Chapter 37 — News of the Dragon

But the woman who seemed a mere maid spoke up to contradict her. "A skilled deceiver can evade a lie-detection spell. And even when the magic works, it isn't always reliable—thaumaturgy always has an element of chance. You mustn't lean on it too much."

Victoria shook her head. "Maggie, I still have my intuition."

"Intuition..." The woman called Maggie pondered a moment. "Then what do you plan to do?"

"That resurrected hero seems to have no interest in entering the kingdom's present power structure. All he wanted was his perpetual development rights," Victoria said, her expression calm as she recounted her days in the royal capital. "What concerns me is his attitude toward the king. I had expected the founding duke to set extreme store by the legitimate bloodline of the Morn family, and even to clash head-on with the present royal house over the question. But he publicly acknowledged Francis II as a descendant of the founding sovereign... That I did not expect."

"They must have made contact in private," Maggie said, her hands pausing a moment in their work. "You were careless."

"Careless," Victoria said, frowning. "And now that king will be all the harder to control..."

"Surely you don't mean to..."

"No," Victoria shook her head. "What the Wilde family wants is Ansu's eternal prosperity, not power."

"So you don't intend to take any action," Maggie said, resuming the massage. "You are too gentle."

"I don't like my father's way of doing things. It no longer suits this age." As Victoria spoke, her gaze lifted of its own accord to the wall across the room.

On that wall hung the Wilde family crest, and five portraits—those of the founding sovereign, Charles I, and the four pioneer knights. Such portraits were practically standard equipment in every noble house of Ansu.

Beside the portraits of the Wilde ancestors hung that of Gao Yang Cecil—the imposing man in armor, holding the Pioneer's Sword, gazing into the distance with weathered eyes, as though that gaze could pierce time and space to see a distant future. The association made Victoria think involuntarily of his resurrection after seven hundred years, and she could not suppress a slight shudder.

"Vicky?" Maggie's voice came from behind her.

"Take down Duke Cecil's portrait," Victoria Wilde said mildly. "It's no longer appropriate to keep it hanging here."

"Take it down? Are you sure?"

"...He told me himself. Said he wasn't used to being hung on a wall while he was still alive," Victoria's voice carried a shade more weariness. "He's an elder, and a dear friend of my ancestor. I could hardly ignore what he says."

"All right, then." Maggie nodded helplessly and walked across to take down the portrait.

At that, Victoria spoke again: "By the way, Maggie, you're a mountain folk, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Then do you know... the story of dragons? What do you make of them?"

The black-haired, black-eyed woman stood with her back to Victoria. She paused briefly, then shook her head: "Nothing but idle legends."

"But a dragon really did appear in the Cecil territory in the south."

"Did it?" Maggie reached up and lifted down the portrait of Gao Yang Cecil. "Then it's most likely no good thing."