Mushoku Tensei (LN) - Volume 21 - Chapter 6.1

Chapter 6:

For the Good of My Daughter and My Family

FROM THE DAY SHE WAS BORN, Claire Latria was vain and hardheaded. As a child, she never admitted to any wrongdoing, and she only apologized when it was dragged out of her. 

Her own mother—Rudeus’s great-grandmother, Meredy Latria—told her, “Conduct yourself correctly.”

But this advice was gravely misguided. Claire, unwilling and unable to see her own faults, believed she had none. That her stubbornness was justified. But mistakes make us human.

Claire took her mother’s advice, however, and it made her into a harsh girl. Not correct—just harsh. To herself most of all. She started her education and made mistakes—because that’s what an education is, in some ways. Rather than accept that, her standards for herself only increased in their rigidity and cruelty. And if she’d applied those torturous standards only to herself, you know, fine. But that’s not what happened. Nobody could meet her exacting specifications, and she made sure they suffered for it. 

Without tempering her stubbornness and vanity, her mother’s advice had ruined her. She had these twisted virtues. She was tough, and so she pushed through every adversity. She was vain, and so made sure nobody ever knew when she was hurting. And she expected that from everyone around her. She just couldn’t hear that she was wrong.

Nobody liked her.

To others, it looked like she succeeded effortlessly, only to then turn around and berate anybody who struggled at the same tasks. And she never apologized, not for anything. She was cold, pampered, and heartless.

Some people saw through to the real Claire, of course. They recognized how hard she worked when no one was watching. But because she couldn’t be vulnerable, recognition was all they could offer. Claire, these well-meaning individuals would say, I see the real you, but nobody else will. Still, she refused to change. She saw nothing wrong with her mother’s words, nor with her own philosophy. This was working for her. Why change?

By the time she came of age, everyone was sick of her and no one would have her as a bride. The topic of marriage was broached on a number of occasions—she was the eldest daughter of the House of Latria, after all—but when interested noblemen met her and saw her hardness and her stubbornness for themselves, they ran screaming.

“If I cannot find a husband then I shall simply become a nun,” declared Claire when she was eighteen years old. She was a lady of the House of Latria. Becoming a nun was preferable to bringing shame on the family name by becoming an old maid. In Millis, it was a common path for young women in those days.

Claire Latria was harsh to herself and harsh to everyone around her. And that was, basically, all there was to her.

***

There lived a boy named Carlisle Granz. Carlisle was a fresh addition to the Temple Knights who served as a member of the Sword Company under the direct command of Ralkan Latria, Claire’s father. 

One day, Claire’s father came home drunk. Ralkan himself was a rigid man. That was the only side Claire or her mother saw of him. It was therefore highly out of character for him to come home drunk. Out of character in the sense that it was incongruous, but not in the sense it was rare. Claire’s mother knew the routine whenever he came staggering in. She removed his armor, gave him water to drink, and helped him to bed, so that the servants would only think him tired. She never told him off for it. She knew how stressful the job of a Temple Knight could be.

He was unlucky on one particular occasion, however. Claire’s mother had gone to visit her parents and was away from the house. So, for the first time, Claire faced her father’s failings without her mother there to protect him. She admonished him bitterly. 

I can’t believe you would do this. Aren’t you the head of the Latria family? Was everything you taught me empty words to you?

Her father was drunk, but he was nevertheless shamed into silence that he had allowed his daughter to see him like this.

Instead, the young knight who had accompanied him home spoke. This was Carlisle. 

“I can explain why the captain was drinking today,” he said. “One of our knights was killed on duty. It was no one’s fault, but we went out to drink to their memory. The captain only drank too much because he felt remorse for the death of his subordinate. I won’t stand here and see him insulted for that, even by his own daughter.”

Claire didn’t reply. She didn’t know what to say. Her anger had disappeared.

She took care of her father in silence. She gave him water, and allowed him to lean on her shoulder as he tried to apologize to her. She couldn’t support him alone, however, so Carlisle ended up helping her to walk her father back to his room, change him out of his armor, and put him to bed.

Throughout the whole process, Claire didn’t utter a single word. She knew she was in the wrong, but she couldn’t bring herself to apologize to her father, nor to Carlisle. She was too stubborn for that. But Carlisle understood. He saw that beneath her sullen expression, she recognized her mistake.

As he left, he said, “You’re kinder than you think you are.”

At that time, Claire had no idea what he meant. All she knew was that this boy, perhaps a year or two younger than herself, had recognized something inside of her.

After that, Carlisle began to receive frequent invitations to the Latria estate, and soon enough he and Claire were married.

***

Claire and Carlisle had five children together: one boy and four girls. Claire raised the girls as severely as her own mother had raised her. Their eldest son joined the Temple Knights. Their eldest daughter married a marquess. They were the perfect gentleman and lady, exactly as Claire had desired; she would have proudly presented them anywhere in Millis.

Claire had the highest hopes for her second daughter, who was born a little later. This daughter was far more accomplished than the first two children. Everyone who met her was struck by her beauty and her integrity. She was Claire’s finest work, her pride and joy: Zenith Latria. But Zenith left. She dashed all Claire’s hopes, running away to become an adventurer. And then silence. 

Claire was apoplectic with rage. She cursed Zenith in front of her other children, calling her an idiot child who had made the stupidest choice imaginable, and warned them to refrain from emulating their sister in any way. It was the first time she had ever let her feelings show so openly. The daughter she’d pinned her highest hopes upon had chosen the grubbiest life she could imagine. 

In all her life, this was the shock that hit Claire the hardest. 

The fate of their third daughter Saula similarly diverted from Claire’s wishes. Saula married a baron, but he became embroiled in a power struggle which he lost. Saula was killed in the aftermath. Millis’s healing magic was highly advanced and so such deaths were rare. Her death was one of those rare flukes. 

The family put the reputation of the House of Latria on the line to ensure that Saula’s killer met a poetic end.

Claire mourned her daughter. She mourned as any other mother would have.

And while she mourned, her fourth daughter Therese chose a life Claire wouldn’t have chosen for her—she joined the Temple Knights.

Claire cursed her fourth daughter as she had her second: “You little fool! Do you really think you have what it takes to be a knight? If only you had listened to me and learned to be a proper lady, I would have found you a good husband. You could have been happy.”

Therese retorted, “Did dying in a power struggle make my sister happy?”

It had turned into a terrible fight.

Claire turned Therese out, telling her, “You will never set foot in this house again!”

Never for a moment did she think that she had done anything wrong. Zenith and Therese had both left, but someday they would crawl back for forgiveness. She earnestly believed that.

Ten years passed. No word came from Zenith, but Therese did well in the Temple Knights and was promoted to captain of the Blessed Child’s personal guard. Claire thought the Knights only handed the position to Therese because the Blessed Child was also female. She wasn’t wrong. Therese was an excellent administrator and commander, but no more than an average knight. Even so, at all the parties Claire accompanied her husband to, she heard people saying, “The Latrias are really something. Everywhere you look they’re moving up in the world!”

Claire tore into others, but she was equally hard on herself. When she did realize that she had made a mistake she never apologized, but she was capable of changing her mind. Now that the daughter who’d made a terrible mistake was now being celebrated, she was left with no choice. Claire forgave and reconciled with Therese.

The words she used when she faced her daughter, however, were not an apology but a haughty, “I forgive you.” 

Now, Therese was accustomed to dealing with difficult people on a daily basis as a Temple Knight. If not for that practice, and if her older brother (who knew what Mother was like) had not physically stepped between them, there would have been another fight. 

Even this experience didn’t make Claire consider forgiving Zenith. She did think, however, that if Zenith ever showed up at the gate, she might speak to her again.

It was a few years later when Paul arrived at the Latria estate to ask for their help. A magical calamity had struck the Kingdom of Asura: The Fittoa Displacement Incident. Paul was the captain of a search and rescue team hunting down those who had gone missing, and he had come to request the assistance of the House of Latria. 

When Claire learned that Zenith was among the missing, she agreed without hesitation. She persuaded Carlisle to contribute both gold and men. Her hope was that they would find Zenith quickly and she could tell her, “Do you see now? Do you see what happened because you didn’t do as I said?”

But Zenith stayed missing. A year passed, then two, and there was still no sign of her. Zenith’s husband, Paul, wasted away. He made no effort to conceal his suffering, and although he had a young daughter, he began to drown his sorrows in drink.

Claire was the first to decide that something must be done for Norn. She decided to take her infant granddaughter from her father and foster the girl herself. She would bring her up as a proper young lady. That, Claire thought, was the most important thing. Carlisle was against it, however, and so she ultimately failed to tear the girl away from her father. As the days went by Claire could do nothing but watch Norn and stew in her own frustration.

Then one day, Paul reformed himself. Therese reported that his eldest son Rudeus had shown up, beaten him, and made him mend his ways. This sparked within Claire a flicker of curiosity about this Rudeus. This flicker was doused quickly; when the boy didn’t present himself to the Latria family, she decided that he was cut from the same cloth as his father and wrote him off in disgust. 

It then came to light that Paul had two wives.

His lover Lilia and her daughter Aisha came to Millis. Claire belonged to the Millis Church, and thus could not countenance the perversion of keeping two wives. But Paul was not an adherent, and Claire knew it was foolish to try and press her own religious convictions on another. She permitted the two girls to call upon her a few times a month and instructed them in the Latria family customs: proper etiquette and painstaking rituals. Claire felt she was doing the natural thing by teaching them the correct way of living.

Norn was constantly sulking because she was unable to measure up to Aisha. Claire despised the girl’s attitude. She always gave up and refused to try at things she could undoubtedly achieve with sufficient effort. But Norn, afraid of being second to Aisha, stopped trying. Claire saw what was happening and told Norn that there was no need for her to be the best. She needed only to live up to the reputation of a lady of the House of Latria. This was Claire’s version of motivation. Norn did not improve. Claire tried every speech she could think of to motivate the girl, but nothing worked. 

Meanwhile, she was infuriated to see Aisha, the bastard daughter, teasing Norn. Her anger made her unreasonable, and she was cruel to both the girl and her mother. In the end, both Aisha and Norn left her house as disappointments.

Another few years slipped away without any news of Zenith’s safe return. Claire was left with only the memories of her time with her grandchildren. Her eldest son and eldest daughter’s children came of age one by one. They all turned out splendidly. Young people she could present in any situation with surety and confidence.

There were no longer any children in Claire’s life, and she stopped seeing much of her grandchildren. She wondered how Aisha and Norn fared. The two would soon come of age. Now that she thought about it, they were the only two grandchildren who hadn’t turned out as she’d hoped. Perhaps that was to be expected of Zenith’s children. She wondered how on earth Zenith had raised them…and then it hit her. She hadn’t raised her own daughter. The Displacement Incident had occurred just after the girls had been born. Norn had been one, maybe two years old. Zenith had been robbed of the chance to know her daughters as a real person. Norn had been raised by a single father. The Displacement Incident could explain why Aisha had never learned to properly respect her father’s legitimate daughter.

Zenith had been wayward, but she was clever. Once upon a time, people had called her the model of a young lady of Millis. Adventurer or not, things could have been different if only Zenith had been there to teach them…

Claire missed Zenith so much that sometimes it made her soppy. She wanted to see her daughter. Claire knew she would probably have nothing but barbed words for her if they did meet, and that Zenith would likely cause nothing but grief for her, but even then. That might be worth it.

That was when it happened. That was when the message came from Rudeus. Zenith had been found. Her memory was gone, and she had lost her mind, but she was alive.

The letter from Rudeus was brief and to the point, stating the facts of where Zenith had been found and her condition. It was so economical that it skimmed right past Paul’s death. Rudeus wrote that he planned on getting Zenith treated, but he made no mention of bringing her home. 

Claire wrote back immediately. She wanted to see Zenith more than anything.

***

Several more years passed, during which Claire searched for a way to cure Zenith. She went around the doctors and healing magicians of Millis, and visited the library of the Millis Church time and time again. She even stooped to studying texts written by demons in her research. It was unpardonable, but Claire was convinced that there must have been other cases like Zenith’s in history.

Then finally, she found one. She had no idea if what she read could be trusted. The case described was suspect, unbelievable, and utterly nauseating. But a method did exist. There was precedent for a cure.

The cure she found was not a demonic one. She read that once there had lived an elf who suffered from a similar condition to Zenith. This elf woman lost her mind, but eventually returned to herself…after having intercourse with dozens of men.

Claire could scarcely believe it. It couldn’t be true. She could certainly never try it. But as she continued her research to try and find the basis for the story…she found that the elf woman really existed. And that she was still, even now, sleeping with hordes of men.

Claire didn’t know what to do. Could she really attempt such a treatment? Wouldn’t Zenith hate it? And yet, and yet. It may be her only chance of recovery.

While she sat paralyzed by indecision, Rudeus brought Zenith to her.

Just three of them came. Zenith, her son, Rudeus, and the bastard daughter Aisha. It had been three years since Claire sent her letter. Claire was unaccustomed to communicating with faraway places, and so she believed that Rudeus had come as fast as he could.

First, she thought, she would tell him how much she appreciated him coming so far, then make her introductions. After that, she would inquire after Zenith’s recovery and ask how he intended to proceed with treatment. If there was time, she would ask after Norn and Aisha.

But the moment she saw Zenith, her plan went out the window. When Claire entered the room and saw her daughter’s face, she went straight to her, close but never close enough. She saw Zenith’s unfocused eyes, and then—feeling as though her heart would burst from her chest—she sighed impatiently and called for Ander, the family doctor. Ander was looking after Claire, whose health had been poor lately. He had counseled her on treatment for Zenith. Claire, after finally seeing Zenith for the first time in so many years, knew it was rude to ignore Rudeus, and turned around to give him her attention. Then she saw who was sitting on a corner of the sofa. A woman in a maid outfit, with dark brown hair, and a face Claire would never forget. Right then her attention was more caught by the outfit, though.

A maid outfit?

“Aisha, how lovely to see you again. What, er… What capacity have you come here in?”

“Oh! Um, I’m Lady Zenith’s, um, I mean, I’m helping look after her.”

Claire couldn’t help the harsh words that slipped out of her at this response. Look after her? In other words, Aisha was here as Zenith’s maid. And if that were true, there was no possible excuse for Aisha to sit while her master and mistress stood. Claire merely reprimanded her to remind her of common decency. Rudeus, however, came between them. As well the boy should. Claire herself was the one who had abandoned propriety. 

Now that she saw Rudeus for the first time, she noted his strong resemblance to Paul. She couldn’t help but see Paul’s face in his. Paul, the drunk. Paul, who’d led Zenith to this state. All her resentment toward the boy’s father came rushing back. Perhaps that was why, in the conversation that followed, Claire’s less admirable qualities reared their heads. Her vanity and stubbornness took the reins. She brushed aside the dim awareness of her own faults and dug in.

Rudeus, on the other hand, was a forthright young man. He met her spiteful comments with well-reasoned and direct arguments. His frank candidness made Claire revise her opinion of him. After that, their conversation proceeded according to her expectations. First they spoke of the progress of Zenith’s treatment, then Norn’s situation. She did not ask about Aisha, still embarrassed over her earlier outburst. Rudeus’s knowledge of basic Millis customs was a little lacking, but he seemed aware of his responsibility as head of his family and was taking Norn’s cultivation seriously. Claire began to see him in a different light. He was young, but he took his role seriously. He was an upstanding young man. At least, that was how he looked to her. She had no notion of how important the role of ‘the Dragon God’s subordinate’ was. Her knowledge of military matters was lacking, but close ties to the monarch of Asura had to imply a certain degree of status, even if a new line had taken the throne. With greater status came greater responsibility, and greater accomplishments. Claire gleaned that Rudeus was a figure of far more importance than she had previously thought.

This was Zenith’s son. The thought called up a complicated mix of irritation and pride within her. 

Unfortunately, he’d be a problem.

The course of treatment she had planned for Zenith was sure to cause talk. Handing a woman over to a procession of men to have their way with her was an unforgivable sin. 

She tried to ask leading questions to probe Rudeus’s likelihood of accepting her plan, but in the end only made him explode with rage at her. Claire saw that his love for Zenith, even in her current state, was undiminished. But of course it was. Nothing else could have made him brave the years-long journey to bring Zenith to Millis. Claire’s probing also confirmed that he hadn’t tried the treatment she planned and didn’t know of its existence.

She wondered whether she ought to tell him about it. To explain that while it might strain credulity, it might get Zenith back. It was even possible that if she explained it all, he might give her his consent.

But something gave her pause. This was a young man with a bright future ahead of him. Word had it that he was a close friend of a priest in the pope’s faction. She had also heard that the pope’s grandson had returned to Millishion recently himself. Given the length of the journey, she wouldn’t be surprised if he and Rudeus had made the journey together. Claire herself had no interest in church power struggles, but what if Rudeus began to work on behalf of the pope’s faction? What if he made his name in Millishion not as a Latria, but as a Greyrat and follower of Orsted—a member of the papalists? The treatment Claire was planning could ruin his prospects. If it got out that he had done such a thing to his own mother, it would be a scandal. Every citizen of Millis would gossip behind his back. It would be impossible for him to remain in the country. 

So, Claire debated with herself, was it right to tell him? Was it right to burden him with it?

No. He had to know nothing. It was better for him to stay ignorant about his mother being forced to sleep with all those men. Better he had nothing to do with it at all.

It would all be Claire’s decision. Rudeus wasn’t a member of the Latria family, and so he had nothing to do with it. That, she thought, would be best. She never considered giving up carrying out the treatment. She had waited twenty years for this—for the opportunity to see Zenith again, to speak to her.

Thus, Claire set her plan in motion. She would bear the disgrace of this by herself.

She deliberately antagonized Rudeus, then disowned him from the Latria family. Finally, she had a servant abduct Zenith.

At this point, however, her plan ground to a halt. Zenith was brought back to the house. She was an adult now, and she was getting older, but she was still beautiful. She was still a desirable lady. Most of all, she was Claire’s daughter. 

Claire couldn’t bring herself to force Zenith to sleep with some untold number of men. It wasn’t right. It couldn’t be. At the same time, though, it wasn’t right to expect Zenith’s son to continue to care for his mother in her current state. Claire even made excuses to herself: if Zenith could speak, she would ask Claire to cure her. Surely.

The way she justified herself disgusted her.

She wanted someone to stop her. She was about to do something terrible, but she couldn’t stop herself. She wavered, agonized, and fought with herself. She spent every day in Zenith’s room, her face buried in her hands.

Zenith sat there blankly, not doing anything. Every now and then, though, she would display a human reaction and Claire would be wracked with indecision once again. 

In the end, it was Carlisle who put an end to her suffering. Carlisle heard a summary of events from Therese, then got the rest from the family doctor, Ander. He learned what the treatment was, and how Claire was agonizing over whether to go through with it. When he learned of the unforgivable act his wife was considering, he went to her, and he was kind.

“Before you go through with this,” he told her, “first allow the Blessed Child to see her.” If they knew Zenith’s memories, that might shed new light on the situation. It might be what steeled their resolve. Or maybe it would be the thing that would finally allow them to let go.

Carlisle submitted an application to have Zenith’s memories read by the Blessed Child. He wielded all the influence he could muster as a senior captain in the temple knights to procure an audience while keeping Zenith’s name off the application. He made sure Rudeus didn’t catch wind of it. 

The Blessed Child—who officially never examined personal memories—would do exactly that for them that very day. As Carlisle and Claire quietly escorted Zenith to the church headquarters to see the Blessed Child, Rudeus abducted her.