A frigid air permeated one of Vaielindt Estate’s many lavishly furnished rooms. Dressed finely in a frock coat, a man named Urnold glared at Reimar Vaielindt. The younger Reimar sat before him impassively with one leg crossed over the other—there was no indication that his father Urnold’s anger had left any impression on him. It was unsurprising, as he had been just as unfeeling when he’d all but sentenced his daughter to death in this very room the other day.
“So, the situation as I understand it is that your younger daughter has failed in keeping to a high moral standard, and yet you have devoted yourself to punishing your blameless eldest instead, which has culminated in you dispatching her as a sacrifice.”
“Father, please,” Reimar said. “That useless child was at fault for failing to properly secure His Royal Highness’s affections. Surely you can see that!”
A loud thump filled the room. Urnold had thrust the tip of his cane against the floor, producing the sound despite the fluffy carpet underfoot. Despite his age, he had taken care of and built his body to be far more robust than would be expected of an “elderly” gentleman. The combination of his strike and the near-murderous rage that emanated from his entire being left the floorboards rattling.
“Reimar!” he yelled. “Are you even capable of comprehending your own words? Is that all you have to say about your daughter? The young woman who has had to single-handedly perform her duties as the eldest daughter and representative of a duke? Not to mention the time she spent establishing important relationships with other members of our high society.”
“What I cannot comprehend is your anger. I raised her, even with her lack of ability. It was only right that she exerted herself to her fullest for the sake of the dukedom.”
Urnold glared at his son with such an intense level of ire that it was a small wonder he hadn’t burst into flames. Still, the younger man shrugged as if that anger were none of his concern. It seemed that his hatred for his daughter had consumed him to the point that he was unable to judge the irrationality of his own words. Urnold’s son was too witless even to be called foolish.
The older man’s white-gloved hands tightened their grip on the two-headed eagle that sat atop his cane so intensely that it could have cracked. His ice-blue eyes bore into Reimar...but a few seconds later, he simply sighed and shook his ash-gray head. Something in the taut air had shattered.
“To think you were so rotten... Even I struggle to comprehend your motives.”
Reimar had maintained a superficial smile up until this point, but now, veins throbbed at his temple. His fists were clenched so hard that his knuckles had turned white, as though he was being plagued by an unpleasant memory.
He shook with rage. “Father, isn’t that rather rude to say about your own son? That useless child broke my beloved daughter’s heart! The attitude she took when leaving for the island boggles the mind!” he yelled in a tone dripping with venom.
Urnold snorted dismissively. “I daresay the parting gift she left for the harlot who stole her fiancé was well deserved. And quite apart from anything else, you speak as if you have only one daughter,” he spat bitterly at his son.
At that, Reimar’s expression looked a bit incredulous, as though he couldn’t believe what his father had just said. “‘Harlot’?! You may be my father, but I shall not allow you to speak about my daughter in that way! And I have never once considered the other child to be my flesh and blood.”
By this point, Reimar’s face had turned a dark red. Grinding his teeth, he closed in on his elder and grabbed his father by the collar. However, Urnold seemed utterly unperturbed. In fact, the corners of his thin, well-shaped lips curled upward. He used his free arm to push his spitting, raging son’s hands aside and banged the ferrule of his cane against the floor again.
“Despite the fact that she and her mother, Lady Elizaveta, provided you with the perfect opportunity to unload all of your official duties?”
Reimar’s fervor lessened at his father’s calm and composed words. He all but staggered backward before collapsing limply on the sofa.
“You never expected, and nor were you prepared, to inherit the House of Vaielindt,” Urnold continued. “I always understood that. Your eldest brother died unexpectedly during the epidemic, and your next eldest had already been joined with another house.”
Reimar hummed noncommittally at that.
“That is why I begged Lady Elizaveta, your late brother’s fiancée, to wed and assist you. After all, she had received a future duchess’s education. Now see how you have disgraced her generosity!”
“That is unfair, father. As duke, I have...”
“Done what exactly?” he asked, cutting his son off. “Shunned Lady Elizaveta in favor of a woman you picked up off the street? Foisted your own responsibilities onto your first wife and her daughter? Tell me, what achievements are under your name?”
There was a thin smile on Urnold’s lips as he addressed his trembling son. His words were quiet and his glare cold. As tranquil as his expression appeared to be, it ran counter to his barely concealed rage that sent shivers down Reimar’s spine. The invisible pressure from that rage left the son opening and closing his mouth wordlessly like a fish tossed up onto land.
Slowly, the elderly man’s thin lips curved up further into a smile that was both ghastly and savage at once. “I had hoped that you would change, even if only a little bit, but it seems that I just wasted my time. Even as your father, perhaps expecting that much from you tells of a foolishness that rivals yours. I feel most sorry for Francheska.”
“I-I beg your pardon? Father, you cannot speak to me—”
“Never mind. There is more than one way to resolve things.” While shooting a terse glance at his son, Urnold straightened the collar that Reimar had disheveled earlier. Striding toward the door, he accepted his top hat from the polite servant who waited there.
He looked back at his son over his shoulder. “Things will not unfold as you would like them to, Reimar. Remember that.”
Reimar simply stared, dumbfounded.
As much as the pathetic look on his son’s face disgusted Urnold, it was far from his main concern at present. The welfare of his exiled granddaughter was at the forefront of his thoughts instead. He would have to mull things over at length.
Shivering at the thought of what might be happening to her, he made his way out of the cold estate, his shoes clacking as he went.