A tense atmosphere had settled over the Rubenhart Estate.
No one dared to speak too loudly or say anything out of turn, but whispers still rang through the halls.
Ulrich was not there, so the servants felt emboldened to gossip as much as they pleased though the moment Fabian, the faithful head butler, came into view, the murmurs would die instantly.
Right now, however, Fabian was away or under above, in Ulrich's study.
He stood silently beside the long desk of his Lord. It was his usual spot, the place he had occupied for the past two years ever since Ulrich had taken over as Count and claimed his late father's seat.
It wasn't that Fabian hadn't been allowed in this room by the previous Count, under the previous one, however, he had always been expected to stand directly in front of the desk, facing his master.
But when Ulrich took power, he had plainly said that he disliked people hovering directly in front of him, this close, and so Fabian had moved to the side.
He was standing there now, but this time he was entirely alone, just as he had been for an entire week.
Seven days.
Seven days had passed since Ulrich had ridden off on whatever dangerous errand had taken his attention and wasn't willing to tell him about it.
Fabian knew neither the reason for his departure nor his exact destination.
The coachman and the carriage who conducted Ulrich had never returned.
The silence only made the situation feel more ominous, and dark thoughts continually flooded Fabian's mind.
He felt as though he had failed Ulrich entirely.
He had accompanied the boy since childhood, watching him grow from a quiet, solitary youth into the capable young man he was today.
Perhaps he should have insisted harder a week ago. No, he definitely should have insisted harder…
The deep creases lining Fabian's face creased further with grief.
Once again, he reached out and touched the writ Ulrich had left behind, the document bearing the official seal, legally turning management of the household over to Fabian and granting full power, status, and titles to the three adopted daughters.
He had written those orders specifically in the event of his death.
The very real possibility of his death.
And it had now been seven days.
No matter how he tried to deny it, Fabian was finding it increasingly difficult to believe Ulrich was still alive.
But his heart refused to accept it.
His young Lord.
The boy who, upon the discovery of his broken mana core, had been subjected to brutal physical training by his father, pushed far beyond the limits of what any child should ever endure. Yet it had forged him into a very capable man who, following his father's death, had proven every single doubter wrong, his own father included.
Ulrich didn't need a functioning mana core to rule. He had managed his vast territory with an iron hand. At merely twenty years old, he had the respect and also fear of everyone within the Rubenhart domain. Even the rival nobles who had once sneered at him were quickly beginning to understand that the 'incapable' son was far from being incapable, broken core or not.
But Fabian had always known of the unspoken, bottomless rage Ulrich harboured toward the world, a rage born the day his Blossoming at ten years old revealed a broken core. It had come directly following the death of his beloved mother.. The boy had already been heartbroken, and the failure of his core had only driven the knife deeper.
Upon discovering his son's defect, Ulrich's father, equally shattered by the Countess's death, had poured every ounce of his grief and obsession into forging Ulrich's strength through other means.
Body and mind.
From the age of ten, he had forced Ulrich through brutal training that would have broken, or even killed, any ordinary child. But Ulrich had survived.
And he had come out the other side changed completely.
There were positive aspects to that change, of course, such as his independence and the strength he possessed to handle any threat.
But at the same time, he had lost something vital. The capacity for precious bonds, the very feeling of love, things that had burned so brightly within him while his mother was still alive had been entirely extinguished.
Reminiscing sadly on the past, Fabian descended the grand staircase.
The servants who had been huddled together in small groups, whispering furiously, immediately scattered like frightened mouses the second they saw him.
He could already guess their thoughts regarding Ulrich's potential death and the newly adopted witch daughters.
It was a shocking development. Especially considering that Ulrich's mother had been killed by a witch's curse.
Yet her son had gone and adopted three girls born from one and immediately after enthusiastically agreeing to the King's demand to eradicate their village, no less.
He had overseen the slaughter of an entire village just to save three daughters at the end?
It didn't make really any senses unless Ulrich was some kind of sadist...
Well, he hadn't exactly slaughtered them himself perhaps.
The King had sent his own son with a small detachment of men to carry out the massacre, while Ulrich's official task was merely to oversee it and protect the Prince. But the fact remained that Ulrich had been an active participant.
Fabian could honestly not understand what was going through his Lord's head.
Lost in thought, he walked silently through the estate until he reached a specific corridor.
Before he could take another step, however, a door opened, and a woman stepped out.
It was Linnea Danvers, one of the tutors Ulrich had hired for the three girls. Linnea's task was to teach the sisters how to read and write, but at the moment, she looked thoroughly exhausted, exactly as she had looked every single day for the past week after finishing her lessons.
She was just stepping out for her midday break.
"Are you feeling well, My Lady?" Fabian asked, concern filling his voice.
Linnea flinched slightly, startled to find someone standing there, and flushed with embarrassment at having been caught looking so drained.
She quickly straightened her posture.
"I — I am! Thank you, Lord Butler!" She said hurriedly. "P—Please do not tell the Count that I displayed such an... unsightly scene."
"I wouldn't dream of it," Fabian chuckled softly.
He could already tell that Linnea was quite fond of Ulrich. When he had first approached her about the position, she had been exceedingly eager the moment Ulrich's name was mentioned. She clearly held a deep admiration for him.
"And are the lessons proceeding well with the three young ladies?" He asked.
"Um... yes," she nodded, though her eyes darted away.
"Please be honest, My Lady," Fabian said gently.
Tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, Linnea sighed softly, stealing a brief glance back into the room.
"They are actually wonderful. Just as expected of Lord Ulrich, the Count wouldn't have adopted these three sisters without seeing something exceptional in them," she said, a fond smile gracing her lips.
"I expected something entirely different," Fabian chuckled.
Linnea laughed lightly. "It's just that they are exhausting in their own unique ways. The middle sister, Hermione, is a genius unlike any child I have ever seen... I believe she can already read and write at the level expected of someone her age."
"W... What?" Fabian's jaw dropped.
It had only been seven days...
Linnea nodded, laughing awkwardly to herself.
"The other two are no less intelligent, but the middle sister's comprehension and learning abilities are genuinely frightening. However, she has quite a fiery temper... She is craving for knowledge, and she is already demanding to begin learning magic," Linnea said, slumping her shoulders in defeat.
"Oh, I see," Fabian chuckled. "I imagine the other two are faring well and not causing too much trouble, then? The youngest one seems quite sweet from what I have seen."
"She is, isn't she?!" Linnea nodded enthusiastically. "She is also eager to learn and kind, certainly the kindest one to speak to me. She does ask a lot of questions, though... Perhaps slightly too many questions..."
Beginning to feel a twinge of pity, Fabian hesitated before finally asking about the last sister, swallowing hard.
"And what about Lady Airam...?"
Linnea shivered instantly.
"Um..." She leaned in close, dropping her voice to a panicked whisper. "The eldest sister is actually terrifying me!"
"L—Lady Linnea?" Fabian stared in bewilderment as tears gathered in the tutor's eyes.
"I haven't told anyone, but on the very first day... she threatened me with a pencil! A sharp pencil that I had just sharpened for her! She pointed it directly at my neck and asked that I spill all of the Count's secret plans for them! I didn't even know what she was talking about, I swear! And now, during every single lesson, she just sits there... sharpening her pencil while giving me her dead look! I have never seen such dark eyes ever before!"
Fabian went speechless.
From stealing a kitchen knife on the first day to issuing death threats with office supplies by the seventh...
He seriously wondered how he was supposed to manage her, setting aside the other two sisters entirely!
'Please, My Lord, come back!'
Only Ulrich was capable of handling the three of them together; Fabian had seen it with his own eyes back then.
He could only plead silently for Ulrich's safe return.
Otherwise, he highly doubted he would be able to fulfill his Lord's dying request to raise the three girls until they came of age. At this rate, he doubted he would even survive that long.