<div> “But a real sword is still too dangerous for you.”
 “Uh...”
 Beatty hesitated, unsure of how to even respond to such an unexpected conversation.
 Taking her silence as reluctance to accept reality, the Duke nodded in understanding.
 “It must be difficult to accept that it’s too soon.”
 For the young lions of Aslan, wielding a real sword was a rite of passage.
 Impatient cubs, overflowing with strength, often itched to swing a real blade before they had even perfected their stance with wooden swords.
 “But using a combat weapon before your body has adjusted would put unnecessary strain on your developing physique—”
 With a serious expression, the Duke carefully began explaining why he couldn’t gift her a real sword yet, in a way that even a child could understand.
 As she listened, Beatty thought to herself,
 No, I never even considered asking for a real sword in the first place...
 As a squirrel beastkin, such a thing had never once crossed her mind. Instead, she was simply baffled by the sheer absurdity of the Duke’s ideas about what children might like as gifts.
 <div style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:10px;text-align:center">
 <div>
 
 </div>
 </div> Eventually, Beatty managed to convince him that she truly didn’t need a real sword—or any other extravagant gifts, for that matter.
 After much effort, she successfully declined all offers and sighed in relief, wiping her forehead.
 “......”
 Hmm.
 Glancing at her father, she caught the unmistakable look of disappointment on his face.
 Seeing that, Beatty hesitated briefly before finally speaking up.
 “Well...”
 “Oh?”
 The Duke immediately perked up, his anticipation clear.
 Beatty’s cheeks warmed at the sight of her father looking both eager and slightly disappointed at the prospect of not being able to give her something.
 Having a family that not only wanted to do things for her, but was genuinely happy to do so...
 It was such an overwhelming feeling of happiness that she wanted to store it away somewhere, like a squirrel hoarding acorns for the winter.
 “Tell me anything. Even if it’s something in the royal treasury—”
 “It’s nothing like that.”
 Sensing that her father was prepared to rob the palace if need be, Beatty, as a reasonable squirrel, quickly cut off any dangerous ideas before they could take root.
 “Then what is it?”
 “Well...”
 The Duke didn’t rush her, patiently waiting as Beatty hesitated.
 The quiet warmth of his silence felt like a gentle push forward.
 “I don’t need any gifts—”
 Taking a deep breath, Beatty finally voiced what was in her heart.
 “But if it’s not too much trouble... could you write me letters? They don’t have to be long.”
 For someone like Beatty, who had always treasured the notes attached to gifts more than the presents themselves, it was a natural request.
 “Just... anything you want to tell me. Could you send it in a letter sometimes?”
 The Duke’s eyes widened in surprise.
 She had turned down plush dolls, jeweled dresses, and even a finely crafted sword—
 Yet the one thing she did want...
 “My letters...?”
 Something as simple as that.
 Beatty’s cheeks were slightly flushed as she fidgeted with her fingers.
 “Umm... it doesn’t have to be anything specific... I just want to receive letters from you sometimes, Father.”
 “......”
 “Of course, if you’re too busy, I understand...”
 The moment he saw her lower her gaze, hesitant as if she had asked for something unreasonable—
 The Duke spoke without a second thought.
 “I understand.”
 Letters.
 Out of everything she could have asked for, she wanted his letters.
 There couldn’t possibly be a daughter cuter than this in the entire continent.
 With that absolute certainty in mind, the Duke stood up.
 “I will write one immediately.”
 “Huh?”
 Beatty looked utterly bewildered.
 Wasn’t he just stopping by before heading to his afternoon duties?
 “Ah, no. I just meant... whenever you have time...”
 She quickly stopped her father, who was already about to summon a servant to bring paper and a pen right this instant.
 And after some negotiation, she barely managed to tone down his daily letter-writing plan to something more reasonable—ensuring it wouldn’t interfere with his work.
 At least this way, I’ve saved the retainers from collectively sighing in exhaustion.
 She had successfully prevented what could have been yet another burden on the Duke’s staff.
 Phew.
 Imagining the aides waiting in the Duke’s office, dreading whatever unexpected workload was about to be added, Beatty let out a satisfied sigh.
 ***
 The afternoon sun streamed into the Aslan Ducal Office.
 Seated at his large wooden desk, the Duke furrowed his brow in deep contemplation.
 His unusually serious expression sent waves of hushed speculation through the gathered retainers.
 “Did something happen this morning?”
 “Could there be bad news from the border troops?”
 “I haven’t received any such reports...”
 This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.
 Just what kind of serious news could have put His Grace in that mood?
 <div style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:10px;text-align:center">
 <div></div>
 </div> Holding their breath, the aides glanced surreptitiously at the letter in the Duke’s hands, trying to guess at its contents.
 “......”
 With his lips pressed into a firm line, the Duke sat still, staring down at the letter.
 Yet the parchment in his hand contained...
 ‘What should I write to make my child happy?’
 ...absolutely nothing.
 Holding the pristine sheet of stationery, the Duke sank into deep thought.
 Beatty.
 A child who had cautiously held back her own wishes, afraid that they might interfere with the affairs of the ducal house.
 Crack.
 His grip tightened for a brief moment as he recalled all the things that had made her so hesitant to speak her desires.
 ...I can’t use this one.
 Tossing aside the crumpled parchment, the Duke picked up a fresh sheet.
 With deliberate care, he dipped his quill into ink and began writing.
 "To the most beloved daughter of Aslan, without a shred of doubt—"
 And thus, the first page of what would later be known as The Collected Letters of the Ironblood Duke’s Parenthood was written.
 ***
 Shortly after Beatty had requested a letter from her father—
 “Oh! Father, and also—”
 “Yes?”
 At his daughter’s sudden exclamation, as if she had just remembered something important, the Duke’s eyes brightened with anticipation.
 “Whatever it is, I’ll grant it.”
 Words he might soon regret.
 “I want to visit my aunt.”
 “!”
 The Duke’s eyes widened in surprise at the unexpected request.
 Of course, Beatty had no desire to see her aunt out of fondness.
 ‘There’s a debt to collect.’
 Going back in time, she had focused on survival first rather than seeking revenge on those responsible for her past death—not because she didn’t want revenge, but because she hadn’t had the means to achieve it.
 “Aunt embezzled my upbringing funds, right? I need to get them back!”
 “...My child.”
 How thorough.
 The Duke gazed at Beatty, who had clenched her little fists with determination, and thought she was utterly adorable.
 “If it’s gold you want, shall I bring you the treasury key? There’s plenty of gold from our kingdom—and from other nations, too.”
 Of course, those foreign riches hadn’t exactly been gifted voluntarily.
 “Huh? No, it’s not that I don’t want gold, but...”
 Beatty had not abandoned her future ambition of becoming a merchant lord.
 Suppressing the temptation to seize this golden opportunity for startup capital, she reminded herself of her primary objective.
 “We need to reclaim the money she took first.”
 “Of course. Truly, you are an Aslan.”
 Aslan indeed.
 From an enemy’s perspective, it might sound like an insult—about the Aslans’ meticulous habit of looting enemy stores post-battle—but from the Duke, it was nothing but praise.
 “Aslan-like?”
 “The Aslans never forget what is owed to them. Repaying debts and recovering losses—that is what makes an Aslan outstanding.”
 Hearing herself compared to her family in such a way for the first time, Beatty’s cheeks turned a soft shade of pink.
 “If you intend to recover the misappropriated funds, you needn’t go yourself. We’ll locate even the hidden ledgers and reclaim everything.”
 Not wanting to bring his physically frail child into the depths of a prison, the Duke subtly tried to redirect her request.
 “But there might be secret hiding spots within the mansion! I know my aunt’s habits well—if she lies, I’ll be able to tell right away.”
 “Our retainers specialize in uncovering such things.”
 “Hmm... But I also know all the best places to bury things in the capital’s estate gardens...”
 Having spent years secretly stashing away coins in preparation for her escape, Beatty was well-versed in hidden storage spots.
 Seeing his daughter reluctant to give up on going herself, the Duke let out a quiet sigh before asking,
 “You truly wish to ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) see her in person?”
 “Yes!”
 “Of course. You would want to be the one to strike her down.”
 “Exactly! That way, I can ask her directly how much she— ...Huh?”
 Beatty, nodding eagerly, suddenly froze.
 “...Strike her down?”
 “Was that not your intention?”
 The Duke tilted his head, genuinely perplexed, showing no sign that he found the suggestion strange.
 <div style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:10px;text-align:center">
 <div></div>
 </div> Beatty, on the other hand, was beginning to wonder if she was the one with odd standards.
 “Uh... is it normal for children my age to personally wield a sword for executions?”
 “Hm. Now that you mention it...”
 The Duke paused, seemingly lost in thought.
 Phew. Looks like he just got a little ahead of himself—
 “Now that I think about it, Carl was even younger when he did.”
 “What?”
 Beatty’s voice cracked in disbelief as the Duke casually glanced at her.
𝑓𝑟ℯ𝘦𝓌𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝑐ℴ𝓂 “But of course, that was after he had built sufficient stamina and under proper supervision. It’s not as though I’m denying only you a real sword—”
 “No, no, I’m really fine without one!”
 Sensing that her father was about to launch into yet another explanation about why she couldn’t have a real sword yet, Beatty swiftly cut him off with firm refusal.
 “...Then is it that you’re dissatisfied that the Viscountess hasn’t been executed yet?”</div>
 

<div style="margin-top:10px;margin-bottom:0px;text-align:center">
 <div>
 
 </div>
</div>

Chapter 66

“But a real sword is still too dangerous for you.” “Uh...” Beatty hesitated, unsure of how to even respond to such an unexpected conversation. Taking her silence as reluctance to accept reality, the Duke nodded in understanding. “It must be difficult to accept that it’s too soon.” For the young lions of Aslan, wielding a real sword was a rite of passage. Impatient cubs, overflowing with strength, often itched to swing a real blade before they had even perfected their stance with wooden swords....

Baby Squirrel Is Good at Everything

Chapter 66

Baby Squirrel Is Good at Everything - Chapter 66