🌻 🌻 🌻
WE’D entered a hilly area, lush with vegetation, where black sheep freely grazed throughout. Within the vast, grassy plains, a small hill watched over its surroundings. A small, old convent made of stone stood there.
Only Kiki, Leik, Cano, and I tagged along for this trip. Everyone else was waiting for us back in Tesouvius. While we were waiting at a small gatehouse for guests, Lucas turned to us.
“Only Iris and Kiki can go inside,” he said. “Leik, stand by with me. Cano, circle the area, and stand guard.”
“Huh? Isn’t it better if I’m by your side?” Cano protested. “Unlike Sir Leik, I’m not very strong.”
“I need Leik to tend to other matters. Don’t complain.”
“You heard the man,” Leik said calmly, making a peace sign with both hands and goading his subordinate. “If you’re annoyed, hurry up and become stronger.”
“All right,” Lucas said. “Iris, Kiki, I’m counting on you both.” He handed me a bouquet of lilies—flowers he’d bought on the way there. I took the flowers and nodded solemnly.
“Please do,” I replied. “I shall search for any traces of your mother.”
“And I’ll do my best to support my lady!” Kiki added.
A nun called to us beyond a screen for meetings. She was a slender woman wearing a white habit and looked around fifty years old. She bowed to us while offering a friendly smile.
“Welcome,” she said. “Thank you for coming all this way. My name is Margaret, and I shall be your guide. You must be the wife of Lucas. And you must be her adorable maid. Preparations have been made. Please step inside.”
A door opened and beckoned us inside. The moment I was guided in, the refreshing aroma of herbs hit my nose. As the butterflies playfully fluttered about, we walked straight ahead on a small path made of dirt. After we made our way through the herbs, a beautiful vegetable garden emerged, white fences on either side of me dividing the plots of land. All around me, nuns in their cotton habits were quietly hard at work, cultivating the garden.
“It’s beautiful…” I murmured.
Sister Margaret, who was walking ahead, turned around happily. “I’m happy to hear your words of praise. While this scenery is normal for us, I’ve no doubt that it’s quite unusual for outsiders.”
“Thank you for arranging this sudden request for us. I understand that people usually aren’t allowed inside.”
“We’re able to operate due in no small part to Lucas’s generous assistance. We happily welcome you, madam. I’m truly glad to see that he married. He was always a child who disliked showing his weaknesses to others. I’ve always hoped he’d one day have a family who could walk alongside him.” Only then did the nun gasp and look at me in shock. “Oh dear, I’m terribly sorry! I’ve known Baron Stock since he was a child, so I tend to speak about him in an overly familiar tone.”
Sister Margaret gazed at us worriedly, but Kiki and I exchanged glances and giggled. We both smiled at her.
“Please don’t be so stiff,” I assured her. “Thank you for always watching over my husband from afar.”
My chest grew warm as my words of gratitude came from the bottom of my heart. She felt different from the count or the third prince, who supported Lucas in social settings. Sister Margaret had a friendlier and warmer aura, as though I was speaking with a relative. It was easy to relax and breathe when I was by her side.
After she guided us by the living and eating quarters, we finally made it to the back of the building.
“His mother, Sister Matilda’s grave, is a little past here,” Sister Margaret said. “While you two are paying your respects, I believe I can gather the belongings she left behind.”
“Thank you,” I replied.
Upon hearing those words, I tensed—articles that Lucas’s mother had left behind would prove to be vital clues to look into her origins. We passed through a few winding paths between buildings before Sister Margaret froze in place, encouraging us to head past her.
“This is the gravesite of the nuns,” she said. “His mother, Matilda Stock’s grave, is in the very back, in that corner.”
I took a deep breath before stepping ahead into the burial grounds. Small tombstones stood equidistant from each other, and in the back was a stone about the size of a curled-up cat. The name “Matilda Stock” was etched upon it. Many small flowers bloomed between the tufts of wild grass—the tombstone looked gentle and serene.
“Pleased to meet you, mother-in-law,” I said. “My name is Iris Stock, Lucas’s wife.”
Kiki and I kneeled to offer our prayers, and I presented the grave with a bouquet. A myriad of thoughts flooded my mind: the dilapidated structure that Lucas had shown me, where he once lived with his mother, and Matilda Stock, who had passed away from a fever. She was seen as a lady of mysterious origins. I only hoped that she was forever resting in peace now. As the gentle breeze brushed against me, I sat there for a while, hoping to burn this place into my retinas. When I noticed Sister Margaret approach us from behind, I knew that my time was up, so I gently placed a hand over the dirt that touched the foot of the tombstone.
“I pledge to protect Lucas,” I whispered. “Please watch over us.”
I stood up with Kiki, and the nun guided us into the lodgings. The room had a simple wooden table and chair. Sister Margaret brought in a wooden box about the size of a thick encyclopedia as she clutched it so dearly in her arms. She sat across from me and brushed her fingers against the box.
“I shared a room with Sister Matilda, you see,” she said. “I was also present when she gave birth. In fact, I was the one who helped deliver Lucas.”
I gasped and looked up at her as she gave a gentle nod.
“I was truly shocked,” Sister Margaret said. “A noblewoman had her identity hidden and had been shoved into a convent, only to give birth to a child with unusual blond hair. Once he was born, we had prepared ourselves for her to abandon him. There were plans on pretending none of this ever happened and have her leave the convent with no child.”
“And yet…she fled with her son, Lucas,” I said.
The nun gave a pained nod. “Everyone was shocked at how reckless she was. We tried to convince her to reconsider her plans. If she let go of her son, we had no doubt she could return to her former life. Surely, her son could live happily somewhere. But she didn’t believe our words. She was convinced he’d be killed. She stated that perhaps if she’d birthed a daughter, her life would be spared, but a son would undoubtedly be murdered.”
As I listened intently, I slowly grasped the origins of Lucas’s mother. Sister Margaret could never state it frankly, but I could tell she knew I had caught on.
“Lucas specifically chose for his mother to be buried here, in this convent, so that he’d never have to meet her again,” the nun continued. “He stated that his will would waver if he were allowed to visit her grave whenever he wished.”
“I had no idea…” I murmured.
Sister Margaret wiped the tears from her eyes as she smiled and offered the wooden box to me. “I’m sure Sister Matilda is overjoyed,” she said. “Her only son’s wife is here to visit her, after all.”
“Sister Margaret, I cannot express my gratitude toward your kind words.”
After I thanked her, I gazed down at the box. I slowly undid the metallic clasp and lifted the lid. The smell of old items hit my nose when I noticed a lace handkerchief neatly wrapping an item within. I took it out and revealed a small book.
“This…must be a journal,” I said.
Her handwriting was neat and glided across the pages beautifully—these were the words of Matilda Stock. Kiki gasped beside me. When I turned toward her, I saw her staring at the handkerchief, her face white as a sheet. I followed her gaze and found myself equally astonished by this discovery.
“This is…” I murmured.
Indeed, the lace on the handkerchief had formed a most unique shape.
It was the emblem of House Marquess Diascia, a member of the Traditional Twelve and a part of the faction of the first prince.