Desmont Kernell's House was located in Town Gaterkan, North of the Royal Capital, a good four hours' journey from Count Kernell household. His house stood lonely, separated with other townsfolk by a muddy large lake surrounded by tall, thick plantations, and his nearest neighbor was a hunter's old hut that had been devoid of life for five years.
A perfect nest in his eyes.
Route to his dwelling was a spell-casted foot track, hidden from plain sight by thick shrubbery. Without exclusive permission, anyone going down the track wouldn't reach his house. The carriage couldn't pass and dropped him off in the middle of the road.
Reaching into his home, Desmont immediately felt a wave of exhaustion.
The front room functioned as both a living and guest room. Pass a short corridor with stairs to the second floor (consisted of only his workroom) which led to kitchen doubling as a dining room, door to the bathroom, another door to the back garden for laundry and the butler's own small house. Bedroom doors could be seen right away after stepping in; two doors on the right, facing the front room.
So, it wasn't odd at all that a small figure was currently playing on the sofa.
That small figure had sensed his arrival.
A pair of large dark brown eyes greeted Desmont.
Then, in the true fashion of wearing your heart on your sleeves, the little girl showed a disappointed light in her gaze as she turned her head back.
Desmont took it in one stride to the kitchen. as expected, He found his trustworthy butler, more wrinkled than ever. They didn't waste time in pleasantries, just short greetings, before beginning to have a straightforward talk about the house's overall condition which could be summed to: financially lavish, but the little girl seemed to be a little bit slow.
"No wonder," Desmont whispered with an attitude of grand realization, "she doesn't have any reaction when seeing me."
Nor do you had one when out of the blue a random woman with a large belly brought over herself to the house to give birth, thought the butler inwardly. "What should we do?"
"What can't she do?"
"Little Jude can understand simple speeches, but to this day, she still had a hard time speaking."
"Oh, let's just take it on the chin." Desmont waved a hand and stood. "Prepare the bath then dinner." He took a few steps away before turning back. "Did I name her Jude?"
"No, Sir, your daughter's name is Judith, and the one who named her was her mother." The butler wished, back in the days when he first met with this particular oddball, he'd listened to Desmont's wet nurse: don't pledge a lifetime servitude to him. You'll be driven crazy.
"Ah, as I thought." Desmont merely nodded before continuing his stride.
Passing the living room, Desmont took a glance towards Judith who'd her head down, doing something with her hands. He stopped his steps once he noticed the things in her hands were not blocks, doll, or the likes; it was actually one of his failed prototype tools for the recent research.
So he stepped closer, watching as the little lady rotate the thing in her hand, poking at every inch, sometimes doing act like she wanted to break it. Then, her actions stopped to lift her gaze towards the towering Desmont, finally acknowledging the man.
"Did Weber gave you that?" Desmont crouched. "Did he show you how it works?"
Judith stared at him in silence.
"Ah, forgot you can't talk yet, huh?" Desmont picked up the tools. "It won't work if you can't recite the spell." So he did.
In Judith's ears, the once-languid tone suddenly sounded much more magnetic, and the world around seemingly distort spirally into his direction. All the preceding activation by Weber, the world did distort, but it was outside Weber's direction, and roughly similar to a wave made from a water's drop.
Then the tool lightened as Judith saw. There were symbols shining on the surface when from her keen touching before, nothing was engraved. The tool was shaped merely as three blocks of different size stacking on top of each other, with the topmost having a slightly raised surface. Now from that exact spot, a penetrating light shone upwards, creating an image of the forest.
Judith examined the lighting's source, put a hand through the light that made the light distorted, touched the shiny symbols and felt it slightly raised from the otherwise smooth surface. She touched the other blocks below the topmost. The middle one was warmer, the bottom changed color to an ashen-gray from the previous deep tomato red.
When Weber activated it, that didn't happen. And the image was a blurry green, somewhat more abstract.
Desmont suddenly blew the light and it disappeared.
Judith remembered Weber needed another spell to do that.
In careless gesture, Desmont returned the tool to Judith's hand, feeling a bit despondent from remembering his failed experiment. The tool in his hand couldn't stand psychic spell even by the hand of psychic mages. After bringing it back home, out of frustration, he cast a magic picture of forest inside the tool. The only way to reveal it was another spell and both were common ones.
He's not one to waste materials, even if the end result was a failure. There's a lot of other failed tools with common purposes around the house. Some were sold for its novel design. Some more others were deconstructed again to its raw form and sold. This way, he could still benefit from his research. Besides, the activity serves as exercises.
Now, it also serves to amuse his daughter.
Thinking back on Judith's apparent curiosity, Desmont remembered Deavon's words and felt he's not so much of a worrywart, after all. Then he was reminded: his daughter has yet to speak.
After a bath and change of clothes, he saw Judith not touching the tool in favor of a stuffed doll from who-knows-where. He sat on the dinner table where Weber had served meals. Picking up a spoon, he asked, "How old is the little girl now?"
He didn't miss how his butler stiffened and gave him a dirty look. "Three years old, Sir."
Desmont gobbled up his dinner without caring anymore. Weber had gone back to the living room. His voice while talking to Judith could be heard from the dinner table. The longer he heard, the more Desmont felt somewhat glum. With the last bite, he reasoned the feeling was thanks to his failed research. He washed the dishes with magic tools before walking to the living room.
Judith was sitting on Weber's lap, very much leaning on him, the stuffed doll in her embrace. Her eyes moved between Weber and her doll.
Desmont leaned on the doorway while staring at them both. He mused, with Weber here, would his existence matter at all in child-rearing? His daughter doesn't seem to like him very much. The gaze she'd used on Weber was much more affectionate.
His melancholy doubled. He walked back in the short corridor and climbed up the stairs, returning to his workroom.
Unbeknownst to him, Judith had turned her head around, watching the empty doorway but heard the sound of climbing steps. Weber always cleaned Desmont's workroom. She'd long been used to hearing the stair's slight croaking.
"Don't put it in your heart, Little Jude," said Weber with a small sigh. "He's just like that."