29: The root of the problem

The root of the problem

"Have you ever heard of enchanted artifacts?"1

Was it because of his perceptible, profound animosity toward her father? She felt that his question was inculpatory.

For most of her life in the Archduchy, Adela heard all kinds of stories about magic in their world from her lady-in-waiting, Baroness Freida. Yet none of those were relatable. Her manaless homeland seemed like an ordinary place to Lady de Lanark. 

Her hand was back in her view again as she observed her father's ring. Apart from being on the wrong finger of the wrong person, de Lanark's golden signet ring — engraved with a shield between the two wings of a falcon — looked as normal as ever to her.

As an object of Egon's surveillance right now, she kept her growing anxiety to herself, not wanting to ruin the small progress the two of them were making. The mysterious man was finally communicating with her. Perhaps this was her father's intention of sending her here on his behalf.

Was there a misunderstanding between the von Conradies and the de Lanarks that involved the signet ring she was wearing? Could she resolve the issue between Egon and the Archduke then? She was about to dare hope when the man staring at her closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. 

This is not a good sign…

Lost in thought, she had missed the opportunity to answer him promptly and might have unintentionally offended him by doing so, she was about to apologize when the sound of approaching footsteps resonated around them. 

"Is this where you have been all this time, Egon?"

Fixing her eyes on the thick trees to the right side of the path, Adela watched, curious and confused as two men emerged.

The one who caught her eye first was a tall young man with a sturdy, muscular physique that bore similarities to that of Egon. But his light brown hair and pale face could not have been more different, he had a smooth forehead, symmetric nose, and full perky cheeks. His beauty would have been on par with Larissa's if not for a scar stretching from his eyebrow down to his chin passing through his left eye, closing it completely, adding roughness to his otherwise soft features. 

The man's right eye regarded Adela with interest. 

"And you are?" The demand came in a biting, almost violent tone.

Adela was so submerged in the anatomy of the young man that she neglected to pay attention to the middle-aged man who stood next to him. Handsome and dignified, his darker colors and crude manner of speaking reminded her so much of Egon's. 

Is that man his father?

Two angry hazel eyes looked oddly familiar; they narrowed loathingly as they continued to equally search Adela's face.

Faintly annoyed to be asked for an introduction before having received one first, Adela curtsied, "Adelaide de Lanark, pleased to make your acquaintance, gentlemen,"

She heard nothing in return.

Meeting Egon's eyes again as she straightened up, she was reminded of a bleak midwinter's day, for they seemed colder and more distant than she had ever seen before. His fluctuating spirit — much like his less-than-pleasant personality — left her mind reeling as she tried to keep up with him.

"Oh, your surname is the same as this Archduchy, are you one of the Archduke's relatives by any chance?"

She smiled awkwardly at the young man's joyous tone, deeming him that person in a gathering who is unable to read a room. She was about to provide him with an answer when Egon's supposed father interrupted them.

"De Lanark," he hissed at her, "The greatest family in all of Emoria, an incarnation of nobility, the Lords of Lanark walk around their lands, gods amongst people, never neglecting to treat them with the utmost respect…They have access to unfathomable fortunes that are never sufficient for them, so they ask for more..."

She held her head up high; Adela's face betrayed nothing as her eyes fully recognized an enemy of her family.

The man snarled, his words laced with mockery, "They own these wide lands, yet their eyes are always on that which belongs to somebody else,"

"Uncle!" Egon snapped then quickly wore a calmer expression on his face, "I believe the road here has taken its toll on you,"

Not his father, his uncle. In Adela's mind, it was a bit better that way. Seeing how he openly attacked, the root of the problem between the von Conradies and the de Lanarks might just get exposed today before tomorrow.

The man spoke with a straight face this time as he looked at Adela, "To what do we owe this honor you have so generously bestowed upon us?" 

Adela's dignified front was overgrown as she replied.

"I am here on behalf of my father to aid your efforts in finding your esteemed relative," 

"How very noble of you indeed, it seems to me that you are just your father's daughter," 

"Uncle," Egon interjected again, "What we owe Lady de Lanark today are words of gratitude for coming all the way here to help,"

Staring at his nephew, the man's face relaxed so much that he almost looked like a different person. His eyes landed on Adela  again, his anger subsiding.

"Andreas is like one of my children, his disappearance pains me," 

Adela did not move a muscle to react to that, she knew better than to get into an argument with a man old enough to be her father when a relative of his was kidnapped in her land. 

"Will you stay with us at the manor tonight?" It was a shadow of his earlier excitement, but the warmth on the young man's face still surprised her.

"I will be around for as long as it takes to retrieve your esteemed cousin,"

"You do not have to go to such extremes," Egon objected.

"I beg the difference, I surely must," 

Under the examining gaze of the three men around her, she spoke bravely, hiding the sudden fear that filled her heart. She would be sleeping outside of her house for the first time—and in the von Conradie estate of all the places!

"All right then," Egon said, his voice seething with disapproval. "Let us move this conversation inside if you must,"

He said so but did not follow the invitation with a move, his eyes pierced hers as if to dissuade her from her decision one last time, but Adela's eyes pierced his dark ones back, unwavering, determined now more than ever to honor the order in the parchment she proudly carried on her.

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