Chapter 119: An Unknown Heritage
Chapter 119: An Unknown Heritage
The fox Beastman flipped through his stack of papers as though searching for something, despite knowing every document by heart by now.
"I couldn’t find a single reference, neither in the library nor in House Luchsenstein’s archives, that suggests it is normal for the mating bonds of their noble females to cause pain."
Silas groaned. The low sound rumbled through the room. For a moment, only the crackling fireplace answered him.
Yes, it had been unlikely...
But somehow they had still hoped for a simple explanation.
Silas: "Could it be something that simply isn’t recorded?"
Lucien shook his head.
"I spoke with Leontis." A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I merely mentioned the word marking, and he immediately started reminiscing about how intoxicating it had felt."
He accepted the rounded crystal glass filled with the dark liquor from Kaelith.
"So we can safely assume that this phenomenon didn’t occur when Mirabelle’s mother marked her mates," Kaelith concluded.
Lucien merely nodded before taking a long sip. The liquor burned pleasantly down his throat, leaving behind notes of oak, smoke, and wild honey.
"I’m afraid we won’t find anything in Rotwald’s records either."
He slowly lowered the glass.
"I can certainly go and look after the Hunting Party, but before then... there’s simply no time."
"Yeah." Silas nodded. "That doesn’t make much sense right now."
He accepted his own glass from Kaelith, raised it toward the other two in a silent toast, then emptied it in one long swallow.
He handed the empty glass back to the visibly surprised hyena Beastman. The scent of whiskey lingered warmly in the air between them.
"I’ll have another. Thanks."
Without a word, Kaelith turned and headed back to the liquor cabinet.
"Do we know anything about her father?", he asked over his shoulder while preparing another drink.
Crystal glasses clinked softly together. The amber liquid caught the dancing firelight, sending warm reflections across the polished wood.
Lucien drew a slow breath:
"It seems to be House Luchsenstein’s greatest secret.
At first I thought Leontis was her father."
He shook his head.
"But it’s painfully obvious he isn’t."
"It’s incredibly difficult to learn anything at all." Silas ran a hand through his hair, his ears twitching uncertainly. "No one seems to know...
...or wants to talk...
But behind closed doors," he continued, "people do."
He stopped for a moment.
"We’re only hearing about it now because Mirabelle’s succession has made the subject relevant again."
Kaelith returned with the refilled glass, handed it to the panther, then finally settled into the second armchair and took his own first sip.
Silas: "Here’s what my shadows overheard."
Lucien turned his chair around, straddling it with his arms folded across the backrest.
Kaelith leaned forward.
Both instinctively sensed that Silas was about to share something important.
Which he was.
Even the room seemed to grow quieter. The fire settled into a slow crackle while the scent of burning oak drifted lazily through the stud
"Apparently..." Silas looked into the amber liquid swirling inside his glass. "...it was an enormous scandal."
His voice sounded unusually heavy, as though even speaking the words disturbed something that had slept for decades.
He took another sip before setting the glass back onto the small table beside his chair.
"When the Duchess was still the heir, she was about twenty years old when she was sent to Bregenz.
For trade negotiations.
It was supposed to be her first major diplomatic assignment."
Lucien frowned:
"I didn’t find anything about that."
Silas crossed one leg over the other.
"The official records only mention that she departed with a small escort.
For the first few days, everything went according to plan.
Then...
The entire delegation disappeared."
The room fell silent.
Outside, the wind brushed softly against the balcony doors. Somewhere deep within the castle, a clock chimed the passing hour. None of the three Beastmen moved.
"They found the remains of several guards.
Their wagons.
The horses.
But not the future Duchess."
Lucien slowly lowered the glass he had just been about to drink from:
"So everyone thought she was dead?"
Silas: "For months."
The only sound came from the panther slowly turning his glass. The liquor swirled quietly against the crystal.
He nodded.
"Search parties combed the forests. They questioned merchants.
Hunters.
Travelers.
Nothing.
It was as though she had vanished from the face of the continent."
Kaelith exchanged a glance with Lucien.
"What happened then?"
Silas’ expression remained unreadable.
"Nobody knows.
The next part of the story simply...
...doesn’t exist.
No witnesses.
No reports.
No letters.
No records.
Just...Nothing."
The fire popped sharply, sending a shower of tiny sparks dancing up the chimney.
Even Lucien had stopped fidgeting eith his glass.
"The next time anyone saw her..." Silas continued quietly, "...she walked through the castle gates.
Alive.
Pregnant.
And Leontis was with her."
Lucien blinked:
"...Just the two of them?"
Silas nodded.
"Just the two of them.
What happened during those missing months...", he shrugged almost imperceptibly, "...the Duchess never revealed.
Not to the court.
Not to the nobles.
Not even to her own mother."
Kaelith frowned:
"And Leontis?"
Silas: "He never spoke about it either."
Lucien slowly exhaled:
"So everyone assumed...
...that Leontis was the father."
"For a while." Silas’ yellow eye lifted toward him. "Until people started paying attention.
He didn’t have a mate mark at the time."
The other two let out audible breaths.
Neither of them had realized they had been holding them.
Under normal circumstances, a Beastman couldn’t father a child before being marked by his mate.
But Roughs...
Were different.
Kaelith was the first to voice the thought none of them wanted to say aloud.
"Could her father have been a Rough?"
The question seemed to linger in the room long after the words themselves had faded.
He hesitated:
"Maybe that’s why it hurt.
Because her father was a..."
He trailed off.
"...a scorpion or something?", Lucien finished quietly.
"There was a great deal of speculation about that as well." Silas slowly swirled the liquor in his glass. "But unless we ask the Duchess directly, we can’t prove or disprove any of it."
Lucien stood and immediately began pacing behind the desk again, his tail flicking restlessly from side to side.
His boots thudded softly against the thick carpet while his claws clicked faintly whenever they caught the wooden floor beneath.
"At least we have a new lead." He looked between the other two. "We can investigate whether there are any records of female Roughs whose mate markings were painful."
Kaelith nodded.
"That sounds feasible. And far less suspicious than what we’ve been doing so far.
No one would ever assume Mirabelle herself has anything to do with a Rough."
"I’d much rather search the Academy of Zasar." Silas’s voice was little more than a murmur.
Lucien shook his head firmly.
"Only in person! We absolutely cannot draw anyone’s attention to this."
Kealith: "The library in Zasar will have to wait until we’re actually there."
The three Beastmen nodded in silent agreement.
None of them reached for another pastry. Even the scent of vanilla and cinnamon, so tempting only minutes ago, had long since lost the battle against the weight of the conversation.
Not far away, Mirabelle had just stepped out of her mother’s office.
Had she known that her mates were currently debating whether she might secretly be half rough scorpion Beast...
No one could have guaranteed the continued survival of those three Beastmen.
Fortunately, Mirabelle knew nothing about it.
Instead, she made her way back to the familiar sitting alcove along the corridor and allowed herself a quiet moment.
Only the gentle hum of busy little bees and the cool breeze brushing against her skin disturbed the peaceful silence.
At last, she decided it was time to give Pebbles and the system notification her full attention.
All she had to do was think about the little octopus mascot.
A familiar DING rang out.
In a puff of smoke, the flying tentacle creature appeared. At the same moment, the familiar translucent blue system screen materialized before her.
[Temple Rite Complete]
[Recognition Granted]
[The Beast Goddess has witnessed and accepted the bonds between Host and her mates.
The foundations of your future dynasty have been blessed.
Reward Granted:
+100,000 Development Points]
"Nice!"
Mirabelle clenched her hand into a fist and pulled it down in a victorious pump.
"Congratulations, Host." Pebbles spun around once in midair before looking back at her with an innocent smile. "Would you like to spend your Development Points?"
Mirabelle gave him the finger.
"You can’t honestly believe I’d fall for that."
"But, Host..." Pebbles blinked up at her with those impossibly large, innocent eyes. "Your objective is to develop your territory."
Mirabelle immediately crossed her arms protectively over her chest.
’The moment I finally have points, this little scammer is already trying to take them away again.’
"As far as I know, my first objective is to inherit my territory.
Development comes after that."
"Host..." Pebbles’ smile faltered just a fraction. "I don’t mean to alarm you, but statistically speaking...
...saving your points has never ended well."
Mirabelle narrowed her eyes.
Pebbles suddenly became very interested in his own tentacles. He started fidgeting with them as though he had fingernails that urgently required inspection.
... Wait.
He was inspecting his suction cups. That looked incredibly suspicious.
"Are you threatening me?"
Pebbles immediately raised the very tentacles in question in surrender.
"Absolutely not, Host. I’m merely citing statistics."
"Statistics?"
Pebbles nodded enthusiastically:
"Statistics."
Mirabelle narrowed her eyes even further.
When she spoke again, her voice had become dangerously calm.
"Do you know something?"
The little System Spirit’s animated eyes flew open in exaggerated surprise.
"Me? Know something?" Pebbles blinked innocently. "About what?
From whom?
Surely not from the Beast Goddess..."
He continued rambling for another second before suddenly freezing mid-sentence.
"Host." He gasped. "I think my laundry is done."
Before Mirabelle could react, the familiar cloud burst into existence around him.
PUFF! He vanished.
Even the smoke seemed to disperse faster than usual.
Mirabelle stared at the empty spot in utter disbelief.
"...Laundry?" She slowly shook her head.
"That’s a new one."