183 - Eavesdropping
Happy that the embroidery was slowly forming a picture, I stretched my arms and gazed at the whole thing. The finish of the embroidery, where I had deliberately mixed in pink thread, could not be appreciated unless viewed from a bit of a distance. What was more, since only the face and part of the background were done, looking at it from a distance was just self-satisfaction.
...At this rate, it looked like I would have no trouble finishing it in time for this year's Divine King Festival.
When I had seen the embroidered paintings at the Lagarette art gallery, I had shuddered at the thought of how much effort and time they must have taken, but now that I tried it myself, it was nothing special. Even an embroidered painting was nothing more than the result of daily accumulation.
...If I could finish it before the Divine King Festival, maybe I could ask Leonyaldo-san to deliver it to Lagarette when he goes to the Lugmilama Fortress or the city of Mandez?
Without mentioning anything about what the picture was, of course. If I told him it was a birthday gift, I felt like that Leonardo of ours, being the principled sort, would not check the contents. He was an inflexible older brother who sometimes neglected his sister for the sake of work, but moments like this made me grateful for that honest earnestness of his.
I would probably only be able to shut myself in the attic and do embroidery until around mid-autumn. And only during the daytime. Since the temperature dropped in the evening, I was planning to wrap up early this year, thinking there was a risk of catching a cold and being forcefully evicted like last year. If it was Kalisa, that would be fine, but if it came to a forced eviction by Leonardo, there was a danger of the embroidery being discovered.
...Until it was finished, I could not let Leonyaldo-san see it.
I wanted to suddenly show him the finished product and leave him thunderstruck. Not that I wanted to see a happy face, but that I wanted to see a face shocked speechless. Even I thought that was rather contrary of me. If I was going to play a prank, I would go at it with all my might.
...Huh?
Just as the sun was starting to go down, I finished up my work in the attic and headed for my third-floor room. I had been keeping the Black Dog (Oscar) stationed on the stairs as a lookout in case Leonardo came near the attic, but that Black Dog was nowhere to be seen.
...Had Bertrand-sama come by, maybe?
Lately, the Black Dog had never disobeyed my orders. When I told him to wait on the stairs, he would stay there until I said "okay," but today he was not there. That meant Bertrand, the highest-ranking owner in the Black Dog's mind, had come to the residence.
Feeling a bit curious, I decided not to go back to my room. When I quietly crept down to the second floor, there was the Black Dog in front of Leonardo's room. I had tried to muffle my footsteps, but it was probably plenty audible to a dog's ears. The Black Dog had already noticed my presence and turned his face toward me.
"Oscar, has Bertrand-sama come visiting?"
I asked in a hushed voice, but there was no way a black dog could speak human language. After giving the Black Dog, who only silently stared at my face, a good petting on the head, I decided to press my ear to the door and investigate what was going on inside.
"Oscar, shhh."
The Black Dog probably understood that I was trying to eavesdrop. He seemed unable to strongly stop me, but nevertheless let out a slightly pathetic-sounding "groof" as if in reproach. If he made a ruckus, Leonardo inside the room would notice, so I reached out both hands to touch the Black Dog's face to soothe him. When I squished and kneaded his face, cupping both cheeks, the Black Dog backed away from me as if in dislike, putting distance between us. He had retreated to a spot I could not reach while keeping my ear pressed to the door, so I gave up on petting the Black Dog.
...Well, whatever. What were they talking about in there?
Today, I was more interested in what was behind the door than in the out-of-reach Black Dog. Normally I would never stick my nose into Leonardo's work, much less think about eavesdropping, but today a mischievous impulse had genuinely just welled up in me for no particular reason.
When I pressed my ear flat against the door, I could indeed hear Bertrand's voice from inside. It was muffled and I could not make it out clearly, but Bertrand's voice seemed to have a bit of an edge to it.
...Was it about Jean-Jacques?
I could somehow tell that Jean-Jacques's name was mixed into the conversation. When I leaned closer against the door, trying to hear better, the Black Dog must have decided he could no longer stay silent. Right beside me, he let out a "Woof!"... a warning to those inside that there was someone eavesdropping.
"Hyaa, wah!? You scared me...!"
Startled by the dog's bark from point-blank range, I jumped in surprise. I lost my balance and bumped against the door, sending a loud noise echoing through the hallway. There was no doubt the people inside the room had heard it clearly. I heard footsteps rapidly approaching the door... click, click, click... and the door was soon opened from within. There was no time to run, no time to hide. Deprived of the door's support, my body tilted into the room. Before I could completely fall, I was caught by Bertrand's thick arms.
"...What, it was the young lady. Eavesdropping... I cannot say I approve."
"I'm sorry."
Now that I had been caught, I apologized honestly. I had just let a little mischievous impulse get the better of me and eavesdropped.
...And Oscar really was Bertrand-sama's dog after all.
He came to me almost every day and obeyed my commands too, so I had almost forgotten, but the Black Dog's owner was still Bertrand. If he was guarding the door under Bertrand's orders, he would not let even my eavesdropping slide.
...Traitor.
It was entirely me taking my frustration out on him, but I glared at the Black Dog with resentment. Perhaps my intent, conveyed through my gaze, had gotten through to him. The Black Dog lowered his tail, which had been standing erect, and flattened his ears.
"What were you talking about?"
"You heard, did you not?"
Since I had been found out, there was no helping it. I tried asking boldly about the conversation I had only barely caught, but was asked in return instead.
"...I could only make out Jean-Jacques."
Embarrassed at having been caught eavesdropping, I could not help looking away. It was also not a lie that I had not heard much of the conversation. On TV and in manga, there were scenes where characters pressed their ears to doors to eavesdrop, but when I actually tried it, people's voices were not so easy to hear. The door probably blocked some of the sound, and with two men with low voices talking, there was even less chance of making anything out.
"Bertrand-dono came to ask because autumn has come and Jean-Jacques and the others should be returning to the city soon," Leonardo said.
Saying this, even Leonardo, who had been sitting in a chair, walked over toward me. I furrowed my brow, sensing something strange... but before I could process it, I was set upright by Bertrand, who had been supporting me. By the time I thanked him and stood on my own feet, Leonardo was right in front of me, firmly grasping both my hands.
...Something was strange, was it not?
Why was he holding my hands? Leonardo's behavior felt somehow disjointed, and it was unsettling. I felt like running away immediately, but with both hands firmly held, I could not.
"When is Jean-Jacques coming back?"
As if to brush away the anxiety I felt from the unsettling atmosphere, I prompted him to continue the conversation. I thought they might brush me off if it was something I should not have heard, but neither Leonardo nor Bertrand seemed to think it was anything they needed to hide. They answered me normally.
"Since the one-year isolation period we wanted to maintain has passed, the return of Wards disease patients has begun, but those who wish to do so may remain in the frontier village."
Jean-Jacques was a Black Knight, so he was scheduled to return to the city of Grenore, but apparently he wanted to help those who had chosen to stay in the frontier village with their winter preparations until just before winter. He had said that at least he could be useful for physical labor.
"...That is a remarkably virtuous attitude, for Jean-Jacques."
I had thought he would insist on returning to the city as soon as the isolation period was over. I never expected him to say he wanted to work for the sake of those who had decided to stay in the village a while longer.
...Had he awakened to a spirit of service, or something?
He had never seemed the type, but perhaps he had had various things to think about over this past year. By the time he returned to the city of Grenore, his personality might have changed to the point where I could no longer call him 'Marcel Number Two.'
...No, probably not. Not Jean-Jacques.
When I went to check on him in the spring, he had still been making the same playful gestures as when he was at the fortress. I simply could not imagine a Jean-Jacques who was kind and gentlemanly toward others.
"He bears some responsibility for the spread of Wards disease in the city of Grenore. It is likely meant as atonement."
"I see."
...That was indeed a more understandable reason than plain goodwill.
"Now then," Leonardo punctuated, looking down at me. As for myself, I could feel in my skin that the unsettling atmosphere I had been sensing was drawing near. I wanted to run away right this instant.
"You are aware that eavesdropping is a bad thing, are you not?"
"Yes, I'm sorry."
It had been a little mischievous impulse, but from the perspective of the one on the receiving end, it probably did not feel good. Even if the content was not particularly troublesome to have been overheard.
"For doing something bad, Tina, I think I ought to give you a punishment as your older brother..."
When he asked what Tina's father used to do, I felt a slight catch in my mind. But I decided to answer the question first and searched my memory.
"...I do not know. My father never scolded me."
Huh? Come to think of it, what about that? I tried to remember, but I had no memory of being scolded by my father in this life. I tried to imagine what Father's scolding would look like, but the only image that came to mind was him furrowing his brow with a troubled look and earnestly explaining what had been wrong. However, I did understand why Leonardo was holding both my hands. It was a citizen's arrest of a mischievous girl, followed by restraint.
"I do not recall being scolded by my parents either..."
Leonardo and I were both at a loss, and we glanced up at the other person present. As a family man, Bertrand probably had experience scolding children who had done wrong.
"When my son misbehaved, I hung him from a tree in the garden or made him run around the manor until morning..."
"That would not work for Tina."
He did not mean it would not work for me specifically, but rather that it would not work for a girl. Especially running all morning long... there was no way I had the stamina for that.
In the end, Leonardo, who did not know how to scold a child, consulted Siegwald and Hermine, and chose an orthodox method. Spanking sounded cute when you said it, but it was essentially a bottom-slapping. Considering that I was a girl, the spanking was done with Leonardo's hand. An adult male touching a girl's bottom with his hand might sound questionable, but I had heard that in the West, children were punished by being spanked on the bottom with a whip, so this was probably the result of consideration for me as a girl.
Even though it was over my skirt, Leonardo spanked me a full ten times on the bottom, and I cried out. I was aware that eavesdropping was a bad thing and had done it knowingly, so I had to properly receive this punishment.
In a maid book I read long ago, it said that around medieval Europe, there were students who awakened to certain proclivities after being spanked on the bare bottom with a whip by their female tutors (I think).
Typos and omissions will be addressed another day. I found and corrected some typos and omissions.