AROUND the time Bertine and Cecilio were chatting the night away, her father, Marquess Maxim du Jeanne, was in his home in the Kingdom of San Luenne, reading the letters in the package from the Rose Hotel.
Dear Father,
I’m happy and healthy. Every day has meaning for me.
You’ll be pleased to know that my efforts went beyond the reparations of a thousand large gold coins due to the Federation. Once the debt was cleared, His Excellency bade me work directly under him. I’m now the Special Envoy for the Sale of Local Specialties.
Does my stepmother suspect Diego for not returning? I worry about this.
In the near future, I want to open my own hotel in the hinterlands here. Just a small one, mind you. If you know of anyone who is an expert in hotel management who’s willing to teach me, please introduce them to me.
All my love,
Bertie
Those were the contents of the exceedingly succinct letter from his daughter. In his letter, Luca wrote about Bertine’s tremendous success in the sales of Federation fruit goods and a particular type of aromatic herb. He also mentioned how the emperor himself had taken a particular liking to both commodities and ordered his people to have supplies on hand. Luca ended by noting that he would send any future letters from Bertine to the marquess under the hotel’s name.
Maxim read Bertine’s letter over and over again. Elias, a member of his private army, had informed him about her work designed to pay off the reparations. But he was surprised to learn of her new position, particularly the fact that His Excellency Cecilio himself had created it for her.
Yet one thing troubled him…
“Nowhere did she write of her wish to see me again.” The marquess’s expression grew sad as he realized how easily his beloved daughter had attained independence from him. “Still, her interest in hotel management certainly marks her as my child.”
The luxury hotel owned by San Luenne’s royal family and the Rose Hotel in the imperial capital. He had drafted the plans for both hotels himself, on top of being responsible for their operation. From the beginning, he had been involved in every stage of the projects, down to the finest details.
“A hotel in the hinterlands, eh? I should ask Franz if he’d be interested.”
Franz was the Rose Hotel’s first manager and was currently approaching sixty years of age. Maxim had intended for Franz to manage the Rose Hotel until his sixtieth birthday. But eight years ago, the hard-working man’s daughter had fallen gravely ill after giving birth.
“I want to care for my daughter in her last days and raise my grandchild in her stead after she passes.” With those words seven years ago, Franz handed over his position to Luca and had been living a quiet life ever since.
“He might refuse since his grandchild is still young.”
Nevertheless, the marquess penned a letter to the man he thought most suitable for the role. After he finished, he took out a small glass bottle hidden amongst the mountain of sweets in the package from the hotel. He sneezed when he opened the lid and the pungent aroma of stingers wafted out.
“Bertie, I sure hope this won’t poison me,” he muttered to himself.
He read Bertine’s letter once more, but try as he might, he couldn’t find any hint of the words “I’m lonely” and “I miss you.”
“Seems the Federation, as massive as it is, suits her disposition more than this country.”
His eyes drifted over his daughter’s pen strokes, seeing the strength of her personality conveyed even on paper.
✦ ✦ ✦
THE next day, during dinnertime, the marquess commented idly. His tone signaled something that suddenly came to mind as he broached the subject.
“I just remembered I received a letter from Diego.”
His wife, Rose, tilted her head thoughtfully, waiting for him to continue.
“It turns out he was afflicted by some terrible disease in the Federation with an uncertain prognosis. He’s been bedridden for quite a long time now apparently. He wrote that he somehow managed to recover, but is requesting a temporary leave because of how physically weak he still remains.”
“Oh, my, how awful. I have indeed heard of illnesses unique to the Federation. I’m so glad to hear he’s escaped death’s door. Please allow him to convalesce at his leisure, my lord.”
“Yes, I’ll let him know just that in my reply,” the marquess responded with a smile as he stared at Rose’s pale, delicate face.
So he went to the Federation, despite my warnings, she thought. Rose was infuriated to hear how Diego’s loyalty led him there after all. But it didn’t matter as long as Bertine never returned. If the chit ever did show her face here again, she would worry about it then. Should Diego ever return and tell her husband about her interference in bringing Bertine back, she would have him dismissed from his post. She could use any reason as justification. The marquess wouldn’t gainsay her because she was the queen’s sister.
Her place remained secure, her life peaceful. At least for the time being. Encouraged by the thought, Rose continued eating.