I went to Mother again today. Yellow flowers bloomed in the garden, and I wanted to show them to her. I don't know the name. When I asked Uncle Richie, he said they only bloom briefly in the spring in the North. So I thought it would be even better. Because it's precious. I thought Mother would like it.

I knocked, and there was a sound of coughing from inside. Then I heard a maid's voice. She asked who it was, and I said it was me. Theodoric. Then there was silence for a long time.

The maid opened the door. She said the Madam wasn't feeling well today. I said I would just give her the flowers and leave. The maid looked inside and shook her head. She said the Madam told me not to come in.

I could see a bit of the inside through the crack in the door. It was dark because all the curtains were drawn. It looked like Mother was lying in bed, but I couldn't see her face. It smelled like medicine. The maid reached out her hand to take the flowers, but I said I wanted to give them to Mother directly.

I heard Mother's voice from inside.

She said she didn't want to see it.

Not the flowers, but me.

The maid looked apologetic. The door closed.

I stood in the hallway for a long time holding the flowers. I gripped the stems so hard they almost snapped. Since Mother is sick because I was born, it's only natural that she doesn't want to see me. I think it's better not to go from now on. Because if I go, Mother might get even sicker.

I left the flowers on the hallway windowsill.

It has been four days since Father died. The funeral was held two days ago.

Funeral preparations, receiving guests, succession. When I close my eyes at night, the list of things to do rotates. I can't sleep. It doesn't matter. I can look at documents during the time I should be sleeping.

My left eye still won't open. The army doctor said it needs more time. It was badly torn from the eyelid to the cheek during battle. He says the nerves might be damaged. I looked in the mirror today. The stitched area was red and swollen. It didn't look good. Even when it heals, a scar will remain. It might be better to cover my face from now on.

I remember the moment Father died. He was right next to me. Close enough to reach if I stretched out my arm. At that time, I couldn't see properly because of the blood flowing down my face. In that interval, Father's chest was pierced by a monster's claws.

If I had been just a little faster, I might have been able to stop it. If I hadn't been injured, it might have been possible.

Thinking about it is useless. The dead do not return. I decided not to think about this anymore.

At today's meeting, Lord Bayern suggested a regency. The reason was that I am still young and need to recover from my injuries first. It sounded like a valid point. That's why it was even more suspicious. It's highly likely he wants to install a young head and take real power himself. I refused. When I said I would start my duties tomorrow, the meeting room went quiet. I don't know yet if they are quiet because they are submissive or because they have complaints. I need to watch a little longer.

My face keeps hurting. It stings when I apply medicine, and it throbs when I don't. The doctor told me to call him immediately if the pain gets severe. This level is not severe. I can endure it. There's no need to call him.

I organized Father's study. There were almost no personal items. I thought, 'This man lived just like me,' and then I realized the order was reversed. I am living just like this man.

I attended a Southern banquet today. A diplomatic formality. A visit from the North to the South is rare, so there was much interest, and social greetings continued all day long. It was exhausting.

I saw a woman in the banquet hall.

Her name is Guest.

To be precise, she spoke to me first while I was taking a short break in a corner of the banquet hall. Usually, people find it difficult to approach me first. She was different. Her gaze passed over my mask once, but she didn't linger there long or avoid it. She greeted me just as she was, without any sign of fear or unpleasantness.

She said the weather was nice.

Bringing up the weather inside a banquet hall was a bit out of the blue, but strangely, it wasn't awkward.

The conversation wasn't long. Someone called her, and she left first. She smiled once more as she turned away. It's rare to find someone whose attitude doesn't change even after seeing the mask.

It's no big deal. We just exchanged greetings at a banquet.

But even after returning, her face came to mind a few times. I don't know why. It might be because the atmosphere unique to Southerners was unfamiliar, so it left an impression. It was a type rarely seen in the North. That's probably why.

The aide brought a list of marriage candidates. Guest's name was on it. I looked at the political conditions. The family is a prominent Southern family, and marriage with her is advantageous for strengthening the North-South alliance. The family's reputation is good, and the dowry conditions are appropriate.

Objectively, it is the most rational choice. I don't think I need to look at other candidates any further.