After some thought, Soult lifted the hilt up to his forehead and spoke its name.
“Wolpe. I’ll be naming this sword Wolpe,” he said.
Wolf cub, huh? I thought. “That’s quite the sentimental name.”
“It’s what I want. It’s the right name, Father,” Soult said before carefully putting his named blade onto his waist. I bet the weight felt good on his side. He flapped his wings and did a graceful twirl. “What do you think?”
“It suits you, son.”
“Thank you.”
As Soult gave me a small bow, I decided to turn to the matter at hand. I hadn’t called him here for just a lecture.
“By the by, what happened to Countess Homburg?”
“Whuh?! Wh-Where did you hear that, Father?!”
Hearing the name must have been quite the surprise—he looked like a deer in the headlights. His graceful demeanor, like a noble son, vanished in an instant.
“Hey, now. I was the one who introduced you to be the proxy for her duel. It’s no surprise that I’ve heard the stories going around in certain circles about the role you’ve played as her sword.”
“Ohh, uhh, I...!”
“That countess became a widow quite young. I know I’m in no position to talk about chastity...”
I needed to ask Soult what his motives were unless I wanted to start hearing some untoward rumors in the near future. He had some blue blood in him, being the grandson of a noble’s illegitimate child, and he also was a talented enough swordsman in the Fellowship to get men and women falling for him alike. I knew that he treated them all with decent enough care, but this kid had taken on way more lovers than I ever had.
“I’m not telling you not to play the game of love, but choose your work with care,” I went on. “If you let things go as they are, people will think you’re a full-time proxy, not a Fellow.”
“Y-You’re not wrong that people do think that, but...”
“I want to do what I can so that you can achieve whatever it is you want to do, but if you end up on a one-track road to a future you don’t want because of your own mistakes, I’m not so softhearted that I’ll wipe your ass for you, okay? I want you to understand this.”
As I earnestly scolded him, he merely sulked, the excitement after receiving Wolpe draining from him by the second. I knew that wandering eyes could invite struggle, hence the lecture, but I needed him to know that making a habit of this sort of thing could alter the direction of his life, and not necessarily toward ends he would like.
Before long, there were three knocks at the door. It wasn’t locked, so it opened, and in came some bouncing children.
“Papa!”
“Paaapa!”
“Dear Papa!”
The eldest was eleven and the youngest was five. Soult and I received each of them, and I scolded my eldest daughter.
“Now, Ursula,” I said. “There’s no point knocking if you just come barging in.”
“But Mother Margit said that you were bullying Brother Soult, Papa!”
There was one child who was especially clingy. She had dark skin, white hair, and red eyes; there was no mistaking who this was. Ursula had played one of her tricks and been reborn as one of my children—the full changeling whammy. I had realized the first time I picked her up as a baby. There was no forgetting that color scheme. I hadn’t heard from her in a while and thought maybe she’d gotten bored of me, so this outcome had been unexpected. I imagined that her alfish brain had thought that with so many kids to my name already, one changeling wouldn’t really make a difference.
Ursula didn’t have any memories of her former life so there was no point bringing this stuff up. I just raised her properly. Obviously I told Lottie not to get any ideas. Two changeling kids would be too much to handle. As the years passed Elisa was really getting on my case about sending her over to the College and managed to force the matter, keeping Ursula by my side until she was bigger. With my dear sister having reached professorship, she was ready to take care of Ursula, but I didn’t want to expose her to such harsh training quite yet. Thanks to that, Elisa sent me a letter each season, each one more strongly worded than the last. That wasn’t to speak of how intense it was when she came to visit.
I could understand that it was a necessary step in getting citizenship for a changeling, but after Elisa’s long, lonely parting of ways from her parents at age nine, I felt myself holding on just a bit longer. I had asked Lottie to help take care of her, and thanks to that, Ursula hadn’t fallen sick due to her fey heritage and hadn’t pulled any surprising tricks, but I knew at some point I’d have to send her to the College.
Thinking about it, it was strange that my other children had my recessive traits—wait, was that a no-go phrase now?—and were born with my blue eyes and blond hair. It was reassuring to think that this would compel Lottie to protect them all, but then again, I was a bit worried that they’d be snatched away by alfar. Lottie had said that she was utterly faithful, but I couldn’t keep my paternal worries from rearing their heads. I couldn’t cover every base on my own. It was impossible to earn decent money and also raise children properly.
“You came here to save poor old Soult here, huh?” I said.
“Yeah, your lectures are always so long, Papa.”
“You’re a bit too young to hear the details, but your brother has been quite naughty.”
As I sighed, my menagerie of children made merry around me, and I sat down, realizing it was no longer possible to have a serious conversation with Soult. As I did so, I saw a flickering shadow launch at me.
“Whoa! That was a surprise. Is that you, Iseult?” I said.
“Did you not realize?” Ursula said. “She was behind my back this entire time.”
Upon my lap was a beaming arachne girl. Arachne grew quickly, so she looked like she might be five or six now, but she was still only three. I was really getting rusty if I hadn’t noticed her. She was my and Margit’s first child—the youngest of my children—and it was shameful that someone so young could get the drop on me. I really didn’t like getting older.
As I listened to the excited squeals of children echo in my private chamber of the clan offices, I could only sigh and scratch my head at the incongruity of the scene.
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