The Terminally-Ill Lord Desires Hospice Care

For the past few days, to vent my anger, I have been smashing training dummies in the training hall. As a child, I trained by shattering iron ore, but I must be content with this level now.
Still, moving my body like this reminded me of the days when we trained together, slightly relieving my resentment.
The sweating and inhumane training under that damned father…now that I think about it, I don’t particularly miss those times.

If we slacked off during training and got caught, father would grab us, leap high into the sky, then let us plummet face-first into the ground on impact. Miraculously, we never died or suffered major injuries, but the pain was unchanged.
Whether we secretly left designated areas, ate snacks in secret, secretly sabotaged father’s carriage wheels, or secretly poisoned father’s food – he would grab us and leap skyward.
Thinking back, it seems we averaged about 4 leaps per day.

Recalling those memories, I ran straight to my brother’s office, kicked the firmly locked door apart, and entered.
“…Hey. Where did father go?”
“For you to seek out that wretch is quite rare.”
“I feel like committing a treacherous act.”

I was not the only one who wanted to kill our father. Aschel and Penelope too had declared they would kill him if given the chance.
Even Raul would occasionally re-grip his cane and tremble whenever our father was mentioned – not from anxiety, but murderous intent.
Of course, even she who passed away used to sharpen her blade on the battlefield, fixated only on the day she would kill our father.

“That wretch has been wandering the empire like a mercenary, as you know. He always became a rambling drunkard and left everything behind.”
That wretched man raised us for war itself was a miracle.

“He’s been that way constantly since being abandoned by mother, has he not? The time for surprise at that wretch’s vulgar conduct has long passed.”
“Want to stab him together when he comes back?”
“…I won’t object. But stabbing would be messy with the cleanup if he bleeds. It would be more efficient to poison then drown him at sea.”
“Rather merciless, I see.”
“And clean up the door you smashed as well. We’ll be having a guest soon.”
“A guest?”

My distinctly ill-natured brother had no friends, let alone women around him. For such a person to have a ‘guest’ was as likely as a passing dog freezing while grazing.

“You don’t have friends, do you?”
“…The Empress and the new Lord Berger.”
“Penelope did often cooperate with you, but why that shrimp? Don’t tell me you’re in heat for the kid?”
“Don’t judge my conduct through a bestial lens. The new Lord Berger simply requested our tutelage.”

Penelope and my brother were indeed prodigies.
Penelope excelled at grasping overall situations from fragmented information, while my brother excelled at evaluating and directing people as well as managing resources and money.
Simply put, Penelope was superior in foreign affairs and politics, while my brother excelled at personnel and domestic affairs.

“That fool really wants to learn…?”
“Yes. He came in person and pleaded on bended knee. I tried to refuse, but he is that man’s brother, is he not? I accepted out of respect for the nation’s savior.”
“So you and Penelope are tutoring him here during your busy schedules with no time even to sleep?”

No, those two who didn’t even have time for proper meals after the war, resorting to sandwiches and peanuts, could hardly tutor that fool.
Especially my brother, who slept only 4 hours a day while striving to recover from the ravages of war.

“…We have simply reduced our sleep and rest time slightly.”
“That’s just wasting time. What would that fool know…?”
“He has outstanding memorization skills, equal to mine. As for application, he may be at the level of shrimp or octopus. Still, he has zeal.”

Zeal, huh…?
Well, if he has that, it should be enough. For zeal is the most important thing – it was that alone which allowed us to endure our father’s inhumane training.
Even if Penelope was rather strict and my brother somewhat indifferent, if he had zeal, he could persevere.

30 minutes later.
It seemed I would have to retract my statement that zeal alone was enough.
Rizehl’s face, still bright when greeting me earlier, was becoming increasingly emotionless – an exaggeration would be to say she resembled Raul’s usual expression.
The clear cause was those two currently tutoring her.

“Hey? It’s simple, isn’t it? If you learn one thing, do you only know that one thing? If we teach you one, you have to figure out two on your own. Just like last time you failed to bring escorts and nearly got killed, did you shit in your head? Were you born with shit in your head? Or did you open your skull, scoop out your brain, and fill it with shit just to piss us off? Hey, which is it, answer me.”

“I have simply memorized what was taught, that’s all. I cannot understand. It’s something that could be grasped with just a bit of thinking, like applying a learned math formula to different numbers. If your brain is functioning properly, you should also be able to understand this issue. It’s just a document with slight modifications from what we taught last week. Since original work documents all differ, this level of application is essential. If you cannot do even this much…”

“I was mistaken…I was mistaken…”

I had considered intervening, but knowing my ill temperament, I would surely just get scolded by those two if I stuck my nose in unnecessarily.
I never expected to say this, but for the first time, I felt pity for Rizehl. The abuse she was enduring trapped between those two was simply dreadful.
They say being surrounded by handsome men or beautiful women is having ‘flowers in both hands,’ but this was not flowers – it was flames.

Pitiful as it was…the alcohol tasted exceptionally sweet watching that scene. It was like a decade-old blockage was being cleared.

After a brief but likely millennium-long period for Rizehl, a short break time finally came.
Though called a ‘break,’ it only involved enjoying some tea and sweets. Of course, even that would be an unimaginable luxury for some.

“Ah, I prefer adding liquor to my tea, shall I go get some?”
That woman…no, Penelope was planning to put just three drops of tea into a full cup of liquor and call it ‘tea.’
If that was tea, I would put a few drops of water in my liquor and call it ‘water.’

“Hmm, the Duchy’s tea leaves must be different, the aroma is so rich and deep.”
“…The liquor must be going to your head already, you madwoman.”
“Pardon, Camilla? What did you just say?”
“Nothing, just…I’d rather die than suffer like this.”

Maintaining one’s sanity amid those with severe mental issues was no easy feat.

“By the way, you shrimp.”
Recalling my recent encounter with this shrimp’s mother, I decided to probe a little.
“Has your mother been well lately?”
“Well…she seemed a bit vexed after going out recently. But other than that, nothing particularly special.”

Clearly, their mother Ratri had called Roji, Raul’s former fiancée, a ‘vicious girl.’
I didn’t know their relationship before, but Ratri was not one to insult others without reason.
While I didn’t know what had happened, it was likely no ordinary matter.

“Are you actually thinking, Camilla? Not just knocking on a broken bridge, but smashing it and swimming across?”
“Quite rare for you to be thinking.”
“Shut it before I kill you both.”

And Roji had mentioned Raul’s father’s anniversary at the end.
…Come to think of it, I lacked overwhelming evidence. How could I discern anything from just that?
If she was simply plotting some mischief, beating them both half to death would suffice. That woman aside, roughing up that shrimp would be child’s play.

But before that break even ended, I learned of Roji’s mischievous plot – in the worst possible way.
It began with the House Berger butler rushing frantically into the office.
Quite uncharacteristic for one who prioritized etiquette, he relayed the dire news without even catching his breath:

“L-Lady, it’s terrible! Rumors about the late lord have spread rampantly throughout the capital…!”
“About my late father?!”
“A, a woman claims to have been raped by him and given birth to his child…! And that the former lord, your brother, threatened and pressured her to conceal the truth…!”

Upon hearing that, Rizehl dropped her teacup.
“No way…father and brother couldn’t have…!”
“Yes. There’s no way they would do such a thing.”
The one to interject was none other than my blockhead brother.

“The late Count Berger was not the sort of man to do that. Considering his conduct and past, it’s all the more deniable. Raul too is not one to pressure others like that. For him, murder would be easier than pressuring.”
“Y-Yes. There’s no way father and brother would do that…”
“It seems this is someone’s trap, no doubt.”

Circumstantially and intuitively, there was only one plausible culprit behind this scheme:
“This bitch I’m going to slaughter in pieces…!”