A Sister's Shadow
Leona von Kruzenstein and Blois de Savoia withdrew to a private chamber to converse.
What exactly they discussed remains unknown. It was content that never appeared even in the original work.
One thing, however, was certain: through that series of conversations the two women found common ground and forged a symbiotic relationship in which each would aid the other.
Leona took a great liking to Blois de Savoia. Blois de Savoia, in turn, took a liking to Leona. And so the two became friends. That had been the flow of the original story. But…
This game was never that kind of beautiful story.
The present situation was not good—not when one considered the future.
Blois would change Leona’s personality. In a negative direction.
When Blois finished her audience with Leona, I called her to a halt.
“Your Grace.”
“Hm? And you are?”
“Franz Meyer, at your service.”
“Ah! Of House Meyer in Torgenberg.”
“You know of me?”
“I have heard much. That you are a capable man.”
Good. Knowing me would make the conversation quicker.
“Might I have a moment of your time for a conversation?”
She wore a puzzled expression.
“Lord Meyer? With me? Is there some important matter?”
“If one holds it dear, it will be important; if one takes it lightly, it will not.”
“Hmm… So it depends on how one receives it. Very well. Let us speak.”
We soon made our way to a guest chamber and sat facing each other across a table.
“What is this matter of which you speak?”
“Your Grace. It seems your discussion with Lady Leona went well.”
“Well… Given that you enjoy Lady Leona’s favor, there is little point in concealing it. We have agreed to aid one another with all our strength.”
As expected, it had flowed exactly as in the original story.
“Lady Leona must have taken quite a liking to Your Grace. Is that not so?”
“Indeed it is.”
“Do you know why Lady Leona has taken such a liking to Your Grace?”
She fell silent for a moment. She seemed to be pondering the reason for the favor she had received. Yet she could not answer, as if no clear reason came to her. That Lady Leona liked her was true. But precisely why—that she did not know. That was the sense of it.
“Lady Leona once had a younger sibling. A sister one year her junior.”
Clozel von Kruzenstein. The younger sister who had fallen out with Leona and raised a rebellion. Leona had ultimately prevailed over Clozel, yet Clozel’s existence had left a deep wound upon Leona. Forever.
“Lady Leona’s father was a hero among heroes who led countless wars to victory and solidified the internal governance of the Kruzenstein Duchy. Yet he failed in one thing. That was love.”
Blois frowned. She was no doubt scrutinizing my true intentions, wondering why I was telling her such a tale. But this story had to be told. Only then would Blois carefully consider her own actions.
“Valentine, Lady Leona’s father, took as his wife a princess of a minor house in a region he had conquered, in order to absorb that house into his own. Yet that lady never loved Valentine for the whole of her life. And Lady Leona took after her father more than her mother. Do you understand what that means?”
“That she never received her mother’s love?”
“Yes. Precisely so. Valentine was a hero, and Lady Leona resembled him. Thus Maria, his wife, never loved Lady Leona either. Instead, she loved Lady Leona’s younger sister Clozel, who resembled Maria herself rather than Valentine.”
“…Why are you telling me this?”
“Because this story may change Your Grace’s fate.”
“My fate?”
“Yes. If you do not wish to hear it, I shall leave at once.”
“…I will listen.”
I continued the tale.
“In the midst of this, Valentine was struck by an arrow at the young age of forty-two and fell into critical condition. His wife Maria then coaxed him: Lady Leona’s reputation within the family was the worst, so entrust the succession to the younger sister Clozel. Bestow all the territories upon Clozel.”
“…!”
“At first Valentine refused outright. Yet Valentine had truly loved Maria. Facing death, his heart gradually weakened, and little by little he yielded to Maria’s insistence. In the end, though not the whole of the house, half of it was entrusted to Clozel.”
“…And so the family’s internal strife began.”
“Exactly. After Valentine’s death, Lady Leona proposed to Clozel: since we have each received half the succession, let us cooperate and lead the house together. As I said earlier, Lady Leona resembled her father—even in the depth with which she loved her mother. Thus she had no desire to turn her blade upon her sister and mother.”
Leona had loved her mother. She had loved her sister as well. Deeply, from the heart. Yet the two had never loved Leona in return; rather, they had regarded her only as an enemy threatening the succession. That had been the first tragedy that roughened Leona’s temperament.
“As everyone knows, Lady Leona ultimately became the victor. Yet she forgave the sister and mother who had raised rebellion. Because she loved them.”
“Forgave them? That differs from what I know. Did not the mother and sister already die?”
“That was because even after being forgiven, they sought to raise rebellion once more. Though she had forgiven them once, the second attempt at rebellion stirred the retainers’ opinion to boiling, demanding punishment, and she had no choice but to put them to death.”
When she killed her sister and mother, Leona had shed tears. At the fact that she must kill with her own hands the people she loved. And at the fact that those she loved had ultimately betrayed her.
“So then, how does this story change my fate?”
“That Lady Leona feels goodwill toward Lady Blois is no mere coincidence. Beautiful appearance, perfect etiquette, even her build—there were many points of resemblance to her late sister Clozel. Lady Leona is projecting her sister onto Lady Blois.”
“In other words…”
“If you should betray Lady Leona, she will once again lose someone she loves, and her heart will be torn to shreds.”
Yes. In the original story, Blois betrays Leona. Of course, Blois does not betray her out of her own greed. She too betrays Leona for the sake of the justice she believes in—yet that is all the more reason she must know about Leona.
For when all is said and done, Blois is ultimately a righteous person, and if she knows how greatly her actions will alter the other’s fate, she might not betray her. That was my thought.
“Do you understand what I am trying to say?”
“That I must not wound Lady Leona.”
“Since you understand well, that is enough. I shall take my leave now.”
“…”
I rose, yet she did not rise from her seat. It was thirty minutes later that she emerged from the guest chamber.
“What did you discuss?”
Lady Leona asked. I merely smiled quietly.
“Tell me! I am curious!”
“I cannot tell you.”
“You! Don’t tell me you plotted treason, betraying me to side with Blois?”
“Even if you threaten me with words you do not mean, I have no intention of spilling the truth.”
“…When first we met you were as cute as a small animal, yet now that cuteness has vanished.”
She visibly deflated. I approached her and asked,
“My lord.”
“What is it?”
“If your family were to betray you, what do you think you would do?”
Leona was overlaying Blois with her dead younger sister. Perhaps, out of guilt for having killed that sister, she was treating Blois all the better.
Yet if that Blois were to betray Leona, what reaction would Leona show?
“What else? Swiftly seal the borders, gather only the soldiers of my direct domains, hole up in the nearest castle, and observe the situation. If even family has betrayed me, it would be difficult to discern who is ally and who is foe, would it not?”
“I am not speaking of how you would handle it.”
“Then?”
“Of your feelings, my lord.”
“…”
She closed her mouth. I caught a glimpse of her eyes reddening.
For a while neither of us spoke. Leona did not open her mouth, and I did not press for an answer. What was Leona thinking now? I could not know for certain, yet I could guess. Leona was likely recalling Clozel.
“That…”
At length Leona spoke.
“I think it would be very sad.”
Yes. It would be very sad. For she had already suffered many betrayals.
She would suffer many more betrayals yet. In the original story, that is.
And so I intended to ensure she was wounded even a little less. By persuading the future betrayers, by threatening them if persuasion failed, and by killing them if even that failed.