Chapter 12: Queen's Seal

"What was that all about?!" I throw my arms up, exasperated. "First, Diedre corners me, preaching about the nobility of adventuring. Somehow, she even got me to invite her to our estate. That alone would be enough to give Dad a heart attack."
I sigh, running a hand through my hair. "Then Julius lectures me for what feels like an hour, only to turn around and nearly hurt Angelica when she tries to stop him. And, as if trying to outdo him in sheer stupidity, Jilk does the same to Clarice—except this time, I wasn't fast enough to stop it."
I shake my head. "I have no idea what those dear girls see in these idiots."

Cleare hums in amusement. "Master, if you're so emotionally invested in your so-called ex-wives, why not win them over for yourself instead of trying to shape their fiancés into better men?"
I frown. "Their breakup nearly caused a civil war. And besides, they're too good for me anyway. I only got close to them because of Luxion. I won't steal their futures from them again."
"You're too pessimistic, Master. Luxion may have provided the opportunity, but you won them over yourself. Do you really believe none of them wanted to be with you in the end?"
I scowl. "Oh, shut it. You just want me to reproduce like crazy because of my 'strong old human' genetics."

"Master, that is simply—" Cleare suddenly pauses, her tone shifting. "But Roland. Blah." Her voice drips with mechanical disdain. "Is he truly attempting to groom an eleven-year-old? How repulsive."
I groan, rubbing my temples. "Argh, don't remind me."
"Shall I fake his death? He would make for an interesting research subject."
"No."
"You're no fun, Master."

I shake my head. "Enough of that. Have you found any leads on my sister?"
Cleare's lens flickers. "Not enough to narrow down the possibilities yet."
I sigh. "Keep searching. Her family wouldn't miss a royal ball."
For now, I stretch my arms and stand from my bench in the palace gardens. "Let's head back. It won't be long before my family wants to leave."

It's a quite morning. My family is still enjoying the rare luxury of a slow start. Ever since the ball, things have been different—no more waking at dawn for physical labor. It's unsettling, really.
Rutart is the only one already up, training outside. Just as I finish changing, I hear the distinct rumble of carriage wheels nearing our estate. I move to the window, squinting at the crest.

A royal messenger.
I throw on my jacket and rush downstairs. The messenger, satisfied that I'm competent enough, hands me a letter addressed to my father before promptly leaving.

The queen's seal. A letter from Milene.

A strange warmth stirs in my chest at the thought. I know it isn't for me, but still—I carefully break the seal and unfold the parchment. The letter is brief: A formal request for my father to visit her office at his earliest convenience. And I'm mentioned specifically—an instruction to bring Leon fou Bartfort along.
I reread it, lips twitching into a small smirk. She only mentioned me by name, no one else. That, combined with the "earliest convenience" phrasing, gives me enough justification to act. If Dad is still asleep, then I can claim I didn't want to keep my dear, beautiful queen waiting.
With that thought, I dress as formally as I can manage and slip out, leaving only a brief note behind. No need to tell them where I'm going.

Milene

An assistant enters my office, bowing slightly. "Your Majesty, Lord Bartfort has arrived."
I set down my quill, my fingers resting lightly against the parchment. "Good. Have Lady Angelica arrange space in my schedule. She and Lady Clarice may entertain our guests in the meantime."
A rare opportunity. The boy has shown talent.

After finishing the latest batch of paperwork, I call them in.
I expect to see Lord Bartfort and his now infamous son. Instead, only the boy strides in alone, his posture straight, his expression far too at ease for someone standing before the Queen. A few steps behind him, Angelica and Clarice enter, their gazes flicking between him and me, expressions reserved but watchful.

I arch a brow. "Where is your father, Lord Bartfort?"
He smiles—bright, unbothered. "Oh, I wouldn't dream of making our beautiful queen wait just because my father enjoys his sleep."
A bold response.
Angelica stiffens, and Clarice's lips tug into a small smile, though she says nothing.
Flattery?
I watch him closely. A boy his age should be nervous standing before me. Instead, he plays his role effortlessly. How amusing.

Still, I don't react immediately. Instead, I turn to Angelica and Clarice. "Have you two properly thanked Lord Bartfort for assisting you at the ball?"
Angelica relaxes. "Yes, Your Majesty! He even told us about his adventures! He's so—" she catches herself, clearing her throat, "—well-versed in such matters."
Clarice, ever more composed, nods once. "He was most helpful."

I return my attention to the boy. "How admirable. To step in where Jilk should have—you've taken responsibility for guiding the prince. That is no small thing."
He merely shrugs. "I simply did what I felt was right."

I narrow my eyes slightly.
So casual. So unaffected.
Yet calculated.

"Of course," I murmur. "I understand you don't intend to remain in the capital, but I must insist—Julius requires counsel like yours. Someone who will guide him properly."
For the first time, his smirk flickers—just briefly.

Ah. That struck a chord.

I press further, my tone light. "There have been many in history who shaped kings from the shadows. Wise figures whose names remain immortalized in the annals of power. Would it not be a waste for someone of your ability to remain a mere observer?"
A careful push—framing his involvement not as duty, but as an opportunity.
He hesitates.

Then, in a burst of movement, he steps forward and— Throws his arms around me.

The entire room stills.

"If that's what you want, Mommy Milene, I'll do it!" he says brightly.
I freeze.
Clarice lets out a sharp inhale. Angelica sputters, nearly knocking over a nearby teacup.
I should correct him. I should put an end to this absurdity. But instead—I hesitate.

A warmth I have not felt in years.
I inhale, steadying myself. "Your assistance to the prince—" I begin again.

"If Mommy is not fine, I'll call you Aunty instead," he interrupts, his lips trembling, eyes shimmering.
No. Anything but that.
"Very well," I say at last, mind racing. "You may call me Mommy—but only in private. And you must listen to me properly if I am to be your mother."
His smirk is almost victorious. "Of course, Mommy Milene."

I have made a mistake.

A silence lingers longer than expected.

Then, without prompting, Leon speaks, his voice back to that careful politeness. "While I'm in the capital, I'd like access to the royal archives. There are families I'd like to research—potential allies for the prince."
His tone remains light, but there is something beneath it. Calculation.

Interesting.
I study him for a moment, my fingers lightly tapping against the armrest of my chair. His request is reasonable, even admirable on the surface. But I doubt that's his only goal.
"What exactly are you looking for?" I ask smoothly.
Leon tilts his head, smiling. "I wouldn't want to waste the Queen's precious time with minor details. But if you must know, I want to familiarize myself with the noble houses connected to His Highness's generation. Since I grew up in the countryside, I lack that knowledge."

A convenient excuse.
I could press further, but doing so might make him defensive. More importantly, I have already secured his cooperation with Julius. If a little access to the archives is the price, then so be it.
I nod approvingly. "A noble goal. Angelica, Clarice, assist him."
They curtsy in acknowledgment.
Before he pulls away entirely, Leon grins up at me. "May I get a kiss for good luck?"
I scoff lightly, prepared to dismiss the request, but then I meet his eyes—large, bright, expectant.
For a moment, the years fall away, and I recall a time when my own children would eagerly seek affection, unburdened by duty or expectation. How long has it been since I last kissed a child's forehead? Without thinking, I lean down and press a brief kiss to his brow.

His eyes gleam mischievously. How troublesome.
He's difficult to grasp—an anomaly. A child who wields politics with playful ease, slipping through expectations like water. I'm a fool for underestimating him. But if I can secure his loyalty, Julius's future will be bright.

Leon

As soon as we step out of the office, I exhale, grinning. Not bad.
Cleare hums in my ear. "Master, that was… a unique strategy."
"Thanks," I whisper under my breath. "But using the royal archive to find my sister—as expected of an AI."
Angelica looks up. "What was that?"
I smile at her. "Oh, just that I'm honored to be escorted by two beautiful ladies."
Cleare snickers as Angelica blushes.

In the archive, I let my eyes skim over the records, knowing full well that Cleare—disguised in my earpiece—is already processing everything at lightning speed. Angelica and Clarice, unaware of my true method, point out names they find noteworthy, discussing potential alliances and which families hold influence. It's useful information, but my real goal lies elsewhere.
I don't just need a noble family. I need her family.

After what feels like hours, we finally finish. The girls escort me to the palace gates, offering polite farewells before returning inside.
Once I'm alone, I murmur under my breath, "Cleare, did you find her?"
Cleare's voice is smug. "Oh yes."
I stop walking. My heart clenches—just for a moment. "She's here?"
"She exists," Cleare corrects teasingly. "As for whether she remembers you, well… that's another question entirely."
I exhale slowly, trying to ignore the sudden weight in my chest. It's fine. I expected this. I knew it wouldn't be easy.

Cleare's amused tone breaks the silence . "Oh, and your absence has thrown your household into chaos."
I sigh dramatically. "Can't wait for that."
I start walking again, bracing myself for whatever storm awaits me back home.

Still…
I lift my gaze toward the sky, exhaling.
I'm one step closer.

A/N

You know these compilations of the crazy A/N? Like, "Oh, I got hit by a bus today. Anyways,..." Or reading "I stopped taking my pills" after a change in tone with the chapter all disturbing?
It's not that bad for me. I just keep thinking about it.
Overall, I have a comfortable first-world life, a good amount of savings to get through rough patches, a supportive fiancée and parents I could fall back on if everything goes south. Not that my mind acknowledges any of that stability and safety.
I had a nice vacation, so nice in fact that I didn't got to write a thing. Coming back to work, my boss tells me I'm fired for not understanding her ambiguous remarks the way she wants me to, because it's difficult to just say what she wants and for not ignoring her orders.
This happened more than once (not the firing part). I have an idea to help her out, but she rejects it, even telling me her whole argument against it. Months later, I get fired for not doing that thing. Not that she told me that outright, I had pulled that out while pointing out why she shouldn't fire me. (because she asked me to do so.)
So when/if I get the written firing, it'll be my 3 specialized job in 3 years. My psych is not happy with that.
And for some reason, both she and my last boss had to deliver that news right before I had to take care of my charges. Very nice of them...

I hope that won't affect the tone of the story... It's a bit of a balance, writing a "happy" story to counteract my mind's tendencies for depression.

That took up too much space...
On another note, thanks for all the comments. I start to recognize serial commentators. I read every one of them, even if my mind didn't let me respond directly. Really, thanks a bunch.

Like always, please comment if there is anything on your mind. All non shitposts are appreciated.