The Eastern Garden.
A deep blue lake and a large ancient tree nearby.
"......"
Standing beneath the tree, I stared blankly upward.
"Oh my, why has this ancient tree withered so much?"
Kate inspected the tree with wide-eyed surprise.
Charcoal-black dead leaves, branches sagging lifelessly... Even the trunk stood parched and brittle, as if it might crumble at the slightest touch.
I silently wrapped my arms around the tree.
"Ririn! Why are you crying?"
"Boo-hoo!"
The maids and Theo rushed over, soothing me as tears dripped down my cheeks.
"J-just dust in my eyes... Sniff."
"Huh? Let me check."
Kate peered into my eyes and blew gently, while Theo puckered his lips in an exaggerated pantomime of blowing air.
On the day of the procession.
My magic had been utterly depleted.
I’d used the innate magic stored in my body—losing my hair in the process—but even that sacrifice hadn’t been enough.
Changing the fate of someone meant to die... No ordinary price could cover that.
I dug my teeth into my lip.
Maybe if I’d sacrificed more of myself...
But the tree had refused, insisting it was too dangerous. Instead, it offered its own magic as a conduit.
Connecting my power to the seed within the artifact had been nearly impossible. Only the tree’s intervention made it achievable.
"Tree..."
I’d never imagined...
What if you’d drained yourself completely?
Now, stripped of its magic, the tree had fallen silent.
It wasn’t dead—given centuries, it might recover. But nature’s timescale dwarfed ours. We’d never meet again.
Thank you.
I scrubbed at my damp eyes.
While Kate and Aisa chased after Theo, I sneaked a wisp of magic into the trunk—a mouse-tail’s worth, but enough for farewell.
You helped me save Elisa. Protect Dad. Fulfill one promise.
Thank you.
I wiped my face roughly.
Now...
What future must I change next?
"Where’s the Duke? Haven’t seen him since morning."
Kate brushed dirt from Theo’s sleeve as she spoke.
"Likely at the palace with Ruska. The Four Dukes’ Summit approaches."
My head snapped up at Aisa’s reply.
Four Dukes’ Summit?
Why did that ring bells?
I scurried over to the maids.
"Right! They’ll need to plan the autumn hunt."
"Obviously."
"But isn’t Summerrain hosting this year? Why’s our Duke involved?"
"You didn’t hear?" Aisa lowered her voice. "Their Duke took ill months ago. Cancelled all events. Southern maids whisper they’re hunting something vital."
"Something vital to a ducal house..." Kate tapped her chin. "Could their Sacred Tree be failing?"
"Who knows?"
"If this continues, the summit might move here. All four ducal families under one roof..."
Kate cracked her knuckles with a predator’s grin.
"Finally, some exercise."
Terrifying...
Crouching in the dirt, I pieced together their chatter.
The Four Dukes’ Summit and autumn hunt!
The annual summit addressed imperial defense, magical beast labyrinths, and inter-house affairs. During hunt years, planning dominated discussions.
The hunt can wait. Focus on the summit.
Would they truly convene here?
Impossible. Dad loathes crowds!
But...
"It must happen here!"
"Huh? What must, Ririn? Tree fruits?"
Oops.
I hastily lowered my arms toward the tree.
The summit must be here. At Wintervalt Manor!
Because here’s where Dad’s crisis begins.
Fever-bound, I’d dreamed it clearly:
Wintervalt’s Sacred Tree is dying.
And the summit will expose it.
My knowledge was basic—gleaned from Empire Children’s Encyclopedia 101. The massive, ancient tree in our northern territories symbolized divine favor. A withered Sacred Tree?
It screams “fallen house”!
If revealed, it’s ruin’s shortcut! The express carriage to annihilation—
Wait, “carriage”?
Regardless, prevention required the summit here. Where I could act.
Even if not, I’ll follow Dad.
Wintervalt wouldn’t collapse overnight—the dream showed Callec struggling to revive the tree. But exclusion from the council would start our decline. Erode trust. Lose even the Emperor.
Not happening.
I clenched my fists.
I’ll protect Dad. His house. Everything.
Pacing the garden, I strategized.
If I could see the Sacred Tree, maybe I’d understand its decline.
But it stood in the distant north. Impossible to visit.
Why won’t Dad use my power? He knows what I can do.
Is it secrecy? Or... distrust?
To him, I’m just a circumstantial burden. Not real family.
Hurtful...
I shook my head, scattering gloom.
Priorities: Hide the tree’s condition during the summit.
We need to fake its health. For that...
...I need a garden.
Dad would never permit smelly compost in his demonic mansion.
"100% rejection."
I trudged onward, channeling Ruska’s paperwork misery.
Think. Think—
Thwack!
"Yikes!"
"Ririn!"
As I tripped over a root, a shadow lunged—
Thud.
—and I landed in arms like gnarled oak.
The looming figure holding me?
A mountain-shaped elder, face etched with storms.
