The Young Lady Who Wants to Love

The elf fell silent.

Her cheeks were flushed. She drew a quiet breath, shifted away from me, and rested her chin beside the opposite carriage window, staring out at the passing scenery.

What's gotten into her?

Something in her unsteady gaze troubled me, but I wasn't about to investigate. If she was content to sit quietly, that was more than enough.

My decision to strike first, before she could make another threat, had evidently worked. Of course, the strategy had been a double-edged sword. If she had responded by demanding that I actually violate her, I would have been in an impossible position.

Fortunately, matters had taken a more peaceful turn.

I let out a relieved breath and turned toward my own window.

We had entered the city's main street. Houses and crowded stalls slid past in the bright sunlight, and laundry fluttered gently between the buildings. It was a familiar, reassuring sight.

But…

Among the scattered pedestrians, armed soldiers were questioning residents and holding up wanted notices.

Their polished breastplates and helmets identified them as regular troops. Unlike the Count's soldiers, whose weapons varied, these men carried matching longswords and daggers, with long kite shields bearing the white lion on their backs.

Imperial soldiers.

The small footprint insignia embossed on their helmets made their unit unmistakable: the Dawning Steps, one of the imperial family's own combat forces.

Her Highness brought an army with her?

I couldn't make out the portraits on the notices from a moving carriage, but given recent events, they were almost certainly searching for rebels.

Something was wrong, however. If the army were hunting rebel leaders, why weren't the Count's troops helping? His soldiers passed through the same streets on routine patrol, sparing the imperial men little more than an occasional glance.

Did Her Highness issue the orders independently?

No. Surely not. House Pelgaroin governed a vast region in the heart of the Empire. Even an imperial princess couldn't freely overstep the authority of a great count without provoking a serious conflict.

Perhaps the princess and the Count had come to some verbal agreement about the search, only to fall into disagreement over the timing or the chain of command.

Why, though?

House Pelgaroin had served the imperial throne for generations. Loyalty to the Emperor meant respecting his family as well. And this was a hunt for rebels—an enterprise Count Leonberg would ordinarily have every reason to support.

Yet friction had clearly developed between him and the princess. Or perhaps there was confusion over whose orders the soldiers should follow. Perhaps both.

It was almost as though the Count had intended to delay them.

To buy time for the wanted rebel leader to escape.

The conclusion was unsettling. I couldn't see another reason for him to impede the search. If I was right, the person the imperial army was seeking must have close ties to his family.

Ah.

Ashley's words during our last carriage ride returned to me.

“There haven't been any great problems, apart from my brother Fred suddenly leaving the castle.”

Could Fred have joined the rebels?

My breath caught. I clenched my hands, recalling Ashley's expression when she'd spoken.

What an idiot I've been…!

Ashley had probably suspected something long before I did. She was far too perceptive, I thought, not to have noticed the danger surrounding her brother.

Yet she had shown me none of her grief. She'd kept her worries to herself rather than involve me in her family's troubles. That consideration, however kindly intended, had only pushed me away.

I should have realized. If I'd noticed sooner, I could at least have comforted her. Perhaps we could have discussed some way to bring Fred back from the rebels.

Regret came too late to be useful.

I reached automatically for the brooch at my throat, wanting to loosen my formal clothes, then checked myself. The carriage was already crossing the castle drawbridge. There was no time to undo anything now.

I straightened my posture, cleared my throat, and tapped the elf's shoulder.

She looked back. Her red eyes were unusually calm.

“Master? What is it?”

“We're almost there. Button up your dress. Must you display that indecent chest of yours?”

“My buttons? Ah.”

She obediently fastened the buttons she'd undone earlier. I'd half expected a quarrel; her cooperation was a relief.

The carriage passed through the castle gates. The guards appeared to recognize the cardinal emblem of House Deharem and waved us through without an unnecessary search.

We entered the courtyard and came to a halt. The coachman stepped down, opened my door, and bowed.

“We've arrived, my lord!”

“Thank you for your work.”

The courtyard was in disorder. Imperial regulars stood among the Count's own soldiers, exchanging terse words about their orders. The strained atmosphere was impossible to miss.

As I walked forward, a knight who had been sharpening a sword looked up and hurried to her feet.

“Your Excellency the Regent—ah, Viscount Theorad!”

It was Marhan, recognizable by her unusually powerful build. She sheathed the blade she'd been tending and approached with a broad smile.

“It's been a long time, Viscount! I'm sorry your visit comes at such an unfortunate moment.”

“An unfortunate moment?”

“The castle has been in an uproar since the princess arrived without warning. Her Highness ordered a search for rebel suspects, but the person implicated is Lord Fred. We're having to delay the operation.”

So there really was a conflict between the princess's army and the Count's men. I wanted to know more, but pressing Marhan for the private details of her lord's affairs would have been discourteous.

“You've had a difficult time. I'm sorry I came without sending word.”

“Not at all! You'd always be welcome here, Viscount. Lady Ashley will be glad to see you, too.”

“That's reassuring, even if you're only being polite.”

“It's no empty flattery, I assure you…”

Marhan fell silent. Her eyes had gone past my shoulder, and she looked thoroughly perplexed.

I turned. The elf was staring back at her without the slightest attempt to hide her displeasure.

Marhan gave a bewildered little laugh and rubbed her chin.

“Such a peculiar slave. She won't even lower her eyes before an armed knight…”

“If she weren't yours, Viscount, I'd have given her a sharp flick on the forehead.”

Marhan lowered her voice, then turned back to me.

“Anyway, why have you come? To see the young lady?”

I shook my head.

“The princess summoned me. That's why I've come to the castle.”

“Ah, Her Highness… Now that you mention it, she left instructions about a visitor.”

“Instructions?”

“She said an honored guest would arrive soon. Rather than take the guest straight to her, we were to prepare a room. She intends to visit personally when she has time. So you must be the one she meant.”

Our schedules did not seem to align. Still, it was understandable. By now Benelia was probably occupied arguing with Count Leonberg about the rebel search.

“Then there's nothing for it.”

“I'm sorry for the inconvenience. Shall I take you to your room?”

I hesitated, then smiled at her.

“Before that, I'd rather see Ashley. Will you take me to her?”

“Ah.”

Marhan blinked, then broke into an indulgent smile and patted my chest.

“Of course.”

---

In a castle garden ringed with brilliantly colored flowers, the head maid withdrew a sheaf of papers from her clothes and presented them to Ashley.

“…These are the materials you asked me to obtain.”

“About the Weaving Turbulence Academy?”

“Yes. The information came through personal liaisons with people connected to the academy. It should be reliable.”

Ashley took the report and opened it. It was only a magically copied set of documents, but their accuracy mattered more than the form.

She skimmed past the less useful pages and found what she'd been looking for: an account of when the Black Flame Witch and an academy student named Pares had met, and roughly what they'd discussed.

Her earlier suspicions began to fit together.

With a quiet sigh, she folded the papers and looked at the maid.

“Thank you, as always. And you understand that none of this can be disclosed?”

“Of course. But what shall we do about the princess?”

Ashley's shoulders felt heavy.

“Cancel our plans to appease her. Her Highness hasn't come to seize the county's wealth. Her purpose is almost certainly political.”

“Political? Does she mean to use Lord Fred to threaten His Excellency the Count?”

“No.”

Ashley's answer was immediate.

Only a fool would try to blackmail Father.

Even the iron-blooded princess, gaining strength through her military successes, stood far below Count Leonberg in the political and financial order.

Intimidating him might produce a concession today, but it would leave Benelia powerless tomorrow.

Nor was she secure at the imperial court. Her reputation as a war hero and her efforts to build a force of her own had made her an irritant to the royal establishment. Many courtiers would gladly see her pushed out of politics, but she was the Emperor's daughter. They could not simply remove her.

If Count Leonberg joined those already opposed to her, the consequences for the princess could be disastrous.

Benelia was not foolish enough to invite such ruin.

Then she must want an alliance.

Political cooperation with House Pelgaroin would serve her interests. But why begin by ordering a search for rebels the very day she arrived? It could only make the whole county resent her.

Ashley did not know what had passed between Benelia and her father. That made the princess's choice difficult to interpret.

My head hurts…

There was little more she could deduce without further information. She decided to put the matter aside for now.

“You may return to your duties. And—”

She broke off.

Marhan was approaching from the garden entrance, guiding Theorad and a pointed-eared maid.

Theorad? Here?

Ashley was caught completely unprepared. With a small, strangled sound, she hurriedly folded the report and thrust it at her maid.

“Hide this. Quickly!”

The head maid slipped the papers inside her clothes. Ashley, meanwhile, removed her engagement ring and snatched out a mirror to study her face.

Then she gave a little cry.

“I didn't have my hair done properly before I came out…!”

She had spent the morning weighing the consequences of imperial politics, yet a few stray strands of hair had reduced her to helpless agitation.

The head maid smiled. People really did change when they fell in love. She patted Ashley's back.

“Don't worry, my lady. You're beautiful even when you haven't dressed up.”

“…Will Theorad think so?”

What did a handful of unruly hairs matter? The maid shook her head at the question.

“It would be strange indeed to find anyone who didn't think you lovely.”

“Y-you're sure?”

Ashley looked toward Theorad again. Her composure lasted no more than a breath before she turned back, eyes full of doubt.

“I really look all right, don't I?”

Even the head maid could only stare, at a loss for another way to reassure her.