite a bit. I can’t calculate things properly when the metrics keep shifting.]

‘Forget disliking it, how is it even possible to change your hair color in the womb based on… on… public opinion????’

[Do you recall wanting to go to a world with magic?]

She gave him a confused look. In fact, she’d totally forgotten about that.

[If you think this kind of ridiculousness doesn’t make any sense, a world with magic is worse.]

‘....eh…..’

[What you call ‘science’ is a repeatable series of actions within a closed system. Unless something outside the system interferes, the same actions and reactions will occur infinitely. It’s wonderful in its predictability. Very easy to calculate. Worlds and timelines based solidly on science are the best.] DARS paused, as if basking in the thought of an easily calculable world. [Magic is the opposite of science in that sense. While it does have it’s own internal logic, it is an open system. Science still exists in a magical system as it needs a reliable base to work from, but it does not adhere to science. Why and where and how it decides to deviate are often extremely random. I dislike that randomness immensely. What you see in this world is a very small sampling of how magic works in other times and places.]

Felicia’s eyebrows physically raised and her mouth fell open in surprise at this explanation. The moment she realized she’d let her thoughts show, she’d rearranged her expression back to neutral. She glanced at Tie and was relieved the younger woman hadn’t noticed.

Despite there being no reason at all for doing it, she mentally whispered in excitement, ‘Do you mean to say….. That the hair and eye thing… it’s... actually magic?’

[...]

‘It is, isn’t it?!’

[....in the manner you are thinking, yes.]

‘FRIIIIIICK!!!! Why didn’t you say so earlier?!’

[One, you didn’t ask. Two, how does that make it less offensive to logic and reason?]

‘Of course it’s less offensive! It’s magic! This is amazing! I had no idea magic existed here—’

Felicia began to excitedly babble about this new discovery.

DARS looked at her excitement with extreme disgust. Where did all that frustration and anger from earlier go? Now that it involved magic, the absurdity of it all could be forgiven?

He resented that his face couldn’t properly express his disappointment in his user’s shallow thinking.

***

Felicia swung open the office doors without bothering to knock:

“Claro, you can’t seriously still be—! Oh my, did I interrupt something?”

Viscount Curtidor was pacing in front of his desk, chewing out two people in front of him ferociously, when Felicia barged in without any warning.

She blinked in surprise at the two men, one drenched in sweat and the other looking miserable.

“How is it possible for you to interrupt, Marchioness?” Viscount Curtidor spoke to her gently and then glared at the men, saying nastily, “Do your jobs properly. There will be no second time. Now get out.”

The two men practically ran out of the room.

Felicia watched them curiously and then chuckled at Claro.

“Taking full advantage of that intimidating knight’s aura, I see.”

“It does have it’s uses.” Claro laughed as well, his previous anger dissipating like it’d never existed.

“What are you doing here?” Felicia asked, eyebrows lowered in disapproval. “I specifically said you had a month of vacation time after the Viscountess gave birth.”

He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, “There are some things I can’t leave for my aide to do.”

She nodded her head in the direction the two men had fled.

“Like putting the fear of God in those two men? Who were they?”

“They’re the foreman hired to maintain the March roads and check bridge stability.”

“What did they do to earn your ire?”

“Dragged their feet. They have the mistaken belief that because they make a lump sum every month they can slack off and no one will notice.”

Felicia’s expression immediately darkened.

She’d poured quite a hefty sum of money into repairing the abysmal roads within the March. The most populous towns now had proper cobblestoned roads, while smaller villages had layered gravel. The roads between these places varied in material depending on their location and the amount of traffic.

Other than the highest grade cobblestone, it all required yearly maintenance. She had hired small teams to travel through the March and patch things up where needed. The hiring of these individuals had been left to someone else, as she’d had too much on her plate at the time to deal with every detail for every project that needed to be done.

Solid, well-maintained roads were integral to getting goods to places safely and fast. They were an important part of her “economic recovery” plan for the March. She didn’t appreciate her workers were taking advantage of their salary and not doing the job. It might be considered heavy ‘unskilled’ labor but it was important work nonetheless.

Thinking about the money they’d wasted, money that could have gone some place else and more productively, made Felicia’s heart ache. If being a partner in a major corporation had been stressful, being a responsible noble was ten times worse. Lives depended on her in a way that they never did in business.

Did she need to change how they received their wages? It was possible to only pay them for work completed, which would definitely motivate them to work properly. But that required more supervision, hiring another person or group of people to go behind these road repair teams to check, and that ultimately made it more expensive than a monthly salary...

“You should have let me deal with them...” She muttered darkly, eyes narrowed in annoyance at this new problem.

Lord Curtidor paused at her expression and then his eyes twinkled in suppressed amusement.

“It hasn’t gotten that bad yet. They only need a little scaring for now, not a little scarring.”

She blinked at his words and then laughed, playfully hitting his arm.

“Oh you! As if I’d do anything to physically harm them.”

“I need them with a sound body AND mind, Marchioness.”

She grinned evilly for a moment before returning her expression to a more affable one.

“I take it you’re finished for the day since you dealt with them?”

“I actually have—”

“Ah, there you Marchioness!” Valor poked his head into the room, interrupting their conversation, the door already open. “Heir Fresa was looking for you.”

An imperceptible frown appeared on Felicia’s face. Lately Valor never called her son by his given name. She knew their relationship was strained and tried to intervene, only to discover she made things worse. Now she didn’t dare bring it up and could only quietly disapprove in her heart.

“Is there a problem?”

“Yes, but not in the March.”

“Oh?” She cocked her head, wondering what was going on outside the fief that was worrying her son. “Tell my son I’ll meet him at my office in a moment.”

“As you wish!”

Valor left and Felicia turned back to Claro.

“Even if you have some work left, leave it for your aide.”

“But—”

“No buts! If there is anything truly pressing, have your aide send it to me and I’ll deal with it. Or I can throw it at my son and see how he does with it.”

Claro couldn’t help showing his exasperation. While the Marchioness was generally an orderly person and excellent at planning, she would occasionally send a task to her son without any warning and watch indifferently as he floundered through the process of completing the unfamiliar task. Any mistakes he made had to be fixed by him, she wouldn’t help. He succeeded or failed based on his own merits.

Presumably this was part of how she trained him to deal with surprises in fief management. Usually Lords had their sons accompany them throughout their day, having them learn through observation. Later they had their son’s work pass through the Lord before being implemented to catch mistakes. The Marchioness was the only parent Claro had seen use this “sink or swim” method of teaching fief management and he secretly felt it was a bit too detached.

Of course he never said that out loud. Just because it wasn’t how he would have done it, didn’t make it wrong.

Rido very rarely made mistakes and when he did, they could be easily corrected after the fact. Another way of looking at how the Marchioness taught her son was that she trusted him completely to do a good job. And because she wasn’t looking over his shoulder, he was free to do things as he wished without worrying what his Mother would say.

For a young man’s pride, that kind of trust and freedom meant quite a lot.

“It doesn’t seem right to leave loose ends like this.” He objected. It wasn’t in his nature to abandon a job halfway. He tried staying at home for a few days only to find his feet walking him to his office, as if by instinct, unable to leave certain things he knew needed doing to someone else.

“Tsk, what kind of idiot are you? Haven’t you and your aide been preparing over a month for this?”

“If I could just finish these last few pieces of work though—”

“None of that!” She grabbed him by the shoulders, spun him around, and began pressing him out the door. “Just go home, to that lovely wife and daughter of yours!”

“But my aide is away for lunch! I can’t just leave without telling him first—”

The Marchioness stopped pushing him for a moment and glared.

“You let your aide go to lunch and stayed to work!?”

“That… well… I just wanted to finish as quickly as possible…”

She resumed pushing him through the doorway, shaking her head, and closed the door with a huff.

“I, your lord and lady, now officially declare your work day finished.”

He pressed his lips together into a thin line, unable to stop himself from feeling uncomfortable at all the work he knew was left on his desk.

She rolled her eyes. “I will tell the aide you are going home while I head to my office. This way, he won’t be surprised.”

Claro reluctantly nodded in agreement before being forced to leave.

As he walked away, Felicia clucked her tongue.

‘How did such a sensible man turn into a workaholic?’

DARS, who’d been floating by her side invisibly the whole time, paused in the air. He almost asked if she was being serious before deciding against it.

She couldn’t really believe she wasn’t the primary culprit, right?

***

Rido was sitting in one of Felicia’s office chairs, legs crossed and one foot bouncing restlessly in the air. When she entered through the open door of her office, he immediately stood up and walked over carrying a single sheet of paper in his good hand.

“Mother, I have just received terrible news from the Invierno Duchy.”

She raised her eyebrows. It was rare for him to be this anxious. The news must be truly awful.

“The Duchess is dead.”

Felicia’s mouth dropped open and she put her hand over her mouth in shock.

“What happened?”

“Something went wrong during childbirth.”

“...oh.”

The Duchess wasn’t young. Even in Felicia’s modern era her age would have put her at risk. In this time and place, the chances of something going wrong were even greater.

She felt vaguely guilty, despite knowing she couldn’t have done anything. Sometimes knowing ‘possibilities’ without having the skill or equipment to make them happen was a curse.

“Did the baby survive?” Felicia asked gently.

Unlike in her era, deaths due to childbirth were common enough to be feared.

Interestingly, people understood that the very young and very old women were most likely to die during childbirth and their babies were less likely to survive as well. This was why, even before laws were made for minimum marital age, most families would wait for their daughters to turn 18 before marrying them out. In the families that were particularly strict, they would forbid daughters to marry until they were 20 as an extra measure of safety.

A healthy woman in her 20s was considered prime age for bearing children. Thus women typically had as many children as possible at that age. Having a child every 2 or 3 years during this time was considered common. Once women got into their 30s, they took various measures to prevent further pregnancies.

Something that shocked Felicia after arriving in this time period was the discovery that there were many types of crude condoms already in use. Depending on the person’s wealth depended on what they were made out of: cloth, leather, cleaned animal intestines, etc.

Felicia had thought condoms were a modern invention and that people with Medieval levels of education surely wouldn’t be clever enough to think it up. It turned out, like with many other things, modern inventions had to start from somewhere. Though there were plenty of silly superstitious beliefs people held, they also weren’t nearly as dumb and simple as she had been lead to believe by her modern-day education. The longer she lived in this timeline, the more obvious this truth became.

Not that Felicia was interested Ye Old forms of birth control. She would have been fine never knowing. But it had been forced on her by her host. Calle was extremely debauched when she was younger. How could a noblewoman get away with such behavior? Without some kind of birth control it simply wasn’t possible….

Of course, the methods of this era weren’t as effective as what would come later. Rido wouldn’t have been born otherwise.

The “accident”, that is, Rido was innocently continuing the conversation. Unaware his mother’s mind had wandered in a very strange direction.

He furrowed his brow, “I think the baby survived...”

“You don’t know for sure?”

“The letter says he was born alive but weak.”

He didn’t have to explain more. Weak babies rarely survived past a year.

“Mother, can I…” Rido eyebrows twisted in uncertainty, “...can I go to Invierno Duchy?”

Felicia opened her mouth and hesitated.

‘DARS, on a scale of 1 to 10, how callous will I sound if I tell him it’s pointless to go since the funeral already happened?’

People buried the dead quickly here. The time it took the letter to arrive would be more than enough time to bury the Duchess. Rido wouldn’t be able to make it in time for the funeral. He might be viewed as an unwelcome guest during the Duke and Heir Duke’s mourning period...

[You should let him go.]

‘Really?’

[It will strengthen his friendship with Heir Invierno, at the very least.]

‘And at the best?’

[You will have a staunch ally from the future King of this country.]

‘Ho~oh!’

Anything that helped Rido’s future, Felicia would never hesitate to do. Holding her excitement in, Felicia gazed at her son with the utmost seriousness and nodded.

“You can go.”

Rido let out a relieved sigh.

“Thank you Mother.”

She saw his reaction and added thoughtfully, “My son, when you go, if you think of anything helpful to do for Heir Invierno, do it.”

“Of course.”

“Even if it’s absurd.”

He looked at her questioningly.

“I just mean, even if it’s something that has a low chance of working, do it anyway. Even if it fails, it’s the thought that counts.”

He nodded slowly.

“Can I leave today?”

“You may. But send an express letter, so that they have at least a day’s warning of your arrival. Otherwise, just showing up on their doorstep might be viewed as rude.” Sending a letter was faster than regular traveling, as express letter carriers went by horseback and not by carriage.

He was just about to step out of the room when she thought of something, “Ah! Call Valor in here for a moment. I need to speak to him in private.”

Rido waved his hand in acknowledgement and left. Shortly after Valor came in.

She sat down at her desk and told him, “Close the door behind you and lock it.”

Valor raised an eyebrow but didn’t question her command.

“Valor, you’ve completed all the “training” from the Viscountess correct?”

His eyes widened at her ambiguous question before quickly reverting to his usual calm expression.

“Yes, Marchioness.”

“Very good. My son is going to the Invierno Duchy. I can’t go—”

“You are letting him go so far away by himself?”

Except for her host’s funeral, Felicia had never let Rido go anywhere of great distance by himself. She always accompanied him.

“It’s not like I can keep him tied to me forever.” She squinted. “And you’ll be there, always, which is the most important thing.”

Valor shifted his weight from one foot to the other, both nervous and proud of the trust she was placing in him.

“I understand.”

“Mm. As this is the first independent trip for both of you, I wanted to remind you of your priorities…. In maintaining his appearance.”

“Yes, yes, of course!”

“Make sure to pack extra.” She stared at him knowingly, “Especially the shampoo.”

Felicia hadn’t told Rido his true origins. Though his hair had been a bright green when he was very young, he’d lived in an isolated cottage without a mirror. That time period away from the Fresa mansion, alone with his Nanny, was more or less forgotten by him as an adult. And what he did remember, had nothing to do with his hair color.

Hiding his hair color from him was surprisingly easy. It’s not like Rido watched other people get their hair washed. As a noble, he was afforded the luxury of other’s washing his hair. This “pampering” was a perfect loophole for getting his hair dyed on the sly. He had no idea that the process was different from normal.

Valor understood what it meant for Rido’s hair to be dyed but didn’t ask any questions. If Rido’s lineage was cast into doubt, that would be a serious problem. Valor didn’t need to know the whys and hows of Rido’s origins, his loyalty wasn’t based on that, he just needed to make sure no one ever found out that single, dark secret.

Felicia had thought of telling Rido about his real father shortly after arriving but her host wouldn’t let her. Later the topic was so awkward she didn’t know how to bring it up. She lied so much about crucial aspects of his life. What if he felt betrayed by her host, Calle, and hated her, Felicia, for it? Even though Felicia had loved him all these years like a real mother, she could never escape her host’s past….

She couldn’t put it off forever though. After agonizing over the problem, she decided to tell him everything when he married. She didn’t dare put it off past that point. If Rido remained ignorant and Montana had a child with green colors, she would be accused of adultery. Even if Rido didn’t divorce her for the sake of maintaining a connection with her family, their relationship would be permanently damaged and Montana would be shunned by everyone for being unfaithful.

Of course Felicia couldn’t allow that to happen. It was just…

The conversation would be awkward. Rido might— no, would very likely be extremely angry with her. Their relationship would take a serious hit, if not for her host’s original sinful behavior, than for the years of lying about it afterward. The lies might be the worst part, because they would cast doubt on everything she’d done out of earnest affection all these years.

It wouldn’t be a stretch to think he’d feel used as a pawn in his Mother’s attempt to maintain her power.

Felicia didn’t dare think of exactly what he’d do when he learned the truth. She could only hope that after he calmed down he would consider the fact that she could have kept hiding his origins. That if she’d really been all about power, she wouldn’t have bothered with the Marron’s and sided with Barrera instead. If she didn’t care, she wouldn’t have tried so hard to free them both.

Maybe… maybe then he’d forgive her.

***

Felicia stared at the baby being held by a wet nurse she’d never seen before and then stared at her son. The astonishment written all over her face.

Rido had been gone a little under 2 months. Enough to get to the Duchy, stay there a few weeks, and then turn around and come back home. Considering the length of time it took just to get there, she’d not expected him back for at least 4 months, possibly for half a year.

He’d arrived much sooner than expected. And with him was a baby.

Just looking at the baby, she could guess the origins: pale white skin, silver hair, too thin to be healthy… this was definitely Duke Invierno’s newborn second son.

Rido straightened his spine at his Mother’s dumbfounded look and said awkwardly, “You said I should help, even if the help offered seemed ridiculous.”

Felicia pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed.

She had said that.

“Let’s talk inside.”

***

Felicia held a skinny, light baby that was too quiet in her arms and sighed again in her heart. She was sitting in a side room with her son. The wet nurse, who’d been breastfeeding this frail baby the entire trip, had been allowed to leave and nourish herself.

“I remember you giving a book to the Viscountess to read when she got pregnant.” Rido was explaining, “Before I left, I went over and borrowed that book from her. I thought if I gave it to whoever was caring for the child, it might increase the baby’s chance of surviving. It seemed like a small, easy thing at the time.”

Felicia eyebrows raised slightly, impressed at his forethought. What came out of her mouth wasn’t quite as nice:

“I had no idea an oversized brat like you could be that thoughtful.”

Rido retorted with a sly smile, “Sometimes I’m surprised by how thoughtful and sensitive I can be without trying.”

She squinted at him but said nothing. It’s not like she could blame him for his responses. Her host had somewhat recovered from the emotional shock of finding out her Mother murdered her Father and her Father was a well known child rapist. The host gaining her mental equilibrium meant that her “mouth full of nettles” had returned as well.

Felicia could only endure silently.

As for the book Rido was referring to, that was something Felicia had written and printed a few years ago. It had started as advice when she discovered one of her servants was pregnant and quickly turned into a full fledged manual for new mothers.

Though Felicia had never been a parent in her original life, she had been close to a cousin who gave birth and she frequently babysat. Whether it was her cousin’s newborn or her parent’s friends needing someone, or a friend of a friend, she babysat quite a few babies. It’s not that she particularly loved children, it was that babysitting paid really well.

Eventually she signed up for Red Cross classes like Child and Baby First Aid and Advanced Child Care Training to better equip herself for emergencies. Though her dream of being in the medical profession still hadn’t materialized into her 3rd life, her original interest proved to be useful.

Any time Felicia wrote information she thought useful to improving peoples’ lives, and she had the time, she would publish it. The private “manual” she created for her servant was treated the same.

The audience for this kind of book would be midwives and nannies, but most were illiterate. That meant the sales for this book were abysmal and she ended up losing money on it.

Not that anyone in the mansion knew that all those “cutting-edge” books were written by her.

Since that fat pig was gone, she’d been able to buy all her published books and put them in her library, free of suspicion. She used different pseudonyms depending on the topic. Her daily life was too busy for leisure reading, especially things she’d personally written. This unfortunately gave people the impression she was trying to look intellectual and cultured by owning books she had neither the time or patience to read.

The book Rido had taken without permission had come from her private collection.

“As I said, it was only on the surface the Duke and Heir were doing well. After I’d been there a week or so, I started noticing discrepancies. By the second week, I realized no one mentioned the newborn even though they did talk about the Duchess’ passing. I thought he might have died already so at first I didn’t say anything. Everyone was already heartbroken over the Duchess. Then Valor said he’d overheard a servant complaining about the wet nurse stealing wine from the cellars again.”

He furrowed his brow.

“If that baby was dead, what did they need a wet nurse for? I asked Heir Ron about it but he was evasive. It took me another week before he admitted that his brother was still alive. At least, he was fairly sure the baby was alive… he didn’t know where the baby was kept and didn’t want to know. In his mind the child was as good as dead already. Why get attached to a brother with one foot in the grave?”

Felicia gave a long sigh, nodding.

If the baby had been born reasonably healthy and without defects the Duke would have cherished him, for reputation’s sake at the very least. But since the child was weak like this, and having just lost the Duchess, it was likely the Invierno household didn’t have the emotional strength to invest in a child that they thought would die soon.

Nobles tended to be cold towards their own children, especially when they were small and had the lowest survival rate. When noblewomen gave birth, they typically hired wet nurses and nannies to do the most difficult work. In the case of the noblewoman’s death, the wet nurse and nanny would be surrogate mothers. But if the child was sickly at birth, the parents would purposefully distance themselves to further reduce the emotional burden the coming death would bring.

Commoners, of course, didn’t have this option. They couldn’t afford wet nurses or nannies, they raised their children themselves from beginning to end. If their child was sickly, they saw the whole, sad process first hand. For commoner women, their babies often died in their arms.

“After I insisted I see this brother of his, he finally agreed to finding out where the child was located.” Rido’s expression warped slightly, “They had stuffed the babe into some small room that never got light and faced the cold northern wind. There was only one wet nurse caring for him, if what she was doing could be called that. Good God! No wonder a servant complained. She wasn’t there when we arrived! The child had no clothing on at all, just a blanket he’d kicked off and already made a mess of by then. He was so still and pale… he didn’t make any noise at all... Heir Ron thought he was already dead and wouldn’t step into the room….”

He stopped talking for a moment and pursed his lips.

“Anyway, I went in there and touched the child to check. As you see with your own eyes, he was alive. But there is something not right about him.” He tilted his head, frowning. “I think there is something wrong with eyes and maybe his hearing… his cry isn’t right either but my experience with babies is limited so I can’t be sure... ”

“I’ll check to see later.”

“Check? You know how to find out?”

“Mmmhmmm.” She raised an eyebrow. “I kept you alive, didn’t I?”

“Shouldn’t the praise go to my Nanny rather than you?”

Her lips pursed, unable to give a good comeback to that. It was a lie he’d been sickly when he was young anyway.

Rido didn’t seem to care about her answer and continued, “I thought if his conditions could be improved, he might have a chance to survive. But that wet nurse they hired was useless. She didn’t know how to read the book I had brought and wasn’t willing to learn even when I offered to have someone read it to her. She was… a very strange woman.” He paused, disturbed. “It seemed that she wanted the child to die without directly doing so, like she was doing everyone a favor hastening his death “naturally”. It was only after I began visiting every day that she begrudgingly did her job…. At least when I was watching.”

Felicia frowned deeply and then tisked. “The Duke must have been furious when he found out.”

Rido scratched the back of his neck, an awkward expression on his face.

“Don’t tell me you never told him?!”

“No… I did, or I tried but…”

“But?”

“He didn’t care.”

“Didn’t care?”

“Well, he wasn’t often in the castle. The Viscount was there and he passed along my message. What I was told through the Viscount was that the wet nurse hired had been personally chosen by the late-Duchess. How could she be bad? As a young man who had no experience with children, what did I know about anything? It wasn’t my business, my house, or my family, I ought to keep my nose out of it.”

Felicia was mute with astonishment.

“The Duke was never home and based on Heir Ron’s words that was by choice. By not being there, that neglect allowed abuse to occur. It’s quite possible the wet nurse’s behavior was implicitly approved of by the absence of the Duke and that’s why she was so brazen.” Rido grimaced. “I tried getting the Duke to at least see the conditions his son was living in. Perhaps seeing it with his own eyes would engender some pity. But I don’t know if my pestering irritated him or the Viscount, but he stopped responding to me altogether...”

“It…” Felicia thought for a moment, “...could be the Duke resented the child for taking his wife’s life.”

“That, indeed, could be the case. Heir Ron said since the Duchess died the Duke had not been the same. He was never home, he never ate meals together with him, and they barely spoke two words after the funeral.” Rido lowered his eyes. “I saw the Duke twice while I was there. He was harsh and never spoke more than necessary, nor did he want to converse with me. He barely glanced at Heir Ron. The way he is now, it is hard to believe he was a tolerant, loving father like Heir Ron often described in his letters.”

“...Grief can change a person.”

“It seems so.”

“Well……. he can not remain in mourning forever, eventually he’ll come out of it. Perhaps by next year at the latest?” Felicia spoke uneasily, not really believing her own words, “He does have a perfectly healthy son left to raise to full adulthood after all. As a Duke, he can’t be so incompetent he’ll neglect his son, heir to his estate, whatever he may be feeling personally.”

“For Heir Ron’s sake, I hope so. But if I waited for the Duke to improve, this baby would definitely be dead.”

Felicia glanced at the baby in her arms and agreed with a nod.

“Since the Duke wouldn’t listen to me that only left Heir Ron. I have to say, even though he’s just as sad about losing the Duchess, he’s far easier for me to deal with than the Duke.”

“Naturally. You are friends, unlike the Duke, why shouldn’t he listen to you?”

Rido eyebrows pinched together, as if annoyed by her observation, before he kept talking, “It took some time, but I managed to convince him that his brother had a real chance at surviving if the living conditions were improved. We tried moving the baby but the wet nurse would always bring him back. The one time I tried to get forceful with her, she kicked up a ruckus and claimed I was disrespecting the Duchess’ final wishes. The Viscount and most of the high ranked staff sided with her. And of course the Duke wasn’t around, not that I trusted him to be sensible.”

“Hah!” Felicia clucked her tongue in extreme disapproval. “I would like to know how the Duchess trained her people, that they ended up like that!”

“...Mother, you can’t hold every other household to our impossibly high standards.”

A slight smirk appeared on Felicia’s face, “That’s true. We are the best.”

“Mmm.” He gave a breathy chuckle and then got back to the main point. “Since the entire castle was against us and the Duke was useless with grief, I decided I needed to do something extreme.”

Felicia looked at the baby in her arms and didn't need to guess at what he meant by that.

“Heir Ron and I did a little acting and staged this child’s death. Heir Ron pretended like he’d gone insane from the loss of his brother and stole the “corpse” away on horseback. I “chased” him and then couldn’t stop him “from getting rid of the corpse” at a large river about a mile from the castle.”

“....and they believed it?”

“What can I say? He’s surprisingly good at acting like a madman. And I’m naturally good at whatever I do.”

“Pfft, heh— ahem! What did you really do with the child?”

“I had Valor meet us at the river. He took the child and found a wet nurse for hire in the nearby town.” He raised his eyebrows slightly, “For someone who stands out physically, he’s surprisingly good at doing things without getting noticed.”

“He did occasionally sneak around for me when that pig was alive.”

“Ah, that’s true.” Rido continued, “I didn’t stay for more than two days after that. Heir Ron and I pretended to get into a big fight over everything happening in the castle. Since I’d been expressing my distaste over how the castle was being run prior to that, it was a believable fight. I left on “bad terms”. I passed through that town, picked up the baby and wet nurse, and made haste here.”

He suddenly reached into his inner breast pocket and pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper and handed it over to her.

Carefully freeing up a hand that had been holding the baby, Felicia read it in silence.

“Marchioness Fresa,

I deeply apologize for this inconvenience.

This is my younger brother. He was never officially named or added to the family records because my Father thought he would die. I know my Mother had intended on naming a boy Joven. If possible, I would like him to be called that.

Rido says that his old Nanny is skilled at raising sickly newborns and the weather in Fresa March is much better for health than in my chilly Invierno Duchy. He says my baby brother has the highest chance of surviving by living there instead of here.

Please Marchioness, I beg you to take my brother into your estate.

I know it is a burden to care for such a weak child. The risk of him dying is high. Rest assured I won’t blame your Fresa March if he doesn’t make it. It is only a small hope for him to live at this point anyway.

I will forever be in the Fresa Family’s debt for taking care of my baby brother. There is not much I can do right now, but once I inherit I will definitely find a way to repay this kindness.

With Utmost Thankfulness in Advance,

Heir Duke Nubarron Invierno”

Felicia stared at the letter for a long time.

‘DARS….’

[Yes?]

‘Did you know this was going to happen?’

[It was one of the outcomes I calculated.]

‘By taking this kid, the future King will be indebted to the Fresa family, am I right?’

[Yes.]

‘What if the kid dies despite my best efforts?’

[Heir Nubarron already said what would happen.]

‘...he really won’t resent us?’

[From the perspective of the people here, this child would have died if he’d stayed in the Duchy. The Heir of Invierno Duchy is aware of the certainty of that fact. If the baby is at least treated well some place else, that in and of itself would be enough for him to be thankful. At least he would know his brother was cared for.]

She made a face mentally and then sighed dramatically. This would be the 5th child she’d accepted into her house.

‘Fine. It seems like I’ve become the lost and found box of unwanted noble children. I accept my fate, bring them all to me! I’ll take them!’ In her mind she threw up her hands in defeat, then asked DARS, ‘What’s wrong with this kid anyway?’

DARS floated near the child, his circumference flashing as he scanned.

[He was mishandled at birth and later suffered from an infection due to poor hygiene standards in the castle, which caused a severe fever. The results of the rough treatment and fever are: he has lost half of his hearing, his eyesight is poor, and his ability to speak has been impaired.]

Felicia internally gapped at DARS.

‘Frick! How’d this kid survive all this time!’

[He is fated to live.]

‘Eh? But you said he’d die if he remained in the Duchy...’

[From the perspective of those in this timeline. However, he has a span of life he is destined to live. In the original timeline, the wet nurse would have eventually gotten frustrated that he remained alive and claimed he was dead. Then she would have abandoned him in the forests, in traditional noble fashion—]

‘That frickin’ crazy wet nurse...’ Felicia muttered angrily.

Wet nurses and Nannies were typically far more compassionate than noble parents in this regard. It was really unusual to find one this unhinged.

[Commoners would have picked him up and sent him to the church, who then sent him to live with some monks. The monks would raise him with love. When the war started the monks were unaffected because they lived in seclusion and were self sufficient. It wasn’t until many years later, when a new government was put into place and the authorities gained complete control of this region, that they’d search out the monks and slaughter them—]

‘Eh? Slaughter them? But why?!’

Even with Felicia’s host being antagonistic towards the church, she wasn’t to the point of wanting them all murdered by an enemy nation. Noble pride was also pride in Salvias as a nation and all the culture that went along with it. This included the church.

[The Kingdom of Neve is quite blood thirsty. After they’d destroyed Salvias and her allies, they used the opportunity to expand their borders, took over a large chunk of this region and became the Neve Empire. The Empire disapproved of independent religion, viewing it as a danger to the authority of the Emperor. Therefore, they took the existing church’s teaching and modified it to be subservient to the Emperor, claiming this new denomination to be the “true church”. Anyone who believed otherwise was a heretic and burned at the stake.]

‘Oh God.’

Felicia had never asked what happened after the war between Salvias and Neve ended in the original timeline. As she was working to change the future, it didn’t seem to matter. Hearing how awful it got gave her mental goosebumps.

[The monks were the last survivors of the Salvias branch of the Church of Dios, before the country was conquered. They were primarily church historians, copying and storying church texts from every era and location. The ancient texts they collected held the unaltered church doctrine. As loyal believers, they disobeyed the Emperor’s command to destroy these documents and refused to be rebaptized into the state-sanctioned church—which they naturally viewed to be the real heretical religion. That was why they were all executed.]

‘.......friiiiiiiiiiiiick……. I had no idea it got that bad.’

[What do you think would happen if the ordained hero of this world fails?]

‘Truthfully? I didn’t think about the particulars. I just thought the war was bad enough by itself, I never considered how the details played out afterward.’

[Most timelines have war. It is not often the war that is the problem, but how the war influences a region. Not all nations are equal. Some are cruel and if they conquer a place, their cruelty spreads. Heroes may be thought of as a catalyst that gives good men the opportunity to flourish.]

‘Hm…’ Felicia looked at the baby she was holding with one hand. ‘So this kid survived a horrible childhood only to die for his religious beliefs as an adult.’

[Actually no. Since he was mostly blind, deaf, and mute no one bothered with him. Out of all the monks, he survived because he was viewed as worthless by the soldiers. Some thought it’d be amusing to leave a dunce alive without support. After they destroyed everything, only he survived. He buried the murdered monks by himself and cleaned up the remains of the monastery. He lived there, praying for his people, until he was in his late 40s and only then did he die.]

Felicia unconsciously tightened her grip on the baby in her arm.

‘That’s too frickin’ tragic! Abandoned to die and then raised in seclusion only to have those he treated like family murdered— ugh! I can’t— I won’t— let that happen!’

“Mother, will you agree?”

Felicia jumped slightly at Rido’s interruption. She’d been “talking” to DARS so intently she’d forgotten her surroundings.

Clearing her throat, she lowered the letter she’d been staring at and cleverly refolded it with one hand, setting it aside.

“If I don’t agree, then what?” Felicia sighed heavily. “However, you have put Viscountess Curtidor in an awkward position by volunteering her for the job of taking care of this child.”

“There is the wet nurse I hired…”

“Even if this child is lacking physical strength, a noblewoman died to bring him into this world. The Heir of Invierno entrusted his brother to me with the assumption it was the Viscountess who would care for him. It goes against the Family’s honor and my pride as a noblewoman to have some commoner pulled off the street in haste to care for him.” She raised her eyebrow at him, “But since it was you who dumped this responsibility on her…. You get to speak to the Viscountess about it.”

Rido had the grace to show a trace of guilt. It’s not that he wasn’t in the right to order the Viscountess to take care of the child, but the method he was using was inconsiderate.

Felicia pursed her lips, “Well, go on.”

He looked at her in surprise.

“What, right now?”

“Will waiting longer help anything? Make sure to send the wet nurse away that you hired after you get the Viscountess’ permission.” She remembered something: “Oh, and you better stop by Viscount Curtidor’s office and tell him what you plan on asking of his wife.”

Rido was in the middle of standing up when he stiffened at her instructions. Felicia could see by his reaction that he’d intended on asking the Viscountess first and letting the wife inform the husband afterward.

Her lips twitched slightly in amusement.

Of the two, it was obviously going to be easier to talk to the Viscountess, his former Nanny. Technically both adults favored Rido, but only one doted on him and that was the Viscountess. As for the Viscount, he always had a “tough love” approach and was naturally not as yielding. Especially when his prized pupil was taking advantage of his wife’s kindness.

“Don’t be a fool in the future and you won’t have to suffer from your foolishness.”

He straightened his legs and back, glancing at her with clear annoyance.

“...I intend on returning soon.”

“Heh, I’m sure you sincerely hope to push it all onto your smart, capable, bea~autiful Mother as soon as possible. Go ahead. Unlike like a snot-nosed boy in the room, I can take it.”

This time he gave her a cramped glare of anger before stomping out.

She snickered thinking the suffering he was about to endure under the Viscount. Claro Curtidor loved his wife and knew the burden childrearing put on her. He wouldn’t be too happy at Rido for dumping additional responsibilities onto her without any warning.

It was only after Rido left that a gentle knock was heard, the door opened, and two intensely curious cyan eyes peeped in.

“Come in Tie, come in.” She raised the baby in her arms slightly and said with exasperation, “Apparently this is the year where God opens the skies and it rains sons on me.”

Tie had been patiently waiting outside with Valor. The two of them had a whispered conversation, so Tie knew the gist of what had happened in the Invierno Duchy.

She hastened over and looked at the baby curiously, then frowned. This was her first good look at the child.

“He’s a little…” She hesitated, unsure of how to say what she was thinking in a nice way.

“Small? Frail? Looking like a strong wind might carry him off to heaven at any moment?”

Tie nodded sharply in agreement.

“Are you going to adopt him like you did Noche?”

“Yes. He’s noble born after all. If I don’t do that at least, the Duchess’ ghost might find me and haunt me.”

Tie reached out a bronze hand and gently grabbed the baby’s tiny fist. Felicia heard her murmur “...too thin…” sadly.

The younger woman looked up and asked, “Are you to name him?”

Felicia shook her head.

“No, the Heir of Invierno sent a letter with the babe, saying his Mother had already thought up a name for him before he was born.”

“That’s good then. What’s his name?”

“Joven.”

“Ah…. well, I guess that makes sense as he’s the youngest child.”

“Hah, though it’s not the most inventive for a name, it is at least accurate.” Felicia paused and added thoughtfully, “I think I will add Sano as well.”

“Sano? As in strength?”

“Mmmhmmm. On paper he will be Sano Joven Fresa….” Felicia gave a small smile, satisfied with the name she picked, and explained further, “If I only list him as Joven Fresa, I’m afraid the Duke might realize what my son has done and come looking for a fight. I can win against many people but a Duke is beyond my abilities.”

“Oh! I hadn’t thought of that! That’s a good idea.” Tie nodded her head and then clenched her fist and encouraged the sleeping baby, “Since you’re called Sano, you must grow up big and strong, okay?”

Felicia chuckled at Tie’s behavior.

“But we shall call him Joven, not Sano, to honor the Duchess.”

Tie unclenched her fist and gently rubbed the too-small baby’s head.

“Hello Joven, welcome to Fresa March. I’m Tie. You can call me big sis! Until you grow into your name, I will definitely protect you. If anyone dares bully you, I will— Oh, he woke up!”

Sure enough, the tiny baby in her arms stirred and slowly opened his eyes. He blinked them sleepily.

“Huh, is it me or do his eyes not look right?”

Felicia noticed it too. Like all noble children of Invierno, he had distinctly silver eyes. Silver and white were similar. From a distance only the black pupil could be seen, giving the Invierno nobles the creepy appearance of having small black irises. But Joven’s pupils were clouded over instead of clear black. One was significantly worse than the other, making the problem more obvious.

‘...I guess this is what you meant by having bad eyesight. Exactly what is wrong with him?’

DARS tilted, as if nodding. [He has cataracts.]

‘How bad is it?’

[Poor color recognition, blurry vision, trouble with bright lights, and extremely poor night vision.]

To Tie, she said, “Yes, it does appear he’s some eyesight problem. It will be difficult to know exactly how severe until he is older but it’s safe to assume whatever vision he has will be poor.”

Tie frowned deeply.

“Ah, I suppose I should check his hearing too.” She handed the small baby to Tie without any warning.

Tie had held babies before, but none so delicate. She stood there woodenly. Felicia clapped her hand loudly to the child’s right, causing Tie to jump.

“Marchioness!” She squealed angrily, “If I drop this baby, he’s not strong enough to survive!”

“Ah, he didn’t respond at all to the noise.”

“Huh? What?”

“The baby, he didn’t respond to that loud clap right next to his ear at all.”

“That… maybe he’s just calm…”

Felicia shook her head skeptically. Moving to his left side, she did a sharp clap again. This time, Joven was noticeably startled, looking in the direction of the noise. Despite being surprised, the baby didn’t cry at all.

“Mmm, much better on this side. Hopefully it’s completely clear. Partial deafness is better than total deafness.”

Tie looked at Joven, deeply worried for his future.

“So he’s partially deaf and possibly blind?”

“There may be something wrong with his speech too.”

“What?!”

“My son mentioned earlier that his cry isn’t normal.”

“Oh God… deaf, blind, and now mute… that’s… how will he live if he’s like this?” Tie covered her mouth and shook her head sadly.

Felicia was also wondering the same thing, but unlike Tie she was not anywhere near as despairing.

‘This kid is gonna be the Helen Keller of this timeline.’ She internally shook her head, ‘No, he might be a little better off since he does have some vision and hearing, though if he can’t talk… Can he talk DARS?’

[Yes, but not well. His vocal cords were damaged from that infection. Under your and the Viscountess’ care, his condition will improve as he ages, but never fully recover. He will have something like adductor spasmodic dysphonia as an adult.”

“He’ll have adductor-what now?”

[It’s a medical condition that causes a human’s vocal cords to close and stiffen in spasms. He’ll have trouble starting sentences and might find his condition cutting him off in the middle of a conversation. However, he should be able to laugh just fine.]

‘Small favors, I guess….’ Aloud she said, “I wouldn’t go so far as to say he’s mute. Rido did say he made some sounds, which makes me think his speech is simply… bent, not broken.”

Tie pat her chest in relief. “Good, good, if he was mute on top of everything else…” She lowered her hand and frowned. “But Marchioness, can he be educated if he’s like this? If it were just his hearing or speech that was damaged that’s one thing, but his eyesight being poor will be a real problem… How will he survive as an adult?”

In Felicia’s modern era there were already difficulties having a single disability. But at least in her time there were schools that specialized in teaching children with disabilities. There were special tools those with handicaps could use to interact with the world around them. But in this place and time? There was almost nothing.

“As long as his mind is sharp, then these exterior problems can be overcome one by one.” Felicia narrowed her eyes. “Hopefully eyeglasses will help with his vision. If he can see nothing at all, there are ways to read with one’s fingertips. And if he can not speak well with his mouth, the sign language the Viscountess uses will suffice in a pinch. At least he can hear in one ear. That will make teaching a little easier. I think he will be fine.”

“You… really think so?”

“Of course! As you know, those who have such problems are not hopeless cases. Extra time and care is what will be needed, that is all. I am an excellent teacher and the Viscountess is quite good too. There is also you. Between the three of us, how can he not grow up smart and strong? It’s impossible for him not to be amazing! Especially with me caring for him. I am excellent in every way and any child I care for can’t help but be excellent too.”

The younger woman brightened. She leaned down and kissed Joven’s forehead. “That’s right! With the Marchioness, anything is possible!”

Felicia’s expression stiffened slightly in surprise. She hadn’t expected her vain boasting to be taken seriously. Had she accidently set the bar for herself too high?

****

It was almost an hour later before Rido returned with the Curtidor couple. The wet nurse he hired had been called over to feed the baby by then and left.

The two adults entered first after knocking, while Rido walked in quietly behind with a stiff expression on his face. The moment the Viscountess saw the baby she eagerly rushed over and took him from Tie, who’d been rocking him gently in her arms.

The Viscountess looked at the small baby and frowned. She carefully felt the baby’s body, her expression turning more and more grave as she went along. She then turned to her husband and showed him the baby in her arms.

Viscount Curtidor glanced at the child, then his wife, then back at the child. Compared to his chubby baby daughter, this boy looked like he might get blown away by the wind at any minute. Though Heir Rido had already told him, it was still a shock to see how frail this child was.

It was a miracle this tiny baby had survived….

He rubbed his forehead in annoyance. Two babies at the same time was like dealing with twins. Worse in this case, because one was sickly and required more attention and care. Even if his wife was careful, it would be difficult for her not to put more effort towards the weak child. Didn’t that mean his own daughter would get neglected?

The Viscount was extremely annoyed with how the Heir had sprung this on them without any warning. Having one baby in the house was already very disruptive, but at least they’d had some mental preparation. This second one had been dumped on them without any warning.

He looked at his wife, who was biting her lower lip and looking at him with big, pleading eyes. He sighed heavily.

Well, he’d more or less expected this reaction.

In the end, he was the only one who needed to be mentally prepared. His wife always had a soft spot for babies.

With a harumph, he conceded, “Fine.”

She immediately beamed at him in delight, standing on her toes and pecking him on the cheek. He squinted slightly, unable to hide his pleased expression. He immediately cleared his throat and pretended he hadn’t been paid off with a kiss.

Behind him, Rido couldn’t hide a flash of smugness.

As if sensing it, Viscount Curtidor swiveled around and glared at him.

Rido straightened his expression, trying to look innocent.

“Thank you, Viscount and Viscountess, for being willing to take him in.”

Viscount Curtidor snorted, “You are lucky my wife is generous.”

“She’s the most generous of women.” Rido complimented seriously and then smiled teasingly at his retired Nanny. “Is there any woman as kind, gentle, and wonderful as the Viscountess?”

The Viscountess blushed slightly and then nodded towards Felicia with a grin.

Felicia raised her eyebrows and mirrored her son’s earlier smug expression.

“That’s right, there’s me too. The most wonderful woman in the world!”

She extended her hands, as if welcoming further compliments.

Everyone but the Viscountess looked at her with neutral expressions, remaining conspicuously silent. The silence extended until she couldn’t take it anymore.

Putting her hands on her hips, she glared at them in mock anger.

“Ungrateful blockheads! You all lack insight and judgement! See if this generous lady ever does anything nice for any of you in the future!”

She then stomped out of the room, pausing at the door and turning to look at them angrily.

“What are you standing there for like a bunch of rocks on the wayside? Since it has all been sorted out by us, we need to make it official! Harumph!” As she walked through the door, she could be heard saying, “More paperwork to fill out! My life is paperwork! I can’t wait to retire—”

When Felicia heard them chuckling behind her, she ignored them.

But there was a slight smile on her lips.

***

If the Fresa Mansion servants had suspicions about Noche’s origins, they were extremely puzzled by the sickly baby that appeared with the Heir upon his return. He was immediately adopted into the Fresa household at the urging of the Heir and put directly under the Viscountess’ care. It was obvious that the babe was being treated with the utmost respect but no one understood why.

The child was sickly and news travelled quickly he was also mute, deaf, and blind. Noche was at least a healthy boy to bring into the family, likely to live to adulthood barring anything unexpected. Who ever heard of adopting a frail baby, one that would probably die before he was a year old? What was the point? Wasn’t it enough to take care of him well until he passed away? Why go through the effort of adopting him?

As to the link between the Duchess’ death and this baby, none of them considered it related.

This wasn’t too surprising.

Firstly, no one would have expected a noble’s son to be in that bad condition. It wasn’t just that he had disabilities, but it was clear he hadn’t been treated well either. People were more likely to assume he came from a commoner house than a noble’s house. The Marchioness was known to pick up disabled commoners, such as the current Viscount, so the Heir picking up a disabled baby of commoner descent did make a weird kind of sense.

Secondly, certain kinds of news travelled slowly between distant fiefs. Those in the March only knew about the Duchess’ death as quickly as they did because Heir Fresa had found out through a letter and left to visit the Duchy because of it.

As to the Duchess’ baby, no one had heard a single thing about it after all these months. Whether it had been born, survived, or it’s sex, no one knew. Because nothing was said, it was assumed the child had died in the womb with the mother. Otherwise, why would there be no news at all?

The Curtidor family’s two servants, the cook and maid, were the only regular servants in Fresa March who knew that the baby had silver hair and eyes, and was therefore of noble birth. Even without the Viscount’s warning, they were discrete people and had intended on keeping that interesting bit of information to themselves.

The Viscountess believed in germ theory because the Marchioness believed in it. She was very particular about cleanliness related to her own baby, and became even more concerned with Joven. She also understood that sickly people were more likely to get seriously ill if exposed to outsiders too often. Until this child was healthy, she would keep him isolated from strangers. She wouldn’t allow visitors and had essentially gone into seclusion.

By the time “Sano” Joven was allowed to be around people many months later, word had long since spread that the Duchess and her baby had died. Everyone had assumed the child was dead already, so this news didn’t come as a shock to anyone. Therefore, no one made the connection regardless of the baby’s colors. It helped that Joven’s eyes were clouded over, giving the impression he was blind rather than having silver eyes.

Rido had a system in place for contacting Ron despite their supposed “falling out”. He first sent a message saying Joven had arrived in the March safely. Several months later Rido sent a second note, stating:

“Joven continues to do well. My Mother called a doctor to look at him. He has gained weight and height and is now noisy whenever he sees a person. Very like you, now that I think about it. The doctor believes he has some vision impairment, though he’s not yet sure of the severity, and is deaf in his right ear. There is some uncertainty about his speech, but he is at least not mute. The doctor also said that Joven is still too small and weak for his age and special care will be needed for some time yet. However, Joven’s current pace of improvement makes the doctor optimistic about his future.

Did I not say he would improve by living here? See, I was right! So you must stop worrying and trust me.

I won’t send you a message again until we’ve “reconciled”.

Consider no news, good news.

QF”

When Ron received this second note, he held it close to his chest and sobbed in relief.

Though his Mother died giving birth to Joven, Ron didn’t hate him. Rather than bitterness, he simply didn’t want to lose two family members in such a short span of time. It was only because of his Father and his own grief that he’d been so apathetic about his newborn brother’s well being.

When Rido had forced him to pay attention to what was really happening, he’d felt deeply ashamed of his behavior. As his friend had said, if nobles were the pinnacle of humanity, then why did they abandon their ill and weak children in the same manner as dumb animals? Even commoners were not that ruthless….

There was no honor in what he and his Father had done.

He regretted being a part of it. He regretted turning a blind eye. He regretted being weak-willed.

He couldn’t go against his Father directly no matter how he regretted it. Tricking everyone and sending his brother south had been his way of rectifying a great wrong committed in his family. Even so he hadn’t been optimistic. The mistreatment had been severe and the chances of his brother surviving the trip south seemed abysmal. But dying traveling to a better place was still preferable to dying in a cold crib, abandoned by everyone.

It had been Rido from beginning to end who believed the child would survive.

His friend had been right.

Ron didn’t know how he could repay his friend for persisting in this seemingly impossible hope. To the Marchioness Fresa, to the Fresa March, he’d forever owe a deep debt of thanks.